Newman was losing the battle against sleep. He smacked himself in the face, paced around a little more and splashed his face with icy water from a pitcher nearby. The coldness of the water shocked him back to wakefulness, but only for a few seconds. Newman returned to his seat and had a wonderful idea, or so he thought. He had to give this stranger a new name! For God’s sake, what kind of name was Eliel?
Eliel finally roused from his sleep and opened his eyes. The brightness of the morning forced him to squeeze his eyelids shut. He reopened them slowly until his eyes adjusted to the light. Then Eliel sat up on the bed, slowly, and examined himself. He wore a tee-shirt that was a size too small and a pair of shorts. He studied his strange surroundings.
“Sorry about the clothes, young man,” Newman said casually. “My son didn’t have your body type.”
Newman studied Eliel carefully as Eliel leveled a blank gaze at him.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, son?” Newman asked, noticing the quizzical look on Eliel’s face.
“Wh-” Eliel cleared his throat, swallowed and tried again.
“Where am I?” he asked in a husky voice.
“Good, you speak English,” Newman said. “You’re in my house.”
“Where is your house?” Eliel asked.
“I’ll ask the questions!” Newman replied, trying to sound tough. “Hope ya don’t mind.”
Eliel nodded, not that Newman needed his approval, anyway.
“Good,” Newman began. “First question: where ya from?”
“I don’t know,” Eliel replied, staring blankly at the floor.
“What do ya mean you don’t know?” Newman asked.
“I mean I don’t know where I’m from,” Eliel replied flatly.
Newman sighed heavily.
“Okay then,” Newman continued. “What’s ya name?”
“My name…,” Eliel began and then stopped. “My name is…” he tried the second time and stopped again.
Eliel furrowed his eyebrows and massaged his forehead with his fingers. Then, he looked up to the human with sad, confused eyes.
“I don’t know my name,” Eliel said.
Newman leaned back in his chair and studied Eliel. Unable to arrive at any conclusion, he continued with his line of questions.
“This is getting interesting,” Newman said with exasperation and leaned forward. “Do you remember how you got here?”
“There was blackness, and then I woke up here,” Eliel replied, barely above a whisper as he tried to remember. “I don’t know how I got here.”
“Let me get this straight!” Newman said and inched to the edge of his seat. “You don’t know where you’re from, your name, and how you got here. So, you’re saying you don’t know who you are!”
“I’m afraid so,” Eliel spoke sadly. “I don’t remember anything!”
Eliel buried his face in his hands, rubbed his eyes and sniveled.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me! I don’t remember anything!”
Newman studied Eliel very closely. Either Eliel was a great actor or he, in fact, was suffering from a bad case of amnesia. So, assuming Eliel was really an amnesiac, what next? One thing Newman could bet on was that he would have to teach Eliel about the customs of earthlings before introducing Eliel to the outside world. Wait a second! Why was he even thinking about that in the first place; teaching Eliel the customs of earthlings? Newman sighed, realizing the answer. Yes, he had already made up his mind to help Eliel, though subconsciously, he thought Eliel would wake up and not have to rely so much on him. This was going to be an interesting journey and wished his wife were still alive. She would have been better at guiding Eliel back to memory recovery.
But what if Eliel’s mission was actually to come here and spawn a race of giants to conquer the world? Now that Eliel was an amnesiac, maybe he, Newman, would condition Eliel into choosing a different path? Maybe the amnesia was a blessing in disguise? Maybe it was God working in a mysterious way? Newman mentally smirked at the absurdity of his thoughts.
“Thank you for everything, sir,” Eliel said softly.
Eliel never took his eyes off the floor.
“You’re welcome, son,” Newman replied.
Eliel’s words of gratitude erased the last traces of reservation Newman had about helping him.
“I’ll tell you what is going to happen now, son,” Newman said and leveled his gaze at Eliel. “First of all, this is very odd for me, and I think it would be odd for anyone else as well to just help a random stranger. For all I know, you could be out to kill me, you know?”
