by Anna Elias
His anger burned.
Not until he finished. Not until Mary was dead.
“Attention ... attention.” The airport overhead announcement system piped the robotic voice into the bathroom. “Please listen for the following gate changes.”
Eric grinned. It was the diversion he needed. He concentrated his power, swirling and expanding inside Matheus’s body. He quickly melded cells, organs, and bones with his pearly mist, and began to spin the body apart. A green light glowed from the stall. He spun faster and faster, creating a vortex of wind and light.
The father jumped forward to rip the door off its hinges. The mother ran in as the gusting air and light disappeared, and the room stilled to an eerie quiet once more. The stall stood empty and Eric had vanished in his non-Vessel human, impossible to track, just as he’d planned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AARON
The nightmare followed Aaron everywhere, no matter how many pills he swallowed or how much bourbon he drank. Day and night, awake or asleep, Shellie’s steel-gray casket appeared, lined in white and surrounded by a garden of plants and floral sprays. Thoughts of the perfumed flowers turned his stomach. Aaron adjusted his pack and hiked farther up the mountain trail. It scaled like a rocky hill compared to his beloved Cascades outside Seattle. Even so, he was spent on every level—emotional, physical, and spiritual—and he couldn’t climb fast enough, high enough, or far enough to get away from the pain.
The sun sank lower on the horizon and the temperature dropped several degrees. Aaron paused to sip some water and untie the fleece jacket from around his waist. He kicked up a rock squirrel, and the tiny rodent whistled and chirped its displeasure. An owl screeched from evergreens in the distance, but Aaron didn’t care. His legs moved, and his body climbed, but his mind remained trapped in Shellie’s death.
An American flag draped the casket’s lower half, while Shellie, young and beautiful, lay visible in the open top. She wore an Army uniform covered in medals, with her blonde hair pinned back and her hands folded together across her belly. White, lacy baby booties nestled in the crook of one arm. She’d come home for Christmas about twelve weeks earlier, before her final tour in Afghanistan. They’d had no idea she’d become pregnant. The doctors had discovered the fetus during surgery.
Aaron crested the small mountain and sat down to rest. He dug into his pack, reached past the trail mix and a loaded handgun, to retrieve the bottle of water. He took a swig and watched long rays of sunset paint the landscape orange and red.
The funeral two days ago had been blustery, overcast, and bitterly cold. He’d accepted the casket’s folded flag from the two surviving officers in Shellie’s unit. They were home on medical leave but had requested to fly out and take part.
Aaron ran his finger along the plastic bottle top. The funeral must have been grueling for them, too, suffering post-traumatic stress from the bomb blast and living with survivor’s guilt. But they’d soldiered through—almost robotic, in fact. As if emotions had been turned off and tucked away. Shellie had done the same when her father died. She must have grieved, but Aaron never saw it.
He gazed down across the endless lake that spread through the trees in front of him. Its shimmering waters swallowed the sun and greeted the night in differing shades of blue. White, odd-shaped rocks lined the shore. Some looked like layered mushrooms or stacked broccoli. Others reminded him of piled pillows ready to topple. The brochure had called them tufa rocks. They’d been created eons ago by spring and lake waters stirring together, and had emerged to mark the shoreline of Prism Lake.
In Florida, early settlers had fashioned the hard, native coquina shells into impenetrable forts, seawalls, and castle-like homes. Would tufa be similar, or was it soft? Aaron laughed at himself. How many people thought about the architectural integrity of rocks during their final hours of life? He sighed and zipped the warm, lightweight jacket tighter around his neck.
The soldiers had given him Shellie’s folded flag as a talisman, an icon of service and sacrifice. To Aaron, it symbolized her death. Once waving full and proud, this cloth triangle had been reduced to lie still and silent in a box, like her. It would adorn his dresser as a constant reminder that their life, love, family, and dreams had been shattered and erased before they’d even begun.
