The Metal Threat

Down town pandemonium erupted as metal crashing against metal sent screams into the air as bodies scattered fleeing from the 50-ton bulldozer that had seemed to have developed a mind of its own as it rammed unsuspecting vehicles and caused massive damage to parked cars, and oncoming traffic.  An over turned minivan lay on its side pushed against a fire hydrant; the geyser of water added to the already chaotic and frenzied scene with mounting confusion.  Several vehicles disabled by the rampaging construction vehicle made it difficult for emergency responders to get into the area; therefore the metal menace continued on its destructive reign crashing into anything that lie in its path.  Plate glass windows shattered as flying debris stabbed through the glass injuring the customers of stores, shops, and grocers.  Personal belongings littered the sidewalks and street.  Twisted metal signs laid across parked cars pushed up against one another while the driver of the bulldozer shifted to reverse backing over dozens of bicycles.  Terrified screaming pedestrians scrabbled to get out of the way.  Suddenly the bulldozer shifted forward pushing over a traffic light.  Sparks flickered as it leaned in an awkward angle before crashing down to the street sending puffs of smoke into the air.  Several people remained trapped in mangled vehicles.  Anguished cries for help only egged the bulldozer on as it plowed into more vehicles.  One vehicle’s window was smeared with blood. 

Several attempts made by pedestrians to jump on to the bull Dozier to remove the operator failed; confronting  what sat behind the controls of the machine was an affront to nature.  Something that possessed a human body sat behind the controls, but its eyes gave the appearance of something unearthly, as the eyes were void of life in their sockets glaring out at the horrified.  A young man who leaped onto the metal menace in an attempt to dislodge the operator made another attempt.  Shock and disbelief had frozen him in place.  A cold stone like hand lightning fast grabbed the man's throat like a vice.  For that short period, the young man literally looked into the face of death before being flung from the bulldozer.  Again, the machine backed up from mangled metal and turned to ram an approaching police car that had managed to circumvent the mass of tangled wreckage by jumping the curb driving down the sidewalk.  "Wha'da fuck...this is unit 22 on 3rd and Bakersfield road...I got a priority.  Oh my god-” The bulldozer’s huge metal scoop crashed down on the top of the cruiser after ramming it with unnatural speed.  Glass exploded everywhere striking pedestrians and emergency responders.  Horrified on lookers watched as the vehicle looked as though it were being pushed into the ground taking the cop inside with it despite the rounds fired in a futile attempt to stop and unstoppable foe.  His screams died away under the commotion of the screaming pedestrians. In the distance, more sirens could be heard approaching the catastrophic scene as dispatchers shouted for additional units.

"Oh shit did you hear that," she said in mid stride returning to the cruiser with Jackson on her heels, and his ear almost glued to the radio's speaker.  Jumping into the cruiser Jackson flipped the switch for the blue strobe lights and sirens.  "Something real ugly is going on," she said reaching for the radio's mic to respond as the cruiser's tires screeched around the corner almost on two wheels.  "Damn don't get us smashed up before we get there."

"I got this," Jackson replied concentrating on the traffic ahead to avoid any vehicles slow to move from the cruisers right of way. An air horn accompanied the flashing lights and sirens aggressively signaling the cruiser’s immediate approach, and to make way.  "MOVE damn it...don't you hear all this shit?"

"They hear...they think their gonna get a case if we hit'em."

"Yeah they gonna get more than a case...stupid sonuvabitches gonna get dead with all this metal running up their dumb asses."

"All units approaching the vicinity of 3rd and Bakersfield Road exercise extreme caution individual armed with a bulldozer one unit down with pedestrian casualties," the radio blared a second time.  A block and a half away and the chaos could be seen.

"Oh shit," Sierra said staring at the massive pile up of cars and trucks scattered around looking as if they had been dropped from the sky surrounding the bulldozer.

