The White Book

by George Shadow

  “They let me through, because I told them we had a government assignment,” Oxana told Kimberley as she pulled out of the checkpoint.

  “I see.”

  “Funny they forgot to ask you for your identification.”

  “What?”

  “Some people still have permission to remain in the town,” Oxana quickly added. “Plant workers, policemen, doctors, scientists and military personnel.”

  “Right,” Kimberley said.

  “I have an apartment close by,” Oxana said.

  “Okay,” Kimberley said.

  “Is anything wrong?” Oxana began. “You don’t seem to want a conversation with me.”

  Kimberley sighed. “You brought us to an empty city with very dangerous radiation levels. Why would I want to talk to you?”

  “I thought I could give the kids something to eat before you leave my time,” Oxana returned.

  “I could do with a little bite,” Aiden said at the back.

  “Me, too,” Rachel agreed.

  “Guys, you know we are always full whenever we fill a new body after each travel, right?” Kimberley asked exasperatedly.

  “Right,” both kids chorused.

  “So what are you two talking about right now?” she asked them. “We don’t need to eat before we leave, right?”

  No answer.

  “Majority wins,” Oxana quipped, stopping before an apartment block and getting out of the car.

  “What did you want to tell us that you couldn’t tell us on the way here, anyway?” Kimberley asked her guest while exiting the car with her two young time-traveling companions.

  “200 millisieverts,” Oxana checked from her dosimeter, which still hung from her neck. “Not too bad and…and not good either. Great.”

  “Oxana,” Kimberley said slowly. “What did you want to tell us?”

  The blonde scientist looked up from her instrument. “I…”

  “Let’s go inside first, Kim,” Aiden proposed. “Rachel’s feeling tired.”

  “It’s the radiation, but she’ll get better after you leave my time,” Oxana said, getting a key to unlock the apartment block’s main door. “Come in please. You eat, I talk to you and you go, nothing more.”

  “Okay,” Kimberley agreed. “We eat, we leave.”

  Inside, the building had a flight of stairs that stopped at the last floor. Oxana led her visitors up to the fourth floor and unlocked a wooden door as plain as the other doors lined up after it in the single corridor. Cheap furniture and abstract art graced her living room, which had space for a dining table sitting four. “Feel at home,” she said, waving her guests to a sofa facing a box TV set. “I have agnautka and some milk in the fridge.”

  “What’s agnautka?” Rachel asked, sitting down on the sofa with Aiden.

  “A kind of Ukrainian bread,” Oxana replied as she headed to a small doorless room fitted out as a kitchen.

  “And where’s the fridge?” Kimberley wanted to know.

  “I thought you were not hungry,” Oxana said, standing at the entrance to her kitchenette with a plastic milk container on one hand and a plate of sliced agnautka on the other.

  “Since I’m already here, no need to put it off,” Kimberley admitted.

  “Okay, fine by me.” Oxana dropped the food items on a side table before going to get glass cups. “You can switch on the TV, you know.”

  “Not interested,” Aiden said. “The sooner we go, the better.”

  Oxana returned with the cups and shared the milk. “You can call me Mariah now. I guess I’m beginning to like the name,” she told her guests.

  “What, exactly, is Shurabi?” Kimberley began, sipping her milk and munching a slice of agnautka bread.

  “Shurabi is a spell the Bookmakers derived from black magic,” the nuclear scientist replied. “Anyone can live so many times after each death and be sent back in history through these various places and times, and even beyond man’s early days on Earth, whenever his or her name is written on a book enchanted by this spell.”

  “Are you saying that everyone whose name was written in this book, and had been killed by the Gray Ones in the course of our journey, are not really dead?” Kimberley’s curiosity had been peaked.

  Oxana, or Mariah, sighed. “All Bookmakers practiced Shurabi back then so that they can have the ability to develop a tougher form of parchment for the two books,” she said. “The use of Shurabi involved an ancient art that gave its followers the ability to wield the powers inherent in the codices guarded by the Sicarii Kabbalah Masada.”