He crushed the empty bottle. Yet another war that created yet another hell on Earth to feed yet another round of human power, pride, greed, revenge, and hate. He dropped the bottle in his pack as a group of bats swooped overhead, small black jets twisting and diving to catch unwitting prey. A bobcat called in the distance. Aaron shivered inside his fleece.
After the workers had lowered Shellie’s casket, he had dropped in an unblemished white rose for her and a perfect white carnation for their child. Though too much damage had been done for the doctors to know gender, something told Aaron Shellie had been carrying their little girl. Aaron had followed the flowers with two handfuls of dirt then left the cemetery as quickly as he could.
He’d known what he was going to do, but not where to do it, until he’d stopped to overnight in Reno and found a brochure for Prism Lake. Its beauty, tranquility, and wide-open wilderness offered the perfect setting. Aaron had used a false name at the hotel and paid cash so no one could find him. He’d destroyed his credit cards and cell phone, donated his car to charity, and paid for a cab ride to Prism Lake with his last dollars. Once night fell, he would enjoy a final meal of trail mix and use the gun. His soul would find Shellie and their child in the next life, and wild animals could dispose of his remains in this one.
Aaron shivered and lay back on the cold ground. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and lost himself among the growing canopy of stars. His mind wandered to his architectural firm in Seattle with its plans and designs, its engineering feats and awards, and its reputation designing commercial spaces throughout Washington State and the San Juan Islands. He thought about Joe, his best friend since college, his business partner in the firm, and Shellie’s older brother and only sibling—the one who had fixed them up to begin with. Aaron sighed and closed his eyes. He couldn’t go back. Not to the work he loved. Not to his home. Not even to Joe. Not without Shellie.
Aaron woke with a start hours later, having no idea how long he’d been out. A dense galaxy of stars blanketed the sky, a bright full moon reflected on the lake, and strange voices rose from below.
Heart racing, Aaron crawled past a thin line of trees to the ledge. He peered down at a bonfire blazing on shore, near the largest prism-shaped rock. A dozen or so Native Americans, wearing feathers and face paint, danced around the flames and chanted words he didn’t recognize. A bobcat howled again, closer this time, and the chief—adorned in a flowing, feathery headdress—gazed out at the lake as if waiting for something to swim up. A tall, silver-haired man hovered next to him, and behind them stood what appeared to be a middle-aged woman and four young adults. One of the four clutched a small device.
Something moved in the trees. Aaron spun around but didn’t see anything. It moved again, and he caught the shape of something big. A coyote, perhaps, or maybe a wolf. He prayed it wasn’t a bear. He hadn’t expected to live this late into the night, or suffer a death caused by the very animals he’d planned to feed. He eyed his backpack with the gun tucked inside, took a sharp breath, and stepped in that direction. A deep growl stopped him, and something large and furry moved in the bush near his pack.
One pointed ear became visible, with a slight tuft of fur at its peak. Then a tail, or the stump of one, marked the animal’s backend. A bobcat? It couldn’t be. This thing was way too big. Aaron shivered again and backed farther toward the mountain ledge. The cat emerged and its eyes flashed a bright golden green. Aaron cried out and instinctively waved his arms, hoping to scare it off, but the animal sniffed and turned its head toward Aaron’s pack. It sniffed again then disappeared back into the trees. Aaron held his breath, but the beast was gone.
Seconds passed and the big cat did not r
eturn. Aaron swallowed hard and wiped the sweat from his face. Just as his heartbeat returned to normal, a tremor moved the ground under his feet and a strange, emerald green light flickered from below. Aaron turned to face the lake, eyes wide as the water stirred and glowed. The native chanting crescendoed and the distant bonfire roared and spat at the night sky.
“Hello, Aaron.”
Aaron whirled around and his foot slipped on the ledge.
He started to tumble when a hand shot out and grabbed him back. A bearded man steadied him.
Aaron trembled. “Who are you? How do you know me?”
The man smiled. A bright green ring encircled his golden eyes, which flashed like the big cat’s. “We know everyone, Aaron.”
“We?”
