Buch lesen: «Judas' Gospel»

ANDREA LEPRI

From the Gospel according to Judas

Original Title

Dal Vangelo secondo Giuda

First Edition : August 2017

English Edition

Publisher: Tektime – www.traduzionelibri.it

This novel is a work of fiction. Any reference to real facts or people Is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved

INDEX

PART I

THE AGGRESSION

PART II

NICOLE’S DEATH

PART III

THE ALIEN

PART IV

MAN HUNT

PART V

THE BAPTISM OF JESUS

PART VI

THE ATTACK OF THE SECT

PART VII

JESUS AND JUDAS

PART VIII

YEAR XXXIII AD

PART IX

EASTER OF RESURRECTION

PART X

THE LIBERTY

PART XI

FROM THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO JUDAS

PART XII

EPILOGUE

PART XIII

CREDITS

PART I

THE AGGRESSION

That morning there was a beautiful sun, Nicole had set the table in the garden. She placed the breakfast tray on the table and sat in front of Judas, without stopping to stare at him with an enigmatic smile on her face. He had noticed that in recent days his wife had something different in her gaze, like a particular light shining at the bottom of her big dark eyes, but he couldn’t explain why.

“Why aren’t you eating?” she teased him amused, seeing him perplexed, he shook himself. “I have decided that until you tell me what you have, I’ll not move from here. So this morning I’ll be late for work and I’ll take a good rebuke … and know that it will only be your fault!” he replied pointing a finger at her, but he didn’t seem as serious as he wanted. She continued to smile amused without answering, while a light wind ruffled her long straight ebony hair. Jodie ran to them and jumped into her mother’s arms.

“So, can we finally tell him?” she asked her.

“Yes, come on,” Nicole replied, giving her a knowing glance “it’s time for him to know too!”

“What do you have to tell me?” he then said, wriggling in his chair, more and more impatient.

The little girl broke away from her mother and approached him very slowly, to intrigue him a little more.

“I’ll have a little brother,” she whispered in his ear. For a moment he had the feeling that time had stopped, he looked for confirmation in Nicole’s eyes because he was not sure he understood correctly. She nodded convinced and he became suddenly absorbed, lowered his head and began to eat, without getting upset. At the end of breakfast, Jodie and Nicole cleared the table and went back into the house, Judas darkened all the windows and joined them in the living room. Only then could they finally let themselves go to their explosion of joy, away from prying eyes and being careful not to make too much noise. In fact, in the year 2178, those who manifested their emotions too openly were not highly appreciated by the authorities.

Judas was employed as a reporter at the small local newspaper, he was one of those journalists who go in search of sensational news, in the strangest places and times. He was well aware that his business was not as exciting as that of his former colleagues, but he enjoyed the job very much. The long night watches and stalking no longer existed because each event had been experienced in real time, but he was convinced that, if he worked hard, he would always be able to find something to write a good article about. Along the way he stopped to buy a couple of bottles of “the good one”, to share that fantastic news with his colleagues, but even there the celebrations were limited to a quiet toast and a few cold handshakes.

That evening, to celebrate the event, Judas booked a table in an upscale restaurant. Nicole was enthusiastic about those fish-based dishes, in particular she really liked the first fruits served as a side dish, grown on the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea. Intoxicated by the euphoria enhanced by the bluish, sparkling and slightly salty wine, they indulged in a whole series of projects on the child. They told each other he would be handsome, strong, and intelligent. Maybe an artist, or even a scientist. To end the evening with a flourish, they went to the Total Cinema, where they lived an Interactive Story as protagonists.

Back home they spent the rest of the night making love, drunk with happiness, until they fell asleep tightly.

Shortly after everyday life took over, the following weeks passed peacefully between boat trips and sport, Judas’ work and Nicole’s Dynamic Painting exhibitions, which was the best in that kind of artistic representations. Her belly kept growing and he spent hours looking at her and caressing her, talking to her, or just listening to her as if it were his first time each time. Sometimes, during the preparation of the child’s room, they enchanted themselves staring into each other’s eyes, getting lost in one another, until they felt one.