  “Gracious,” Kimberley exclaimed, holding her head. “Must there be a new group of words every ten minutes?”

  “No,” Rachel said in earnest. “The Sicarii Kabbalah Masada is the cult of Bookmakers responsible for making the books.”

  “So, all Bookmakers and Bookbearers are members of this…this cult?” Aiden wondered.

  “Yes and no,” Rachel replied.

  Aiden stared at her. “Yes and no?”

  “All Bookmakers are Bookbearers, but not all Bookbearers are Bookmakers,” Rachel said.

  Aiden didn’t blink.

  “All Bookmakers are members of the Sicarii Kabbalah Masada,” Mariah tried to explain, “but not all Bookbearers are members, because the art of Bookbearing as a gift bestowed on the Bookbearer through his or her ancestory is more potent than that a Sicarii Kabbalah Masada learns as a skill. You could be a good example of this gift coming from your lineage, Aiden.”

  “Wait, we still don’t know if that is true,” Kimberley began. “Aiden might as well be a victim of circumstance here.”

  “We don’t know if he has Sicarii Kabbalah Masada history, do we?” Rachel began.

  “But if he has Sicarii Kabbalah Masada ancestory, doesn’t that mean his ability to wield the book is not a gift?” Kimberley asked.

  “Why did they choose such a long name?” Aiden asked.

  “That’s another day’s story,” Mariah cut in. “We’ll just have to make do with the fact that Aiden has the ability to bear the book. Where he got that power, you guys are yet to find out.”

  “Probably from a skilled great great grandfather,” Kimberley mumbled. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  “As I was saying,” Mariah continued, “the use of Shurabi involved an ancient art that gave its followers the ability to wield the powers within both books. These powers include the Flame and Ice of Masada, which defends the books and their Bookbearers from the menace of the Booklords, or the demons we know to have sent Mr. Carl Bain after us.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Kimberley said. “What about the boom?”

  “Oh that,” Mariah began. “That is a phenomenon we believe only gifted Bookbearers can initiate with a fellow Bookbearer. We don’t know much about it, but we know it is not a reliable means of defense, despite its devastating effect.”

  “And why do you say that?” Aiden asked her.

  “The boom doesn’t happen everytime a gifted Bookbearer joins hands with another Bookbearer during a Booklord attack,” the nuclear scientist said. “We never found out why back at the Mine and had to eventually abandon it as a form of defense against the Booklords after so many casualties.”

  “Pity,” Rachel said. “What we need is a weapon that can destroy the Gray Ones once and for all. I was beginning to think we’d found such a weapon in the boom.”

  “Maybe the Booklords are unbeatable after all,” Kimberley said.

  “You do know about these demons, right?” Mariah began.

  “Of course, we do,” Aiden replied. “They’ve been trying to kill us since we left Portwood.”

  “And where is Portwood?”

  “Home?”

  “I see.” The female Bookmaker paused. “There are two kinds of these…these demons.”

  “We know that,” Kimberley said. “Ezra told us.”

  “Did he now?” Mariah asked, deep in thought. “You know that the kind after the codex in your possession is t
he deadliest kind, right?”

  “Yes,” Aiden said. “I just told you they’ve been trying to kill us since we left our town.”

  “Of course, you just did, my dear,” Mariah agreed, frowning. “Did Ezra also tell you that whenever these demons kill, not even Shurabi can save their victims?”

  Kimberley shook her head, slowly. “No, he didn’t say that.” The Portwood police officer couldn’t help thinking of Jim and the other victims of the Gray Ones they had left in their wake. “So,” she said, trying to break off the thought, “how did you know that the other book is still with its Bookbearer?”

  Some of the gloom left Mariah’s face. “Shurabi was placed on the books using invisible Hebrew writing arranged by practitioners of the Kabbalah,” she revealed.

  “And what, exactly, is this…Kabbalah?” Kimberley asked her.