“We know what they’re going through.” He turned to Aaron’s pack. “What they intend.”
Aaron’s pulse jackhammered. He’d hidden the gun since leaving Seattle. No one knew he had it. And no one could see it wrapped in a thick T-shirt at the bottom of his pack.
“Every soul is sacred, Aaron. Every life has purpose.”
Anger surged past his fear. “How can life have purpose when it’s not even been lived?”
“Your wife saved her unit.”
He reeled at the stranger’s knowledge.
“Her death, and that of your unborn child, saved you. By sending you here.”
His words dealt a fierce blow. “Saved me? I came here to kill myself.”
“Your new life waits there.” The man pointed to the churning lake and the large black submarine-like ship rising to its surface. The craft’s phosphorescent green trim brightened the shore, the people, and the strange tufa rocks.
The air crackled with some kind of invisible charge and Aaron staggered back. “Who are you?” he asked again. “What the hell is going on?”
The man extended a hand. “My name is Liam.” His voice, his eyes, his very presence warmed the night air. “It’s time to find out.”
Aaron’s brain screamed at him to resist, to run away as fast as he could from this man, from that weird chanting, from the mystical ship clanking open on the lake below, and from the chief walking out to greet whoever, or whatever, climbed out. But Aaron’s legs wouldn’t move. The very things he feared drew him in, as if he’d been waiting for them. Maybe Shellie had sent this man. Maybe she’d somehow pleaded his case on the other side.
The owl screeched again, and Aaron stared at the form that emerged from the ship—an imposing man in some kind of uniform who first greeted the chief, then shared a supernatural moment with the young people on shore that involved joined hands and bolts of light.
“It’s time,” Liam said.
Aaron reached out in response, his arm moving as if on its own, and clasped the stranger’s hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TAL
Flames licked higher and higher as the Anaho danced and chanted around the fire. A narrow door slid open on the ship’s side, and a grated walkway extended toward shore with a hiss. Tiny lights lined its metal surface on either side. Somewhere in the mountains above, an owl screeched.
Tal’s whole body trembled and tendons turned to rods in her neck. She sensed the same from Link, Avani, and Doc, but seeing the surprise on Sam’s face came as a shock. He must not have all the answers after all, like Doc had said. Maybe guarding this secret required him to keep his name off the books. Perhaps he’d hidden behind Diego Ruiz to run this crazy Program without getting bogged down in bureaucracy, restraints, or discovery. Her stomach lurched at the phone call she’d made. What if contacting the State Department had aroused suspicion? What if it brought authorities snooping around the shelter and they discovered this Program? She vowed to tell Sam about it right after this. Whatever this was going to be.
Chief Black stepped on the lighted plank and crossed the foaming waves toward the ship. Tal shuddered, wondering who or what would greet him at the other end.
Sam shifted side to side as he watched Chief Black from shore. They shared an obvious, palpable bond—a partnership in this Program not unlike the one Tal had shared with Jake in their job. Sam’s apparent trust and faith eased her fears. She peeked around; he seemed to be calming the others, as well.
A hatch spun open and a bright light burst forth from within the ship. Jasmine scented the air and a man emerged. His thick, shoulder-length black mane was pulled back in a band and his eighteenth-century Royal Navy coat hung long on his tall, broad frame.
The captain stepped onto the plank and greeted Chief Black. The two men clasped arms in the old-world style, with the captain’s wool uniform pressed against the fringed and beaded deerskin tunic.
“Nem hau.” The chief spoke in his native tongue. The wind tousled the feathers of his headdress.
“Greetings to you, as well, Chief Black. I am Captain Hugh Benham. Welcome to the Vessels.”
Jasmine mixed with more potent smells of smoking fire, black earth, fresh water, and crisp mountain air. Tal took several breaths, holding each until it burned and refocused her nerves. Sam stood tall and straight, bravely clasping the captain’s arm with assurance once the men came ashore. Tal stood taller, too, mimicking Sam’s movement and trusting smile while her heart pounded an assault on her ribs.