"We're gonna have to foot it...this is as close as we're going to get," Jackson said glancing up at the news helicopters that had joined the grim scene.  The bulldozers engine roared as its operator gunned the accelerator.  To the far left, the smashed cruiser seemed to beckon to the cops.  "Shit...we gotta get to that car."  Seconds later, more of the 7th district cars pulled up as close as they could to the scene.  The injured were removed from the area while cops attempted to proceed to the cruiser mangled beyond recognition, but with lightning speed, the bulldozer maneuvered itself in their direction preparing to ram them; chasing them back behind the wreckage of the other cars.  Again, they tried from another angle careful not to alert its operator.  A hushed crowd waited in anticipation.   Only the roar of the bulldozer’s engine dominated the ground below while helicopters hovered overhead adding to the urgency of the scene.  Closer the men and women in blue crept; cuffs and keys held in place in an attempt in silencing the clink of metal.  Radios were turned completely down, and breaths were held.  Sierra swallowed hard not knowing what she would be greeted with once she approached the mangled wreckage.  "RUN," a voice shouted out.  The swift turn of the bulldozer’s scoop almost caught Jackson as he dove out of the way.  Hot asphalt biting into his hands and knees caused a string of curses to erupt from his mouth.  "Yo man...you ok," a firefighter asked helping him from the ground.  Soon police supervisors were on location setting up their command center.  The intersection was now gridlocked; a standoff between cops and machine filled the atmosphere with eeriness.  Despite the open view of the bulldozer, its operator’s identity remained a mystery.  The only person that saw him was unconscious.

 "What the hell is this," barked lieutenant George Morison while cops and firefighters were desperately trying to devise a plan of rescue. Not knowing the cop's condition made everyone anxious.  "Has anyone heard a radio contact from him?  What is his status...is he dead, alive...what, and what the hell is in the driver's seat...and why can't we get the SONUVABITCH outta there?  What the hell are all of you standing around for," the lieutenant snarled through gritted teeth looking around at the chaos," get these civilians outta here!"

"Sir...their here because ...well...they can't leave...just yet."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because these are all their vehicles and they’re witnesses," the sergeant said pointing around to the wreckage of cars becoming more and more exasperated by the second; with all the questions he had to stop and answer while his men were trying to reach the trapped cop.    “Asshole," the sergeant thought to himself walking away.  "Sergeant...get a paramedic up here...we gotta get that cop outta there; that's if he's even still alive."

"Sir...we gotta get him cut outta there first of all and second; the sonuvabitch won't even let us get close to him... let alone get a paramedic in there," he said growing angry.

"You better get somebody to go in there and get that man outta there," Morrison called after him as the sergeant continued to ignore his demands.  "Damn asshole with fucking gold bars."

"Hey Serg the only way I see to fix this problem is to get a clean shot in...maybe we can nick'em...slow'em down," Jackson said with Sierra nodding in agreement.  "It's gonna take to long to get sharp shooters down here; swat's on the other side of the city on a job at a drug house."

"Why can't we do it," a southern drawn voice said coming from behind them, "I can hit that ass from fifty yards," she said turning all the attention to herself.  Standing there 5 ft 10, 170 lbs, and solid mass the 19-year veteran from Sheldon South Carolina unsnapped her holster.  "Now just wait a minute Max the department is still on the hot seat from the last shooting," the lieutenant said, and then all of a sudden the bulldozer that had been sitting motionless roared to life turning in their direction.  "Oh shit."

 A floored accelerator marked the four of them to be the next target.  Scrambling for their lives with hats, nightsticks and handcuffs flying in numerous directions they barely escaped the deadly menace.  "That's it I'm gonna pop that wild cat," she said drawing her 9 mm from her holster from behind an over turned truck where they had taken cover.  Three consecutive shots rang out stunning everyone the operator of the bulldozer fell limp slumping over the controls. 

"You got'em...damn woman...you da shit," Jackson said in awe.

"Good shoot Max.  OK...let’s go check out what we got here," the sergeant said, but no sooner than he could turn around criticism reared its ugly head, "cease fire god damn it who fired their weapon?"