The sheet came out of the printer accompanied by a short hum, after a jump of a few centimeters it went to settle gently in the binder. Dr. Lorentz turned off the equipment and collected it, then examined the data very carefully.

“You have nothing to fear ma’am, everything is going very well. The parameters are all within the norm, and there is even something more: from the analysis of the genetic heritage it is clear that your son, in addition to being practically perfect from a biological point of view, will be endowed with excellent intellectual and moral qualities.”

The doctor was rather short and stout, had a pockmarked face and lips as plump as a woman’s. His small, close eyes, evasive as if he were always looking away, reminded Nicole of a mouse’s. She overcame a kind of repugnance and rewarded him with a wonderful smile, shaking his hand, then left the clinic.

The doctor made sure that the waiting room was empty, then went back to the office and typed the combination on the panel next to the door. The door closed and locked, he reached the desk and pressed a button hidden under a marble paperweight. A two-meter high mirror slid sideways along a guide in the floor, opening the view to a small hidden room. Inside was a man leaning out of the window, his hands clasped behind his back and he was watching Nicole walk away down the street. Step by step she became a smaller and smaller splash of color, until she merged with the sleepy city traffic. The man slowly turned to scrutinize the doctor, expressing a silent but precise request with his ice-colored eyes.

“You have been able to see with your own eyes, Excellency!” he answered satisfied. “Physically he embodies perfection, plus you know his bio-moral data better than I do. It is undoubtedly one of the best specimens, if not the best ever, of all the ones we have reviewed. His qualities are marvelously elevated both from an intellectual point of view and from a moral, character and aesthetic point of view” he specified. Sir Jonathan nodded gravely and nervously smoothed his strand of his hairs white as the snow, becoming thoughtful. He had personally studied the reports on all the specimens studied and his conclusions coincided perfectly with those of Dr. Lorentz, but he wanted a further, useless, confirmation.

“Are you really sure that that woman is fit for purpose? I would prefer not to delude myself in vain, rather than find myself holding a handful of flies when we have reached a too advanced phase of the Project. At that point it would no longer be possible to change the target,” he explained once again. In response, the other just smiled smugly. The Elder folded his hands behind his back, then lowered his chin to his chest and remained absorbed in meditation for a few moments. He was finally able to reap the first fruits of the long years of his work, all those years spent preparing that enterprise that represented the only purpose of his whole life. He had imagined living that moment thousands of times, he had always thought that this wonderful news would have reached the depths of his soul until it touched his most hidden chords, thrilling him.

“Good! It’s the piece we were missing,” he commented instead simply, marveling even himself at his own coldness. It was as if that little big victory had been the most natural thing in the world, as if he had always known that sooner or later that moment would come, but the knowledge that the obstacles to overcome were still many prevented him from enjoying it as he would wanted. He knew that for a long time to come he would have to spend all his energy in achieving his goal, never getting distracted or letting his guard down.

“The final phase of Project Heaven will finally begin shortly,” said to the doctor.

“I think convincing the woman won’t be easy,” the latter ventured timidly. He knew well how powerful and sensitive the Elder was, he had chosen his words carefully because he absolutely did not intend to make him nervous.

“It will be much simpler than you think. After all, we will offer her something great in exchange for a very small sacrifice.”

The doctor remarked his doubts with a puzzled glance, and then a flash of determination passed through Sir Jonathan’s eyes, making them even livelier, if possible.

“She will accept, one way or another!” he abruptly closed the conversation.

The three Lords of the Order, swaddled in their tight-fitting uniforms, darted out of the parking lot laughing and joking as if they were going to a party. The car’s headlights were reflected on the shiny asphalt, made slippery by the gloomy drizzle.

“Another day of hunting, huh?” said the driver.

“Yeah,” the Patrol Leader, seated beside him, replied absently, still polishing his badge.

“And I wish this time it was really the last!” he added after checking it against the light, to make sure there were no halos.

“When will you stop torturing that poor piece of iron?” Nick teased him, leaning towards him from the back seat.