Chief Black led the captain to Avani first. He joined hands with her and the captain, and a blast of white light pulsed around them. The tattoo brightened under Avani’s pant leg while Chief Black whispered something to her. The whole thing lasted less than a minute, and Tal could see no visible difference, but Avani moved lighter, easier, and with more confidence. When she lifted her pant leg, the tattoo’s circular, ancient-looking symbol glowed brighter, and the dove shimmered, barely visible inside the dense vines.
Chief Black invited Link to go next, and the process repeated itself.
Link’s connection soon ended, and the result was the same as Avani’s. He stood taller, more confident, and his tattoo glowed like it had been activated and brought to life.
Chief Black approached Tal last. Her knees buckled as he linked her hands with his and the captain’s. The last thing she saw was his headdress rippling in a burst of light, and the captain’s eyes flaring like sapphires. White light exploded and Tal’s body ignited like she had grabbed a bolt of lightning. It was impossible to know where one person ended and another began.
“You seek the truth, Tallulah Davis,” Chief Black whispered through the surge. “You will find it here, and the assurance will bring you peace, but not in any way you can imagine.”
His gentle tone and simple words, combined with the electrifying touch, launched Tal’s soul like a shooting star. Every pain, heartache, and moment of suffering she had ever known exploded into a million tiny fractals and sucked back together into a new being, a new and better her, that was grounded in love, hope, and joy. The feeling was similar to holding Darden the first time, but even that paled in comparison. She recognized the pieces of her new self, and could still see and feel those moments that had darkened her, but their power had decreased and she felt more connected to the world around her. She felt the crickets, owls, and coyotes as much as she heard them. The light circled through her body as much as it surged around her, and she shared air, skin, and soul not only with the people, the earth, and the animals nearby, but also with those she could not see. The Creator had woven her into some spiritual tapestry that bound her to all life on Earth—a pure, unselfish, unconditional love that was both all-powerful and drop-to-your-knees humbling.
When the men let go, Tal buckled. Captain Hugh caught her, his powerful arms easing her upright. His glowing eyes returned to their deep indigo blue, and he and Chief Black stepped away. The intensity of her new feelings ebbed but continued to burn in her like a pilot light.
Heat spread around her ankle. When she reached to check her tattoo, a green flash and gusting wind cracked open the air nearby, and Liam appeared with a stranger at his side.
The newcomer trembled.
; Tal, thanks to her recent connection with Chief Black and Captain Hugh, sensed his fear as if it were her own. She smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Tal. This is Avani and Link.”
AARON
Aaron scanned these strange, smiling faces, the ancient ship resting on the lake, the chanting natives, the dancing fire, and the howls of distant coyotes. After the wind and leaves settled, Liam escorted him to the triad of elders: a Native Chief, an old world Navy Captain, and a tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man wearing khaki pants and a cardigan. All three exuded an otherworldly wisdom and power that he was certain could reduce everything around them to dust; yet each possessed a warmth, kindness and humility that eased his distress.
“I’m Sam Fullerton.” The silver-haired man shook Aaron’s hand. His blue eyes glinted in the firelight.
“Aaron. Aaron Hall.”
“What brings you to this place, Aaron Hall?” Chief Black asked.
Aaron’s breath caught. He probably knew the answer, like the man on the mountain had. In fact, Aaron bet they all knew. Lying would be a waste of everyone’s time.
“My wife and child ...” He studied his feet. “I don’t want to live in a world they’re not in. I came here to ... join them.” He was startled at how easily the truth spilled out.
Aaron looked up, waiting. But the surrounding faces held no judgment or criticism. No one jumped down his throat or tried to talk him out of anything. They just were.
“You have joined them, Aaron,” Captain Hugh said at last.
His British accent surprised Aaron at first. Then again, such a divine group would be nothing if not diverse.
“How? I’m still alive.”
“They are, as well,” Captain Hugh continued. “Your wife and child know you, they know your love, and they wish you life.”