Even
“You don’t belong here.” An old woman said as Even paused on the side of the street to consult his map, “Go home, foreigner!”
Even didn’t bother looking up to justify that with an answer. It wasn’t the first time someone spat that at him since he arrived in Greece, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. He adjusted his headphones and snapped his bubble gum before he figured out where he was, folded his map, and pocketed it to move around the old woman blocking his path – when she went to smack him with her cane, he grabbed it, tilting his head down to glare at her over the rims of his sunglasses. She screamed at him in Greek and he shoved the cane back toward her, moving to rejoin the movement in the streets.
This was a real shitty way for everyone to remember the summer of ’97, that was for sure.
Earthquakes were not uncommon to this area, Even was informed almost every hour on the hour by the news, but the frequency, as well as the magnitude of them, was unusual. Since the earthquakes started two weeks ago, there had been four earthquakes larger than magnitude seven, one nearly a nine, all centered roughly in the Olympus Range. It was leveling towns and villages, knocking buildings over. It was a crisis that was taking worldwide involvement to deal with. People were flying from all over to help with the rescue efforts-
But Even wasn’t one of them.
He was here for a very different reason.
After the third earthquake, a landslide uncovered an opening on Mt. Olympus, and shortly thereafter, gold was found. The government had yet to put any claim onto it, which the news noted as being incredibly odd, but chalked up to attention being centered on trying to rescue trapped victims and restoring power to the affected areas. Any minute now, though, they figured the claim would be placed.
So Even didn’t have much time to be dealing with hostile locals.
It was pure coincidence that he was in Turkey when the first earthquake happened. He had won a raffle at work which bought him an all-expense paid weekend in Latvia, of all places, but the plane had been diverted to Istanbul, and while sitting in the airport dozing off, everything began to shake. After that he decided to get out into the streets and help, which he did for the first couple days. But as the earthquakes kept coming, the locals stopped being so friendly as emergency aid – food and water especially - was spread too thin across too many areas. Desperation could do awful things to people, as Even found out pretty quickly.
And then he heard about the cave, and decided – why not? He had nothing to lose. All he had to his name was a rather ugly and desolate plot of land back in Quebec and about three months' worth of rent money in his account, a resource he had hoarded in case he had ever wanted to get out of dodge fast. He didn’t have any connections to his hometown anymore – not that he really had them in the first place, but losing his sweetheart, Angela, to fucking cancer last spring pretty much severed the last of his connections to it.
He never thought he’d be looking to do some treasure hunting, though. If anyone else even suggested it to him before now, he’d call them a dumbass, but here he was, loaded down with caving gear. Was that what it was called? Caving gear? Spelunking stuff? He hadn’t the slightest fucking clue. He’d never been caving, but something about this felt like fate or something like it. Maybe he was crazy. A couple months ago, he tried to hang himself, and now here he was with a similar string of rope getting ready to hike up a mountain and look for gold.
As the mass of people in the street diverged, some going right toward a church while othered continued forward, Even considered his options before he veered right as well, going to where people were laid out wherever there was a spot in the courtyard, medical personnel scurrying about to try and do what could be done. Someone nearby, there was a pit a bit off, just within eyesight, where bodies were being blessed by priests before they were disposed of by fire surrounded by wailing onlookers. Back in Turkey, Even had been part of the volunteers that had been digging the holes. It was frightening how fast they reached the point where there was too much death for a major city to handle.
Several people gave him disapproving looks as he passed – glaring at his equipment because it gave away exactly what his intentions were - but he ignored them, shuffling along in line to make his way up to the altar.
When he got to the front he prayed for the people, for the earthquakes to stop, and then only then did he pray real hard to get lucky in the caves and hit the jackpot. He didn’t think he was asking for all that much. Just a couple really nice necklaces or something like that, something that meant he could afford to do whatever the fuck he wanted with his life. Go to school and get a business degree and own his own business. Buy a house in the city overlooking the ocean. Disappear into a forest somewhere and be a hermit with a pair of wolf-dogs.
He didn’t know if God was listening though. He imagined He was pissed at him or, at the very least, incredibly disappointed in him. Even might not have been raised right, but he had enough of a moral compass to know he should be helping the injured, not looking to take advantage of the situation and raid their caves. It was a real shitty thing to do, he knew that.
And yet here he was, head bowed asking for some good fortune.
He asked Angela how she was doing, though he only got silence as a reply. Maybe she was pissed as well. Maybe she just wasn’t there. He suspected she wouldn’t be surprised. She didn’t see him with rose colored glasses, but she still loved him. He liked to think she would have enjoyed the adventure. She loved the Indiana Jones trilogy, used to say he had a smile like Harrison Ford, boyish, a bit bashful. He hadn't smiled a real smile in months.
When he finished he exited the church to spare the chaos a passing glance. It was pretty quiet now, a hush having fallen over the land. With nerves as raw as they were, you were almost able to sense danger similar to how the animals did. He could sense it - the force of something strange, deadly and way more powerful than himself. They all could, but no one seemed to know where it was coming from. Everyone just looked around with gazes that were part fearful, part suspicious, talking with heightened emotions and praying way harder than they were used to praying. Even chalked it up to the earthquakes, but something in his gut told him it was something else entirely.
He just didn’t know what.
But it was out there, somewhere. Something big, big enough to penetrate through to the animal in them all to remind them that they could bleed.