“When even your “poor metal piece” will be golden like this,” Joe replied placing the medallion under his nose, so that he could admire it, “and you will be missing six days in retirement like me, you will see how you will torture it you too. Smell it, feel how it smells of freedom!”

Fabien, the driver, had a thin and nervous body. The narrow shoulders supported the perfectly round head, over which the potato nose protruded quite clearly. His long arms held the steering wheel firmly, his slightly protruding green eyes scanned with attention every inch of the road.

“It’s a pity that once again everything will be resolved with nothing done. I’d be really curious to see the devastating effects of this weapon live, rather than in the stupid simulations of the course,” he said, bringing one hand to the gun he kept fastened to his belt. “But unfortunately, or perhaps luckily, we will never have the opportunity,” he concluded, mimicking with the thumb and index finger of his right hand the gesture of firing at an imaginary target.

“That’s right,” Joe agreed with the expression of an old wise man, “once again the bad guy on duty, after insulting us and keeping high the suspense for a couple of hours, will come out whimpering and crawling. No one will get hurt and people will applaud satisfied, because once again Good will has defeated Evil. Everyone will go home happily ever after except us, who will continue to swear because we will have missed the Super Bowl. And as if all this weren’t enough, tonight I was supposed to celebrate my sixtieth wedding anniversary and as always I’ll back home too late. Also this year my wife will shout in my face that I love my job more than she loves her, and as usual she will threaten me with her rolling pin.”

“Hey you, slow down or we’ll get a nice speeding ticket,” Nick ordered Fabien jokingly, in order to play down the situation. Despite all their certainties, as they approached the intervention site they were beginning to feel increase the tension. The three laughed heartily, gritty. Then the boy took the microphone of the radio and brought it to his mouth with measured gestures, performing in the parody of the character of an almost two hundred years old film. Nick and Joe laughed again.

“Patrol Seven here. We are almost on the spot, is there any news?”

“Here Operative Central. No news, the guy is comfortably barricaded in the apartment. It doesn’t look dangerous, but the Simple Guards couldn’t get him out.”

“Well, we’ll make him change his mind!” Fabien said turning on the flashing lights and the sirens, then pressed the accelerator firmly.

“Who knows why all those who refuse to undergo the Treatment are residents of the Fourth Quadrant,” Nick wondered aloud, holding on to the handle.

“Once upon a time, there was a nuclear power plant there. Maybe the fault of the air or the radiation or something like that,” the patrol leader speculated passing in the meantime his handkerchief over the small gold disk again, which continued to mist up due to humidity. A small crowd admired the arrival of the car and the blatant spin with which the boy parked on the meadow in front of the house, raising a wave of mud. Greedy eyes stared almost hypnotized at the light that swirled on itself, throwing blue and red flashes to pierce the hazy veil of the evening. The spectators, aware that the luck of seeing such a show could only happen once in a lifetime, were determined to enjoy it to the fullest.

“Well, the show begins,” Joe announced gravely, after smoothing his walrus mustache.

“Put your weapons in the trunk,” he added, preparing to get out of the car.

“Do you want to go there unarmed? It could be dangerous …” Nick protested, surprised by his decision.

“Dangerous? That poor devil is terrified; didn’t you see how he is looking at us from the window?”

“It is precisely for this reason that he might be doing nonsense,” Fabien objected.

“The sight of guns has always been a great deterrent,” Nick tried to insist.

“Enough now, I told you to lay down your arms!” ordered firmly Joe, he hated being contradicted.

He closed the trunk and walked with a decisive step towards the house, Fabien admired his ability to stop being simply a man to become a policeman in an instant. The Simple Guards who guarded the house greeted them formally, after which they went to reinforce the cordon intended to keep the crowd at a safe distance. Joe motioned for Fabien to stop there, halfway, then headed for the entrance, followed by Nick.

“Is there anyone?” he said in playful tone, by knocking on the door as the other two smiled again.

