Victory of Coins (The Judas Chronicles, #7) Page 3

  The question of what other location could provide a lasting haven went unasked and unaddressed. I think we all knew the answer... that it would be ‘no place on earth’.

  With nothing else to hash over, I decided to revisit the very last thing Kaslow wrote....

  You and I are not so unlike this forgotten soldier, William. Think on this fact until your vision is as lucid as his.

  Affectionately yours,

  Viktor Kaslow

  “Let’s sleep on it,” I suggested, forcing a smile and ignoring Kaslow’s mockery of familial terms to close the letter. “And, this time it will truly be the ‘majority’ among us ruling the decision we live with. Fair enough?”

  I expected a revolt to return home to Abingdon that night, and most of it to come from the youngsters in our group. But Beatrice and Amy were the quickest to defer to my proposition, followed by Jeremy and, finally, Roderick nodded his consent. In the end, each of us realized there wouldn’t be a right or wrong choice either way... just a definite path with attendant consequences to follow, regardless of the decision made.

  Hopefully, hindsight would prove whatever path we took was the right one.

  Chapter Three

  We voted the next morning before breakfast.

  Honestly, I remained on the fence, where my urge to protect Beatrice and our unborn child would override whatever else called me to go against her wish. To my surprise, she and Amy agreed with Roderick’s desire to carry on to Shiloh. Only Jeremy balked, stating he preferred to rejoin Cedric in Abingdon.

  My decision at that point was easy, and enough to swing Jeremy’s agreement to join us to Shiloh once I added the caveat of returning to Abingdon once our stay at the B&B Beatrice picked out for us in nearby Corinth, Mississippi had ended. According to her, it would be a two-night minimum, which should leave us enough time to safely explore the battlefield and cemetery until we found the landmark Kaslow had mentioned in his letter.

  “Since it will take about five hours to get to Shiloh from here, and Jeremy wants to check out the ironclad U.S.S. Cairo and the rest of Vicksburg’s National Military Park, we’ll leave around eleven o’clock,” I advised our group, once we checked out of our rooms and finished loading up the Escalade. “We can catch a bite to eat on the road and arrive in Shiloh roughly an hour before it closes. If we can’t find the spot described by Kaslow this afternoon, then we can spend the day looking for it tomorrow.”

  “If we left now, we could probably wrap up our search for Kaslow’s ‘gift’ this afternoon, and then spend time visiting the battle sites around Corinth,” said Roderick. “Unless, of course, Jeremy is right and we get blown to bits by the Russian asshole.... Admittedly, there isn’t an ironclad in Corinth, as it is too far from a major river. But we would be that much closer to wrapping things up.... By the way, the town of Corinth was founded as ‘Cross City’ back in 1853, due to it being a junction for the Mobile & Ohio and Memphis & Charleston railroads. The newspaper editor at the time, W.E. Gibson, suggested the name of Corinth, since its namesake in Greece also served as a crossroads. William can attest to that fun fact.”

  “Have you been there before, hon’?” Beatrice asked me.

  “The new Corinth in Mississippi? No... I haven’t spent much time in Mississippi or Tennessee before this trip,” I told her, while assisting with fastening her seatbelt. “Most of my time spent in the southern United States during the past three centuries has been in Louisiana and Georgia—New Orleans and Savannah, in particular.”

  The mention of New Orleans sent a twinge through my heart, as it made me think of Alistair. I could tell it had a similar effect on Beatrice, as her eyes dimmed.

  “I’ve toured almost all of the south several times,” said Roderick, proudly, as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Jeremy joined him up front and Amy had her pillow, ready to stretch out in the bench seat behind Beatrice and me. “And, I have made several trips to Corinth.... It was a strategically important location to the Confederacy during the war, due to the railroads. Who knows what might’ve happened at nearby Shiloh if control of the country’s railroads wasn’t a highly desirable prize to be had in Corinth?”

  He smiled at Jeremy, and I could tell Amy’s brother considered taking the bait.

  “How about we visit the ironclad Cairo here in Vicksburg and save the military park tour for tomorrow in Corinth?” Jeremy asked.

