He realised he was holding Omega tightly, caressing its ancient contours. He wanted to understand the connection — that there was a connection, he had no doubt. He untucked Alpha from his belt and held out both artefacts to Jassim. “These belong to you.”
“I am indebted,” Jassim replied with a slight bow, “as are all our people. Your family’s involvement in these matters has come full circle.” He slotted Alpha and Omega together and raised the staff aloft. “Do you see, Professor? You have returned the two sections of the headpiece for this, the original staff.”
“You mean—”
Jassim held the staff aloft. “It belonged to Adamah; he cut it from the tree before he was expelled from the garden. The headpiece was crafted by Adamah himself, in the early days of his kingship — a symbol of his dominion. But after he fell from grace he fashioned the staff and set the headpiece upon it. God became angry; He divided the sceptre and named the sundered pieces Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, to remind Adamah that he was now mortal, and only God himself was eternal. To Adamah’s sons he gave the two segments. Eventually they were parted, one to Africa, the other remaining with Noah and his descendants. You may read of these events in our scriptures.”
Jassim went on. “You entered the garden of beginnings. Not many have walked where you were permitted to walk. Again, it is in His providence that you followed in Adamah’s footsteps.” Jassim bent and placed his hand on Natasha’s head. “It was for this little one, for her healing.” He smiled down at the girl. “But the life conferred by the tree is a life forbidden to Adamah and his children in these days. In time it will be different, but that time has not yet come.”
“In time. . ” Dracup felt light-headed. “Please — please, go on.”
“Angels once guarded the portals of Eden, but I am permitted to allow entry to the garden in rare circumstances. Many have attempted to find it and failed. Were you to look for it now, it would remain hidden. It is ‘off the map’, in your colloquial English. Yet within its wastelands, as you have seen, there is life in an abundance the world cannot imagine. One day that life will be revealed in all its fullness. That which the human race lost millennia ago, it shall have again.”
“And that is what Noah’s children, the Korumak, wait for?”
Jassim’s eyes twinkled. “That is what the world is waiting for, if only it would open its eyes. Do you see? Now that Alpha and Omega are reunited, the end is closer to the beginning. This accords with our prophecies, of which you, my friend, have become a part.” He elevated the staff, and the headpiece cast its cruciform shadow on the ground at Dracup’s feet. “The world will hear His voice again, even as you have heard it, Professor Dracup.”
“But where will you go?” Dracup asked Jassim hoarsely. “Where will you take him — Adamah?”
“There are hidden places,” Jassim said softly. “God has ordained that there will always be a home for the Korumak Tanri. Until the end.”
Farrell was at his shoulder. “We have to move, gentlemen.” He took Dracup aside. “Listen, Prof, I’ve handed this over to the mainstream peacekeeping force. They’re moving in to clear the place out. They’ll burn the jihadis out like an ants’ nest. You don’t want to be here when it happens.”
Dracup could not tear himself away. He looked once more into the face of the first man, fixed the image on his retina as the lid was closed and sealed.
Led by Jassim, the Korumak began to file silently towards the Great Passage, melting away from the place of the fountain. Many were women, as evidenced by the face-concealing hijab they wore. Dracup felt a pang of longing. Where was Sara? And then he saw the gesture, a momentary hesitation as she looked back. Their eyes met for an instant in a fragile spark of valediction before she too faded from his sight.
He craned his neck as the Chinook lifted above the Tell and turned to the north, but of the Korumak there was no sign. Marines were scuttling away from the area, Humvees burning a line of departure in the sand like scattering beetles. The Tell receded but Dracup kept it in sight, wanting to see the end. A line of black dots zeroed in, a swarm of destruction. Orange flames blossomed into the sky, followed by a pall of smoke that eventually obscured the Tell from view. He whispered to Natasha, asleep in his arms: “We’re going home now, darling. Everything’s all right. We’re going home.”
Towards the east a scattering of clouds was gathering. Dracup watched the formation coalesce as a zigzag of white lightning cut the horizon in two. He rested his head against the padded seat and closed his eyes. The Chinook flew on, into the eye of the coming storm.
About the author
Scott Hunter was born in Romford, Essex in 1956. He was educated at the now sadly defunct Douai Abbey School in Woolhampton, Berkshire. His writing career was kick-started after he won first prize in the Sunday Express short story competition in 1996. He combines a career in IT with a parallel career as a semi-professional drummer. Where he fits in the writing is anyone’s guess. Scott lives in Berkshire with his wife and two youngest children.
For more information: http://www.scott-hunter.net