“And why would I want to end the man who has been good to me?” Eliel asked flatly, meeting Newman’s gaze.
“I don’t know,” Newman replied weakly. “Just because?”
“Sir,” Eliel spoke firmly. “It is wrong to end another ‘just because.’ All life is sacred and must be respected and protected.”
Newman was pleasantly surprised at Eliel’s words.
“The strong should protect the weak and power must be used for service,” Eliel continued as if he were reciting a pledge or an oath. “So again, I ask you, sir, why would I want to end the existence of one who has been good to me?”
Eliel spoke more firmly, and Newman decided to defuse the situation.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, son! Easy now!” Newman said apologetically. “Just testing the waters.”
Newman wiped an invisible bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” Newman said. “Until your memory returns, I’m gon’ give you a name and a cover story and you’re gonna play along. You with me so far?”
“Yes, sir,” Eliel replied, unsure of what Newman was saying.
“Good, I like your manners, by the way,” Newman said. “So, your name is Donald and you’re a friend of mine’s son from Texas.”
“What is Texas?” Eliel asked.
“A place that’s a little far from here,” Newman replied dismissively. “Details will come later. For now, we’ll work with these basics. Okay?”
“Okay,” Eliel replied.
“Good, I’ll start over,” Newman said, adjusting himself on his chair. “Your name is Donald Smith. Your father’s name is Tyrone Smith. Your father and I are friends from way back in the ‘Nam. Your mother is Anna Smith, and she passed away a decade ago. You’re from Texas, and you’re here to learn about farming first hand.”
“So, my name is Donald… Sims?” Eliel asked.
“No, Smith. Donald Smith,” Newman corrected.
“Donald Smith,” Eliel repeated. “My father’s name is Tyrone Smith, and my mother’s name is Anna Smith. I am from Tex… Tex…?” he tapped his head as he tried to remember.
“Texas,” Newman offered.
“Texas!” Eliel repeated. “And I am here to learn how to farm.”
“You sure you an amnesiac?” Newman asked with a smile.
“Thank you, sir,” Eliel said, smiling weakly for the first time since his fall.
“You’re welcome,” Newman replied, feeling more at ease and more comfortable with Donald, formerly known as Eliel.
“Are you tired, sir?” Eliel asked.
“You have no idea, son,” Newman replied with a long stretch and yawn.
“You’re right! I don’t, sir,” Eliel added honestly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Newman apologized and sighed. “You gonna get used to certain expressions with time. But for now, just go easy on yaself and don’t worry too much about certain things. Okay?”
“Okay, sir,” Eliel replied.
“One more thing,” Newman said. “During this period of learning, I think it’s best you don’t make any contact with the public.”
“Learning?” Eliel asked.
“Yep, learning,” Newman replied. “Gotta get ya familiarized with our culture and mannerisms, yadi yadi yada. Ya know, da whole nine yards.”
“Nine yards?” Eliel asked innoc
ently once again.
Newman chuckled and shook his head.
“Like I said, Donald,” Newman continued. “No contact with the public until I bring you up to speed. Last thing I need is any unnecessary attention to you and me right now. Do you understand me?”
“Yes sir, I do,” Eliel affirmed.
“Good!” Newman said, rising from his chair and walking towards the door. “I trust you won’t leave the house while I go catch me some shut eye, would ya now?”
“No sir,” Eliel replied. “I’ll stay right here.”
“Fast learner,” Newman said and winked.
“Sir?” Donald called.
“Yes?” Newman replied and stopped at the door.
“What’s your name, please?” Donald asked.
“Oh my, where are my manners?” Newman slapped himself on the head and walked over to Donald.
“Weinberg. Newman Weinberg,” he said and extended his hand.
Donald stared at Newman’s extended right hand not knowing what to do with it.
“Put your right hand out, son,” Newman said.
Donald did. Newman took it and shook it.
“There!” Newman said. “That’s how folks out here greet each other.”
