She stopped right next to the body. Three small holes were visible in his jacket. She didn’t need to look closer to realize they were bullet holes. She shined the flashlight on his face. His swollen eyes protruded hideously from his face, like some sort of incarnation of an evil clown that would have fit well in a Stephen King novel. Despite the decayed remains, she recognized the face of the man staring back at her instantly.
What were you involved in grandpa?
A heavy golden chain hung from his neck. His frozen hand still clutched at the bottom of it, where a pendant or something had been grasped when he died. Billie carefully opened his hand to reveal an ivory crucifix inside. The upper section of the cross was carved intricately in the shape of a horseman, holding a bow and wearing a crown. The lower section was smooth and unimpressive. She’d seen the chain before, but the pendant that hung from it had always remained hidden beneath his shirt. She’d never known her grandpa to be religious. She started to search him for what she was really after, without giving the crucifix another thought — after all, the strength of one’s faith often raises quickly when facing death.
She checked each of his pockets in his jacket, followed by his trousers. There was still nothing. She swore. How could he have lost it? She unzipped the climbing jacket and continued to rifle through it until she found his pocket-sized journal. Her grandfather always kept intricate notes during any expedition he was on. She kissed the journal. If he was killed for getting this close to the truth, he would have made a note of it.
Billie shined her flashlight on the last entry. We’re getting close. Soon, the Four Horsemen will ride together and the Third Temple shall rise. She glanced at her grandfather’s crucifix again. It had a horseman made of ivory, carrying a sword and wearing a crown — the White Horseman — AKA the Conqueror.
She bent down and slowly removed the ivory crucifix and horseman. Sorry grandpa. She once saw a painting called, Death on a Pale Horse at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. She recalled it had some sort of biblical ties. Something about The Lamb of God opening the first four of the Seven Seals, which summoned forth four beings that rode out on white, red, black, and pale horses — Conquest, War, Famine, and Death.
But there was no mention of the Third Temple…
A moment later, she forgot about the Four Horsemen, because the ground beneath her started to vibrate, and the obsidian room above echoed the roar of thunder. Had there been another movement of the tectonic fault? She stared at the ground below. It was perfectly still. She tried to call out to Jeremy, but other sounds drowned out her voice — they were the sounds of gunshots.
The gunshots finally ceased, and were replaced with more sound of thunder. The shots might have caused an avalanche. She hung the crucifix around her neck. She placed her grandfather’s journal into her inside jacket pocket and zipped it shut. Whatever happened to her from here, she needed to know the truth. She studied the wall again, and prepared to climb out, before there was no longer an obsidian vault to climb to.
“We’ve got company!” Jeremy shouted at her.
“I’m on my way up.” She took one last look at her grandfather, tucked the crucifix into her climbing jacket and started to climb out.
She reached the top of the crevasse and inside the obsidian vault. Her pulse was racing and she was breathing so hard that the muscles in her chest burned. She took a couple deep breaths in, and exhaled slowly. She could feel the lactic acid pounding the muscles of her arms and legs.
Jeremy glanced at her. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. What have we got?”
“I don’t know yet. It must be the second climbing team we saw following us last night. Ahmet must have shot at them. Maybe it caused an avalanche. Ahmet’s well armed, and we have the high ground. They won’t reach us. Even so, we should get out while we still can.”
“Of course,” she said, thankful that Jeremy had the foresight to arm their climbing team. At the time, she thought he was being overly dramatic, but now it was clear she was lucky to have his good counsel to rely on. “Just let me catch my breath.”
“What did you find?” he asked.
“My grandfather.”
“I’m so sorry, my dear child.” He swallowed hard and held his breath for a moment. “As you know, there was a sudden storm. I pleaded with your grandfather to turn around. He refused. He was certain we were getting close. I came back down the mountain, and your grandfather continued. It turns out he reached it, but he mustn’t have had the strength to climb back down again.”
Billie jaw was set hard. “It’s all right, Jeremy. I knew long ago he wasn’t coming back. At least now I have some sort of closure. Say, what do you know about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
His eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“Do you know anything about the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse?”
“A little. Not much. The Christian apocalyptic vision is that the Four Horsemen are to set a divine apocalypse upon the world as harbingers of the Last Judgment. The world will be purged of its great wickedness and purity of the new world shall rise. Why do you ask?”
“I found grandpa’s journal. His last note was that the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse would soon rise.” She stood up to leave.
“Did he mention anything else?”
“Yeah. He wrote about the rise of something I’d never heard of.”
“And what’s that, dear?” He spoke casually, more like the Godparent he’d been, but his eyes were studying her, scrutinizing her somehow as she spoke.
She met his eyes and said, “The Third Temple.”
His breathing paused for a split-second. She saw instant recognition in his eyes. The muscles of his jaw tightened, and then he smiled. “The Third Temple?” he confirmed.
“Yes, have you heard of it?”
He broke their eye contact and shook his head. “No. It certainly sounds quite mysterious though, doesn’t it?”
Billie heard heavy breathing coming from the entrance of the obsidian room. Suddenly reminded of the more pressing need to escape, she stood up to leave. Broken snow from the tunnel above the opening fell in through the iron doors. A moment later Ahmet arrived. He was wild with adrenaline. His face was covered in sweat and his pupils were massive like an ice-addict at the peak of psychosis. The man roared as he approached. Blood stained his jacket where a shot had clipped his right shoulder.
Her eyes darted to Jeremy. He looked suddenly terrified, but there was something else there, too. Was he surprised to see Ahmet still alive? She needed to know what happened, and quick. Her mind raced. Was there still time to hide somewhere inside the crevasse? Or did they still have the ability to break through their attackers and make it down the mountain? She opened her mouth to speak, but Jeremy beat her to it.
“For God’s sake, man!” Jeremy yelled. “What happened?”
Ahmet tried to speak, but the words came out garbled. He spat dark red blood. Evidently, one of the shots had penetrated more than his shoulder. He had internal bleeding, and would probably die this far away from medical help.
Jeremy softened his voice, but maintained his authority as he spoke. “Sit down. Tell me who attacked you?”
Ahmet spat more blood and then began to speak. “We were ambushed. The climbing team who were following yesterday must have split in two in the night. Some of them left in the darkness of the early hours of the morning and climbed ahead. They waited until we reached the inside of the temple, and then attacked from above and below us.