With disdain, Tom uttered, “Bechard.”
“Tom.”
The man stood up from where he sat, taking an adversarial pose and crossing his arms, saying, “I suppose you’ve got something to say about this.”
“I do. It’s time for you to meet the Galactic Council.”
The Galactic Council
BECHARD, TOM, CECILE, Haruto and Zachary appeared in an expansive sanctuary created entirely out of irregularly shaped crystal walls. At the forefront of the great hall, twelve Galactic Council members stood atop a crescent-shaped platform—a collective of leaders from planets throughout the universe.
The first to greet the visitors was a female Arcturian dressed in a white robe. She stood no more than four feet tall. Her bald head made her pretty face, which looked human except for her exceptionally large green eyes, stand out all the more. “Greetings, Earth Sentinels. I am Synege from the star Arcturus. Welcome to the Crystal City—my home away from home.”
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Haruto responded.
“It is you who honors us. We know who you are so let us introduce ourselves.” She motioned for the council member on her right to speak first.
The thin man had long white hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wore only a loincloth. He smiled warmly. “Hello, Earth Sentinels. My friends call me ‘Guru’ because I spend my days pondering the meaning of life. We are delighted to have you here.”
Next to speak was a giant head created out of points of light that constantly shifted like a flock of swallows spreading and regrouping perfectly in sync. “My name is Phosulent. My planet resides in another galaxy. Its name would mean nothing to you. But we are well aware of the unjust actions taking place on earth’s surface, and intend to help. Your desire to bring your tribe and family members here is most welcome, but understand, we must—”
“Contain our numbers. Greetings, I am called Geet,” said the creature who had an elephant head and a rotund human body with a protruding belly. He wore a bright saffron-colored cloth tied around his mid-section. Beautifully braided cords draped over his head and large flapping ears, forming a casual free-flowing crown. The mouse perched on his shoulder curiously observed the proceedings. Geet continued, “Believe me when I say we’d love to bring everyone here, but unlike some—”
A small voice squealed, “We honor the Law of Oneness. Even the best of intentions can cause sorrow when imposed on others.” The voice belonged to a fairy, who from a distance resembled a glowing pink dot floating among the other council members. The fairy flew closer to the visitors, hovering in front of them so they could better see and hear her. She wore a pink gauzy dress with pink stockings, and her red hair was elaborately styled. “Very good day. I am Faylinn. I live in Alteria with others like myself, who have dwelled in this land for thousands of years. It is a wonderful place to live, but I digress, back to the Law of Oneness. Many people have pre-planned their destinies, so however we proceed must honor that, even if it seems cruel, even to them. We don’t want to—”
“Interfere, you might say,” said a nine-foot-tall and very thin being whose body, comprised of shades of beige, seemed to flicker in and out of existence. His or her face was there one moment, and then not the next. It was as if its presence was blocked from the Earth Sentinels’ perception. They weren’t even sure if the being was talking audibly or telepathically. “My name is Telphane. I come from a moon that orbits the planet Saturn. My people are ethereal beings who survive on energy from the sun. I am pleased to meet you. I have been waiting to do so since you first met Bechard. This council and my people care deeply about mankind’s fate as well as your right to live without interference and manipulation. But the main effort must come from—”
“You,” a giant butterfly interrupted. Her wingspan was nearly six feet wide with a double set of wings. One set was orange and black, and the other was green, blue and iridescent white. “I am Gladise. Pleased to meet you. But you’ve come for guidance on rescuing your tribe, so I will defer to Synege on that matter.”
Zachary noticed that not every council member had introduced themselves, and he wondered why.
Synege answered his unspoken question, “Not everyone here participates in the discussion. Some are here to raise the vibration of this sanctuary so the others can work at their highest level of wisdom and inspiration. Even the crystal structures within our city are sentient beings.”
