Judas' Gospel

Chapter 3

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.

“Don’t go there, please!” she cried in a tone that turned his blood into the water.

“This is the chance of my life and shouldn’t I go there? … and then how do you already know everything? … yes, television … but what have you got?” he asked while trying to dispel the anguish that had suddenly gripped him, his wife’s sweet and musical voice seemed hoarse, as if before calling him she had cried for hours.

“Anyway, I’m not the one to decide, I have to go because I was ordered,” he explained after delaying a moment, in order to find a normal tone of voice.

“Let them go, if they care so much about that damned article!” You can’t risk your life for a stupid newspaper page!” Nicole replied angrily, lighting a new shiver down his spine.

“What’s wrong with Nicole, I’ve never heard you like this … I told you I have to go there … what does it means it is precisely for this reason? Explain, please, you’re scaring me! … just a bad feeling? Come on, what do you want to ever happen? I tell you that everything will be fine, try to be calm. In a couple of hours I’ll be home waving my beautiful article” he tried to reassure her as he was already beginning to believe it less,

“I love you too.”

The door lock melted under the heat of the laser and Nick began to walk slowly through the dark, his heart pounding. He had just seen his companion die and was terrified, if by chance he hadn’t obeyed his order to stay on the ground he would have met the same end. He walked trying to hold his breath so as not to make any noise, but it seemed to him that the rumble of the beating of his own heart in his chest resounded throughout the house. Until then, Nick had always been destined for simple surveillance assignments, now that for an absurd series of coincidences he was close to death he seemed to even smell it. Meanwhile his eyes had become a little accustomed to the darkness and he continued to advance without even a shred of conviction, he felt suffocated and was certain that somewhere, sooner or later, his assassin would have suddenly appeared in front of him surprising him. Cold sweat dripped into his eyes to cloud his vision, he had just stepped into a room when something cold touched his bare neck. Suddenly he stiffened and feared he would not even be able to beg for mercy, his throat was tightened with fright.

“Don’t hurt me, please,” he begged in a faint voice, dropping the weapon, then started walking again, pushed behind him by something terrifying. “I don’t have to be afraid, Joe defeated it and sacrificed himself to defend us. I have to avenge him, I have to be able to stop that bastard”, Fabien said to himself, but the blood continued to pound his temples while much of the initial impetus had already vanished. He was aware that if he wanted to hope to survive he had to kill that man, he wondered if he would be able to do it. If he had been in front of him just three minutes ago he would not have hesitated to fire, but now he was no longer even sure of his aim because he had to use his left hand and was afraid of making a mistake. In addition, the pain in his shoulder had returned to be felt badly, stabbing him with pangs so excruciating that he staggered. And when he turned around, the sight of the bone protruding from his bloodstained suit seemed to take away the few emotional forces he had left. A shadow suddenly pounced on him, emerging like a ghost from the basement door, without thinking twice Fabien raised his arm and fired. Immediately after the light came on and he saw that the corpse lying on the floor was Nick’s, he started to stammer some words of apology but something hit him violently on the back of the head.

As soon as the rain stopped, Judas abandoned his caution and pressed the accelerator pedal with enthusiasm. Despite the anguish that gripped him, he was anxious to face what awaited him to go home to Jodie and Nicole. When he arrived at the scene of the crime, he found that everything was immersed in an unreal and artificial silence. A car was rapidly turning into a heap of smelly scrap of oil, with a succession of small explosions, the thick black smoke rising straight against the now clear sky. Lords of the Order, Simple Guards and Sharpshooters were stationed everywhere. A small crowd was gathered at a safe distance and people were jostling for seats in the last row, from where they could still see well and risk less. Judas got out of the car holding his breath and walked cautiously across the lawn, lit only by the moonlight, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. When he reached the entrance steps he almost tripped over something, lowered his gaze and an overwhelming sense of nausea rose in his throat. Flaps of charred flesh held the lower and upper halves of a man together, strips of bloody fabric protruded from the perimeter towards the inside of a hole the size of a large clenched fist. An arm rested on it, the hand lying on the pavement where poor Joe’s back should have been. The disgust and horror made him want to escape as far as possible, but he knew that he was now there and had to perform his part to the end. During the journey he was informed that the madman was holding two other policemen hostage, he shouted to the Lords of the Order that if they did not satisfy his requests he would have killed them too. So he had no choice, if he didn’t want to risk having to carry such remorse within his entire life. He took a deep resigned breath, like a paratrooper about to jump from the plane, then threw one last puzzled look at the cordon of deployed guards and crossed the threshold. He had images of Nicole and Jodie fixed in front of his eyes, he knew that it was too late to wonder what would become of them if something bad happened to him.