The door opened slightly and a flicker of light crept into the darkness, accompanied by a creaking. The man beyond the door glanced at Joe without batting an eye, his forehead beaded with sweat and the veins in his neck swollen with tension.

“I want to speak to a reporter,” he announced in a shrill voice.

“Come on man,” Joe snapped, “stop it! We all have our problems, but this does not give us the right to terrorize the citizens. Tonight there is the match of the year and we don’t want to lose it. And then giving up now or in three hours what difference does it make to you? You know you will give up anyway.”

“Are you deaf? I said I want to talk to a reporter!” the other insisted.

Joe was already starting to lose his patience, but the idea of using force against that man displeased him. He told himself that he was probably just a poor devil, who was behaving like that because he had lost everything he had. He was tempted to reply harshly, but when their eyes met again, he winced. In the small and fleeting eyes of the other he had not read fear or despair, only a lucid and cold determination. Immediately after, the sharp metallic click of a safety informed him that the man was aiming a weapon at him from behind the door. Joe felt his blood freeze in his veins, he wondered how he could have gotten it, since the townspeople had no access to the technological tools of offense.

“Don’t be silly, as you see my colleague and I have come unarmed. We can talk about it if you want,” he hastened to say in a benevolent tone to buy time and rationalize the new situation, meanwhile, with a wave of his hand hidden behind his back, he had ordered Fabien to go and retrieve the combat equipment. After hearing the click of the safety, Joe’s expert ear recognized the typical buzz of the micro-turbine trigger. He understood that what kept him under fire was a laser gun among the most powerful, capable of piercing any type of material without any effort or dangerous refractions. He wondered again how that man could have gotten it, seized by an intuition he lowered his eyes and saw the bloodstain, which was rapidly spreading on the marble threshold.

“He took off the chip!” Joe said to himself, realizing that beyond the door there was a man ready for anything. With a feline leap, incredibly agile for a person of his age and size, Joe threw himself on Nick. The handrail that bordered the pergola broke and they fell off a kind of balcony. During the fall, Joe had already determined what the next move would be. The door had closed, he was sure that the man barricaded in the house was trying to invent a strategy. Not being familiar with similar situations, however, it would have taken a few seconds too long to make any decision, those few moments suddenly became the most precious of Joe’s entire existence. He would have used them to quickly climb the three steps and knock down the door with a mighty shoulder, the other would have fallen backwards, losing his weapon and they would have taken the opportunity to arrest him. It would be a really great move, the last heroic feat before retiring with full honors. “Maybe I’ll receive even a new gold medal, for avoiding a massacre”, he told himself. He had already experienced that scene dozens of times with his mind, but when he realized that his legs refused to obey him he realized that he was still lying on the ground. No, not yet. Again! And this time he had his eyes wide open in a stupid expression. The blood-stained mustache framed his wide open mouth, now unable to vent the cry that bounced from one side of his brain to the other, looking in vain for a way out. He was surprised how he felt no pain, just a feeling of discomfort from the wet suit he felt stuck to him from his own body fluids. And a sense of annoyance in understanding that he was dying, in the only way he had always thought it would never happen to him. “To die so miserably, six days before retirement after a rather quiet life. Moreover, precisely on the day of the wedding anniversary … what an idiot!” he thought.

He would have wanted to resist, fight with all his might not to succumb, but he knew it would be useless and pathetic. Suddenly his golden diskette came back to his mind, he looked up at his chest but found that his eyes could no longer see. Then he ran to look for the gold disk with his hand, but it fell into a chasm that seemed immense to him, it seemed to him that it was sinking into his own lungs greedy for air, taking away his already too tiring breath. “My disk” he thought one last time. After a few moments, the more daring spectators began to get up from the ground, their eyes wide with fear and their faces covered with mud.