She changed the topic. “You, Earth Sentinels, have been bestowed a great gift that is awakening you to your true selves—a path we all will take at some point in time, but you are among the first. As you progress, you will recognize that everyone and everything is an extension of yourselves, even the Dracos and fallen angels. Each has a lesson to teach us. This council is privileged to watch you travel forth on this journey of self-discovery, even if it’s likely to be plagued with heart-wrenching decisions and sacrifices.”
Synege finally spoke of the Earth Sentinels’ main concern, “The council agrees your loved ones should be rescued and brought here to Alteria. Bechard mentioned you would be transporting them yourselves. Is that correct?”
Cecile and Tom nodded.
“Please tell us your plan.”
Tom cleared his throat. “Cecile and I will rescue our tribe members from a UN detainment camp. Haruto will rescue Billy from the Dracos’ underground prison, and the Mikos in Japan. Zachary will bring the teenagers and his daughter from the reservation.”
Synege nodded. “That is an acceptable plan. However, when explaining the details to your people, please don’t mention inner earth or Alteria beforehand. The fallen angels are very adept at reading minds, and the Dracos could torture your loved ones to get the information, so not mentioning your destination is a fairly simple precaution. Agreed?”
The Earth Sentinels nodded their heads. The council members’ grace and words had invoked their trust.
“Are there any others you would like to bring here to Alteria? If yes, please say so now.” Synege’s eyes lingered on Zachary, who, although he thought of Conchita, remained silent. “Very well, once you have completed your mission, please reconvene here to discuss future actions.”
Tom said, “I have a question. Can you show me where we would be living? I’d like to see it for myself before taking the others there.”
“Of course. Bechard can show you around. Godspeed to all of you, and be safe.”
The Tribe’s Rescue
A BLACK-UNIFORMED UN leader, trailed by a troop of Canadian soldiers, approached a tent inside the detainment camp. He shouted, “Everyone out, now!”
The command struck fear into the Bear Claw tribe members who looked at John for guidance because he was the strongest in both body and spirit. The young man got up, ducking beneath the low canvas ceiling, his long black hair hanging down. His people followed him outside.
The UN leader motioned for John to step forward, then scanned his body with a tablet. The young man stared past the officer as if he wasn’t there, trying to maintain a shred of dignity in this degrading situation. On the screen, on top of John’s profile, a black message box popped up that read “Level 4”. The UN leader told him, “You’ve got work orders. Stand to the side.”
Next, the UN leader scanned John’s sister, Mari. He stood a little too close to her as he ran the tablet over her body, only stepping back to read the screen. Mari’s profile information appeared. She was a “Level 3”. He ordered her to stand to the side as well, then motioned for the next tribe member to step forward.
Mari felt like crying, but refused to do so in front of these monsters, instead she stoically stood beside her brother as each tribe member was scanned and told to return to the tent.
Soon, Mari and John were the only ones left standing outside.
The UN leader looked at the pair, then told the soldiers to escort John to the bus.
John surveyed the soldiers and the rifles they carried. He knew he had no choice but to leave. He hugged Mari, who, in return,
held onto him tightly, praying it wouldn’t be the last time.
The two soldiers marched John past the rows of tents until they reached the edge of the detainment camp. A soldier stationed there pushed open the gate. John felt like a dead man walking as he moved through the opening.
At the bus, John stepped up the grooved-rubber stairs, moving past the driver who refused to make eye contact. He found an unoccupied seat, and sat next to the window where he stared at the chain-link fence and barbed wire, dreading what the future held for him.
The invisible Tom and Cecile stood in front of the three tents that held their people. There were no soldiers in sight. It was time for the rescue to begin.
Tom glided through one of the tents. Inside, all of the occupants were visibly upset. The would-be rescuer let himself become semi-physical so he could talk to his people. His ghostly appearance startled them. A few gasped. One frantic woman started to speak, but Tom put his finger to his lips, and she fell silent. In a hushed tone, he said to them, “I know this is strange,” referring to his phantasmal body, “but I don’t have time to explain.”