"Max did sir...she took out the threat."

"That was an unarmed civilian!!!!"

"I beg your pardon sir but that unarmed civilian was armed with a fucking bulldozer trying to ram us," she said fuming, "I used the necessary force needed to stop the immediate threat SIR," she bellowed out standing toe to toe with the lieutenant; un-intimidated by the man's rank.  Jackson and Sierra stood off to the side watching in total disbelief before they joined the others in attempting to free the cop from the mangled cruiser.

"Morrison's an asshole all week," Sierra said clearing away some of the debris.

"Yeah SONUVABITCH coulda at least taking a day off from being an asshole today," Jackson responded.

"That's what you get when ya only think about your own ass...I guess.  What a dick head." 

Finally Morrison stopped arguing with the seasoned street cop; realizing he was getting nowhere.  "Officer I want a use of deadly force report before the end of your shift."

"Fine...it beats being dead," she snapped walking away.  Feeling defeated frustrated and embarrassed Morrison looked for another outlet to vent on; walking over to cops, firefighters, and medics working diligently to free the cop from the mangled cruiser, "I want this mess cleaned up ASAP."  For a minute, everyone stopped and looked at the police supervisor as if he had two heads and went back to working.  The sergeant stepped away from the cruiser wiping sweat from his face, "We can't do that sir...not right now anyway."

"And why's that sergeant?"

"Sir this is a crime scene."

Thanks for taking the time to visit Another reality.  I hope you enjoyed this excerpt from the 

Cultural-Sy novel To Resurrect & Avenge Book one. You can visit me at  

www.wix.com/soyinkaiyabo/chaoschronicals
also available at amazon

Momma Tutu

“Serve your slave masters well an when you die you will be rewarded in heaven,” his voice boomed as if it were magnified; while Getty mimicked the de-humanizing words craning her scrawny neck around to glare at the field slaves.

 By now something other was making its way on to the physical plain; something of spirit; something of a fiery nature, something invoked to protect those descendants of very powerful and ancient ancestors. 

The more the good reverend Windwood preached his fire and brimstone sermon demeaning the field slaves the more offended the Congolese Nkisis spirit became.  The more verbally abused they were, the more the powerful Nkisis spirit rose up in anger. On and on the good reverend Windwood ranted his fire and brimstone sermon, then suddenly the painting of the crucifixion of Jesus fell from the wall.  The field slaves trembled with anger and resentment; knowing within their spirit, they were to be no servant to any man. The sermon paused momentarily; taking notice of the falling painting one of the ushers removed it from the floor.

“The lord wants obedience and no other heathen gods shell be worshiped before him,” he shouted pointing to the field slaves causing the rest of the congregation to turn and glare hateful looks.  Again, the air filled with tension bordering on hostility.

“Some house of the lord this is,” Buck muttered, “they about a second away from lynching us...even if we is somebody’s property.”

“You nigras hush ya pie holes while the reverends preaching,” one of the ushers growled.

“Damned slaves oughta have they own nigra church, and not in here wit good Christian white folk.” 

 Mae bit down on her lip until it bled trying to hold her tongue while she held tight to her high John root. 

“It’ll be over soon, “ol man Reese whispered.

“Not soon enough...Indians snuck up outta here before it got started...lucky,” Buck grumbled. Momma Tutu seemed to be the only one unaffected by the sermon as she stood quietly with closed eyes; giving the appearance she could be standing up sleep, but little did they realize she was fighting hard to keep Zarabonda from lashing out.  In her mind, she was in another world as Zarabonda spoke to her inner ear.  He re-affirmed thoughts that had previously visited her mind thoughts that were horrible in nature.  Zarabonda revealed images to her mind’s eye concerning Missy the master, and the good reverend Windwood.  A flood of imagery poured over her making her nauseated.  The wickedness of the good reverend Windwood and Ebeneezer Everts was unlike anything she had ever seen before.  The images were almost maddening, but she withstood them, and their extent of their evil.  Her legs buckled almost dropping her to the floor.  Reese and Manny steadied her, “the heat must be getting to her,” Manny said.