Fabien was running as fast as he could towards the car. The excitement and fear merged into long waves that rising from the bottom of his chest quickly rose to his temples, stunning him. It had only been operational for a few weeks, the sudden perception of danger instilled in him a doubt: he wondered if the baptism of fire was so tormented for everyone or if he was just a coward, because he had already understood that being there at that moment was the last thing he would have wanted. Meanwhile, he kept running as his mind jumped from one thought to another, trying to remember the things he had learned in police school. He realized with some disappointment that the training course had brought him very little, the notions they had tried to inculcate in his head, to the point of becoming conditioned reflexes, had slipped off him like water on a raincoat. He knew that he lacked the instinct and determination that every good policeman must have by nature. Any trace of cockiness had by now disappeared from his contracted face and he cursed himself for having wished, even if only for a joke, to be able to use the tools of death waiting for him in the trunk. “I have to hurry”, he kept telling himself, but his legs didn’t respond as he would have liked. It seemed to him that he was running along a beach and these, immersed in the water up to his knees, were proceeding slowly compared to the arms that were circling like crazy in the air.

Suddenly someone shouted “Down!”, he dived and slid through the mud until he hit the bumper of the car. The collarbone of his right shoulder broke, causing him to scream in pain, soon after he turned towards the house and it seemed to him that he was witnessing at the slow motion scene of an action movie. “Stay down!” Joe had ordered Nick the moment they hit the ground, a moment later he was running again with his shoulder stretched toward the house door. A moment that lasted an eternity, Joe had his eyes narrowed with fatigue and anguish, as soon as he bumped into the door it was as if this, offended, had immediately reacted. A flash of fluorescent green swept through the elderly patrol leader, as if he were a hologram rather than a real person, then continued his course until hit a car parked thirty meters away, which exploded. An invisible hand lifted the man and threw him violently backwards, his golden medal rolling in the air glistening like a small disk of light. Now Joe was lying on the ground again, motionless on his back, his head tilted slightly to the side. The legs resting in a strange pose on the wooden steps moved in jerks, with a last imperceptible movement he brought an arm towards his chest. Fabien was shaken by violent retching, caused by the pain in his shoulder and by what he had just seen, he shouted out the name of his companion and saw everything dazzled because he was crying. Just a moment later, however, he felt something change suddenly inside him. He knew he would never be as brave as Joe, but he told himself he would at least try because he owed him. He stopped crying and wiped his face with his forearm, his eyes had become two narrow slits and his lips were pursed with anger.

“Damn you,” he mumbled as he stood up, “you’ll pay dearly.”

He took the weapons from the trunk of the car, then violently closed the hatch and walked towards the house with a proud step, holding the laser guns. He threw one at Nick indicating the back door, picked up Joe’s badge and squeezed it until the palm of his hand bled, as if that simple gesture could have transmit him all the strength and experience of his companion. After carefully cleaning the gold disk, he pinned it to his friend’s chest, then lowered his eyes as he marveled at not having vomited again in front of that macabre spectacle.

“Get out with your hands up!” he shouted resolutely towards the house.

“It’s not my fault,” the other whimpered from behind the door, “the shot went off when it hit me … it was an accident, I didn’t want to hurt anyone … please don’t try to enter or someone else will get hurt, I just want to see my son again … and I want to talk to a journalist!”

At the newspaper office it was a Thursday like any other, the journalists were busy putting the finishing touches on their drafts. The evening was quieter than ever, amidst the background noise of the typographers and the laughter provoked by some joke or by reading particularly strange news.

“Get a move on, all the material has to go to the press within half an hour!” announced the Chief Editor.

“Hey, what year do you live in? Do you know how many decades the presses haven’t existed anymore?” Daniel, the freelance who dealt with sports, made fun of him.

“What can I do if I’m nostalgic?” I’ve always liked journalistic jargon! Even if we live immersed in technology, no one will ever be able to take it away from us,” replied the Chief Editor with a shrug.

“I wouldn’t bet that much, given the times we’re living in …” Daniel commented.

Right at that moment, the atmosphere inside the room became suddenly chaotic. The telephones began to ring continuously, the fax machines connected to the news agencies spit up sheets after sheets, to update them on a serious piece of news that was happening in those minutes. After quickly scrolling through the contents of the first sheet, Roxanne shouted with all her voice to restore silence to the room.

