Narican- the Cloaked Deception

by D M Robbins

  “But where aren’t the dark forces?”

  “In pure hearts.”

  “Like babies?”

  “Yes, but in others as well. Babies are too young to help.”

  “I guess we have to find them.”

  Tanz nods.

  “But how?”

  “They will come to us. Like attracts like. Cells bond with similar cells.”

  “But how will I know who the dark forces are?”

  “They will come as friends, dark mist, haze, fumes, light disruptions, anger, confusion, and can take over bodies for short periods of time,” he says, opening the door and shoving me into the hall. “Anyway the Toxic Whisperers can get to you.”

  I hear those last words as the door slams and deadbolts snap. In the hall I’m alone looking at chipping paint and uneven floors. Though I’m overloaded, I feel my consciousness opening, like I’m becoming Claremone, seeing a little clearer.

  I’m careful going home. Outside I see nothing. But after a few steps I hear my name in mocking tones echoing off buildings. “Clar-eee-mone… Clar-eee-mone… Your time is coming. Just like your family.”

  I want to stop and fight, swing fists into the air but there’s nothing, no one.

  In my apartment, exhausted from events and information overload, I sleep like the dead. This night is dreamless yet whispers from beyond enter my mind carrying words.

  “They are coming for you, child. Prepare yourself. Know that you are loved.”

  ONE WEIRD MORNING

  Before I fully wake, as dawn creeps toward me, I hear my name called again.

  “Clar-eee-mone.” The voice drifts up from the alley behind my building.

  Ready to do battle I jump out of bed and look out the window.

  The voice fades with distance. “Clar-eee-mone…”

  A sliver of a rusty sun cracks over the city’s buildings.

  As I get ready for work, that female’s voice speaks in my head, “Trust Tanz. He is a family ally.”

  Outside, people on the sidewalk act strange. Well, stranger than usual. Everyone is scowling. One woman walks into me and yells, “Watch where you’re walking, buster!” Then she mutters something to herself.

  In line at the shop people yell at each other about who got there first. Canned goods and cereal boxes lay in the aisles.

  At the register, Caitlin asks, “Are people getting weirder?”

  I ask her, “What’s with the stuff on the floor?”

  She shrugs. “Like that when I got here. Sally opened.”

  Another female coworker, Jen, walks past. “Mercury must be in retrograde.”

  I don’t know what that means and don’t want to risk sounding stupid. I pick up the food from the aisles and restock it.

  Out the shop window I see a dark haze envelope a walking man. His face turns to anger. He kicks at a plastic bag in front of him then trounces down the street like an angry bulldozer with shoulders shifted forward.

  “Reuben, can you come in the back?” the store owner, Sally, shouts from an open door at the rear.

  She has a small office with lots of shelving and a desk stacked with paper. A folding chair sits in front. A door to the supply room stands closed along the side wall.

  “I think it’s time we celebrate, Reuben. The store has been doing so well, thanks to you. Because of your outstanding service, I’m increasing your pay five dollars an hour and making you a supervisor.”

  “Wow, Sally, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, say yes, silly!”

  “Jen and Caitlin also do great jobs. But wow, a five-dollar raise is huge.”

  She reaches out her hand to shake. I take it and it seems stronger than usual.

  A container of my favorite all-natural apple juice sits on her desk with two cups already poured. “Let’s celebrate with a healthy toast.”

  “I do love this juice,” I say, gazing at it.

  “I know. It’s irresistible.” Her voice sounds strange, as if she has a cold.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  She nods, picking up her cup to drink.

  She sips, smacking her lips. “Hmm, delicious. Now your turn.”

  I pick mine up and watch it bubble, feeling chills in my bones.

  “Don’t get jittery now. It’s your favorite. Besides a five dollar raise is a lot of money for an eighteen-year-old. You could move out of that little apartment or ask one of the girls out. Or the sister of that boy who comes in here. I see how she looks at you.”

  I lower my cup hand. Something doesn’t feel right.

  “Um, I’m not thirsty. I just had a drink,” I say, shrugging to the store. “But I’ll take the raise.”