“Ain’t no heat can get to a pure blood Congo woman...them visions she be having...now hush up,” Reese whispered as the hell storm sermon went own. 

“We all need to pray sisters and brothers...pray for our president’s salvation of his soul...because disobeying the lord, and setting nigras free, he has doomed our great nation to HELL.  Pray sisters and brothers...pray to Jesus for the confederate south to be strong...pray for them godless heathens to find Jesus and be good slaves...pray for our brothers and sister that suffered from the slave revolts that left good Christian plantations in ashes.”

“YES JESUS,” a voice from the congregation cried out.

“Let no man steel from the lord,” the reverends voice bellowed out.

“That’s right rev...Let no man undo what god has ordained not even the president of this United States...amen,” a man’s voice barked.  The congregation had become so excited with the reverend’s hell and brimstone sermon it was like a wild animal catching the scent of blood in the air.  Whispers wishing Lincolns demise flowed around from the various pews, “they need a rope for that no good vermin,” another voice spoke from the front of the congregation.  Intentions of violence filled the air like smoke from an erupting volcano as the good reverend Windwood’s words fueled the hatred.  Hooping and hollering in the name Jesus ensued with hand clapping, and feet stomping to the chants of amen save the south sweet Jesus.  The congregation was so excited and riled up that they had forgotten all about the slaves in the back of the church.  By now, Getty and the master's children had begun to feel uncomfortable. Having never seen the whites in such a state of mind, the closer it came to Lincoln's emancipation the stranger their behavior became, as true feelings revealed themselves.

"These white folk is smelling blood in the name of their god," Momma Tutu said; snapping from her trance.  "I say we need to get the hell outta here...they is a split second from a lynching," Buck whispered nervously motioning them all to the door.  It was not difficult to slip out un-noticed.

Back at the slave quarters, Momma Tutu sat in silence rethinking the events of the morning as did everyone else.  "Is that what a good god fearing Christians is suppose to be like," Maggie asked shaking her head," they ain't no better then rapid dogs...calling us heathens...they just as evil as the night's long."

"I can't take no more of those words of the lord," Buck said laughing to himself.

"I don't know how those dimwits in the master's house do it...them white folk hate them just as much as us, and they sit up there Sunday after Sunday sucking it all up," Mae said in disgust.

"I even heard that oldest dimwit spouting off like that reverend Windwood; call'em self preaching to the others ....craziest thing ya ever wanna hear; a house slave imitating a country preacher putting down his own kind," Reese said noticing Momma Tutu's despondent look," you alright? Ya scared us for a minute there...ya having another one of them visions wasn't ya?"

"Yelp, and it was mighty powerful...them folks is something evil...offended Zarabonda to no end...took all the strength I had to keep'em back...I is still feeling a bit winded.  He woulda tore that place apart!"

"I saw the picture fall from the wall," Mae said.

"Wasn't no falling...it was knocked from where it hung.  So much wickedness up in that place....Zarabonda saw them white folk...all of them and how they’d rather see us dead than freed....and that girl Missy....I feel sorry for the girl...she got the devil's seed growing in her belly."  Everyone gasped at the old woman's words.  "What you be saying?"

"I be saying she got the seed of that evil preacher up in her.  Poor girl been passed back and forth between the master's bed and the good reverend Windwood's bed.  Master's seed wouldn't take ...him being all sickly and everything," Momma Tutu said with disgust twisting her face, "make me feel unclean just talking bout it."

"Me too...been feeling something awful every since setting foot in that church," Rufus complained.  It was not long before they all complained of ailments and bad feelings. 

"That's the evilness in them words they be preaching...pure evil that just grabs a hold of ya.  Me people called such evil the Bucra; an evil thing birthed from hate," Momma Tutu said turning down her mouth and frowning as though she tasted something sour.

