THE GREAT TRIBULATION

By Brendan Morrisey

(2nd Draft)

Immediately after the tribulation of those days shall the sun be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken: - Matthew 24:29

1940

It was night in the desert of Israel. The vast land and endless breeze sang with a forsaken melody, like a hymn of resonance that lost its purpose to god. Only three men were crazy enough to wander out into the wasteland of sand, where a dead man once thrived with an eternal power untouched by other men. A power passed down by the angels, to tame the demons once cast down to the earth and serve you to your every bidding. John looked to his father who walked beside him. He knew what his intentions were, the reason why they were out in the sacred land looking for the tomb of a dead man who might have never even existed. John's father Thomas may have been a professional at what he did, but he still had the reputation of being a mad man. His sole purpose in life was to prove the existence of god before religion could be killed by the science of atheists or the authoritarian rule of the Nazis. But they were not wandering this land seeking the existence of Christ, they were rummaging through the pages of the old testament, looking for King Solomon. Their guide Jaron was the only local willing to take the job. Most would consider him a fool but Thomas and John saw him as a man of endless faith who trusted in strangers.

John contemplated to himself during their walk and came to the conclusion that he was more insane than any other man here. Yes, his father was a mad man, but he was following in his footsteps, becoming an archeologist. Not just any archeologist, he was to become like his father. A young and sane man diving into the depths of madness, searching for purpose and meaning within the universe. If his father could not finish the work he had dedicated his whole life to, maybe John could finish it for him. It was either the will of god or a delusion of grandeur that had been passed down through the family.

After wandering through the tireless night in the deserted regions of the country, the trio of drifters had come upon a monument of stone out in the middle of nothingness. More than a hundred miles from any civilization, after wandering for several hours, time had lost all it's meaning to them. Time didn't exist out here in the desert, but the destination they had set out to find had finally made itself visible after much searching and waiting.

"There," said Jaron. "Those bricks of rock out there, that is the spot on the map we are heading to."

So many goddamn days out in the desert, John was lacking belief in Jaron's words. They had to have been all seeing the same mirage. "How the hell can you tell that's what we're looking for? There's nothing out here, no paths or roads to follow, there's nothing. What good is that map out here?"

"You forget that these deserts are my home, John. I follow the path that god has laid out for me, and it's quite simple when all we had to do was go straight out north from when we left town."

"Everything is as it should be," replied Thomas. "This is where we shall begin our search."

"Well if the map was so simple for us to follow, what if the Nazis already beat us to it? Maybe they're right on our asses now as we speak!"

"That is the risk we decided to take, John. All we can do is have faith in what possibly lies ahead. Besides, those Nazi chaps are more interested in that stupid story about the ring more than uncovering the burial of a man of religious significance."

The ring. The ring of Solomon. There were groups of archeologists that the Nazis had put together for the sole purpose of searching for religious artifacts, not for their sentimental value but for the power that they possibly possessed. The Aryans believed they were people of the gods, so to them these items that had any religious value were already rightfully theirs. The thing that started it all was the Spear of Destiny that Hitler found himself to be obsessed with in his youth. The spear had once pierced the side of Christ during his crucifixion. It had been owned by a succession of powerful European rulers down through the centuries and eventually came to be in the possession of the Hapsberg Dynasty. The legend behind the spear was that whoever possessed it would have the power to conquer the world, but losing it would bring immediate death. The spear had been at the Hofmuseum in Vienna for a long time, and the day Hitler annexed Austria, the spear was quickly sent to Nuremberg Germany. Many other Nazis were set out in search of many other things such as the Holy Grail, and most recently the Ring of Solomon.

In the Testament of Solomon, a demon named Ornias was harassing a workman's boy as they were constructing the Temple of Jerusalem. When the problem was brought forward to King Solomon, he prayed to god for authority over the demon to be handed to him. God answered his prayers with the archangel Michael, who came to Solomon with a ring that had the seal of god so that he would be able to imprison the demon and force it to help construct the temple. Solomon sealed the demon Ornias within the ring and ordered him to cut stone for the temple. Realizing the power he had, he did not stop there. He then ordered Ornias to bring him Beelzebub, the Prince of Demons, so he could seal him within the ring as well, and many more demons followed.

If the Nazis had this power they would use it to conquer nations and win the war. It is not known what could have happened to the ring but the hope that the Nazis have is that Solomon was buried with it. Thomas Spurlock had been working on this archeological investigation of finding Solomon's tomb now for nearly ten years. A German archeologist named Florian Diederich quickly began following up in Thomas's work after Hitler appointed him to any archeological study of his choice. Florian spent most his time studying up in demonology and found himself obsessed with finding the ring. The darkness implored him to go further and so he headed in the search to find it and the only way doing so was by following Thomas Spurlock.