  I notice a red glint in her eyes: something harsh and loveless.

  “That’s very rude, Claremone.” Her voice drops further.

  “Wait, how do you know my…?”

  She aggressively yanks my hand across her desk. “Drink, boy!” A man’s voice barrels out. And she—he—tries to force me.

  “No!” I shout, struggling.

  Butch, the burly supply room worker, enters from the side door.

  “Hold him!”

  I can’t create rings of light or defend myself with any powers. I struggle as Sally walks around the desk with the cup. Butch holds me down. He too has red in his eyes. The bubbling liquid gets closer. I’m trapped but keep envisioning my power. Nothing comes.

  I must fight. My boss is about to pour poison down my throat. I look around then kick the folding chair that knocks the cup into a metal filing cabinet. The liquid spills out, sizzling, eating a hole in the metal. I ram Butch into the wall behind us as shelves and heavy books tumble down upon him. I step on Butch’s foot, elbow him, and escape out the door.

  “Get him!” Sally shouts while my legs pump. I’m moving faster.

  I run past Jen and Caitlin at the register and out the front door. I hear Jen’s voice as the door is closing. “Yup, people are definitely getting weirder.”

  Caitlin says, “And what’s with Sally? Sounds like a guy I used to date.”

  They laugh as I scoot up the block.

  FLEEING WITH TANZ

  Out of breath, I get to his apartment and bang on the door.

  “Tanz, it’s me. It’s me. Let me in!” I shout.

  The deadbolts unlock and the door opens. Tanz’s head pops out, checking all angles of the hall and staircase. His eyes move like camera lenses zooming in and out.

  “Come. Come,” he says, yanking me into the room and slamming the door behind me, locking it.

  “It has begun. The epic battle of good and evil,” he says, shoulders back, as he looks off into the distance.

  “Um, Tanz, I’m right here.”

  “Yes, yes. Too many old movies.”

  I begin pacing past the glowing equations to the drawn blinds and back.

  “How did they get inside my boss?”

  “If sorrow, regret, negative opinions, surface in one’s mind, they can enter through these channels. They penetrate and prey upon the weakened state and uncertain parts of one’s psyche.”

  “Now I understand everything growing up—” I say in disgust—“the lawnmower, the falling street sign, all of it. My whole life. Is nothing real?”

  “Breathing deep roots us. Breathe…It is all real, Claremone. Everything you have felt and experienced. Your name does not define you. Actions do. Abilities. Your commitments. May I?” He raises his hands and places them on me. He replays the fight in Sally’s office. “Hmm,” is all he says.

  He stops the scene and points. “Here. There is a red glint in her eyes. Pay attention to these signals: facial tics, tricks of light, strange events, inconsistencies… they will guide your movements and reactions. You have done well. Now we must flee.”

  “Flee?”

  “Yes. We need more information and they know where we are. Their trackers will soon be upon us.”

  “Grab a few things and meet me back here at noon. Much is at stake.
The sun will be overhead and will cast the fewest shadows for them to hide within. Events are all based on universal timing. One minute too early or late changes the fate of things and their outcome.” He creates a calculation on the wall and we watch it countdown: 3, 2, 1—it closes then flies off. “Now is our opportunity. Go!” He commands.

  Down the stairs I fly hearing the deadbolts latch behind me. Two blocks over to my building, I hoof it up the five flights two steps at time.

  Inside my apartment I grab a backpack, clothes, essentials, my parents’ picture.

  Skipping back down I make it to the sidewalk. Outside my building Dino is walking down the street with his sister.

  “Reuben!” He runs over and hugs me. But I’m not sure if I can trust them so step off a few feet.

  His sister Laurie-Ann approaches asking, “Aren’t you working today? We were coming to visit.”

  “No, I guess I’m not. Going on a little trip.”

  “Where to?”

  “Um, not sure.” I break eye contact with her.

  She nods and jokes, “Sounds well planned out…”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Stay outta trouble, champ.”

  “Bye, Reuben,” Dino says, sweet little guy.

