“If it was Japan, it might have been a past projection. Your journey was into the future, so to speak,” she said stoking the fire. The embers beamed like lava rocks.
“What? But, how can that be?” What the hell was she talking about the future? This wasn’t making any sense. He didn’t read tarot cards or believe in any of that hocus pocus. She was probably just pulling his leg. Journey into the future my foot, he thought.
“I don’t ever recall a bomb that big going off in China, do you?” Nia rhetorically asked. “There is no history of such a thing. So what you saw hasn’t happened yet. Simple,” she said smugly.
“This all sounds rather out there to me. Are you trying to suggest I’m some sort of a time traveler or something?” He started to chuckle at the thought.
“Not you exactly, but a part of you…your spirit.” Nia was surprised Jagan knew nothing of astral projection. His mother should have taught him these things. There must have been a reason she kept this from him.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Jagan took a sip of the concoction and pursed his lips. Nia’s tone made him feel like a naïve child.
“I know it’s bitter, but you’ll get used to it.” Nia pointed to a bright orange object in the night sky.” Jagan tilted his head upwards.
“See that one near the head of the bison?”
“You mean Orion’s belt?”
“That’s what the outsiders call it. Look at the star.”
“That’s Betelgeuse. It’s supposed to go supernova.” He took a big gulp and gazed back up. Like his ancestors, Jagan was fascinated by the night sky.
“That flickering light you’re gazing at is over six hundred years old. It doesn’t change what happened on that orb all those years ago, but you are seeing it now, as if the light was shining for the very first time,” she explained. The ornaments on the trees chimed as the wind picked up momentum. Bocephus gulped down the last bite and curled up next to his owner as if he sensed an approaching storm.
“So, what’s your point, Nia?”
“What you saw was the future, just like now you are seeing the past. Time is a difficult construct to absorb.”
“So what you’re saying is that my dream was actually a vision of the future?”
“That’s precisely what I’m saying, but just like you can’t touch that star, you cannot change anything or interact with anyone when you travel in your visions.”
“Let’s just hypothetically say for a moment I believe you, which I don’t…what is the point of seeing the future if it cannot be changed?”
“This is where things become a little more complicated. There are two schools of thought on this one, and it’s up to you which one you ascribe to.” Nia wasn’t sure he was ready for this. She wished she had more time to teach him the ways of their ancestors. Jagan nodded at her to continue.
“You see, some believe that every action you take has a meaning. If you turn left at the crossroads for example, your entire life turns out differently than if you had turned right.”
“Okay, I’m with you so far.”
“There are others that believe no matter which way you turn, the outcome will be the same. In other words that each person has a destiny that cannot be changed.”
“That’s pretty deep Nia, but what if they both are true? What if the actions are necessary to fulfill the destiny, but the person is unaware they are complying with an unknown force.”
Jagan was wiser than she thought. She had never looked at it that way. “Either way, you have to determine the significance of your dream and what you are willing to do about it.”
“So, you think it can be changed? The outcome, I mean.”
“Theoretically, yes, but only in the tangible world, not the astral one. Think of it as having a View-Master. You remember that toy where you can peer into it and peek at the pictures?” He nodded and Nia continued, “You can’t enter the scenes, but you can inspect them.”
“So it doesn’t matter how I act in the dream, only what information I can learn from it?”
“Yes. Any action you take has to be when you’re awake.”
Jagan’s lids began to close. He was starting to understand, but it was a lot to take in at once. His fingers began to lose their grip on his cup.
“That’s enough for tonight. You should rest, but tell me something.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you ever have any visions while you’re awake?”
“Just gut feelings mostly.” Jagan didn’t want to disclose anything that personal, especially because she’d probably go running to his mother.
“Anything else?” She pried as she placed the hand-woven blanket over his shoulders.
“Sometimes I have intrusive thoughts,” he admitted reluctantly.
“I see,” she said rubbing her fingers against the sides of her nose.
“Are those visions too?” he asked.
“I don't think so.” Nia went back inside. She wondered if Kaya knew.
Hoo, hoo. A great horned owl landed on a nearby mossy oak. His head contorted in an almost supernatural display. Bocephus raised his muzzle and let out a howl. The bird of prey flirted its wings and flew off into the night. “Good boy. Scare mama’s spy away,” Jagan slurred. Whatever she put in his drink was making him loopy.
Nia returned with an embroidered bag and a red cedar box. She placed them in front of him.
“What’s this?” He was starting to see double.
“Open them.”
Jagan reached into the bag and pulled out several pouches filled with tobacco and herbs. Inside the box was a hand-carved pipe.
“I don’t smoke,” he protested.
“This is different. It’s medicinal.”
“Well, either way, I can’t accept this, it belonged to him.”
“I think he would want you to have it. Besides, it will help keep those unwanted messages at bay. Rest up. You’re going to need your strength.”
“What for?”
“Your grandmother can explain better than I can, but for tomorrow, you need to find someone who can help you translate those words from your vision.” Nia leaned over and kissed Jagan on the lips. She allowed herself the pleasure of lingering on him for a few seconds. If only she were younger. His lips tasted like honey.
