The Maze The Lost Labyrinth

CHAPTER 12



I wandered deeper and deeper into the maze with Midnight by my side. Every so often, I stopped to rub him behind the ears or to stroke his fur. I wanted him to know that I was his friend, and to stay with me as I tried to find my way out of this hellish place. Thankfully, he didn’t seem in any hurry to leave my side.

For a while, we followed the blood trail that the minotaur had left behind. The blood was copious and had already started to coagulate. It looked like Midnight had done quite a number on the creature. It was only after we had been walking for ten minutes or more that I realized my mistake and took a path that veered away from the blood and off toward another wing of the labyrinth. The last thing I wanted to do was to run into the bull creature again, and tracking it seemed like an assurance that we‘d have another encounter. Midnight was pleased with my decision, and nuzzled my hand to tell me so.

At length, we reached the beginning of a fresh set of hallways. A block of marble had been inlaid into the floor and embossed like a grave marker of some sort. It read “The Hall of Barabbas.” The thought gave me chills, and I couldn’t help thinking of the murderer mentioned in the Bible who had been set free so that Christ could be crucified in his place. Mama didn’t just take me to church; she read the Bible to me every day until I could read it for myself. I never thought it would come in handy like this.

Sets of rusty shackles had been fastened to the floor with lengths of heavy gauge chain. Instruments of torture were lined up across the opposite wall, ready to be used on whatever prisoner was unlucky enough to be restrained. A set of thumbscrews glistened faintly in the hallway as if recently used. The walls behind the iron maidens and the beds of nails were made of mirrors.

“What do you think this place is all about?” Midnight didn’t bark like I expected him to; instead, he growled and bared his teeth. Something up ahead didn’t sit well with him.

He raced ahead of me and faced one of the mirrors, barking as if Satan himself leered at him from the glass.

I joined him. “What is it, boy?”

The imposing figure in the mirror glared at me as I studied him carefully. Although there were no pictures of the criminal, Barabbas, I knew this had to be him. The man was built like a rock wall: rugged, sturdy and capable of withstanding a lot of punishment. His bald head was shadowed with day-old stubble, and his teeth were black from all the blasphemies he‘d spoken while alive. A spiked club hung from a loop on his belt; it looked like it had been used extensively.

Barabbas studied me too, watching me with black, unfeeling eyes like a deadly animal in a cage. Without warning, he rushed at me from his side of the mirror. I jumped back, nearly tripping over my own feet in an effort to get away. My heart hammered in my chest, and I looked at the murderer in disbelief. How was this possible?

The villain screamed at me, but thankfully all was quiet. I couldn’t hear any of the things he was saying to me, but I suspected that they were nasty and filled with curses. He unsheathed the club from his belt and hammered unmercifully at the glass in an attempt to get to me. I backed away carefully, not sure what the rules were in a place like this. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Barabbas stepped right through the mirror and tried to bash my head in.

Like everything else in this cryptic place, I knew there was something special to be learned here. The only question was what?

“Barabbas.” I mulled the man’s name over. “Why are you so significant?”

The criminal screamed at me, but all I heard was silence. His face was flushed with anger and frustration. Fortunately, the mirror kept the man at bay. Midnight barked at the murderer and bared his teeth, eager to take a bite of the man who had avoided crucifixion at Christ‘s expense.

Then he turned away from the mirror and barked at me.

“Easy boy.” I held my hands out in front of me. Midnight growled and showed me his teeth. The dog’s eyes were filled with fear and anger, although I had done nothing to provoke him.

I held my hands up in a calming gesture that was meant to be as harmless as possible. Midnight barked at me with a machine-gun rapidity that echoed off of the labyrinth walls. He seemed like a different animal than before. This wasn’t the same dog that had affectionately licked my hand after eating blueberry jelly from that glass jar. What was wrong with him?

“It’s ok, boy.” I eased forward, hoping for a chance to soothe him and show him I meant no harm. “Easy, Midnight. Easy.”

Midnight saw something in me he didn‘t like. The moment I got close enough, he leapt at me and sank his teeth into my hand, drawing blood. I recoiled and held my injury close to me. I backed away from the dog cautiously, unwilling to take my eyes off of him for one second. When I had put a few steps between us, I glanced at my hand and saw that his teeth had torn a hunk of flesh out of my palm. Blood dripped from the wound erratically, pattering on the stone floor like scarlet rain.

