David Epperson - The Third Day

I took one glance back, where I saw Bryson huddled behind a rock. Then I picked up my sword.

“Might as well go down fighting,” I said.

The Romans advanced slowly and methodically, reluctant to take casualties when the result of the engagement seemed so certain.

“ What color, Professor? ” I asked.

“Still yellow,” he muttered. “I don’t know what could be keeping her.”

He mumbled some other excuses, too, but I had lost any desire to listen. By now, the legionnaires had come to within twenty five yards of our position.

I called Sharon to come over to my side.

“Twenty yards!” I cried out.

Lavon understood, though he continued to wrestle with Naomi. If we timed it just right, we’d have time to fall on our own swords afterward.

“Fifteen! What color, Professor?”

Still yellow.

“Ten!” I shouted, though this time, I did so more to buck up my own courage than to convey any meaningful information.

I was struggling to keep my eyes open, to look my impending doom square in the face, when a man who had gotten us into so much trouble saved us in the end.

I heard a shout — really more of a primeval scream — coming from just behind where I stood.

“You bastards!”

“Noooo!” yelled Bryson.

But it was too late.

One Roman had gone out ahead of his comrades, but the man slipped on a damp stone and fell hard. Immediately upon seeing this, Markowitz rushed forward to take his revenge — his people’s revenge.

His blow caught the legionnaire squarely in the eye as he rammed the point forward with all his might. Then he yanked the sword back out and screamed for his next opponent just as three others tossed their long javelins.

At that range, the soldiers could not miss, and what their spears started, they finished with their swords.

Our party could only stare in shock at the dismal scene. As the Romans resumed their final advance, I reached around to grasp the back of Sharon’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, as I held up my blade.

I kept it pointed toward the Romans, hoping to wait until the absolute last infinitesimal fraction of a microsecond to carry out the awful deed that I knew I had to perform.

***

And that was it. The next thing I recalled, the five of us lay sprawled on a smooth white floor. I rolled over, grabbed my weapon, and quickly jumped to my feet, looking left and right, like a wild man ready to pounce.

It was only then that I realized we had made it home.

I tossed my sword to one side, completely indifferent to any damage I might have done to the polished ceramic floor.

While I verified that I still possessed the correct number of appendages, all connected in their proper places — a legacy habit from hundreds of low altitude parachute jumps — the sliding panel opened, and Juliet Bryson rushed in to embrace her husband.

The others just sat on the floor in stunned silence, though they gradually relaxed as they, too, realized that we were no longer in mortal peril.

Everyone but Naomi, that is. She huddled against Lavon, and her eyes darted back and forth like a panicked animal.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

I reached down to help her up, but she didn’t budge. Instead, she squeezed Lavon even tighter and stared into his eyes with an imploring, questioning gaze.

“Where are we?” she asked.

Lavon smiled. “We’re back, in our country, as we promised.”

To no one’s surprise, she remained doubtful, although we had clearly gone somewhere .

“How did we get here? Where are the soldiers?”

I didn’t wait for his answer. However Lavon chose to explain it, his response couldn’t be quick.

Instead, I slid through the open door and continued into the changing room. There, I rummaged through the kit I had left behind and found five bottles of water, a handful of MREs, and a dozen energy bars.

When I returned to the chamber, I could see that despite Naomi’s remaining uncertainty, Lavon had at least managed to reassure her that we had no intention of abandoning her to the Romans or to Herod’s goons. Sharon’s relaxed attitude also bolstered her confidence that nothing untoward would happen.

I passed around the MREs, and we attacked the food like ravenous wolves; likewise, we drained the water in seconds. Unlike the rest of our group, though, Naomi did not cast her bottle aside after finishing it. Instead, she slowly rotated it, puzzled by the odd transparent material.

Lavon tried to explain, but quickly discovered how much background information we take for granted.

And that wasn’t her only worry.

“This writing: these are Roman letters.”

Though she couldn’t read, she recognized the script, and her tone reflected a concern that perhaps we had not escaped trouble after all.

Lavon took the bottle and examined the label. “Hydro-max Pure Spring Water,” he deadpanned. “Ideally Formulated for Low-Carb Diets.”

Seriously, it said that.

We all laughed, and between our amusement and the wildly varying typefaces on the bottle, Lavon managed to convince her that we had left our pursuers far behind.

To make things even more interesting for her, I reached into my bag and pulled out another surprise.

I handed her a flashlight, and Lavon directed her to press the large yellow on-switch.

She fumbled it in sudden alarm the first time, but after she saw us laugh, she picked it back up and switched it on and off, over and over again. As she did so, her expression shifted from a tentative apprehension to open delight.

“Light, without fire,” Lavon explained. “Did I not promise that if you helped us, you would see wonders beyond your imagination?”

She barely acknowledged his reply. Instead, she continued to flip the switch on and off and to dance the beam across the room. The effect was like watching a small child who had just unwrapped the hottest new toy.

This would be fun.

A few seconds later, Naomi focused the light on me, with a huge, playful smile on her face.

“Welcome to our world,” I said. “And to America, a magnificent country, where the food is fat free but the people are not.”

Lavon flashed his best smile as he translated, though he skipped the last part. Some things just couldn’t be explained.

I was certain she would adapt over time. I could only hope that she would have a more peaceful experience in our country than we had had in hers.

***

And that brought us back to our unfinished business.

Juliet had finally overcome the initial shock of seeing her husband, once again alive and well, and she glanced around the room to assess us more carefully.

Her head count came up two short.

“Where are Ray and Scott?” she asked.

“Dead,” I replied, without any real emotion in my voice. “It’s a long story.”

She gasped, although she couldn’t have been completely surprised at the news. When we failed to return after a brief interval, she had to have suspected that our endeavor had run into unexpected difficulties, if not outright disaster.

After a moment’s silence, her husband whispered something into her ear. Whatever he said was instantly reassuring; for she recovered her composure and gestured toward Naomi for the first time.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“She helped us,” said Lavon. “It will take some time to explain how.”

***

The Professor spent the next half hour outlining the basics of our excursion. Finally, though, the rest of us grew impatient. The moment of truth had arrived.

Juliet led us into the conference room, and after a brief pause for Naomi to grow comfortable with wall-mounted light switches and overhead projectors, we all settled into the chairs closest to the drop-down screen.