Donald watched Newman turn around and walk away until he disappeared into the hallway. Then he lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Within seconds, he drifted back to sleep. His body was still trying to recoup from the fall. Newman had decided at the last minute not to tell Donald his real name. He was unsure how Eliel would handle a sudden recouping of his memory, especially after falling. He would tell Donald the truth at the right time. Newman glided dizzily into his room. It was a miracle how he made it safely to his bed. His first blink was a portal to the realm of deep, deathlike sleep.
“Do you think he will adjust quickly,” Michael asked.
“I’m sure he will be just fine, Michael,” Uriel replied. “He’s strong.”
“The next cycle is nigh.” Michael said flatly.
“And Michael thinks I do not know that,” Uriel replied sarcastically.
“I have never seen any fallen angel or archangel display wings of light after their fall like Eliel did,” Michael admitted. “He really is special, is he not?”
“I thought that was a given, Michael,” Uriel said, taking him by the elbow. “Come! Let’s go!”
“Do we have anyone assigned to him yet?” Michael asked as he took one last look at Eliel’s sleeping body on the bed.
Uriel bent over and kissed Eliel on the head before replying.
“You know the rules, Michael,” Uriel said. “No angel or archangel is to watch over The One. He is on his own, and he must find his way on his own!”
As Michael and Uriel teleported away, Eliel roused in his sleep. He was having a dream about two angels, a male, and a female, standing over him and having a conversation.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A BALL OF FIRE
SHI’MON RELISHED THE thought of having finally made peace with his guilt of betraying the master, and with Yehuda. Despite getting rid of the Bright Eyes, which was a major achievement, threats to the realm beckoned still, like Maduk and Beelzebub. Plus, he had been reborn in the Shadow of the Soul and had received an esoteric upgrade. He would enjoy another morning of peace and relaxation until he decided to go to the office. His cell phone rang. He sighed, picked it up and when he saw the caller ID, he sighed again, heavily, before accepting the call.
“Yes, Antonio,” Shi’mon said flatly.
“There was a massive spike in the realm’s auric frequency, sir,” Fr. Antonio said with urgency.
“How massive?” Shi’mon asked, sitting up on the bed.
“Category 5, sir!” Fr. Antonio replied confidently and waited.
There was a moment of silence as Fr. Antonio waited for Shi’mon’s response. The most the order had ever recorded was a Category 2.
“I’m on my way,” Shi’mon said and ended the call.
Shi’mon reached for the phone on his nightstand and pressed a button. There was a dial tone, followed by a click.
“Your supremacy,” said a husky voice on the other end of the line.
“I’ll have breakfast in the car, Vincenzo,” Shi’mon said. “Do you think you could quickly work some of your culinary magic for me?”
“Of course, sir,” Vincenzo replied. “Any special request?”
“I defer to your infallible judgment, Vincenzo,” Shi’mon replied.
“Only God and the goodly pope are infallible, your supremacy,” Vincenzo countered but relished his boss’ compliment.
Shi’mon smiled at Vincenzo’s false modesty.
“Then you are the third person on my list!” Shi’mon asserted.
“His supremacy has made my day,” Vincenzo was grateful.
“Thanks, Vincenzo,” Shi’mon replied and ended the call.
Vincenzo was one of the few people Shi’mon happened to speak with in an almost friendly manner. Perhaps it was because Vincenzo’s culinary savvy was second only to his deceased wife’s. Perhaps it was Vincenzo’s magnetic personality. Or both. Granted, Shi’mon only ate for show. It would be best to avoid any rumors that insinuated that the leader of the O.R had never been seen consuming food. Never needing food was part of the perks of being an apprentice to Master.
Shi’mon was brimming with excitement. A Category Five disturbance in the auric frequency of the realm was something to be excited about. He did not detect any danger from this ‘intrusion’ into Earth Realm; still, the excitement of the unknown was always refreshing to the psyche. On his way to the car, he made a pit stop in the kitchen and snatched his packaged breakfast himself. He wolfed it down in the car as they headed to the Vatican. Given the contents of his breakfast, Shi’mon was grateful he was only Jewish by birth. Vincenzo was truly a sorcerer in the kitchen.
