The Arrival

by J W Brazier

  Glenn looked in the mirror and examined his perfectly proportioned knot. “Girl, what you did takes me at least a half-dozen tries.” He stuck up his hand. “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot.” He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small box. “Here, I’ve have something for you. I asked Dean if these would be a choice he would’ve made.”

  Glenn opened the small box. Ann’s expression said it all.

  “Oh, geez, Dad, they’re beautiful!” She paused, and her joyful expression changed to inquiring. “Dad, did Dean pick these out or did you?”

  “Well … Sort of both, actually. He wanted to buy them, but I gave them to him instead. Ann, these rings would’ve been your mother’s and mine. I bought them for us. I kept them all these years.”

  Ann grabbed a tissue on his dresser. “Dad, I’d be honored for us to wear these rings,” she said dabbing at her makeup.

  “Good, that’s settled. Now, what’s the surprise all about you mentioned at breakfast?”

  She set the rings on his dresser, smiled, and took his hand. “Come with me, sir.”

  She giggled and led him out and down the hallway to her room. When he stepped inside her doorway, he froze. In the middle of the room, her dazzling white wedding dress hung draped over a mannequin.

  “Wow, Ann! Honey, that’s spectacular.”

  Glenn walked over, stood beside the dress, and caressed the fabric with gentle strokes.

  “Dad, this is Mom’s dress. You bought the rings and she actually bought a dress. She is here with us. Isn’t it marvelous how the Lord’s hand has worked all this out?”

  Glenn felt overwhelmed. His face flushed, and he wiped at his eyes. “Where did you put those tissues?”

  They laughed and hugged.

  “Okay, honey, enough with the emotions. We’ll both look a mess when our guests start arriving, so let’s pull it together.” Glenn sniffled and wiped at his nose. “Ann, I’m a little confused about the guests, so help me out here. You’ve hurried me along all morning. You two wanted your wedding ceremony to be in the Jewish traditions, I get that, but all this week we haven’t prepared the house or for the guests. There’s no catering arranged, no musicians, drinks, or anything. So what’s going on here?”

  Glenn noticed her eyes reflected a slight twinkle of mischief, reminding him of her mother. Ann grinned and went to her dresser drawer and pulled out two envelopes.

  “Dad, that’s because no one is coming here. We’ve given everyone directions to another address—my new home. I apologize for misleading you these last few weeks, but Dean and I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Surprise me? Ann, you’ve sold Deborah’s—I mean, your mother’s house?”

  “No, I gave it away.”

  Glenn felt his knees go weak. Deborah’s home was gone—to a stranger no less.

  “Ann, why didn’t you tell me? I mean, I would’ve—”

  “Dad, before you go postal on me—here, you need to read this.”

  Glenn opened the envelope and started reading. “Ann, this is a … deed … in my name, but … but why … I mean …”

  “Dad, in his will, Ian left his entire estate to me. I’ve given you Mom’s house, and Dean and I will live up in Ian’s old home. Both are free and clear of any mortgage, with an account set up that pays all future taxes.”

  Glenn just stood there, at a complete loss for words.

  “Dad, Ian Taylor was a special man, in ways we could never imagine. I think the Lord sent him here to prepare us. Remember Pearlette and Ian spoke about hearing voices?”

  Glenn nodded, and then listened as Ann went on.

  “Remember what he said at Joshua and Brenda’s before the shooting started? Ian warned us several times before Judas called. Dad, he foreknew that cloned monster would call and he was told to come there and wait. Judas expected Ian would be there, and was afraid of the cross he wore around his neck.

  “Dad, consider this. None of us was aware of GEM-Tech’s experiments except for Ian and Mom. Ian has worked in the background for years, planning and preparing for a day that would reveal that truth. He set up trusts, recorded tapes, and wrote letters of instructions and more. Later on today, a lot of that information will be revealed.”

  Glenn had to sit down. “Ann … how, I mean … how would Ian have known so early on, about any of us, and planned accordingly? Sheesh. Wow. Way over the top strange, Ann. This is weird stuff you’re telling me.”

  “Yep, you’re right about that. I’ve had a hard time wrapping my mind around it all myself. And poor Dean … Well, you of all people understand how analytical and nerdy he becomes.”

