Vampires of the Cross and other musings (eBook)

Vampires of the Cross

The stark light of fluorescent bulbs bathed the room in a harsh, cold luminosity. In the center of the room a metal chair was fastened to the floor with bolts. In the chair sat a man. Straps of thick, leather dug into the skin of his chest and thighs, securing him in place. His wrists and legs were bound with metal clamps. The shine on the straps indicated that this prison chair had never before been used. A nondescript wooden table and chair was the only other furniture. His head hung forward and it was hard to tell if he was asleep or dead.

The stillness of the cement block room was shattered by the metallic echoes which heralded the unbolting of a large door - the only entrance or exit. The door creaked open as the metal hinges struggled against their weighty load. A priest walked into the room carrying a short, two-handed sword. He moved the chair so he was facing the captive. The priest held the sword in his lap and for several moments he observed the man strapped to the chair. The priest noted that the man had dark skin and facial features indicating Mediterranean heritage. His mind struggled with the concept that even though the man looked to be in his late thirties, he was actually over two thousand years old.

“So, you are the last,” the priest spoke.

There was no reaction for several moments and then the captive slowly raised his head to look at the cleric. The man stared at the priest with piercing brown, almost black eyes.

“So, Priest, which future is it going to be?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

After a reflective pause, he released a weary sigh. “I don’t know. I never really thought this day would come. For hundreds of years, we have been searching for you and have killed many of your children to make this day a reality.”

“They are not my children,” spat out the man with obvious disgust. “They were a mistake born out of ignorance and loneliness.”

“Well, Anthony-”

“Antonius,” the man interrupted. “I would like to be called by my given Roman name since this may be the last time I will ever hear it.”

“Fair enough, Antonius, fair enough,” agreed the priest. Out of habit he smoothed out the creases of his ecclesiastic robe.

He did not look like a priest, Antonius thought. His eyes were the color blue that he had seen in the waters of the Caribbean. The skin was dark and weathered but he carried himself as a man with great strength.

They stared at each other for several moments in heavy silence until the priest began to think that they were in an unspoken contest of wills.

Then the bound man broke the silence. “You want to know what really happened, don’t you? You want to know the truth.”

“Yes,” replied the priest. “Much of what we know has been passed down by myths and legends and has been corrupted over the millennia depending on which of the conflicted church factions were in power at the time.”

“Well, I guess it’s time to set the record straight. To clear up all the lies that have been propagated by your church over the past two thousand years.”

From a pocket in his robes, the priest produced an iPhone and opened the recording application before placing the device on the table. “I am ready,” he said as he hit the red button.

The prisoner began to speak. “There were five of us in the beginning. Hannah, Isaiah, Ruben, David and myself.”

“How were you transformed into what you are today?” asked the priest.

“There were three men. Misguided zealots who believed the literal words of the teacher when he said that drinking his blood would give them eternal life.”

The priest quickly scanned his memory of the Bible and found the teachings in the sixth Chapter of John, verse 53. He frowned at the implications of the statement.

“After the teacher’s body was taken away, they scraped the dried blood from the cross and at some point, drank a mixture of blood and wine.”

“And the girl, Hannah?” prompted the priest.

“She, like me, was an unfortunate accident. She was part of the group of women who were preparing the body for burial. When removing the wreath of thorns from his head, she was stuck with one of the bloody thorns.”

“And you?”

“My story is found in John 19:34.” He paused and waited to see how long it would take the priest to make the connection.

A look of surprise crossed his face. “So, you were the soldier, the soldier who pierced his side with a spear.”

“At the time, I saw him as just another convicted prisoner and I was just doing my job,” Antonius said with a shrug. “As I cleaned off the tip of my spear, I cut myself which was my ticket to the little drama we now play out.” He paused, “May I have something to drink?”

The priest pondered the request, rose from his chair and walked to the heavy metal door. The door creaked as it opened. This led the prisoner to believe that they must be under a watchful eye – perhaps a hidden surveillance camera. The priest spoke briefly to an unseen person, waited a few moments and then returned with a bottle of water.

He walked back to the prisoner and gently held the bottle out so he could drink. The act felt to the priest as if he were giving communion to one of the faithful or performing last rites.

After several gulps, the prisoner said, “Thank you. I think I can go on now.”

He paused as if trying to collect his thoughts. “The three zealots, Isaiah, Ruben, and David, lived their lives with the expectation that something would be different. For Hannah and myself, we were unaware of what happened to us and it took years to finally understand. I found myself healthier and stronger even though I was almost forty years old which was past my prime as a Roman centurion.”

Antonius tentatively tested his metal shackles.

“Titanium?”

“No, this is a new product which combines graphene and maraging steel.”

“Ah, all very high tech.”

“We didn’t want to take any chances.”

“I understand. Well, about a year later, our unit was ordered to the northeast quadrant of Gaul to put down an uprising of the Germanic tribes. I was wounded many times but I seemed to have developed the unusual ability to heal quickly. But when I survived a battle axe to the back, the other soldiers began to treat me differently and I heard murmurings about me being cursed or blessed, depending on the person. I was moved from unit to unit as my story made company commander’s uncomfortable. I still had not made the connection between my new abilities and the blood of the prophet.”

“Your fellow soldiers must have been afraid of you,” summized the priest.

“Yes, but I stayed in the legion because it was the only life I knew. But then during the battle of Medway in Britain I used the confusion to slip away from the battle and spent the next many years roaming the Highlands. I should have been an old man in my seventies but by now it was obvious that I was no longer aging.”

“When did you finally understand what had happened?”

“I was married twice but the pain of watching women I loved grow old and die while I remained unchanged was just too much. So, after two hundred years, I decided to return to Jerusalem where this all began. The early Christian church was in turmoil at this time. The three zealots had remained part of the early church and their story was known to the inner circle of priests. After the death of the prophet, his followers had expected him to return during their lifetime and when it became obvious that this was not going to happen, the inner circle of the church started looking for answers. Are you familiar with the twenty-first chapter of Luke where it says ‘Truly I tell you; this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened’?”

“Yes,” the priest said in a hushed tone as the implications coalesced in his own mind.

“Well, the hierarchy of the church was in conflict about what to do with the three men. Some felt they should be killed so the last of “that generation” would pass away to set the stage for the return of the prophet. Others felt that since everything was under the control of God, this must be the way events were supposed to play out. Isaiah, Ruben, and David became fearful for their lives and left Jerusalem, trying to escape into obscurity. But the church could never agree on how to handle the situation and so two factions developed.” He paused and then asked, “Which following do you owe allegiance to?”

“I don’t understand,” the priest replied.

“Well, if you are member of Coelus Nova then you are here to kill me because you believe this will usher in a new Heaven and Earth. If you are here to protect me then I would assume that you are a member of the order of Veritas Deus who believes that God is in control and man should not alter the normal course of events. I also sometimes suspect that members of Veritas Deus are somewhat afraid of what this new heaven and earth would look like and are quite happy to have things stay the same.”

“I follow neither of those orders,” interjected the priest. His tone was that of icy metal.

“Oh,” replied Antonius. “Then you must be here because of,” he paused, “revenge.” The last word was said with a hiss.

“Yes, revenge. Some of your followers almost wiped out my family. One of your creations went rogue and massacred the small...