The frantic woman couldn’t contain herself any longer, and spoke out, her voice quivering, “John’s gone! Sent to a work camp. And Mari…” she fought back her tears, “the soldiers took her.”
Tom clenched his jaw with frustration. This rescue was supposed to be quick and easy. Now two were already missing. He told her and the others, “I’ll find them. Wait here.” As if they had a choice.
To search for Mari, Tom let his mind wander. He saw an image of a military truck parked between two tents.
Tom became invisible once more, then transported himself to where the missing woman was. He arrived, floating beside the vehicle, just as the cab door creaked open. Mari was pushed out, falling to the ground. Her clothes were ripped, and her face and arms were bruised. Numb. Traumatized. She struggled to get up, stumbling forward, dazed and unsure of which direction she was headed.
The UN leader stepped out of the truck, grinning as he zipped up his black pants. The other soldiers turned a blind eye.
Enraged, Tom stormed toward the rapist intending to kill him with his bare hands, but then Mari staggered past him.
Tom stopped.
She needed his help.
The tribe needed his help.
To kill the UN leader now would jeopardize everyone’s lives. Revenge and justice would have to wait.
Still invisible, Tom followed Mari as she tried to return to the safety of the tent, but she tripped, falling into the mud. Prodded by her own determined spirit, she attempted to stand again, but lost her balance, landing on her hands and knees.
The UN leader jeered, “Looks like she wants some more.”
The other soldiers snickered. Only one looked away, ashamed.
Sensing the situation might escalate, Tom returned to the tent. He became semi-physical once more, blurting out, “Mari’s hurt!” He pointed at two of the women. “Go get her. Now!”
The women hesitated to leave the tent because they knew it was against the rules, but they followed his orders and went outside.
When the women saw Mari crawling on the ground, they forgot their fears, ignored the soldiers and rushed to help her, lifting her up by her arms, dragging her back inside the tent.
Mari collapsed on the canvas floor, curling into a ball, too traumatized to cry. One of the women pulled her into her arms, cradling her like a baby.
Tom kneeled, gently touching the woman who held Mari, then said to the others, “Put your hands on me. I’m taking you out of here.”
Cecile had an easier time than Tom. She transported two groups to inner earth within a few minutes. These people were overcome with relief and gratitude. Some stared incredulously at the red sun held high in the lavender sky. A rainbow-feathered loon fished along the shoreline of the purple lake. The moment was too surreal for the tribe members to fully comprehend—one minute they were prisoners, the next they were free.
After too much time had passed, Cecile began to worry about Tom’s rescue attempt. She was about to check on him when he and his group arrived, appearing on the grassy knoll. The visibly distraught women formed a protective barrier around Mari, who remained in the arms of her friend. The men stepped away to give them privacy.
Cecile rushed over to Tom. “What’s happened?”
“Mari was…” he hesitatingly whispered, “raped.” Cecile’s knees weakened. Tom grabbed her arm to steady her, saying, “We waited too long. If we had acted sooner, like I said, none of this would have happened.” He breathed heavily as his anger intensified. “I’m gonna kill that son-of-a-bitch!”
Cecile glanced at her beloved Mari, who lay in anguish. “I’m going to see if she needs…” Overcome by emotion, her voice faltered. Unable to say more, she simply walked away, heading toward her friend.
Tom barely noticed Cecile’s departure. His only thoughts were of killing the rapist, until suddenly, a greater concern crossed his mind, causing his rage to turn into fear. He disappeared.
Rescue on the Reservation
WHEN ZACHARY ARRIVED at the Bear Claw First Nation Reservation to save the teenagers and Eva, he found his daughter asleep on a porch, partially protected from the sun by the metal overhang. Ferta and Jabbar were snuggled beside her.
Adeelah, Eyota and Taima were ambling through the village reminiscing, knowing they most likely would never see this place again. But, on the positive side, they knew they would be reunited with their rescued tribe members soon. The two village dogs paced beside them, hoping for a head scratch or treat, or both.