The stones encircled John, Jaron, and Thomas. It was similar to stone henge but not as big and less sloppy looking. Jaron said this is where the spot on the map was that they were heading to, but what was it for? They all looked around the area for a sign, something that would lead them to somewhere anew. John kicked sand around as he scanned the stones back and fourth with his eyes. "We headed out here all the way for this?" he muttered.

"No, there's something beyond this point." his father replied. "This stone underneath this one is a lot thinner than the one on top. Help me push it off."

All three of them pushed the stone forward. Only with the strength of three men could it have been moved. Underneath revealed a stairwell heading downward. Thomas turned to his son.

"This is what we have been looking for."

John was the first to step downward into the dark unknown. The sun was gone, the darkness swallowed him whole only to spit him back out once he struck a match. The three walked down the only direction there was to walk in. It was small and cramp. They had to duck downward as they walked and made sure not to bump their heads against the ceiling. There were no paintings or hieroglyphics on the wall like you would see in an Egyptian tomb. All that was down here was sand and stone, and very little air to breathe.

"Down, down, the rabbit's hole we go," remarked John.

After very little walking they had come to a dead end. There was nothing beyond this point for them that made itself visible.

"It's a dead end," cried John. "Now what?"

John and Jaron had stopped but Thomas kept walking towards the wall.

"There's no way it's a dead en-"

Suddenly Thomas fell through the ground and the floor beneath John and Jaron gave in with him. The fall was very short lived but was enough to kick up sand in the air, breaking the three men into coughing fits.

This room they had found themselves in was much larger, like the size of a parlor. They no longer needed to strike a match to see where they were going. Morning had come and sunlight bathed the room as it flooded through the cracks in the corners. In the center of it all looked to be something like an alter made of stone. The three rushed to it once it caught their eye.

"Is this where Solomon is?" John asked eagerly.

There was writing carved into the top of the alter, and a design that looked to be another map. It made itself clearly obvious that this was not where Solomon was. Just another piece of the puzzle to lead them further.

"This is it? We were lead all the way out here again for another stinking map? Bollocks!"

"It's okay, John," replied his father. "This must be the last one."

"How can you be so sure of that? This is the third time we traveled out into the desert for just a stupid map. How many maps does this guy need for his damn tomb?"

"You're still young John. You'll learn to be patient. All archeological finds will be slow like this."

"Maybe I should have just stayed in the army then."

"Quickly, we must sketch the map out," Thomas said hurrying.

Jaron rolled out a piece of paper from his side pack and placed it over the map carved into the alter and began sketching his hand back and fourth with a pencil to get the outline of the map.

"We go back into town after this?" asked Jaron.

"Yes. John and I will fly back to England after this for a break and then we'll return in a few days to find where this map leads to."

"That won't be necessary."

They all turned at the sound of the mystery voice behind them. Standing in the entrance from which they came in through was Florian Diederich and five Nazi soldiers beside him, all wearing gray and armed with rifles. Florian was a very ugly man. Scars ran across his whole face, making him look some what like a jigsaw puzzle. His right eye was bulging out of it's socket, making him also cross eyed, and all his teeth were yellow and chipped. Life was not good to this man and it showed a great deal.

"You will be handing over that map now and leaving here as if nothing happened."

"That doesn't sound like much of a deal," replied John. "How bout we leave with the map and you go home and brush your teeth."

"I will only ask once. If you don't follow my orders we will have to kill you."

Florian's goons raised their rifles towards the three men, all Florian needed to do was raise his arm to signal them to fire and John and his father would find themselves sprawled out in a cave in the middle of nowhere, never to be found. Thomas turned to John, he had never been in a situation like this with the Nazis, it was obvious he was panicking. He didn't want to turn the map over but he also wanted to leave alive with his son. He took a deep breath. He was going to do it. He was going to hand over the map and hope for the best.

"Okay son. Do what they say now."

John apparently had other plans. John had been carrying a grenade in his side pack and was holding it under his shirt sleeve. He pulled the pin and threw it across the room, landing right at Florian's feet.

"GRENADE!"

They all scattered to dive out of the way. The entrance was small and most of them got in each other's way. When it went off, most of them didn't make it in time. Body parts flew across the room and the sand was stained with blood. Smoke filled the air and it was impossible to see if any of them survived. John, Jaron, and Thomas got up from taking shelter behind the alter. A big chunk of it where the map was had been blown away by the explosion. John knocked the rest of it over onto the ground just in case someone tried and copied it anyway.

"John, what have you done?" Cried Thomas.

"Getting our asses out of here alive. Do we still have the map?"

Jaron pulled it out of his side pack showing it to John and nodded.

"Then lets go!"