  “What do you think, William?” Roderick asked, eyeing me curiously through the rearview mirror. “Since I can’t feel Kaslow’s energy, your gut feeling might come in handy here.”

  “I don’t feel anything from him either, but the compromise should cut out at least an hour from lingering here longer than prudent, I would think,” I said. “Ladies?”

  “As long as we don’t piddle around the ironclad, I’m fine with spending an hour here and then hitting the road,” said Beatrice.

  Amy seconded my wife’s notion with a nod, and we set out to visit the U.S.S. Cairo. Having seen such primitive submarines before, I was more intrigued to see Beatrice’s reaction, as well as Amy’s and Jeremy’s. I believe they all shared the most common first impression of ‘how in the hell did a group of grown men endure each other’s company stuck inside this thing for days on end?’ Granted, it was a helluva lot worse when the ship was submerged, but some of the letters from Union sailors to loved ones up north talk about starvation rations and roasting in the summer heat. Being bombarded by annoying mosquitoes was a more frequent form of attack than dealing with the Confederates.

  “It definitely wouldn’t be optimum for a pregnant woman, eh?” Beatrice teased.

  “Not if she needed to visit a restroom as much as your child-to-be seems to require,” Roderick teased.

  “I was thinking more about my back,” she shot back, wryly. “If it was as crowded as the war pictures indicate, it would be disastrous for someone needing to get up and move around on a frequent basis.” She laughed.

  “It would be hard for me to deal with the claustrophobia,” I said, moving closer to Beatrice and wrapping my arms around her. She wrapped her hands around mine. “Good thing it’s no longer 1862.”

  I thought about what our life might be like once the baby arrived, while pushing aside my own claustrophobic experiences that come whenever my current body is killed. It has happened a number of times, down through the centuries.... Leaving the body—at least in my case—isn’t like some astral projection experience that apparently most people experience at death, or in a near-death experience. For me, my essence gets sucked into my solar plexus before being propelled through my body and out via my head. Once outside the body, my essence travels through a very thin transparent tube. Not quite as much fun as it might sound—and yes, there’s intended sarcasm there.

  “Okay, I’m satisfied,” Jeremy announced, after we had visited the exhibit for almost thirty minutes. “Let’s move on to Shiloh!”

  All in all, the tour was an enjoyable experience. Jeremy spent another fifteen minutes taking photographs at the adjacent military park until finally, just after ten o’clock, we headed north to Shiloh.

  The scenic landscape of the drive brought to mind how much the south had changed in the past one hundred and fifty years. Land and trees that had been ravaged by bullets, grapeshot, and cannon balls were now fully healed. Granted, I had only seen pictures of the damage in this area, as opposed to the places I frequented back then. I recalled thinking long ago that much of the southern wilderness would take centuries to be restored to its original grandeur. And yet, as we headed north, the surrounding forests were full and vibrant again, taking half as long as I expected to heal.

  We stopped to pick up something for lunch about an hour north of Jackson, Mississippi. Soon after that, all of us were hit by a peculiar feeling. An invisible voyeur seemed to be watching.

  “Do you feel that?” I asked Beatrice.

  “What is it, you think?” she sniffed at the air, grimacing as if it were suddenly acrid. “It’s him... isn’t
it?”

  “Rod... can you sense anything yet?”

  He responded to me with a nod, his expression more grim than my wife’s.

  “It started about seven minutes ago, and it’s the first time in months that I’ve picked up Kaslow’s presence,” he advised. “Or, it could be the demons who serve him. They both have a distinctly shitty smell to them.”

  “Maybe we should go to Corinth first, to drop our bags off,” my wife suggested. Meanwhile the strange, foreboding impression grew in strength, and as it did, so did Beatrice’s uneasiness. Amy’s too, as if the predatory presence was focused mostly upon them. “I’m thinking more and more that would be best.”

  “We could do that, but it will cut about an hour from our time in the park today, since our GPS routed us to Shiloh first and then it takes us back to Corinth after we exit the park,” said Roderick.