“Night, Nia and thanks.”
“You have his auburn eyes,” she said softly.
Chapter 7
Agent U, A.K.A, “Indigo”
Indigo’s eyes broadened, “This can’t be your hooptie?” Indigo was flabbergasted…a stunning babe and a muscle car to boot. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Of course he could land just about any chick he wanted. He was accustomed to women throwing themselves at him, but there was something different about this girl.
“Scarlet. The name’s Scarlet and yes, it was my grandfather’s.” She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
“Is this a 68?” Indigo already knew the answer. He was testing his hunch to see how much of a Tomboy she really was. He wasn’t fooled by the outfit and makeup. The calluses on her hands were a dead giveaway.
“Yup. Only has a thousand miles on it. All original including the paint. All the numbers match,” Scarlet said proudly. She knew her way around a motor.
“I didn’t think there were any Chargers left, except in museums. It’s in mint condition.” He was right. Tomboy. Indigo hadn’t felt this alive in years. He had become so immersed in his work that he had forgotten about the simply joys in life. For some reason just beholding the vintage car and her company made him feel like a new man.
“Gramps kept it in his barn. He had one of those wall units, you know that blow the ice-cold air. Kept it at a steady seventy degrees. He only drove it a few times. Polished it a thousand. Was his obsession.”
“My brother…”
Scarlet paused, “Yes, go on.” She was surprised he was opening up to her so quickly. She pegged him for being an all action, man of few wor
ds type of guy. Maybe she was wrong.
“Never mind.” Indigo wasn’t sure why he had said that. He didn’t even have a brother, did he? He wasn’t that drunk but the fact that he said it made it difficult to concentrate. It was like someone put his thoughts in a blender. Damn. A brother? He tried not to dwell. This was his night off and he was going to enjoy it. He worked hard after all.
“Maybe I’ll let you drive it some time.” Scarlet could tell his attention was drifting elsewhere so she winked at him and flipped her hair. She had never done anything like this before. There was something exhilarating about picking up a stranger.
Indigo’s lips opened, showing off his million-dollar smile. He flexed his biceps as he opened Scarlet’s door.
“What a gentleman.” She highly doubted that he was. He seemed more pig than puppy.
“So I’ve been told.” Indigo whistled as he strode around the back of the car. He hesitated after he touched the passenger handle.
Scarlet giggled and rested her chin on the roof. “Yeah, I bet. Aren’t you getting in?”
For a moment there Indigo had a funny feeling, like something wasn’t quite right. “What the heck,” he answered and plopped down into the seat.
Scarlet got in and revved her up. For a moment there she thought he was going to change his mind.
“Now this is too much,” Indigo said as he pushed the eject button. “An eight-track?” He inhaled deeply and savored the vinyl aroma. The scent was somehow more than nostalgic. It evoked a memory that he couldn’t hold onto.
“It wouldn’t be authentic without one. All the oldies. Here, pick one.” She flipped open the center console exposing a selection of cassettes.
He lifted each one up, inspecting the cover. “ACDC, Skynyrd, Frampton, Kiss…” This was insane. Her taste in music was just another plus. He finally made his choice and inserted it into the slot.
“Foreigner…nice,” she said as she adjusted the rear-view mirror.
It feels like the first time, Indigo sang as he tapped his hand against his thigh. He had a feeling with her it might. There was something ghostly about the song and the way Lou Gramm’s voice echoed into the night. It brought something back to him…like a déjà vu. He couldn’t grasp the memory. It was odd because he knew all the lyrics but couldn’t recall where he was when he heard the song. Scarlet navigated the hot rod through the desolate streets and steered her onto the on-ramp.
“This is the best part,” Indigo said as the guitar solo started. He gazed at her and sang along as if he were serenading her. Won’t you open up the door, he continued to sing.
“Maybe a rock career is not in your cards,” she mocked him and added a giggle to make the comment stick. She actually found his singing sexy, but thought it would go to his head if she told him so. It didn’t seem right that he got all those looks and talent to boot.
“Wait, the turnpike? Where are you taking me?”
“Why don’t you take a nap? It’s going to be a long ride.” Scarlet began to feel a little guilty about what she had done. He really seemed like a decent guy.
Indigo tried to keep his eyes open, but there was no use. Everything faded to black.
Chapter 8
Jagan sprinted towards the bus, dropping his energy drink in the process. There goes his pick-me-up. Whatever Nia gave him the night before was potent. He hadn’t slept that well in years but now he was dragging ass. His motor blown, for now he’d have to hitch a ride on public transportation. What a buzz kill. Following Nia’s advice, he was off to the local university to meet with a language professor. Maybe he could decipher the message from his dream. It was worth a shot anyhow.