Just as Even was leaving the church grounds, the ground rumbled and everyone paused in what they were doing, some looking toward the useable coast, to where it was over several hills, others to the mountain where the dead volcano sat. He braced himself against the feet of a large statue of Christ and looked out toward the general direction of the coast, where the sun was rising into a blood red sky over hilltops. There had been some tsunamis, but nothing large enough to require evacuations, but everyone held their breath in wait. They were quite a bit inland here, so he doubted it would reach them, but still, the thought of the ocean moving in toward you alone was enough to have people panicking.
Even waited for the ground to stop jerking before he started back toward the mountain.
The hike wasn’t bad at all. There weren’t many people on the path this early, fewer that were going toward his destination. Shortly after five pm and he saw the cave opening across the large valley, where a pair of military trucks were situated outside. About ten minutes after that, the sky opened up and torrential rain had him trying to see further than his nose and failing. He stilled tried though.
When a break appeared in the storm he found he was properly lost, there was a loud clap of thunder and he figured he needed to find shelter.
Several minutes of running down the path and he saw a tiny chapel, a sad looking little building that looked like it was old enough to be built by Christ himself. It was enough to provide shelter, though, so he hurried over it to open the doorway and look in.
The single room inside was poorly lit, the light from outside choked by the cloud and the trees, weak candles toward the back providing little relief from the shadows. An old man sat by the candles, staring at him with a weary look from under the brim of his ratty straw hat. Across from him was a young man on a towel bowing low at the altar, a third man closer to his own age standing with his arms over his chest and glaring at Even with a dark gaze. Even then noticed the two men were carrying swords, a third sword resting on the ground by the one bowing repeatedly at the altar. He snorted at the ridiculous sight as he stepped in fully, brushing off the rain.
“Quite a storm.” Even said in Greek, one of four languages he was proficient in. The others were French, English, and Russian. He couldn’t do math worth a damn, but as Angela put it, he had a very gifted tongue. It was one of few things he prided himself on.
“It will pour off the mountains, more landslides.” The standing man his age said in a hard, accented tone that Even was able to identify as a Turkish accent, having heard it enough over the past few days. “Many in the towns still trapped will drown.” The way he said it, Even almost thought he was being accused of causing the rain. Even didn’t appreciate the accusatory tone and let that be known with a hard look directed toward the sword carrying stranger, whose gaze flashed in challenge in response.
“How goes the rescue efforts?” The sitting man asked in clear Greek. Even noted the large cross hanging from his neck, swinging over the top of the blade he had in his lap.
“They go.” Even said simply as the bowing man slowly sat up, turning on the floor to look toward Even with a youthful face. The Star of David hung from around his neck and he touched it as he looked Even over, glancing nervously to the christian before he glanced to the other man. “Mind if I wait out the rain here?”
“Depends,” The third man said shortly, raising his blade. “Dare to touch my steel?”
Even gave him a funny look. “Your sword?” The man nodded shortly, the jewish boy scrambling to put on his glasses before he stood and held a blade of his own. “You want me to touch your sword?”
“It’s as simple as that. Touch it and you may stay.” The third man said, his chin lowering in challenge. “Unless you are afraid.” Even snorted and dropped his bag, moving to him - “Slowly!” The man barked, Even pausing in his steps to give him a suspicious look.
Even looked between the three men and saw that they were all on guard. The young one looked about to piss himself, the eldest more composed but definitely restless. The third, however, looked about ready to cut Even down. Even snorted at him before he slowly reached forward to touch the blade, holding the palm of his hand against the top of the tip.
All eyes dropped to eyeball where his flesh touched steel and all three visibly relaxed. The third man let out a huff of breath before he fell back into his seat against the wall, holding his face in his hand as the younger man turned back to start bowing at the altar again, his glasses clattering noisily to the ground in his haist.
The older man sighed. “I didn’t think so." He looked to the man Even's age. "This one isn’t nearly skittish enough to be him.” He looked back to Even with a tired smile then and motioned to the table along the wall. “Please, take some food. Rest. The rain will be here for a while, I think. Do not stray out of our sight, though. You might hurt yourself or one of us might accidentally hurt you.” He motioned then to their swords.
Even scowled at them. “The fuck is wrong with you people?” He was promptly smacked in the leg with the third man’s sword, who barked at him in another language before telling him in Geek to respect their holy place. When Even held his glare, the third man growled before he haughtily set his sword aside to fish a pocket book, a Quran, from his coat to flip through it and begin muttering, his hands shaking.
“You must forgive us, young man. The Devil is in these hills.” The old man said carefully, “We have met him twice already these past few days and know the third time he comes, he will try and take what we guard with force.”
Even gave the old man a skeptical look before he glanced at the others. At their expressions, he figured they were being completely serious. He had to shake himself, checking to see if he was asleep. This was like some bad episode of the Twilight Zone. And he fucking hated that series. “And just what are you guarding?”
“That is not of your concern.” The third man growled, not looking up from his book.
“Cetin, please.” The older man said, raising a hand toward the third man, Cetin. “He knows not of the situation,” The older man said softly, Cetin growling and turned a little in his seat to focus harder on his reading. The old man turned to the younger man. “Nadav-“ The younger man flinched before he turned to look at the older man, “Why don’t you fetch this young man a towel?”
The young man winced and nodded before he turned toward the door behind the older man, turning this way and that indecisively before he decided to set his sword down to scamper off- Cetin barked at him to not leave his weapon unattended and Nadav came back in a hurry, grabbing his sword to hurry off again. When Cetin shouted at him not to run with sharp objects, the old man waved him off and Cetin returned to his reading with a hard look, glancing up occasionally to glare at Even.
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