  “We should consider doing it anyway, Rod,” I said, stepping in for Beatrice when she shot me a pleading look. “Let’s see how everyone feels once we get within ten to twenty miles of Corinth. If Beatrice and Amy feel like continuing on today, then we’ll do it. If not, then we’ll either go as a group tomorrow, or you and I can take care of the coin search ourselves.”

  “I’d like to come with you guys tomorrow, if that’s okay,” said Jeremy, casting a wary glance at Amy, who seemed ready to forego her nap in favor of seeing this latest discussion’s resolution.

  “That’s fine with me,” said Roderick.

  It was fine by me as well... but I caught a disdainful look from Amy to her brother, and realized she wasn’t pleased by the apparent lack of solidarity between them.

  “Whenever you decide to go, I’m coming along,” she said, sitting up and leaning her elbows on the back of Beatrice’s seat. “If Viktor Kaslow shows up, I’m not about to let him separate me from my brother ever again!”

  “So, I guess it will just be me being barricaded in the General Johnson House, huh?” said Beatrice, feigning disappointment. Surely it was only a slight exaggeration from what she truly felt in regard to the prospects of us leaving her alone to visit Shiloh while all of us were under the invisible watch of Kaslow. Of course, she should realize by now that I would never leave her anywhere alone—especially not after losing Alistair. I wasn’t about to lose her, too. Even if the chances of something like that happening were remote at best, I would gladly err on the side of protecting her from all harm. “I guess I’ll sip on mint juleps until you come back to rescue me from boredom.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” I said, drawing a sharp look from Roderick through the rearview mirror. She reached over and took my hand, squeezing it tightly. “So, either you’ll have to come with us, or Rod will have to find the gift from Kaslow on his own.”

  Granted, the chances that I’d end up foregoing an opportunity to find out if the prize was a coin or not were very slim. But, if it was a choice of doing that or making sure Beatrice was at peace, then I would take care of the love of my life. And, it would likely end up being the only other true immortal in our group—Roderick—who would have to explore the military park for Kaslow’s bait. My instincts were telling me that we would be safest to check out the park that afternoon, instead of waiting until tomorrow. So, I held out hope that Beatrice would feel comfortable enough to take care of the visit to Shiloh now instead of waiting. It felt wrong in my heart to prolong Kaslow’s moment of mercy, as well as leave my wife to anyone else’s protection.

  “You’re a good man, William,” said Roderick, who smiled in the mirror after observing Beatrice and me.

  “Yes he is,” she agreed, reaching up to kiss my cheek. “I think I’ll keep him.”

  Her mirthful jest proved infectious, and we all shared a badly needed laugh inside the Cadillac. To my surprise, the oppressive feeling suddenly dissipated, as if wherever it came from was banished by the positive vibes, leaving a peaceful euphoria in its departure. I could see the relief in everyone’s faces. Maybe it wasn’t Kaslow after all. Perhaps it was someone or something else....

  “It was him,” Roderick assured me, drawing wary looks from the rest. “I can finally feel his meddling fingers in our affairs again... but he’s gone for now. Maybe Kaslow has more pressing things to attend to and has decided to leave us the hell alone for another long spell. I’d be most grateful if that’s the case.” He laughed quietly.

  “So, I guess we can all go to Shiloh worry free, eh?” said Jeremy.

  “Looks like,” I confirmed, nodding to Beatrice, whose reservations about visiting Shiloh appeared to be easing. “Just depends on whether my lovely wife wants to join us today or tomorrow instead, when a Saturday crowd will be on hand to visit the park.”

  “How about ‘maybe’?” she said, smiling playfully.

  “Works for me,” said Jeremy, returning her smile with a wink.

  Amy echoed Jeremy, and Roderick offered an approving smile. From that moment until we stopped for lunch near Canton, things were much happier in our SUV. Easier to talk about Kaslow and the task ahead without worrying he might be eavesdropping on us. But we didn’t say much about either one, instead talking about our subsequent plans in Corinth. Amy and Beatrice hoped to hit the local antique stores, after overhearing a pair of elderly ladies during breakfast talk about the ‘better buys’ for genuine Civil War era pieces in Corinth as compared to Vicksburg.

