“Quite a few, I’m sure.”
“In iambic pentameter?”
“Probably…”
“And kept them?”
“Plenty.”
“In a Nike shoe box on the top shelf in the back of your closet in your parents’ home in Madison, Wisconsin?”
“Look, pal, for all I know you some how know my folks and have been to my home. You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Cyrus said. “Do you know what ever became of your high school crush after you two graduated?”
“Well, Mr. Nostracyrus,” Ellen snarked, punning off the name of the famed 16th century apothecary and seer, Nostradamus, “why don’t you tell me if I know what happened to the guy?”
“Timothy Cooper,” Cyrus said. “He left Madison and emigrated to the Southwest Freedom Federation, to Texas, and joined the Marines.”
“He went into the Marines?”
“Why the surprise? He told you that was his intention.”
“I don’t remember any such thing,” Ellen retorted. “He was just a dumb jock who dreamed of nothing but playing professional football.”
“At lunch in the school cafeteria,” Cyrus began, “he bought you a chocolate milk and sat down at your table. You were thrilled. It was three months before graduation. He asked you what your plans were, and you bragged that you had been accepted to four universities and were deciding which one to attend. You asked him about his plans, and he said he wanted to join the military. He told you that he’d go wherever they would take him. He mentioned nothing about playing ball.”
Ellen listened, entranced. She did remember something like that. “Go on,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“Why not? I like good fiction as much as the next gal.”
“Well, you snorted your chocolate milk out your nose and mocked him. You lectured him. You tried to talk him out of it. You told him not to be a dunderhead.”
“I did not,” Ellen protested. “I never use the word, dunderhead.”
Cyrus shrugged. “As for being a dumb dunderhead, he got better grades and scored higher on his SATs than you did. He just never talked about it.”
Ellen didn’t challenge the claim. She knew it was true. She hadn’t thought of Tim Cooper in years, but it all came back to her.
“So,” she said, “just for fun, Mr. Know-it-all, tell me, whatever happened to the guy? Did he really end up throwing his life away like that?”
“You might think so, but the four men whose lives Major Timothy Cooper saved in Mexico during the Cartel Wars when he jumped on the grenade that took his own life—they saw it a little differently. So did their families, and thousands of others. He received The SFF [Southwest Freedom Federation] Medal of Honor. Posthumously, of course.”
Ellen’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God! I had no idea…”
“He left behind a wife and two daughters. Twins,” Cyrus added.
Ellen motioned to Cyrus to sit, as she collapsed onto the sofa. Her eyes moistened and her cheeks flushed, but she held back any tears from spilling. She asked softly, “Why did he bring me that chocolate milk that day?”
“He liked you.”
“He did?” Ellen said, mystified. “No, I don’t believe that for a second. Besides, he was dating Mary Ann what’s-her-name.”
“Mary Ann Sullivan. They had been broken up a month already. She had shown the same regard for his future plans as you had.”
“You can’t blame us, then,” Ellen said indignantly. “If he had taken our advice, he’d still be alive, now wouldn’t he?”
“We can’t know that,” Cyrus said. “Another path might well have ultimately led to the same regrettable end, or a far less heroic one. And those whose lives he saved, may not have fared so well either. Who can say for sure?”
“So, then either way it’s a good thing we never started dating, right?”
“Maybe, maybe not. If you two had gotten together, who knows how that might have altered the course of events? He was an excellent match for you.”
“Oh, come on, so now I’m to believe that you possess some sort of supernatural matchmaking powers? Sorry, buster, but parapsychology doesn’t cover that ability.”
“Maybe it should,” Cyrus said.
“So you don’t deny it? You actually have the audacity to think you possess extra-special insights into people’s love lives?”
“Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of experience in that field.”
39
Dear Diary
Ellen groaned. “Oh, please. I’m really not interested in your love life. I don’t doubt that you have racked up quite a list of conquests, but I really couldn’t care less.”
“I don’t speak of myself,” Cyrus said. “I have no interest in conquering anyone.”
“Well, my love life is none of your business,” Ellen snipped. “Besides, how should I have known way back then about Tim? I was young and clueless.”
Cyrus nodded. “You most certainly were. Clueless, I mean. More clueless than you will ever know. I suspect that had you overcome your fear demons, you might well have married him. I believe you’d have been very happy together. And, that would have been a really fine thing for you, and for the world.”
Ellen gaped at the mysterious stranger. Her stare elicited a smile from Cyrus, who merely shrugged in reconfirmation of his outrageous statements.
“My gawd,” Ellen said, crossing her arms. “Does your arrogance know no bounds? My demons? What could you possibly know about my ‘demons?’”
“Everyone has them, wouldn’t you agree?”
“First of all, this is the 21st century. We don’t talk about demons. Of course, everyone has certain psychological issues that need addressing, but that you think you could know mine without ever having met me is stunningly pretentious.”
“You don’t talk about fear demons. But you have seen them.”
“I most certainly have not,” Ellen retorted.