I peered over my shoulder to see where Barabbas had gotten off to and I was alarmed to see that he was gone. I looked around frantically, fully expecting to see him rush out of the shadows with his club held high to crush my skull with a killing blow, but he had disappeared. It was only as I looked behind me that I saw him in the closest mirror. He, too clutched an injured hand.

I held my hand up in front of the mirror and watched the blood spill. Barabbas did likewise. The sight was enough to send Midnight into a new frenzy, and given what had happened only moments before, I wasn’t sure if I needed to be more frightened of the Roman criminal or of the dog. So far, Midnight was the only one who had drawn blood.

I made a few other small movements and watched as Barabbas mimicked me. I wondered if maybe it was the other way around. Maybe I was mimicking Barabbas. Midnight growled at me again, low and menacing, promising violence from some place deep in the back of his throat.

For some reason, the forces that controlled this maze compared me with one of the most notorious criminals in history. I didn’t understand it. I hadn’t murdered anybody. I hadn’t been brought up on charges and later pardoned so that the Son of God could be killed instead. I was nothing like the man in that mirror.

And yet for every move I made, Barabbas repeated it.

I was starting to understand that everything in this maze was here for a purpose. The jars of pickled organs had been there to point out the flaws I was unwilling to admit. The dinner table with all the Polaroids had been displayed specifically to show me in all my sinful glory. And now this. What could it mean?

I thought about what Barabbas represented. He was the one who had gotten away with his crimes while someone else paid the price. He was the one who walked free so Christ could be crucified in his place. Was I just like Barabbas?

Amy and Peter were paying for my sins. Their lives were in turmoil right now because of my crimes. I remembered the bullet that had struck my skull. Quite possibly, this was all a dream and I was clinging to life in a hospital somewhere. My wife and son faced the prospect of losing me. Had I not gone to Karen’s, I never would have ended up in this shape, and they wouldn‘t have suffered. Amy’s heart wouldn’t be broken, and Peter wouldn‘t be facing a childhood that involved living in a broken home.

I didn’t need one of those amber pills in my pocket to feel guilty now. On the outside, I was vastly different than Barabbas. But in the heart where it really counted, he and I were the same.

I didn’t know what to do with this newly personalized connection with one of the most notorious criminals in the annals of history. I felt a sense of sorrow and a heaviness of heart that was unfamiliar, but I knew that simply being remorseful wasn’t good enough. Sometimes saying “I’m sorry” doesn’t fix everything. For his part, Midnight didn’t seem to care about the psychological ramifications of my mirror image. He was more concerned with taking his pound of flesh out of the Roman thug’s hide--and mine. In his eyes, he saw two sides of the same coin, yet he didn’t get the chance to attack either of us.

Without warning, long curved scythes descended from the ceiling behind me, suspended from lengths of rusty chain. The blades sawed through the air like razor-sharp pendulums eager to cleave flesh from bone. It was like something out of an Edgar Allan Poe story.

As if getting cut into pieces by swinging razors wasn’t problem enough to deal with, Barabbas chose that moment to step out of the mirror. Although horrified and frightened, I recognized the chance for what it was. This was my opportunity to confront my own shortcomings and face those flaws in me that had made others suffer. Barabbas represented those weaknesses in myself. He was the version of me I saw when I looked in the mirror. In so many ways, he was the real me; and I hated that more than words could express.

The criminal bared his blackened teeth at me and laughed. The sound that ripped its way out of his throat was like sandpaper on an open wound.. He held the spiked club in one hand and tested its weight, deciding whether or not it would be suitable for bashing in my brains. I had no such weapon with which to defend myself. The only thing I had going for me was Midnight. Once Barabbas stepped out of the mirror, Midnight was able to distinguish between the two of us. The dog was on my side now.

“Hello, sinner.” Barabbas carefully eyed the swinging blades. “One way or another, you are going to get hurt down here. You‘ll either be cut down where you stand or you‘ll feel the wrath of my mace.”

“I don’t like either of those options.” I moved forward to avoid the blades that sliced through thin air all around me.

Midnight howled and hunkered down, standing before me like a protector. I knew he was looking out for me, but it didn’t matter. The scythes weren’t swinging low enough to hurt him, but they would have no trouble cutting me in half if I didn’t move forward.