  “A form of ancient Jewish mysticism or Kabbalah Ma’asit,” the scientist replied. “It is a branch of the Jewish mystical tradition that concerns the use of permitted white magic by its practitioners,” she tried to explain when she realized nobody understood her. “In ancient times, its practice was reserved for the Jewish elite, who could separate its spiritual source from Qliphoth realms of evil if performed under circumstances that were holy and pure, until the Sicarii Kabbalah Masada started using it to engage the messengers from Yahweh in spiritual conversations.”

  “How does this all fit into the bigger picture?” Kimberley wondered aloud.

  “We, the Bookmakers, were shown by our heavenly visitors that Kabbalah Ma’asit laden with Shurabi was a very potent tool in the hands of any mystic,” Mariah explained. “I practiced Kabbalah Ma’asit and Oneiromancy with Shira for years while we were hiding in the Mine and I know that the other book is still out there.”

  “How, exactly, did you know that?” Aiden asked.

  “If the Booklords have seized this other volume,” Mariah said, “then the isolated Hebrew words now visible on the pages of both books through the Shurabi will be hidden from members of the Sicarii Kabbalah Masada still alive.”

  “You mean the remaining Bookmakers?” Kimberley asked her.

  “Yes,” Mariah replied. “Those the Gray Ones have failed to kill.” She paused again. “Since these words are still visible to me, then the other book, which we call the black book, is still out there.”

  “I see.” Kimberley fell into deep thought. “So, how do we find this other book?”

  “You don’t need to,” Mariah said.

  “Don’t need to do what?” the Portwood sergeant asked her.

  “You don’t need to look for it,” the physicist said. “It will find you.”

  “And how will it do that?” Kimberley asked, surprised by the Bookmaker’s reply. “Through its Bookbearer?”

  “No, as long as it is still in the hands of a human being,” Mariah began, “it will seek out its other half across the vastness of space and time, as long as that other half is also in the hands of another human being.”

  “And what do you mean by its other half?” Kimberley asked.

  “Didn’t Shira tell you about the third book?”

  “She did, Mariah,” Rachel replied for her fellow time-traveler.

  “Then, you must know that the two books now in existence form this third book, which doesn’t exist right now,” Mariah told her audience. “This third book is more powerful than the halves that form it after the ritual, and makes any Bookbearer wielding it a determiner of his or her destiny.”

  “That’s it,” Rachel exclaimed.

  “That’s what?” Aiden asked her.

  “Father often talked of the ritual’s ‘purpose’ for our people,” she said. “The third book is the tool with which this purpose will be achieved, right, Mariah?”

  “I just said that, dear,” Mariah said, sitting down on the sofa beside the children. “Make sure the Booklords don’t get hold of your own book while you wait for the other book to locate you in time and space,” she warned them. “Once the ritual takes place, then and only then will our people be truly free to determine their destiny.”

  “I don’t think Israel is doing badly right now,” Kimberley said after some thought.

  “I meant every Jew on Earth,” the scientist said. “Now, leave me to die in peace.”

  “You can come with us,” Rachel pleaded.

  “And be killed by the Gray Ones? No, thank you,” Mariah said. “I would prefer dying and appearing somewhere else with the help of Shurabi.”

  “Okay, your wish,” Kimberley gave in. “So, you say we can only wait for this…this black book to find us? Sure we cannot look for it ourselves?”

  “Of course, you can look for it if you want to,” Mariah said.“I only told you that you do not have to look for it. I never said you cannot look for it.”

  “So, that’s settled then,” Aiden began. “How do we find it?”

  “There’s no time, Mariah,” Kimberley said. “We have to try and find this other book before the Gray Ones get to it.”

  “Sadly, I don’t know how one can go about looking for the black book,” Mariah said, “but I can direct you to one who may know.”

  “A Bookmaker?” Kimberley wanted to know.

  “No,” the nuclear physicist said. “A slave who had the privilege of practicing Shurabi with us in the Mine.”

  “Did I ever meet him, Mariah?” Rachel asked.

  “No,” Mariah said. “He knew and interacted with members of the Inner Circle.”

  “The Inner Circle?” Kimberley frowned.

  “The Bookmakers entrusted with performing the ritual,” Mariah explained, turning to Rachel. “Your father was one of them.”