“At Jill Taylor’s wedding. You sensed things. They gave you goosebumps.”
“What I observed was what happens when people mix large quantities of alcohol, testosterone, sugar, and bad music.”
Cyrus ignored her protest. “Afterwards, at Starbucks, you asked Professor Matterson if he believed in ghosts.”
“How do you know these things?” Ellen said, confounded and feeling the return of her goosebumps. “You weren’t at the wedding. You weren’t at the Starbucks.”
“I just do.”
“Yeah? Well, for a guy who claims amnesia, you sure have a good memory.”
“For some things, I suppose.”
“What do you want from me?”
Cyrus leaned in closer to her. “I want you to follow your heart, slay your demons, and save the world.”
“What?” Ellen squawked, staggered by such a bizarre mix of accusation and assumption. “You are not asking much, are you?”
“I realize that I’m asking quite a lot. But I also know that God never gives us more than we can handle.”
“Oh, please,” Ellen groaned, offended by his platitude. “That’s a thought-terminating cliché.”
“And so is that,” Cyrus grinned.
“What does God have to do with any of this?”
“God has everything to do with everything, in His inscrutable way.”
“Yackety-yack,” Ellen said with a bored roll of her eyes. “I’ve seen some three-hundred and fifty weirdos traipse into my office in the past couple of weeks, but you are the first to claim divine knowledge. Wait, no, the second. Do you speak to aliens too?”
“No.”
“Just checking.” She paused, and then asked, “Do you believe in aliens?”
“I’ve never seen or met such a creature.”
“So, you view yourself as some sort of prophet then, is that it?”
“Huh? No! God forbid I should ever make such a claim.”
Ellen found herself b
eing drawn into Cyrus’s pellucid, sincere eyes, and had to shake her head to snap the trance. She cleared her throat.
“How do you know these things you say you know? Where do you get your information?”
“Isn’t that your job? I saw your flyer posted nearby, and thought I’d see you to learn if I fit into one of the categories in which you are an expert.”
“Unlike you, I don’t claim to be an expert. I’m merely a researcher.”
Cyrus brushed off Ellen’s peevish jab with a smile. “I’m a researcher too.”
“What are you researching?”
“You,” he answered.
“Well, stop it. You don’t have my permission. And frankly, you creep me out.”
She was going to add something about calling the police or getting a restraining order, but she didn’t. She didn’t because he didn’t frighten her. His demeanor was so artless, almost childlike, that fear never entered her mind.
Only now did she take notice that her dog, Carl, had slipped from the couch to sidle next to Cyrus, and that Cyrus had been stroking the dog for the past few minutes. She knew that Carl was a friendly dog, but he never went looking for affection from strangers. This too confirmed for her that the man before her was harmless.
“I apologize if I ‘creep you out.’ That is certainly not my intention.” He kissed the dog on the snout and stood. “I’ll go now.” He took a step towards the door. The dog whimpered and followed him.
“He likes you,” Ellen said, thinking of no other way to stall the stranger. “It’s almost as if he knows you.”
“Maybe he does,” Cyrus said, turning.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Dogs are very perceptive. They see things that we can’t.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not a dog, so I can’t answer that.”
Ellen stood and faced Cyrus. “I wish you hadn’t come.”
“I can see that, so I’m leaving now.”
“What I mean is,” she said, stuffing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, “I was ready to abandon my project and move on. But you had to come in here at the last second to mess up my plans.”
“Are you telling me that you want to continue our research?”
“Our research?”
Cyrus grinned. “Why should you have all the fun?”
“I’m not the one claiming paranormal powers.”
“Neither am I.”
“That you could know such details about my past is not normal, I can assure you.”
“Maybe you kept a diary and I somehow had gotten a hold of it,” Cyrus offered.
“Those things you told me were not in my diary.”
“You’re right, they weren’t,” Cyrus said. “You didn’t begin your diary until one month after the incident in the cafeteria with Timothy Cooper. And you weren’t very consistent at it either. You never wrote in it more than twice a week, and when you got to college it dwindled to once a month, and by the time you were twenty-four, you had ceased writing in it altogether.” He paused and said, “Shall I continue?”
Ellen opened her mouth to answer, but only nodded.
“At age twenty-six,” Cyrus resumed, “fearful that someone may one day find and read your diaries, and feeling ashamed of what they revealed about you, you threw them into the bathtub to make sure they would be unreadable. Every entry had been written in a fountain pen that you had received from your grandfather for Christmas. You figured that the ink would surely wash away. Afterwards, you put the soggy diaries into a plastic garbage bag and tossed the bag into a dumpster. But not the dumpster near your home. One a mile from your home. A little paranoid, weren’t you?”
Ellen could no longer pretend that the man before her hadn’t been speaking the truth all along. “How could you know such things?”
Cyrus smiled. “That is the point of your research, is it not?”
40
Crossroads
“Did you have to tie it so tight?” Virgil said.