Rowtag and Manuel were riding bareback on the American Paint horses, stepping through the green field, enjoying one last pass over the tribe’s ancestral land.
Zachary leaned down, gently nudging Eva. Her hazel eyes opened. She drowsily gazed at her father. He told her, “It’s time to go.”
The little girl sat up, resting her hand on the sun-bleached boards. Her movement woke up the jaguar, which stretched her enormous front paws while yawning. The monkey struggled to lift his eyelids still heavy with sleep, wiggling his mustache as he smacked his lips. Eva asked, “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.” Zachary stood up, shouting at the girls who were still down the road, “Time to go!”
The girls waved to acknowledge they had heard his call, then dawdled toward him, moving as slowly as possible to delay their departure.
Zachary turned in the other direction, hollering at the boys, his voice rolling across the pasture, “Time to go!”
Rowtag and Manuel leaned to the side, prompting their horses to turn toward the village. The horses followed the boys’ cues, swishing their tails to drive away the flies.
Understanding how difficult it was to leave a place you loved, Zachary patiently waited for them.
Eva stood up, putting her hand on the jaguar’s head, stroking the soft fur between her ears. The monkey climbed onto the little girl’s shoulder.
It was a perfect moment—one that embraced all that was right about the “dog days” of summer. The air was golden and the sky was clear. A cool breeze blew over the land.
But the perfection vanished when Zachary spied jets on the horizon, heading their way. Something was amiss. There hadn’t been a single plane overhead since the virus outbreak. These had to be military planes. Fear tore through him. He knew he needed to get everyone out of here, and he needed to do it fast.
Zachary placed his hand on his daughter, then transported her to where the girls stood studying the sky. Ferta and Jabbar, who were touching Eva, had come by default. Zachary shouted at the girls, “Hurry! Touch me! We need to leave!” They rushed to him, clinging to his arms, but Adeelah and Taima also took the time to reach down, each grabbing a dog by its scruff.
The jets closed in on them. The pilots fired the missiles mounted beneath their wings.
Rowtag and Manuel saw the projectiles whizz through the air, thin trails of smoke following. Without hesit
ation, the boys yanked on the horses’ manes and kicked them into a gallop, hunkering down and holding on tightly as they raced toward the forest.
Zachary transformed the girls, jaguar, monkey and dogs into an ethereal state, which would keep them safe. Then he transported them to the field, directly in front of the boys and stampeding horses. The moment the horses burst through the energetic edges of the semi-transparent group, creating a connection, Zachary took every single person and animal out of there.
A split second later, the missiles hit.
Fireballs exploded.
Black smoke billowed.
Amid the haze of settling debris, flames licked the charred remains of the houses and community hall. The outskirts of the forest were scorched. The reservation was no more.
Saving John
THE AIR BRAKES hissed as the bus came to a stop outside a brick-facade factory. A red maple-leaf flag fluttered in the breeze on the pole out front. On the side, big rigs and eighteen-wheelers idled near the loading docks while their attached trailers were being loaded.
The passengers studied the building wondering what job positions they might be given. Relief flooded over John as he gazed out the window. He had been skeptical about the work assignment, assuming the worst. Decades of lies by the Canadian government had led to his mistrust—not to mention his recent imprisonment at the detainment camp, which was eerily similar to the reservations his people were forced to reside on until they were officially granted their citizenship in 1956, retroactive to 1947. (Only in the eyes of the government did that make any sense.) However, this time it seemed the soldiers had told him the truth.
A blond woman waited on the sidewalk. As soon as the bus door folded open, she boarded, standing beside the driver. She held a clipboard snug against her chest, and wore a black pantsuit accented with a light-blue scarf. She smiled, then spoke loudly to make sure those at the back could hear her. “Welcome, everyone! My name’s Sara, and I’m the HR representative in charge of taking you through the steps of your work assignments, which will include a physical exam to make sure you’re healthy enough for the job. After that, you’ll get your ID badges.”
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