Reign of Coins by Aiden James Page A

for me, my mind will forever carry this image amid the late morning sunshine and raindrops from an earlier downpour dripping from the leaves of cecropia trees and a large palm near the building’s burning remains. That, and of course, Kaslow’s youthful mug leering at me.
    While staring into the darkness above my bed, I considered how easy life could be if Beatrice, Alistair, and I lived someplace else—maybe on a deserted island in the South Pacific. However, the reality that my beloved wife and son couldn’t manage without modern comforts nixed the fantasy in its infancy.
    What about someplace overflowing with modern comforts and conveniences? A place far, far away from America and hopefully out of reach from Kaslow’s homicidal radar.
    Australia? The Philippines, maybe? Or…New Zealand?
    New Zealand sounded intriguing, and I had visited both islands on a regular basis back in the early 1900s. This wonderful country offered nearly every climate and terrain I loved, and the people were strong and kind to strangers. I started making the arrangements to relocate my family to this wonderful country in my mind. I even added special accommodations in my fantasy world for Larissa Jones to come along as Beatrice’s private nurse and companion.
    But, what about Alistair and his girl, Amy Golden Eagle—who would probably not go anywhere without her brother, Jeremy? That made five people and counting….
    I drifted off to sleep thinking about this shit. When I do rest in this manner, my consciousness moves through a narrow corridor where I am completely surrounded by thick darkness. The corridor seems endless, and along both sides of the corridor I sense souls of the dead…watching me, and speaking in whispers too faint to decipher.
    Of course, none of this is likely real—I don’t see dead people. Even so, it marks the place where my dreams start. Most of the time these events are peaceful—despite the heavy burden of guilt I’ve carried since my ultimate betrayal of Jesus Christ in Jerusalem two millennia ago.
    Occasionally, I’m visited by nightmares. That night, I thought such an event was happening. Loud explosions erupted around me, and clods of falling soil fell onto my head. Crouching inside a cavern approximately fifty feet wide and less than five feet in height, the only illumination came from a hole in the center of the cave. Through this entrance, an assembly line of Chinese men dressed in silk changpaos moved up and down a pair of thatched wooden ladders, carrying small steamer chests into the cave from above. The jingle of metal on metal when each chest was stacked along a rear wall in the room made it seem like items of significant value were being stored there.
    The explosions grew louder, and the men scrambled in panic, peering anxiously toward the opening as they continued their task. A voice called shrilly to the others from above the entrance, and then machine gun fire sprayed into the hole, sending a man’s bullet-riddled body tumbling down upon his terrified companions. Everyone scurried into the cavern’s shadows, carrying what they could.
    Roughly a dozen more men descended into the cave, and these were attired differently than the first group. I recognized the black boots and dark blue pants from what the Japanese infantry wore during World War II. But, I’d never been this close to them—even when I enlisted with the U.S. armed forces in the Pacific.
    The soldiers crept deeper into the cave and opened fire toward the shadowed depths. To my right, a lantern burning low exploded into flames when a bullet hit. The fire spread quickly, igniting several chests. One of the Chinese survivors moved over to one of the chests, where the lid had popped open slightly. I caught a glimpse of a metal armor vest in the firelight, along with something faint…but glowing blue.
    Holy shit, it’s my coin!
    I tried to get closer to it, as the Japanese soldiers fired upon the defenseless man. He fought