“We’re almost there,” I answered, leading my blindfolded friend through the forest. I had purposely taken a confusingly winding route to ensure that Virgil would be unable to retrace his steps.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me what you have to say?”
“Words can only go so far,” I said. “Okay, stand here. Don’t move, and don’t touch the blindfold, or else.”
Virgil, who had the strength and build of Samson, laughed. “Or else what?”
“You don’t want to find out,” I said confidently.
“Yeah, that’s a good one,” Virgil mocked. “Why all the secrecy?”
“Relax. You’ll have your answers soon enough.”
I cleared away a thick covering of leaves, located the iron ring, and yanked up the heavy wooden hatch. Like always, torches blazed up along the wall’s spiraling staircase.
“Okay, Virgil,” I said guiding him to the entrance. “You’re going to step down onto a stone staircase. Hold on to the wall next to you, descend five steps, and wait for me to join you. I’ll be right above you.”
Virgil did as ordered, and I closed the hatch behind me. I walked down to him and undid the blindfold. Virgil looked around in amazement.
“Cool,” he said. “Where are we?”
“You’ll see. Keep going.”
We continued down the rest of the steps until we reached the bottom, whereupon we proceeded through a tunnel that led some twenty yards to the Midrashic Cave.
“There’s nothing here,” Virgil said. “It’s a dead end.”
“Not the end. The beginning. Push on this granite block.”
“Are you joking? It must weigh ten tons!”
“Come on, muscles,” I said. “Show me your stuff.”
Virgil stepped up to the massive stone and gave it a mighty push. Nothing.
“Put some shoulder into it,” I said, parroting Cyrus’s own taunting words to me.
Virgil braced his shoulder against the stone and pushed with all he had. After a few seconds, he gave up.
“Impossible,” he declared.
“Yeah? Stand aside, weakling.”
I set the palm of my hands on the block, put myself in the proper frame of mind, and murmured the secret Aramaic phrase the requisite three times in three different orders. With a steady, light push, the granite door surrendered to my will, revealing the cave behind it.
“How’d you—?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I grinned. “Come on.”
We entered and Virgil looked around the chamber of polished granite with wide-eyed wonder. He walked over to one of the walls and ran his hand against it.
“Smooth,” he purred. “Where is this strange light coming from?” He waved his arm through its sparkling iridescence. “It’s like a bright fog or something.”
“Or something,” I said. I pointed to the center of the room. “Sit.” He did as told, and I sat cross-legged on the cool stone floor across from him.
“How long has this place been here?” he asked, still marveling at his surroundings.
I chuckled to myself. We were having the same conversation that I had had with Captain Cyrus. “No one knows,” I said. “But at least as long as there have been cupids.”
“How long has that been?”
“As long as there has been love.”
“What is this place?”
“The Cave of the Midrasha.”
“Who was he? I never heard of the guy.”
“Not a who; a what. From here, one can access the Midrashic Records, an archive containing all the lives of every human being that ever lived.”
“Get out of here,” Virgil said, dismissing my words with a wave of his hand. “There is nothing in here. Or is it hiding behind one of these walls?”
“The only wall it is hiding behind is the one in your mind.”
“Huh?”
“I’m going to show you something,” I said. “But before I do, you must make me a sol
emn oath that you will not share what I am about to show you with anyone else, and I mean anyone. If you want out of your oath, tell me now. And remember that a cupid’s vow is sacred.”
“Of course I won’t tell anyone.”
“Today never happened,” I reiterated.
“Yes, Kohai. I got it. You have my word.”
I raised my right hand and Virgil raised his. We pressed our open hands against one another’s to seal the oath.
“I’m going to take you on a little journey, Virge.”
“We won’t be going far,” he cracked, indicating the size of the chamber.
“You’re right,” I said. “It will be a short journey, because you are not prepared for anything longer than a few minutes. But I guarantee you that the distance we cover will be greater than a few feet.”
Virgil squinted at me in puzzlement, his mind jumping about in an attempt to understand what the heck I could be talking about.
I said, “You think that we were born with truth, that it’s a part of our very essence, and that we can know nothing other than truth. I’m going to show you that that is incorrect. I am going to show you that Eros is a putz.”
Virgil gasped. He looked around the chamber; horror-stricken that someone might have heard my blasphemy.
“Kohai, take that back right now!”
“Why?”
“You can’t speak that way about Eros!”
“A putz and a schmuck.”
“Kohai!”
“Calm down, Virgil. He can’t hear me.”
“He can’t?” he said, looking at the thick walls as if they might be sound proof.
“No, and it’s not because we’re in an underground chamber. Virgil, there is no Eros. There never was, and there never will be.”
Virgil looked at me in trepidation. I read his mind and quickly saw that his alarm was not so much at my cavalier sacrilege, but at the fear that I might be right. An angel was having an existential crisis before my very eyes. For Virgil, if there was no Eros, then who was Virgil? What was Virgil? He knew he was created to serve, but what was a servant without a master?
“Don’t be afraid,” I said.
Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Complete Boxset: Books 1 - 3 Page 25