A man in a dark suit stood at the top of the steps. Lifting up his shades, his eyes peered at Jagan as if he could see through to his very soul. His mouth went dry and his palms began to sweat. The closer he moved towards the stranger, the more his discomfort grew. There was something about his blue-black hair and piercing azure eyes that seemed almost unnatural. From ear to ear, a scar about an inch wide traversed the man’s throat. The skin on his face was pitted, like someone dipped him in acid. A strong feeling of familiarity crept into Jagan’s mind. Was that the man from his nightmare…the one standing guard at the door? Whoever he was, his presence evoked a certain panic in Jagan like the way the animals behaved when they ran from Damien at the zoo. Chords from a pipe organ sounded off in his mind as if warning him to run.
“There you are,” Luca said coming up behind Jagan. “Why don’t you sit-in on my literature class and then I’ll take you to meet the language professor.”
Jagan turned around to face his friend. “You mean like English?”
“Trust me you don’t want to miss this class.” Luca nodded his head slightly up and down like he knew a dirty little secret. He knew it was a boring topic but his friend was in for a real treat.
“Whatever you say man. Hey, do you know who that guy is?” Jagan asked pointing back over his shoulder to where the suspicious man had been standing.
“What guy?” Luca crinkled his eyebrows together. When Jagan turned back around the man was gone. English Lit was not his forte, but he was hoping it would get his mind off the boogey-man, even if it would bore him to death. Jagan followed Luca to Wadsworth Hall. A group of girls ogled the men and giggled as they strutted by. Now Jagan understood why Luca had signed up for classes. It was all about the babes.
Professor Garrett wrote three words on the board–In Cold Blood. Jagan was confused. He thought this was a literature class, not criminology but the three words got his attention. “For this assignment, I want a full analysis of the book to be turned in by the end of the semester and I don’t want to read what’s already been done. I’m looking for a paradigm shift here so to speak.” Various sighs and moans let out simultaneously. A few curse words were mumbled by some of the less serious students in the back row. One of the guys yelled out, “shift this,” as he propped one of his legs up on his seat and grabbed his manhood. The professor pretended not to notice. Most of them were jocks on football scholarships. They made their contempt for academia known.
“Make sure you cite your sources properly.” The young blond looked more like a model than an instructor. Jagan could tell his friend was hot for teacher. Knowing Luca, he probably already placed his Italian fingers between her legs. He could charm the pants off of any girl with his GQ looks and Italian accent.
“APA style,” she added the final blow. The groans increased.
Several taps emanated from the front of the room. The teacher sashayed towards the door, her heels clicking with every step. Jagan stared at her sultry form, monitoring the sway of her hips which were accentuated by her snug pencil skirt. Jagan didn’t know how any male student could focus in her class. Men thought about sex enough without encouragement, but with eye candy like that the guys didn’t stand a chance at a decent education. A clever lawyer like Johnny Cochran could probably sue her for some type of human rights violation or a “no child left behind” infraction. Jagan pictured the closing argument and couldn’t help but laugh. He continued to stare and with a turn of the knob, the tantalizing teacher nudged open the door.
Professor Garrett leaned in and put her face closer to the opening. Jagan watched her lips moving, but couldn’t get a visual of the person on the other side. With a sudden turn of her head, she gazed directly at him. He must have been imagining things. With a hard swallow, he turned his attention towards the black-and-white images displayed on the screen. Being projected were mugshots of two convicts and a caption written above–Mass Murder in Kansas.
The professor dismissed the class and the undergraduates closed their books and began their departure. As Jagan made his way towards the exit, the teacher called out to him. “Mr. Love, a recruiter came to class looking for you. He left you his card.”
Jagan took it and held it in his hand. It had been years since he filled out that paper expressing interest in the Marines. An odd feeling overcame him. How did she know hi
s name? He placed it in his pocket and brushed his hand against his pants as if to ward off an evil spirit. He thanked her although maybe he shouldn’t have. That had to have been the guy on the steps so why was she talking to that creep in the first place?
Luca led the way over to the language department and knocked on the door. Tap, tap. “Jìnlái.” The professor said something in Chinese and motioned with his hand towards the chairs on the other side of his desk. The very sound of his voice unsettled Jagan’s nerves.
Luca popped his head in further. “Sorry, Professor Zhang…This is my friend, Jagan, the one I was telling you about.”
“Right. The one who needs a translation.” He emphasized his Beijing accent. His English was almost unintelligible.
“Yes, professor. I won’t take much of your time.” Jagan chimed in fidgeting with the paper in his hands.
“Why didn’t you take my class this semester?” The professor asked in an irritated tone. Luca knew better. The student body boycotted his class earlier in the year. Maybe the professor was unaware of the coups. Obviously, he was desperate for students.
“I’m not sure, but now I wish I would have.” Luca fibbed. His eyes darted across the room uncomfortably. There was a reason he hadn’t. Word was around campus that the professor had an explosive temper. Some of the Lambda Chis foolishly tagged him on Twitter as @professorpootietang during initiation week. Mysteriously the next day someone set their frat house on fire. The campus police were unable to prove who committed the arson, but the unofficial account stuck.
“Before we get started, let’s get a few things straight. I am not Professor Wang nor your pootie tang. I’m not your ying or yang and I don’t like to gang bang.”
The Predecessor Page 4