“Ain't nothin but one thing for us to do...we gotta get cleaned from the white man's evil on us...cause if we don't it'll just eat us alive bit by bit eating us from the inside...all kinds of sickness be on ya before ya knowed it."

"Like the Massa?"

"Yelp ...just lik’em."  They all cringed at Momma Tutu's vivid description as she went on.

“When the owl hoots we‘ll meet in our special place, and you all knowed what to bring."

"Momma Tutu....I hate to say it but something's telling me we is gonna need a little more than just some roots and all....remember what we all talked about? You saw how riled up they was in that church...it ain't gonna be long...we gotta be prepared to make a move.  We is gotta protect ourselves."

“Reese is right I knowed about a path that leads up in the hills to those red people's village...them ones that don't come down to here, and they ain't friendly wit whites either.  They know we is here and that one day we is gonna run away...and they know they is the only ones we can run too."

"I heard it was some slaves living up in them hills already from other plantations after the uprisings," Buck said.

"Is that right? Well why ain't we gone," Rufus said impatiently.

"Just hush boy, ain't time yet," Momma Tutu snapped, "tonight just bring what ya need," she said in a whisper as they all dispersed from the shack.

An imminent sense of danger cloaked the descending night while an undeniable resentment filled the air with hostility all stemming from the good reverend Windwood's Sunday morning sermon of superiority and supremacy only hours ago. 

What was it about those who came from across the ocean in chains stripped of everything they owned; doomed to a life of misery providing comfort and wealth for those that spilled the blood of the original inhabitants.  Laboring from sunrise to sunset day in and day out; seven days a week was their blight.  Was it the determination of dreams of freedom?  Was it the desire to exist in a humane existence that fueled such animosity and resentment from whites to the point of unspeakable acts of cruelty and inevitable violence that set the stage for an imminent demise?

 Finally, the owl’s hoot echoed through the night catching the ear of those who sat in anticipation of invoking the powerful Congo spirit.  One by one, they all slipped off carrying their meager belongings and farming tools with sharp or blunt edges. They all blended into the night. The full moon hung low in the sky with a hint of red around its outer edges as if to suggest some catastrophic event approaching.  

Again, they seated themselves around the fire giving thanks for the little they did have and to be able to pay homage to the creator in their ancestral way despite the fire and brimstone sermon’s threats of physical violence from those who hated and feared them.  Their prayers to the powerful Nkisis spirit asked for safety, protection, salvation, and to be delivered from the cruelty of those who would see them dead before setting them freed.  They prayed to be relieved of an existence of torment and misery.  They prayed to the Congo spirit to be cleansed from evil that had tainted their spirits upon entering the white's place of worship.  Again, roots found their way into the fire sending the pungent smoke into the air.  The spirit's mantra echoed repeatedly.  Small rattles and other items that served as handmade instruments kept a steady and hypnotic beat enticing them to dance around the flames that demanded more of the pungent roots and herbs.  Soon the wind made her presence felt as she whipped at the flames.  Dark clouds made their way to block the moon's illumination.  An entire atmosphere became charged with something ancient and primordial as another presence ripped through the material plain washing over everything like a vast ocean. 


I hope you enjoyed an excerpt from "To Resurrect & Avenge "
Book one available at amazon .com
As usual I'm writing from the 3rd eye for your 3rd eye in Another reality 

The Secret Meeting

An hour later she sat at the prescribed location in the black Sedan waiting for the exact time before walking to the rear of St Agnes’s chapel.  Shadows cast by the tree lined path brought about a sense of uneasiness as the unknown seemed to stalk her footsteps along the gravel path.  In the distance a lone owl hooted in the night as biting insects attempted to seek out bare skin,” damn it,” she said swatting away the biting insects.  Uneasiness crept closer accompanied by a slight chill which was unusual for that time of year.  She mustered her courage walking along the path; wishing she had changed her shoes as gravel and heels never agreed to her feet. The winding path led her around the rear of the deserted chapel.  Despite the angles and saints that garnished its architecture she found no solace in the dead of night as it continued to unsettle her.  Her thoughts rolled back to the remote viewing session she took a deep breath to slow her pounding heart, but a thousand thoughts raced through her mind joined by a thousand questions.  She glanced at her watch ,” three minutes to the magic hour,” she thought to herself beginning to rethink her actions almost regretting not letting anyone know of her whereabouts. The moon’s illumination partially concealed by low hanging clouds left scant light penetrating the trees that guarded the secluded area creating an atmosphere where one’s imagination could run wild.  From the corner of her eyes she spotted movement by the shrubbery.  Reaching into her pocket she wrapped her fingers around the butt of the small caliber pistol.  The feel of the cool steel against her hand brought about a sense of momentary calm walking along the gravel path.