  Glenn snorted a laugh. “Oh, yeah, I know Dean Cohen; he’s all that and more.”

  “Anyway, Ian has it all planned. In the letter to me, he explains in detail more than I’ve told you.”

  Glenn looked at her.

  “Your letter? Did he write anyone else?”

  Ann held out the second envelope. “This one’s for you, Dad.”

  *

  The festive gathering to honor Dean and Ann’s joyous occasion began early. Regardless of religious affiliations, every guest agreed to honor the Jewish customs and ceremonies. Brenda, Sherry, and Pearlette made certain that every detail was in order and ready—Pearlette in the kitchen, Sherry checking the caterers, and Brenda helping Ann prepare.

  Ann was thankful and overwhelmed with the ladies’ unselfish generosity, crying, hugging, and laughing with them all. As for the men, the persuasive ladies exiled them early on to the guesthouse.

  Dean had asked a local messianic rabbi to officiate the ceremony, someone Dean had come to know and respect after attending the rabbi’s synagogue while he was in the area. During the ceremony, the old Jew took his time explaining to those gathered the meaning behind the Jewish wedding customs from an Old and New Testaments type-and-shadow perspectives. There wasn’t a dry eye among the crowd. When the ceremony was complete, it was time to party.

  The band sang, strummed, and banged out the melodies, stimulating young and old alike. Guests, bride, and groom all swayed and danced to the music. The caterers, like busy ants, worked the crowd with a steady flow of food and drinks, with no end in sight.

  Glenn acted the proud papa in giving his daughter’s hand in marriage, the highlight of his life. He danced, giggled, and jerked to the music with Ann as if he were in his twenties. Despite his critical injuries months earlier, he looked the picture of health and made up for lost time with his daughter.

  Dean tried to hide his annoyance at his boss and new father-in-law. Glenn noticed the groom’s impatience. He’d occupied much of his bride’s attention. Glenn was enjoying his temporary shenanigans, flashing Dean an impish grin with each pass around the dance floor.

  *

  “Dad, Jewish weddings are a lot of fun,” Clay said, tapping his feet to the music.

  “Yes, son, they sure are. I’m glad the rabbi took the time to explain the meaning behind all the symbolism. Like that small outbuilding you and I constructed … That goes way back, to the time of Moses.”

  “We did an awesome job, Dad.” Clay stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  Joshua sensed the boy had a reason for hiding out from the dancing. “I appreciate your company, son, but why are you hanging out with me? Either that group of boys over there is waving at me or motioning for you to join them.”

  “Dad, do you need me for anything else? My friends wanted me to play some softball.”

  “No, son, we’re good, so get out of here. This is a celebration. Go enjoy yourself.”

  “Sweet, and thanks, Dad. If you need me, I’ll be out back in the pasture.”

  “Sure thing, son. Have fun.”

  Free at last, Clay scampered off with his friends without looking back.

  Joshua envied him for his youth, but was sad he’d inherited that “world gone mad.” Judas had threatened Joshua’s family, paying special attention to his children. Maybe it was the power of the innocent Judas feared. Adu
lts had screwed up their world for sure.

  “If only we were younger men, Mr. Austin. Consider what we could accomplish now, because of what we’ve learned from past mistakes.”

  Joshua hadn’t noticed the old rabbi walk up from behind. “Hey, Rabbi. Are you sneaking up on me?”

  The rabbi smiled, watching the group of boys running off to play, then turned and stared at Joshua, as if he were examining his soul.

  “By that look, Rabbi, I’d say you’ve got something important on your mind.”

  “Joshua, take a walk with me, please. I’ve a story I’d like to share, a tale I’ve waited to share until the right moment. I believe you’ll find it interesting.”

  Joshua grinned with his characteristic half-cocked eyebrow. “Okay, Rabbi. Where we headed?”

  The rabbi pointed to the small garden underneath giant twin oaks.

  “Lead the way, Rabbi.”

  The rabbi began talking as they walked the short distance. “Ian Taylor was a remarkable man, Joshua, in more ways than any of us will ever understand. Were you friends long?”

  “Not as long as I would have liked, Rabbi. He died in my living room, by the way.”