“A fourth quadrant citizen refused to undergo to the temporary hibernation and barricaded himself at home!” he announced almost breathlessly, shocked.

In the room there was a slight shouting due to the intertwining of indifferent and superficial comments.

“I don’t see the reason for so much agitation; it’s not the first time that happens! No one would gladly accept being locked in a glass cylinder for a few decades, waiting for an event that would make it possible for him to be reintegrated into the community. In any case, every time it always ends the same way … in the end, the disobedient always gives up,” considered the expert on economic issues.

“Shut up! Here it says that the man managed to extract the chip and used it to open the Personal Equipment Box!”

“… you mean …” someone started to ask, incredulous, but she didn’t give him time.

“He opened his box and took the weapons that would be used to defend against any extraterrestrial attack … he used them against the Lords of the Order.”

“My God!” exclaimed the Chief Editor.

“He killed the patrol leader of Squad Seven … he killed old Joe like a dog!” Roxanne finished in a trembling voice. The buzz stopped abruptly and a feeling of chill filled the editorial office, old Joe was known to everyone. Now the journalists were staring at the girl worriedly, there had not been a murder case in the city for over half a century and everyone had understood by now that the news had not ended there.

“He wants to be interviewed by one of us,” she continued after an interminable pause. Frederick winced; his expression became somber and thoughtful at the same time, almost as if the news had upset him more than it should.

“I’ll go there,” he said, jumping to his feet, he was impulsive and had made up his mind in a flash. Judas looked at him almost disappointed because his friend Fred had anticipated him, the opportunities to write a real article were not many and he had almost thought to offer himself. Well, I’ll be faster next time, if ever there is one, he considered resigned to himself.

“I’m sorry, but this is not possible,” Roxanne replied, he blazed her with his eyes. Being commanded to do or not to do something literally sent him into a rage, and that was just one aspect of his character that made it difficult to be around him. In a moment he had gone red with anger, the girl noticed it and instinctively took a few steps back.

“It’s not my fault,” she then stammered in a faint voice, showing the sheet with the news. “Here is written that he wants Judas!” she pointed out.

Fred looked at her disoriented, then looked his friend from head to toe and finally back to stare seriously the girl, as if she were responsible for the situation. He emitted a deep grunt of dissatisfaction and sighed, then began to forcefully hurl every object he had at hand to the ground, cursing with conviction. The red led, the one for important calls, flashed on his phone just a moment before it crumbled against the floor. Fred switched the call to another phone.

“Hey, you! The last word has not yet been said!” he warned Judas by pointing a finger at him as he was about to sneak out. Intrigued, Judas stopped on the threshold with his raincoat in hand. As if he had his interlocutor in front of him, Fred pulled himself together and straightened his shoulders, then pulled back his wavy hair that seemed to want to escape from his head in every direction.

“It is me Your Excellency, … it is not possible to send him, this service can be classified as high risk percentage and Judas hasn’t the necessary experience … and then the responsibilities … I know that he specifically asked about him, but I can go by pretending to be him … how could him recognize me, that man will have read his name at the bottom of some article … if you put it this way I can do nothing but obey …” he said lowering the head as a sign of defeat. “No Excellency, I promise you that I will not do anything on my own mind … of course, I will send you those reports … Always Be Praised … carrion!” he then added through gritted teeth after hanging up.

“It doesn’t end here,” he finally growled angrily at his friend, throwing him a dirty look. He hinted a smile of circumstance and walked down the corridor, where some colleagues showed themselves generous with words of encouragement and pats on the back.

Driving toward the Fourth Quadrant, Judas discovered to be both excited and worried. He wondered why that fellow had asked for him and if he felt ready to face the situation, after all that madman had just killed a policeman in cold blood. It was true that that interview represented by far the greatest professional satisfaction he could ever get in his entire life, but he was not at all sure it was worth the risk so much. The phone on the dashboard suddenly rang, ripping him abruptly from his thoughts.

“Hi honey, you’ll never imagine what’s happening,” he told his wife with not quite sincere enthusiasm.