Then suddenly footsteps in the near distance alerted her to another presence.  Taking in another deep breath she paused ready to discharge the weapon should she feel the need to. 

“Dr. Grey,” a voice whispered from the darkness spinning her around with the weapon drawn.

“I mean you no harm…however if you shoot me you destroy your chances of learning the truth of everything,” the dark figure stated.  The manner in which he carried himself concealed his face as the dark fedora hat seemed to obstruct his facial features along with the dark suit with an upturned collar further concealing his identity as he took a seat on the wooden bench,” please be seated,” he said turning slightly away from her.  Realizing she was in no immediate danger she returned the pistol to her pocket,” Sorry…one must take precautions especially with the circumstances surrounding everything,” she explained approaching the bench.

“Thank you for coming alone, and I do apologize for the theatrics…and I do want to say that your close…closer than you realize.”

“You’re the one who’s been calling me…who are you?”

“It’s best if my identity remains anonymous at this time Dr. Grey for now refer to me as 7 my true identity is unimportant, but what I have to say is that there are factions within the Vatican who would do anything to keep their secrets…even to the point of making people disappear.  You have to ask yourself what is so secret that they would result to such drastic measures.  There is a wide spread epidemic of fear amidst the these so called men of the cloth, and the Vatican is slowly losing its power to control, manipulate and intimidate the world as it had once done.  They’re losing their influence over world events. Their inability to cover up media scandals is devastating the church.  It’s quite different than it was during the cold war where coups, assassinations and genocide were condoned by the Vatican’s silence when the targets were not of the Catholics persuasion; as insensitive as it sounds Dr. Grey it is a bitter truth.  How do you think the Vatican has come across its many treasures, and land titles over the centuries; treasures I’m quite sure you’ve questioned yourself in your position, and my god to be able to print your own currency that’s another topic.

But times are different now, with the advent of technology the church is desperately trying to keep pace with it.  During these times free will thinkers are at an all time high, and clergy abusing their authority is no longer tolerated…it’s all catching up.  They’re not use to it.  The Vatican once had long arms; arms that even reached to NASA…the world’s renowned space agency and other space agencies dictating what discoveries were released to the media and public and what remained concealed in classified files locked away remaining a mystery.  Do you understand the power they have harbored for centuries?  The discoveries made by NASA alone could change religion, and the laws of physics as we know them would no longer apply.

“The church would crumble,” she whispered wishing she hadn’t heard the words he’d spoken to her.  Despite her mind quickly digesting the info deepening her understanding she felt like a tiny speck of dust swirling about the vast universe.  

“Even the simplest truths pertaining history is dangerous to the church and its hold over humanity.  Why do you think some scholars are held back while others are propelled forward easily receiving their tenure, grants numerous funding and everything needed promoting the political agenda.  The long arm of the church is comparable to an octopus Dr. Grey why do you think mis-education is so crucial; keeping the masses ignorant and powerless is vital.  Power is not shared.  Remember the devil’s biggest scam was convincing man that he didn’t exist.