  The rabbi nodded. “Yes, I’m aware of the circumstances thanks to Dean—a real tragedy by all accounts.”

  They arrived at the small garden, and the rabbi sat down first on a concrete bench. Joshua sat on another bench opposite the rabbi and waited for him to begin.

  “Joshua, my story is as adventurous, mysterious, and wild as the man who told it to me.”

  “This man, would that be … Ian?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  The rabbi looked up and motioned for a waitress catering the wedding. She came over with a tray of red and white wine. Joshua stood and took two glasses of red wine, thanked her, and handed one to the rabbi. The rabbi took a sip and continued with his story.

  “Dean told me much of what happened before Ian was killed, but not all the details. So I assume Ian explained why he was in Palestine before the Israeli war and the purpose behind his expedition?”

  “Yes, he told us everything—that is, those of us at my house on the day of the shootings. To my knowledge, no one else knows the full details. We’re all still in shock trying to make sense of his profound revelations.”

  “Profound indeed, Joshua, as we’ll all come to realize. Now, here are a few mysterious facts of interest to fill in the gaps.

  “Ian and Charles departed Palestine just in the nick of time from the port of Haifa, on a steamship to New York City. After their ship’s arrival in port, they went below late that evening to check on the artifact. They found their security guards beaten and unconscious. Six other men lay close by, dead.”

  “What? Really? Thieves, I bet. Was there a shootout?”

  “No, that would’ve been human. These men suffered a horrible, inhuman death. I’ll never forget the look on Ian’s face as he described the account. He said, ‘Rabbi, the men looked as if something had sucked out their very souls.’ It appeared four members of the ship’s crew and two dockworkers conspired to steal Ian’s artifacts. Ian had a notorious reputation for hiding valuable artifacts not listed on his manifests.

  “Inside its protective steel cage, the artifact wasn’t disturbed, but outside the cage, their mangled bodies lay there. Ian said, ‘Whatever or whoever killed them left their bodies fused together in a contorted pile—their tortured screams still etched forever on their faces. The only things that remained were their dried shells and crushed bone, like Egyptian mummies leathered and drawn.’”

  Joshua shook his head, feeling like a kid around a campfire listening to ghost stories.

  “Wait, what about the Jew’s corpse that Ian found?” Joshua asked. “You said Ian told you it wasn’t disturbed.”

  “No, it wasn’t, and therein was another strange oddity. When the GEM-Tech scientists arrived, Ian said the body’s condition looked in a better state of enhanced preservation than when he’d found it in the tomb. He said the experience frightened Charles to his core. GEM-Tech, of course, was ecstatic with the usable DNA material.

  “The corpse of Judas looked as if it had absorbed those six men’s life’s essence—their very souls. Ian said that incident affected Charles Wagner deeply. He refused to discuss the matter. That was the last time Ian said he was with Dr. Wagner, until his visit in the hospital when Charles was already dying. Although, over the years, they corresponded and talked on the phone quite regularly.”

  Joshua took a sip of his wine. “Don’t stop now, Rabbi Goldman. You’ve set the hook in deep.”

  The rabbi’s smile widened. “Joshua, please, my friends call me Avram. We’ve moved past any further formalities.”

  When the old rabbi said his name, Joshua froze in place. He’d never connected the dots when Dean first introduced them.

  Could it be? Surely not! he thought. This is way too uncanny.

  “Rabbi, I … I mean, Avram, you can’t be the same Rabbi Goldman that Ian encountered in 1948 Palestine?”

  Rabbi Goldman looked down, then raised his head, and looked steadfast into Joshua’s eyes. “Yes, Joshua, I am that same Rabbi.”

  Joshua jumped to his feet. “Avram, this is … well, bizarre. Ian’s story was fantastic, but now … you. I’m freaked out. Help me out, Rabbi, please.”

  “Joshua, please have a seat. You remind me of myself when I’m excited.”

  Joshua smiled and sat down.

  Rabbi Goldman pulled a cross from beneath his shirt. “Ian gave me the same thing you’re wearing. I was born at the turn of the century, 1902. What he said about its origin and power … It’s true.

  Chapter 45

  Sitting in Joshua Austin’s office, Bob Connell had almost filled his notebook with notations and quotes from a wide range of questions. He glanced down at his digital recorder lying on the table.