Inch by inch, the blades advanced toward me, cutting through the air with a loud swoosh. They drove me toward the end of the hall where Barabbas stood, and I had no choice but to go where I was led. This particular part of the maze had clearly been engineered with one purpose in mind. I was going to have to confront the ugly truth inside of me in the form of Barabbas in order to move forward. Failure to confront that ugly truth would mean death by swinging razor blade. Given that choice, facing off with Barabbas seemed logical and necessary.

I had done a lot of bad things in my time, and a lot of people had paid for my mistakes while I had gotten off scot free. I was just as much to blame for Christ’s crucifixion as Barabbas. Christ had died for all of the world’s sins. I remembered all of those empty glass jars waiting to be filled with the evil parts of me and realized I had done my fair share to contribute to that iniquitous burden. It was time I owned up to my mistakes. It was time to start setting things right.

Midnight was just an ordinary dog by all outward appearances, but somehow I knew he was much more than that. He understood things in a way I wasn’t capable of explaining. He was a creature of the maze and knew the rules here. That made him valuable to me.

I had no doubt Midnight would jump in the fray to help me when the fighting got started, but I knew in my heart that I would have to take the first step. I had to prove that I wanted to atone. I had to prove that I was strong enough to face Barabbas.

He sneered at me. “What are you waiting for, boy?” I answered him with a running charge and a shout.

The Roman thug seemed genuinely surprised by my courage. He wasn’t any more shocked by it than I was. My nature was to avoid trouble at all costs, but once I started running toward the battle, I knew I couldn’t stop. I was in this until the death.

Barabbas headed toward me with his club held high. I had no weapon, other than my frustration at being caught in this kind of life-threatening predicament. He swung at me, and I raised my hand in front of my face to protect myself. The club glanced off my forearm, sending a shockwave of pain all the way up to my shoulder. I used my other arm to try and wrestle the club away, but Barabbas was too strong and experienced in hand-to-hand combat. He swept my feet out front under me and was on top of me before I knew it.

Midnight charged, distracting Barabbas long enough for me to gouge him in the eye, but I didn’t hurt him much. He shrugged the assault off quickly, swung his club and knocked Midnight across the room. I heard the dog whimper, but I couldn’t see how badly he was hurt.

Barabbas pushed the club against my throat, using both knees for leverage. I gasped for air, choking and coughing and flailing my arms wildly.

“You’re weak!” Barabbas spat the insult at me like something offensive to the tongue. My flaws, it seemed, were going to be the death of me after all. It wasn’t the outcome I’d wanted or expected.

I stretched both arms and tried to push Barabbas off of me, but he weighed too much and was far too strong. I wasn’t going to win this fight by brute force.

Dark shapes danced before my eyes, and the world around me swam in and out of focus. As my grip on reality loosened, I had one last-ditch idea. I knew that Barabbas was a physical embodiment of the sin nature that was present in every human. I also knew that one of the first steps to conquering the sinful streak which runs rampant in each of us was to be truly repentant. That meant feeling guilt and realizing that we’d done wrong.

While Barabbas was busy choking the life out of me, I fumbled one of the little amber guilt pills out of my pocket and shoved it in his mouth. The result was instantaneous. Barabbas recoiled as if he’d been slapped. His face was a twisted mask of horrid self-loathing.

“No,” he said softly. “No.”

I scrambled to my feet, clutching at my abraded throat, gasping for air. Barabbas was just as frantic and disturbed, pacing the floor in circles, weeping, beating at his breast.

“Make it stop!” The guilt washed over him in waves. “Please, make it stop!”

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, and gritted his teeth to fight against the memories of his past. But the past also had teeth and wouldn’t let him go.

“Make it stop!”

I knew exactly how to make it stop. Before Barabbas could defend himself, I grabbed him by the tunic and used all my weight to hurl him backward. The swinging razors rocked back and forth behind me, making loud swooshing sounds as they sliced through the air. Barabbas didn’t even have time to scream before they cut him down like wheat.

Once I was sure he was dead, I turned my back to him, unwilling to look at the mess I’d made. Midnight limped toward me, favoring his left front leg slightly over the right. His movements were a little stiff; but otherwise, he seemed okay. We were both bruised and banged up, but alive.

For the moment, that was enough.