“You don’t have to wash my dishes Rick James. Give ‘em to me baby,” he said, speaking a language only she could understand. The corners of his mouth rose like a white flag of surrender. A soft glance from his amber eyes and a flash of his pearly whites were all it would take to win the TKO.
“You’re a sack of shit,” she said breaking into a laugh. Something she had called him out of the blue and for no reason after one too many shots of Beam. It had become an inside joke between them.
“Yes, but I’m your sack of shit,” Jagan relaxed and let out a genuine chuckle.
“I just want you to be safe. Is that asking too much my darling?”
“Come on, Kaya. There’s no need to worry.” He knew how much she resented being called by her first name. “I’m not him.”
Chapter 4
Agent U, A.K.A, “Indigo”
The rings of smoke from the Black and Mild escaped Indigo’s lips, and danced towards the ceiling of the dimly lit tavern. Two tables over, a scrawny brunette offered a subtle nod. Blonds were off his list–a stinging reminder of the love he left behind. The Corps and his country were his brides now.
“The Panel” thankfully approved his relocation to the suburbs near Quantico. Even though he preferred the fast pace of D.C., there was too much chatter there, and that interference just wouldn’t do…not in his line of work. Besides, the Pentagon and the brass gave him the heebie-jeebies. Some of them had sticks so far up their asses; it would take a crane to yank them out.
Indigo didn’t have to approach her. His broad chest and bulging biceps did all the work for him. The Raiders’ tattoo was the delectable icing on his masculine cake. It was far too easy. Like a dog in heat, she sauntered towards him with an exaggerated swing of her hips. Her legs went on forever. A strong aroma of peaches announced her arrival and he couldn’t wait to taste her. He had a weakness for perfume. A little young for his liking, but he could tell at least she was legal–or so he hoped. Friday nights were the only time he gave into his vices. The booze and women dulled his senses, so limiting his pleasures was an unfortunate mandate of the job. Man, did his country owe him.
Leaning towards him, she lifted up his sleeve, exposing the rest of the marking. “Let’s forego the formalities. Shall we?” She said, reaching out her hand, hoping she hadn’t overplayed it.
She hadn’t. Indigo was relieved to not have to concoct another alias on the fly and he was ready for a long night of lascivious sex with “what’s her name.” Besides, the less said the better unless it was dirty talk. With a tilt of his head he gulped down his glass of cognac in one swift motion. His hand dwarfed her tiny extremity. Slipping his other hand behind her, he eased it down the small of her back. His fingers slid across the waistline of her sarong towards her belly button. He was eager to see what was under her blouse, but it would have to wait. An abs man, he was hoping she wouldn’t disappoint.
Chapter 5
Who are they? He didn’t recognize anyone. The people around were adamant they were his relatives, but none of them were familiar. They were all liars. Left with no choice but to flee, he booked it out of there to get away from the strangers. He wandered off into the night.
After miles of rambling without shoes, the exhaustion overcame him. Having nowhere else to go, he climbed up a tree to rest his eyes. When he awoke, he was terrified. He was high off the ground and almost slipped off the branch. What had possessed him to sleep there?
A noiseless flash overcame the horizon. Almost swept off his feet, Jagan crouched down and raised the side of his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the intense beam, trying to understand what had just occurred. His heart valves fluttered like dragonfly wings. The atmosphere was so surreal, he didn’t even seem to care his aortic valve was about to burst. Above the façade of the ancient mausoleum, a billowing smoke emerged into the lavender-tinged sky. He had no idea how he ended up here and he had no idea where “here” was.
A booming thunderclap accompanied the horrendous vision, leaving his swollen eardrums in agony. An intense heat sizzled against his skin like a cattle prod. Images of his life flashed through his brain in a millisecond like a supercharged slideshow. Jagan could visualize each moment of his existence while experiencing a myriad of feelings simultaneously–every joy, heartache and fear, as if each had just happened for the first time all at once. What followed was worse. The daunting emotions of millions of suffering people pressed upon his chest. This was the end and there was no denying it. The mushroom cloud in the distance signified that sure enough. An indescribable evil had unleashed its doomsday device and there was nothing he could do but watch.