The drive to the headquarters was surprisingly smooth. On the way, Shi’mon reminisced on the era of the space war. Humanity’s childishness never ceased to amaze him. He had lived for over two millennia and the hearts of men had not changed this whole time. In fact, humanity’s state of being was on a downturn instead. Shi’mon took the initiative to attach special devices on the satellites and space stations orbiting the realm, without the permission or knowledge of the countries that owned these structures orbiting Earth Realm. The O.R. assumed they had received express permission from the owners of these satellites and space stations, but Shi’mon knew better. It was best that way.
These attachments were called auric sensors and were designed to monitor and track shifts or changes in Earth Realm’s auric frequency. An auric frequency is the frequency of the collective consciousness of a realm, dimension and, sometimes, cosmic cluster. Earth auric frequency was labeled ‘Category Zero’, or reference point. It so happened that Earth Realm shared the same auric frequency with other realms within Solaris, the dimension in which Earth Realm was located.
As such, if anything or creature entered Earth Realm’s atmosphere from another realm within Solaris, then it would register as a Category Zero disturbance. If the intrusion, however, was from a dimension higher than the Dimension of Solaris, the auric sensors would register a higher disturbance, depending on the level of the vibrational frequency of the intruder. Nothing ever ventured from a lower dimension to a higher one by default, unless their vibrational frequency increased enough to resonate with that of a dimension higher than theirs was. An increase in vibrational frequency of a dimension is known as transcendence and resonating with the vibrational frequency a dimension of higher vibrational frequency is known as an ascension.
Sinisters came to Earth Realm from Nimbu Realm, another realm in Solaris, via certain portals. Therefore, Sinisters did not cause any disturbance in the auric frequency of Earth Realm. As such, the O.R. had to devise other means of tracking them. Whatever caused this Category Five disturbance, subtlety was not its forte. Hopefully, it was not something that was aligned with the dark side.<
br />
The car pulled up at the Vatican, and Shi’mon quickly let himself out. He returned the greetings from everyone with quick, dismissive nods as he headed for the control room. He walked straight towards Fr. Antonio, who was hunched over another priest. Their eyes were locked on the monitor in front of them.
“Any updates?” Shi’mon asked.
“No, your supremacy,” Antonio replied as he squinted at the monitor. “No word from the locals, government or the internet.”
“What about images?” Shi’mon asked.
“I’ll send what the auric sensors picked up onto the big screen,” Antonio replied as his fingers flew across the keyboard.
The screen before them lit up and something that looked like a comet suddenly appeared in space and raced toward Earth Realm at an astonishing speed until it crashed. Shi’mon rubbed his chin in thought as his excitement grew.
“What do you think it is, sir?” Antonio asked.
“It’s not a cosmic body,” Shi’mon replied. “Did you notice how it suddenly appeared from nowhere? That means, it was already in the process of travelling but was still at a vibrational frequency that was higher than that of our dimension. So, it was invisible until its vibrational frequency dropped to ours, to what we could detect.”
“And why could the other satellites not pick up any images of this outer-dimensional object or being?” Antonio asked.
“Remember that our auric sensors are set to register changes in auric frequencies,” Shi’mon explained. “The sensors locate the cause of the auric shift and create an image of whatever is causing the shift, like sonar imaging but at a far more sophisticated level. Satellites, however, can only register images visible to the naked eye.”
Antonio nodded. It now made sense why there were no stories about any meteorites, UFO’s or something in that light. He did have one question that bothered him, though.
“If that is the case, how come there was ‘impact’ without any major physical disturbances?” he asked. “I mean if a ball of fire crashed somewhere in the middle of the night in a populated area, wouldn’t that cause a stir at least to the locals? And wouldn’t the authorities have been alerted already?”
An Archangel's Ache Page 15