  Good batteries pay off, he thought. The small device was still recording. He looked up to check the time from Joshua’s wall clock.

  In the reception area, Shelby glanced up at her own clock—10: 00 am. The telephone rang. She answered but kept the conversation short and added another call-back message to the growing pile.

  She’d managed to hold Joshua’s usual barrage of callers at bay since 8:00 a.m. He’d never allowed long interviews that she could remember.

  Whatever they’re discussing must be important, she figured.

  Ready to wrap up his prolonged session, Bob asked a three-part question. Joshua hesitated before answering. The American Republic reporter noted the effect his question had, seeing the glow in Joshua’s face disappear and his mood turn introspective.

  Joshua stared at Bob, unsure of how to respond. He rose up off the couch, thrust one hand into his pants pocket, and walked to the bay of windows behind his desk. Joshua kept his back to Bob and fixed his gaze on a small city park across the street. He let his thoughts go adrift, awash in a sea of faces, events, and conflicts. Memories paraded past of his day-to-day activities in office … the good, bad, and ugly.

  The terrorist training exercise had left its indelible mark. His forced cooperation and compromises during Operation Chameleon were life lessons he’d never forget. In his mind, the president and Governor Clayton had exposed American citizens to the cold, heartless taskmaster of tyranny.

  He envisioned the fate of America one generation away from a crossroads choice. Watching the children in the park play, he wondered what their generation would choose. Would they regain freedoms lost, or be enslaved by an unfettered government?

  The scenes and sights before him were iconic of what it should be, he reasoned. Black, white, Hispanic, and Asian teenagers laughed and played games of basketball and chess together.

  No obvious race issues there, he thought.

  Senior couples held hands while others fed the ducks. Several moms and dads played with their children. The park was a tranquil sanctuary without fear of attacks by roaming racist mobs or ethnic gangs. No drug dealers or pedoph
iles lurked in the shadows that he could see.

  The citizens were free from fear of martial law under UN military occupation. His city, if but for a short while, was at peace from a society gone mad with corruption and political correctness. Government tyranny, for the moment, didn’t exist for those visitors in the park.

  Joshua wondered if, by his actions, he’d achieved the lasting results he’d hoped. Maybe the consequences are still to come, he guessed.

  Bob saw from Joshua’s moist eyes that his moment of soul-searching had affected his emotions.

  “Are you alright, Mr. Mayor?”

  Bob’s question nudged Joshua back into reality.

  “Yes, Mr. Connell, I am, and I apologize. I was daydreaming.” Joshua wiped at his eyes. He spoke without turning to face the reporter. “You’ve asked a good question, Mr. Connell. I’ve not thought about it quite that way. Your question—Was it worth it, would I do it again, and will I run for re-election?—wow …”

  Joshua turned and faced Bob.

  “My answers are ‘yes,’ ‘yes,’ and ‘no.’”

  Given Joshua’s record in evidence, Bob understood the “yes” responses, but the “no” roused his curiosity.

  “Mayor Austin, you’re a gifted politician, so say citizens I’ve asked at random. I checked recent polling stats from a professional company. Their conclusions from all political proclivities favor your re-election as mayor or even a possible US Senate spot. ‘A man to be trusted’ and ‘He keeps his word’ their common theme.”

  “Heh. Data from any polling can mean or say whatever one wants, Mr. Connell.”

  “Yes, good point.” Bob decided not to pursue the question further. “Mayor, would you allow me a last question in closing.”

  Joshua checked his watch, smiled, and returned to his chair. He sat and crossed his legs.

  “Mr. Connell, one last question is an anthem all reporters sing. Ask away.”

  “In your mind, what benefit or failure was Operation Chameleon, and what alarmed you with the operation as a whole?”

  Joshua leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands. “A subversive exercise that probed and assaulted the sovereignty rights of the US and its citizens. I wouldn’t say a benefit under any pretense. Nor, I’m sad to say, a failure. On the contrary, Operation Chameleon was a success. You and I carry a product of its success, Mr. Connell: the OWN card. You’re an eyewitness that a new world order raised its ugly head in White River. Tomorrow, it might be somewhere in Europe, but it is preparing to strike again.”