His body felt light as a feather, as if he were somehow hollow inside. Was he dead? Maybe he died in the blast and just didn’t realize it. He wondered if any loved ones on the other side were waiting for him or if he would even recognize them if they were.
“Bāng bāng wǒ…Bāng bāng wǒ.” The children were standing on a crumbling sidewalk raising their arms towards him, tears streaming down their ashen faces. They continued to scream at him in a foreign language. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Jagan protested. His well-formed muscles were betraying him again just like in his recurring dream. His larynx refused to respond like the neurons weren’t firing properly in his brain. How could he help them in this condition? He felt about as useless as a dog without a bark. Trails of bright lights from tracers emanated from every direction and careened upwards through the muted sky. The blasts muffled his hearing, but he could still make out that eerie voice that spoke in slow motion–Your mind is slipping.
A loud buzz emerged from above him and zapped into his tympanic membrane. His body froze and desperately he tried to breathe, but his ribcage was locked. Somehow, Jagan was back in the shack, looking down upon his motionless body. With a nagging hum, his eyes opened and he gasped for air. This was a deviation from his usual nightmare. This was a physical experience he couldn’t explain. He had heard of near-death experiences, but wasn’t sure if this was one of them. All he knew was he couldn’t go on like this any longer. There was only one person wise enough to help him sort this out.
Chapter 6
Jagan struggled to secure the drain plugs into the transom of the hull. His hands were still shaky. The out-of-body experience felt so real it unhinged his usually calm sense of self. He unloaded the airboat from the trailer and slid a Bowie knife into his snakeskin boot. With his crossbow strapped around his broad shoulder, he climbed onto the back of the flat vessel. He had learned the hard way not to go into the swamps unprepared. Bocephus leapt on board, panting with excitement.
Jagan knew he had to get to the bottom of this floating act. Something about it was more terrifying than his usual nightmares of being cut open on that table. The thought of a nuclear assault was pressing upon his chest like a vice. He felt responsible somehow for what had happened. He knew it wasn’t real, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he actually witnessed something, as silly as it seemed. He was hoping his grandmother’s old friend could help. Maybe he should have disclosed it to Kaya, but he knew it would just make her worry more. That was the last thing he needed.
The whirs of the propeller overpowered the engine’s dull roar. Navigating the swamp buggy over the wetlands, the blades sped up upon entering the inlet. At the conflux, Jagan pushed the steering stick forward to turn into the stream. As he eased off the throttle, the harsh sounds dampened, revealing the subtle roars of thunder in the distance. The waterway narrowed as the marshland overtook the landscape.
Reptilian eyes emerged from the brackish water. Jump in. Don’t mind the gator. Jagan admonished himself to ignore the odd thought. Having far too many close calls with the ancient creature, he knew better than to wrestle one alone.
Bocephus rushed to the front of the platform and howled as they approached their destination. Hand-carved animal totems and metallic figures dangled from the bald-cypress branches. Jagan navigated the craft through a break in the mangr
oves and settled it on dry land.
Gator hides hung from the scaffolds over the open pit. Bocephus trotted up to the smolder with his snout to the ground. His nostrils flaring, he was likely picking up the wafts of green hickory smoke and scents of cured meats that were cascading in the air. Thick drools emanated from his lower jaw as if gravity refused to release them.
Jagan bowed his head and traversed the sacred ground. Some of his ancestors were slaughtered here. He stared at the dwelling place of one of the last who remained. There were few of his people left in these parts. Ducking his head to enter was the only way to avoid the clumps of dried bog grass that hung from the thatched roof of the circular compound.
