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They separated Jesus and Casey. Something the writer was grateful for since he felt suddenly ashamed for the crimes he committed in the twenty-first century when he was flat broke and desperate. He was brought back to his putrid cell, his ankle shackled, and locked behind the iron-barred door. Meanwhile, a cell that Casey could not see from where he stood was opened.
“Barabbas, you’re free to go,” Short Soldier announced. “Your people have chosen you to go free seeing as it’s Passover and the Romans are so generous, you piece of monkey scum. I suppose you’ll be back soon enough after you kill somebody else.”
When Barabbas emerged from his cell and stood in the center of the stone dungeon, Casey got his first good look at the historical Biblical figure. He didn’t look human. He looked more like a wild animal, covered from head to toe in black hair. He wore only an animal skin overall that was supported by a single strap over his left shoulder. His tall, muscle-bound body was scarred, like he’d seen his share of hand-to-hand combat and enjoyed it immensely. Unlike Casey, he was a true killer, you might say.
Barabbas smiled a mouthful of gray-brown teeth.
“You guys are going to miss me, aren’t you?” he said in a deep baritone voice. He then puckered his lips. “Come on now, how’s about a little kiss before I’m on my way?”
Casey was able to make out the fear in both soldiers’ eyes. It was the kind of fear that quickly sobered a drunken man up. If Casey had to guess, they just wanted to be rid of the animal. Tall Soldier assumed combat position with his lance.
“Up the stairs, Barabbas,” he said. “Be gone with you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Barabbas muttered like playing with the Roman guards was the most fun you could have with your animal skin clothing on. “I’ll be on the lookout for you boys from now on. You can be sure when you least expect it...” making like a knife with the extended index finger on his right hand, he ran it across his throat...“I’m going to cut your throats to the bone and toss your bodies to the dogs on Golgotha. By morning, there won’t be anything left for your fat wives to mourn over.”
“Be gone, Barabbas,” Short Soldier shouted pulling his sword, or Gladius, from its scabbard. Be gone or we will have no choice but to arrest you for threatening proud members of Caesar’s Roman Legion.”
Barabbas chuckled once more. He was about to turn and head for the opening that led to the stone stairway when he locked eyes on Casey. Maybe the writer was protected behind the iron bars, but he felt his heart jump into his parched throat.
“You,” Barabbas said. “What did you say your name was again?”
Clearing his throat, Casey reluctantly told him.
Barabbas squinted his eyes and shook his head.
“What the fuck kind of name is Casey Smith?” he said. “It sounds like something out of the future. Or out of this world anyway.”
That’s when an idea filled Casey’s overheated brain. Not a single Roman feared him. Pilot didn’t fear him. Certainly, an animal like Barabbas didn’t fear him. But what if he could accurately predict the near future? What if he could somehow convince his captors that he was indeed, a man who had been transported back in time from the faraway future? It might not save his life in the Metaverse, but it might prolong his execution. If he could delay that, he would be spared the pain of crucifixion at least for a time while Pilot and even Herod questioned him.
“It’s as good a plan as any,” Casey whispered to himself. “Maybe they’ll drop my death sentence altogether.”
In the writer’s mind, he knew that Jesus was more than likely being fitted with the ninety-pound crossbeam. It would signal the beginning of the end of the Messiah’s life on earth, at least for nearly three days and nights. He also recalled the New Testament, and how the Gospel of John spoke about the weather taking an immediate turn for the worse once Jesus was introduced to the cross that would kill him, and how an earthquake would open the graves of the dead, while the skies would turn black as night, and the Temple of Solomon would be turned to rubble.
“I am from the future,” Casey said. “And in just a few moments, the sun will be extinguished over Judea. It will be just the beginning of the end of the world.”
Barabbas laughed like this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He shifted his gaze to the narrow window at the top of Casey’s cell. It was filled with sunshine.
“Looks like a beautiful day to me, Casey Smith,” he said. “A great day to be free.”
But that’s when a crack of thunder shook the stone building, and the sun disappeared, just like that. Barabbas’s face went pale, and he turned tail and ran up the stone stairs. Another flash of lightning struck, followed by another loud concussion of thunder. The two Roman guards who were left behind were trembling in their sandals. Their Adams apples were bobbing in their throats.
“The Gods want you dead,” Casey Smith said to the two Roman guards. “This might be a good time for you two to repent before you prepare me for execution.”
Another flash of lightning occurred and yet another blast of thunder rocked the building.
“Who the hell are you?” Short Soldier asked.
“Your worst nightmare,” Casey Smith said.
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