Illusions Dr. Grey combined with manipulation, deception, fear and intimidation.  A tactic used for centuries; keeping the masses ignorant…and how do you keep a people ignorant and powerless…by systematically removing their culture traditions and eliminating any and all historical origins that would empower them.  But on the advent of technology man is no longer dependant on bits and pieces of knowledge controlled by the church.  Remember those who were considered free thinkers were considered heretics and cast out, or even worst put to death.  That in and of itself is a whole history the inquisitions, Witch burnings, ect.  In today’s world there are no longer public executions as we know them.  They’re much more subtle under the cloak of secrecy. And there are many forms they’re executed; strange illnesses, assassination of character, and disappearances are popular as well,” he pointed out.” 

She took a deep breath as she rubbed the side of her temple attempting to stave off the approaching tension.  “I know it’s over whelming being centered dead in the middle of this situation with such extenuating circumstances.  I just don’t want to see you or your associates fall into a precarious situation being so close.”

“Why…why are you telling me this…why are you helping us?  What do you have to gain from this,” she questioned looking straight ahead respecting the stranger’s request for his identity to remain hidden.

“Dr. Grey I’m very familiar with your work, and a big supporter.  There are many who share our interest and secretly support you.”

“Yes…all of those anonymous donations from funds to equipment, military applications before they’re released to the public and other agencies and corporations,” she whispered as it all began to form an even bigger picture. 

“The answers you seek have always been in the Vatican, but now you must extend yourself outward into Vatican City to solve this enigma. During the second world war the allies had invaded and at the end of the war the Nurnberg tribunals were beginning…all of Hitler’s top officers and generals were fleeing for their lives as Hitler’s death squads, the SS, and Gestapo were all being rounded up along with its top commanders, and being tried and convicted of war crimes and then executed.  This created a mass exodus of war criminals out of Germany, however prior to the incident of Allies invading a strange and bizarre secret alliance had formed during World War II.  Despite the churches views and attitude in regards to the Nazi death camps one thing remained a constant the Jews were not catholic…non Catholics being persecuted under the Nazi regime was of no consequence to the church.  Believe it or not many of your Nazis were catholic…Nazi catholic priest in fact.  That’s the bizarre part…bare with me Dr. Grey,” he softly asked holding her attention prisoner to the strange and unbelievable he was divulging to her revealing to her a clearer understanding of the intricate web of deceit spun so many decades ago within the Vatican walls, “no matter how grievous the sin no catholic is denied the right to confession.  In fact there were many within the Nazi war machine who despite their actions claimed to be devout Catholics and as a result to dull the guilt from the atrocities they were committing the higher ups gave extravagant gifts to the Pope and other senior ranking clergy to absolve them from their sins and of course these gifts brought them favor so when the time came these favors were called in.”

“Let me guess…After the Allies invaded and when the tribunals began,” she said unsurprised.

“Exactly…passports, new identities, safe passage to havens in South America some even acquired positions within the church under an assumed identity of course.  Then you have Britain and the America grabbing up most of the scientist.  The rest made use of the rat lines,” he said appalling her,” yes Dr. Grey the rat lines run all through Vatican City…they were the way to the Americas, and other parts of the world for escaping Nazi war criminals.  Secret passages and hideouts used…I mean physical passages specifically constructed for a means of escape.  You will find that most of them run parallel around the catacombs and beneath the restricted archive bunker,” he said matter of factly,” yes Dr. Grey you are going to have to utilize the same underground corridors as the Nazis if you want to find this relic in time.”

 His words made her blood run cold; to actually walk in the footsteps of the most malevolent individuals the world has ever known,” the rat lines...oh dear god,” she whispered to herself with dread as he handed her a large envelope with the papal seal on top the left hand corner with the words confidential stamped across it in bold red letters.  The envelope smelled of mildew and dust with one of its corners covered in what appeared to be dried blood.  Don’t ask where it came from…that’s irrelevant just know that there are those who need you to be successful in your endeavors,” he pointed out walking away,” your work is of the utmost importance,” he said disappearing into the night.

Thanks for visiting Another reality I hope you have enjoyed the excerpt from The Dorian Grey Files Womb of Darkness now available at amazon.com. You can also visit me at www.wix.com/soyinkaiyabo/chaoschronicals