  As I had hoped, when we approached Corinth on the highway, Beatrice was much more amenable to visit Shiloh first that afternoon—especially after she and Amy had already filled up the weekend’s schedule with items that had little to do with the famed battlefield and national cemetery. Roderick astutely noted the only Shiloh attraction that could compete with the bevy of antique stores in the area would’ve been the reenactments that took place the past April. However, I wasn’t convinced that watching scores of grown men acting out the various skirmishes that took place April 6th and 7th, 1862 would override Beatrice’s desire to purchase an authentic pie safe for Roderick’s plantation house—which once had several until he decided to auction off most of the original furniture when he modernized the house forty years ago. Amy and Beatrice both had chastised him several times for that crime.

  “You can feel a presence here,” Amy remarked, once we entered the park and drove toward the Visitor Center. “Not like what we felt earlier. This is different. It feels... it feels awe inspiring.”

  I had to agree. It supported what Roderick had stated to me long ago about Shiloh, after I had visited a few Civil War battle sites in Georgia and Virginia. At the time he told me that only Gettysburg and Shiloh carried a unique feeling like no other battlegrounds in the United States. One could definitely feel it here, and despite the carnage that took place in this gorgeous part of southern Tennessee, the rolling landscape felt like other places in the world carrying ancient sanctity. Roderick mentioned that ancient Native American burial mounds were located in the nearby bluffs above the Tennessee River.

  “Perhaps that has something to do with it,” he said. “You’ll really feel it once we get out and walk around here.”

  And I did. Especially in the cemetery, which sadly was dedicated to only one side: the Union. The confederate dead were for the most part buried in trenches that have long been covered up. When we got back in the Escalade to follow the driving trails throughout the park, Roderick and Beatrice didn’t have to point out where the Confederate dead were buried. I could feel it... a palpable emotion of sorrow and defeat that encompassed areas stretching well beyond monuments and plaques erected to talk about the southern dead.

  To be fair, it wasn’t all rosy for the Union either, as casualties took nearly half of the combined armies present in Shiloh by the evening of April 7th, 1862.

  As touched upon, the park is loaded with monuments dedicated to the various regiments and their respective States, but we only found one resembling the details from Kaslow’s letter.

  It was the biggest monument for the Iowa fallen, and in my opinion the most splendid of a
ll the memorials scattered throughout the park. We passed it once, but came back to it when it seemed to be the best fit for Kaslow’s description of a ‘woman who might as well be a bronze angel.’

  “I don’t know, Rod... I don’t perceive the glow from a coin, and my left arm has been free of any discomfort,” I said, when he stopped the vehicle in front of it.

  “Maybe I was wrong... maybe he has something else for us to find,” he suggested. “Let’s go take a look.”

  “Let’s keep this to only you and me, just in case Kaslow has buried a mine near the statue,” I said, thinking back to recent encounters with this demon lord who was once merely a wicked man. “Amy, I’m going to insist you stay here and keep an eye on Beatrice.... Jeremy, I’d like you to stay here, too. If something happens to us, get the hell out of here and don’t stop driving until you are at least twenty miles from here. Are you with me on that?”

  He eyed me suspiciously, but agreed to stay with Amy and Beatrice.

  “You’re the good man, here,” I told him, patting his shoulder on the way out of the SUV. “If all goes well, we should be back in just a few minutes.”

  Roderick and I approached the left side of the monument, carefully scanning our surroundings. Other than a few bicycling tourists passing by, we had the immediate area to ourselves. But nothing had been left for us.

  “Huh... I guess this isn’t it,” said Roderick, after we thoroughly checked the bronze woman attired in the prevalent style of the Civil War era. There was nothing hidden where the granite steps met the sculpture. Nothing at all, despite thrusting our hands repeatedly in the crevices near the statue’s feet. “I guess it’s located somewhere deeper in the park.”

  “I guess so,” I echoed in disappointment. “Well, let’s see if we can find it... the park closes in thirty minutes.” I pointed to my cell phone’s clock, which read 4:28 p.m. “You don’t suppose he’s screwing with us, do you?”