By Lincoln Reed
Dr. Byron Stoneburner inserted the bronze snake into a satchel as German bullets whizzed overhead. He secured the latch on the bag and mumbled a prayer.
Courage. Or Jack’s dead.
A disheveled officer nudged his arm. “You’re serious?”
Byron tightened his helmet chinstrap and placed a muddy boot on the trench ladder. “My friend’s out there, Captain. Can’t abandon him.”
The officer nodded toward the satchel. “At least leave us the trinket.”
“If it weren’t for Jack Grimes, I wouldn’t have dug it up.”
The captain cursed and glanced at a row of injured men, all miraculously recovering after gazing upon the professor’s mysterious artifact. The Nehushtan—the same image that had granted the Israelites healing when wandering in the wilderness. According to the Torah, anyone who looked upon the artifact would recover. He shook his head and gave a salute. “Godspeed.”
Byron returned the gesture and breathed deep. Above the trench, a sea of barbed wire and hidden land mines awaited. He patted the bronze serpent and climbed the ladder, exiting the Allied trench and lunging into the hellscape.
He waded across a muddy puddle, soggy earth suctioning his shoes like leeches. Barbed wire tore his uniform. Enemy bullets zipped past his ears. Acrid smoke stung his eyes and burned his throat.
Byron didn’t belong here. Nobody did. Maybe that’s why they called this place No Man’s Land. He should’ve been back at the university giving a lecture or hunting another artifact from a lost civilization. News of the war had arrived when Byron was traveling across the world, locating the remnants of an Assyrian treasure trove. Once he’d found the Nehushtan, he returned to war-torn Europe and enlisted in a medical unit. Since all his students had traded pens for rifles, the least he could do was help end their suffering. When he’d arrived at Jack Grime’s regiment, Byron learned his university colleague and oldest friend was trapped somewhere in the minefield beyond the trench.
One yard at a time.
Shrapnel rained overhead. Byron crouched in a hollow crater, dirty water up to his knees, a rat floating on a fallen soldier’s severed limb.
Everything in Byron’s gut screamed for him to return to the safety of the trench.
“Help!” A cry arose from deep within the maze of bones, dead trees, and buried explosives. Jack. “Somebody, please!”
Courage. Belief.
Byron gritted his teeth and jumped from the hole. He plowed through the torn earth, crawled on his stomach beneath a barbed wire fence, and hustled toward the sound of his friend’s voice. Through the haze, he glimpsed Jack’s crumpled form hiding behind a broken cart. Beyond, the German line waited, pinning Jack’s position with a staccato barrage of machine-gun fire.
Byron flopped onto the mud and pulled himself forward inch by inch. A bullet tore the edge of his helmet, but he continued onward as the stench of death wafted from the wounded landscape.
When Byron reached the relative safety of the overturned cart, his stomach churned.
Jack blinked. A milky haze clouded his blue eyes.
Mustard gas.
If Jack couldn’t see the snake, how could he be healed?
Byron surveyed his friend’s broken ankle. “Always tripping on something, aren’t we?”
“Byron?” A smile formed on Jack’s weathered face. He grasped at Byron’s sleeve. “That really you?”
A shell exploded thirty yards away. Dirt cascaded. Byron covered Jack until the rubble quieted. He pulled the bronze serpent from the satchel over his shoulder.
“Brought you something.” Byron pressed the bronze relic into Jack’s palsying hands. “The Nehushtan. Crafted by Moses himself.”
Jack’s forehead creased, his expression briefly returning to the analytical historian and eternal skeptic Byron had grown to admire since their days as university students.
“So, it’s not a fairy tale.” Jack shook his head. “But how’d you…?”
“Tell you all once we’re back in the trench.” Byron held up the serpent. “First, let’s fix that ankle. Get a good look.”
“But, the gas… I-I can’t—”
“Try anyway. At least gaze in its direction. Even if you can’t see. Here, that’s it. The snake’s in front of your eyes now.”
Jack grimaced. “But the snake has to be seen.”
“The key is belief. You must believe.”
“Can’t be that simple.” Jack shook his head. “But I-I want to, Byron. I want to…”
“Hold onto this for me.” Byron left the Nehushtan with Jack. “We’ll have another go back in the trench.”
Byron slunk below enemy fire with Jack leaning against him. They hid within a crater and were slowed again when Jack’s coat caught on barbed wire.
“Belief is surrender, Jack.” Byron caught his breath. “Not just seeing.”
Jack’s grip tightened on the Nehushtan, mumbling to himself, or perhaps saying a prayer. As the sun bled crimson along the ravaged horizon, Byron dragged Jack the final thirty yards before dropping him into the open arms of Allied soldiers.
Byron jumped into the trench and landed with a thud on the duckboard, panting, heart pumping like an artillery cannon. He shuffled toward Jack, placing an assuring hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“I know the legend.” Jack’s lips quivered. “And I believe the snake worked in the story, I do. I-I want to believe.”
Byron studied the bronze serpent’s etched scales and then surveyed a row of nearby soldiers—the same ones who had recovered from their wounds after gazing upon the bronze serpent.
He squeezed Jack’s shoulder and steadied his friend’s grip on the Nehushtan. “Maybe the miracle was never because of the snake. Who did the Israelites believe gave the serpent its magic? Trust that Power. Have faith. Surrender. Believe.”
While another mortar exploded and soldiers scrambled, Jack closed his eyes and pressed the relic to his temple.
When they opened, the murky sheen peeled away, Jack’s blue eyes shimmering as the bronze serpent glinted in the setting sun.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Thank you using an almost forgotten artifact from the Old Testament. Also, I always love a good WWI yarn.
I love this story! I admire your creativity in combining faith with an incredible and thought-provoking Old Testament story. This is one my new Havok favorites!
Thank you, Arlan! I’m glad you enjoyed the story :) I appreciate your support!
Excellent!
nicely done…
Great atmospheric writing.