  The little girl was wide-eyed. “My father?”

  “How do we know this slave when we meet him?” Kimberley cut in.

  “You don’t,” Mariah said. “He will find you.”

  * * *

  Carl Bain woke up surrounded by his infernal masters. “About time,” he grumbled, sitting up. “You guys failed to show up when I needed you the most.” His windpipe narrowed and he gasped for air as his body left the ground. “Didn’t mean to…to say it that–that way!”

  The demon leader standing before the suffocating man conveyed a message.

  “I get it, okay?” Carl Bain wheezed. “You couldn’t come in time, because you were delayed by the Ice of Masada in the hands of the boy.”

  He collapsed on the ground, panting. His knees slowly healed and he moved his legs about, then flexed his knees just to be sure that they had really healed. His unearthly powers returned and he felt unbridled energy coursing through his entity.

  The lead demon communicated further.

  “They have left? Okay, Africa?” Carl Bain boiled. “What are we waiting for? A new plan? Great.”

  He didn’t object. He hated the way they choked him at their whim.

  Chapter 21: Nigeria

  DENSE forest filled Aiden’s view when he woke up. He realized he was sitting on grass with his hands tied behind his back. Five or six other individuals, including Kimberley and Rachel, sat around him, their hands also tied behind their backs.

  Aiden noticed the armed men surrounding the group. These masked folks wore military-styled attire and held AK47 rifles. Bullet magazine belts hung from their shoulders.

  “Where are we?” Rachel began.

  “Shut up!” one of these men snapped at her. This fellow had large lips that ruined his handsome face. He stared at Kimberley and spat out. “You people always come here to take our oil.”

  “Your oil?” Aiden asked him. “But this is not…”

  “This small boy,” Ugly Face began. “I go reset your head if you no keep quiet now.”

  “Godspower, leave him alone na,” another bully interrupted. “Na small boy you dey follow talk?”

  Aiden understood the English-based language he just heard. The white book made that possible. He remained quiet after Kimberley told him to do so with an eye signal.

&nbs
p; “Yes, Oga don come,” the second man announced in the same pidgin English, the reason for this statement walking up to stand before the bound people moments later.

  The new fellow had an air of authority around him, as well as a wooden face sticking out in the middle of an encroaching forest of grays and whites. A black suit poorly hid his huge frame and his legs looked as if chiseled out of massive chunks of rock. He wore a Bluetooth headset on his left ear and a golden wristwatch on his left wrist. Shiny black shoes completed this outfit.

  “Are these the hostages from the Shell camp?” he asked one of the militants guarding the kidnapped individuals.

  “Yes, sir,” the armed man replied, swinging his semiautomatic rifle over his shoulder and waving his other hand at Kimberley and the two kids sitting beside her. “We picked these ones from Mr. Arnoud’s house, sir. Maybe we should use them as a lesson to others?”

  “No, Godspower. We will follow instructions to the letter.”

  “Please, why are you holding us?” Kimberley asked the man in black suit, ignoring the stares thrown her way. “At least, we have a right to know.”

  “Will you shut up your dirty mouth?” the man called Godspower snapped.

  “No, my friend,” the black-suited man objected, glaring at the last speaker. “We must threat them with respect, always remember that.” He turned to Kimberley. “Good day, miss,” he said, straightening his suit. “My name is Bruno Gbomoh and I represent the Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger-Delta, also known as MEND. I must assure you that you haven’t left Rivers State.”

  Of course, the name rang a bell in Kimberley’s head, since according to the mysterious book; a new place meant new roles.

  “So, what happens now?” one of the captives asked Mr. Gbomoh. “We are hostages until when?”

  “Until the Federal Government agrees to our demands, madam,” Mr. Gbomoh told the woman. “You all came to the Niger-Delta to steal our oil, and we have decided not to close a single eye until you all leave our land.”

  It dawned on Kimberley all of a sudden. As usual, the book had bestowed a schizophrenic personality on them with their original selves blending with other vague characters. This time, they were hostages kidnapped from a Royal Dutch Shell expatriate’s house in Rivers State, Nigeria.