“Your shoes…take them off.” A hawk feather dangled from her clay pipe. Nia studied Jagan’s face and could tell there was something wrong. Chills emerged up and down her spine as she recalled a similar encounter years earlier. The resemblance was uncanny.
“Sorry, Nia,” Jagan said as he removed his boots, his face flushing from the obvious oversight. Tossing his kickers outside, he plunked down in front of her and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at her intently.
“It’s been a while,” she said with a hint of disapproval in her voice. “I thought you would have settled down by now.” Nia wondered how a man as sexy as Jagan could still be single. No doubt women threw themselves at him. She sensed that he was guarding his thoughts which piqued her curiosity. “Your mother…how is she?” Nia inquired.
“Oh fine…I guess,” he said with a whine, staring at the plume above her pipe. Smoke rings arose from her lips and morphed into the shape of a snake. He rubbed his lids, not sure of his senses. Her cloudy eyes fixated on him.
“What do you mean, you guess? I know it hasn’t been easy since your father died, but try to be patient with her. Remember, the hawk reminds us to be slow to anger,” she said pointing to the feather. “Something you should reflect upon.” Nia blew the vapor towards his face.
Jagan covered his mouth and coughed, “Okay, I get the point.” The last thing he needed right now was another lecture. It really irked him when they stuck together. He didn’t stand a chance, especially when they ganged up on him like this.
“Something else troubling you?” she asked. Nia’s instincts were firing on all cylinders. She could tell he was distressed. This wasn’t the first time a Love had come to her for advice. She was hoping she could help this time. If she had only done more to intervene all those years ago things might have turned out differently.
Jagan’s head dropped towards his folded hands. He wasn’t sure where to begin. The whole thing seemed so absurd to him now that he was actually here. It was like going to a doctor for a rash that suddenly disappears during the exam. Maybe this was a mistake and he should just zip it up. It could be disastrous if word got back to Kaya.
“A girl perhaps?” Nia knew something more serious was on his mind, but she didn’t want to rush him. Besides, a strong premonition overcame her that she would never see him again. Now was the time to pry. This might be her last chance. Like most elders, she couldn’t resist a juicy piece of gossip. If only she were a few decades younger. Jagan was a looker and charming enough to tempt any woman…no matter how old. At least she could live vicariously through a younger vixen, if he would only give her the details.
“Not just a girl…the girl. My true love is out there. I know it sounds corny.” Jagan regretted saying it the second the words left his mouth. If Nia didn’t think he was crazy before, she certainly would now. He felt so careless with his tongue. When would he learn to keep his yapper shut?
“I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic. It may not be wise to rest all your hopes on one woman.” Nia stared off into the distance. “You need to be careful. This fairy tale you’ve written may lead you astray.”
Jagan’s face contorted into a scowl. “So are you saying I shouldn’t believe in true love?” He probably would have been better off getting relationship advice from an online psychic or a magic eight-ball.
“No, I’m simply warning you to be wary of women that may try to trap you. You’re special Jagan and someone may try to take advantage of that. Don’t fret. It will happen soon enough, just don’t rush it.” Nia clapped her hands together. “Enough about love.” She was disappointed he didn’t have a sordid tale to tell. “What’s really bothering you? You’ve been having those dreams again, haven’t you?”
Jagan paused for a moment. “This one was different,” he whispered. Jagan was always so bewildered at how she could anticipate his thoughts. He respected Nia, but there was something about her that made him uneasy.
“How so?” Nia put down her pipe and pulled her long, stringy locks to the side, separating her hair into three sections. Jagan was trying to block her out, so she had to distract him in hopes he would let down his guard.
“It’s hard to explain.” More like impossible. He never should have come here. His father had warned him before he died. It was one of his strongest memories of him. He obviously didn’t trust her but then again he wasn’t a native. Maybe he just was unfamiliar with their customs, their way of life or maybe he was right? If only he could get his advice now.
“Try,” Nia said firmly. The corners of her mouth turned up, emphasizing her marionette lines. He was making this more difficult than it had to be. She wondered if he was hesitant because he was traumatized somehow.
“It was almost like I was awake, but only a part of my body was with me.” He felt like such an idiot. Here he was a grown man talking to an old woman about his dreams. He may as well of asked her to wipe his bottom while he was at it.
“Did you feel like you were flying?” She wove the outer sections of her hair around the middle one, securing the loose braid with a string. At least he was finally opening up. She knew this wasn’t easy for him. The men struggled so much more when it came to such things.
“Yes.” Jagan stared at her hair hypnotically. For some reason he no longer seemed to care what she thought. He was starting to feel comfortable, like he was just BSing with his buddy Luca.
“I see.” Nia’s face slackened. “What happened in the dream?”
Jagan covered his mouth with his fist. Nia could see his Adam’s apple move more dramatically when he swallowed. Beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead. This must have been worse than she first suspected.
“There was a hydrogen bomb or some type of nuclear explosion.”
“Go on,” she said rising to a stand. No wonder he was upset. Nia had pondered it before, but now she was certain he had the gift. She had hoped otherwise. Life was not going to be easy for him. It was an unfair burden.
“It was overseas somewhere.” He wasn’t really sure exactly. He hadn’t given it that much thought. Did the location matter? He was trying to review the images in his mind to see if there was a clue he had missed.
“Japan?” She asked. If there was a nuclear explosion, Nia knew this would be the first logical choice, but she couldn’t imagine why he would be dreaming about World War II.
“No. China, I think.” Jagan recalled the Mausoleum from the dream. That was the location of the Tiananmen Square riots. He had seen a documentary on it back in school.
“Most unfortunate.” She was hoping he’d envisioned the former. Nia snipped some herbs that were hanging from a beam and placed them into a wooden mug. Jagan needed more than guidance.
“Why is that?” He couldn’t understand why the identity of the country mattered so much. Maybe she was asking the wrong questions. Weren’t the suffering children and mass casualties more important than the locale?
“Come. Let’s sit by the fire. You need some fresh air.” Nia grabbed a terracotta pot and walked out of the crude dwelling. After she filled the Earthenware, she placed it on the fire and motioned for Jagan to sit. “What else do you remember?” she asked.
“There were children.” Jagan felt a lump in his throat as he recalled the helpless looks on their faces. He never wanted to re
live the experience or to feel that powerless ever again.
“Did they speak to you?” Nia already knew the answer.
“Well that’s the unsettling thing. They did, but not in a language I understood. Chinese, I think.” It made him anxious that he heard words in a dialect he had never been taught. A slight tremor emerged in his hand. He glanced down at it as if it had a mind of its own.
Nia poured the hot water into the mug and said, “Here, drink this. It will calm your nerves.” There had to be something else she could do to help him. She had to think of something quick.
Bocephus gnawed on one of the gator tails he had pinned between his front paws. “Now boy, that’s not polite.” His master scolded him. He tried to pry the meat from his maw.
“That’s alright. There’s plenty to go around,” she said, stroking the hound. “It’s nice to have a dog around. They’re smarter than people, you know.” Nia knew that most humans were oblivious and underestimated the animals in the kingdom that were not of the Homo sapiens variety. “Even ants work together better than most of the people I know,” she said. “Animals are a part of the spirit world. Some are there to warn you of danger; others bring messages from loved ones who have passed on to another realm. There are also those special ones that are attached to only one person–a guide if you will. You must find yours and pay attention to what the other creatures are trying to tell you.”
Jagan knew she was a wise woman and probably right about the insects, but the rest of it sounded like a scene out of Snow White. He was a Spiritist by birth, not by choice. It all seemed rather far-fetched. He wasn’t really sure what he believed, but his gut was telling him the dream had some meaning. “Why does it matter whether the dream took place in China or Japan?” He asked staring into the cup as if in a trance. Maybe there was more to it than he first thought.
The Predecessor Page 3