  “Bye, Laurie-Ann,” I say and run off, double checking they aren’t following me. Only standing there with quizzical looks.

  Back at his building, I don’t see Tanz but a guy in a leather jacket revving a red motorcycle with black hard cases. I cautiously move closer. Too quiet. No cabs around. Nobody’s shouting. The bike revs louder and there’s no sign of Tanz anywhere. Did they get him? I cling close to the brick building when a woman with a poodle walks out the front door. She doesn’t see me.

  “Come on, Mitzy. Don’t take too long now. Mama has a hair appointment.” She says as they walk in the other direction.

  The bike revs louder and the rider waves me over. “Let’s go! What are you waiting for?” He flips the helmet visor up. It’s Tanz on the motorcycle.

  I edge closer. “I didn’t know you rode—”

  “I don’t. Now get on.”

  “Well, where did you get it?”

  “Stole it…” he says as I step on the foot peg and swing my leg over.

  He hands me a helmet. “I thought you needed a pure heart.” I ask, slipping it over my head.

  “You do,” he says, jamming it into gear then full throttle popping a wheelie down the block. “But also, necessary meee-aaa-nnnnn-ssss.” I almost fly off but hold on tight.

  As we lean into turns and around cars, Tanz waves his left hand, showing me images of him hot wiring the bike and reading the riding manual. He throttles the machine relentlessly with his right hand. Full speed in third gear now fourth, he’s clearly having a blast. In the mirror I see a smile plastered on his face.

  “Accounting is fuuuunnnnn,” he says.

  I’m terrified holding on. The speedometer reads eighty-seven miles per hour and the needle is jumping as we weave through traffic.

  “Red light. Red light! Red light!” I shout, bracing for impact into a black sedan.

  He shifts around a double-parked limousine and rides up onto the sidewalk then takes a sharp right turn into a park. Pigeons fly off. He’s nuts!

  “You’re going to kill us!” I say, adrenaline pumping, nerves shattering. My ears throb from the engine noise as my head bounces along.

  “Shortest distance is a straight line.”

  Now a traffic cops pursues us as Tanz runs a red light. They get stuck as we turn the corner and hop onto the highway entrance ramp doing a hundred and ten and climbing. The tachometer shakes at ten thousand rpm, just under the redline as we zoom out of the city.

  We ride upstate full speed for two hours into the Bears Kill Mountains. Pulling into an empty campground just before dusk. My legs are wobbly as we dismount. Taking off my helmet, I shout, “You’re going to kill us before the dark forces can!”

  “I will have you know, every turn, speed, tire thread, even the wind velocity was calculated for. No jeopardy were we in at all.” He breathes deeply, placing his helmet over the bike mirror. “Oh, what wonderful forest air.” He breathes deeply again, filling his lungs.

  “Well, what about squirrels and branches on the road, did you calculate for that?”

  Tanz falls silent; his smile turns to alarm.

  “Well, you got us here,” I say, slapping his shoulder then sitting on the picnic table.

  Without words he unpacks the hard case and throws me a sleeping bag and tent. I drop my backpack on the ground and begin setting up.

  After the tent is set and sleeping bags laid inside, I search for firewood. “This is the first time I’ve been to a state park since the accident,” I say, walking off.

  Tanz understands with knowing eyes. He sets food on the picnic table and unwraps a dinner of turkey and broccoli with nice silverware and paper plates. Napkins set properly under the fork and knife.

  Returning with wood, the meal seems strange and elaborate for a campground. “Turkey and broccoli, huh?” I say, stopping in front.

  “Yes, I saw it on a cooking show. Very healthy.” There’s an image of Tanz with a baker’s hat wearing a white and blue striped apron watching the show. “Just add a smidge of olive oil and garlic…” he says, smiling, clearly proud of himself.

  I make the fire, starting with teepee style and pine needles underneath to get a base and quick flame. We eat in quiet in front of the campfire. The night is dark as the campfire illuminates us.

  “Why did we come here and not go to a motel?” I ask, poking at the fire.

  “There is a natural protective buffer here from the dark forces. Nature is inherently aligned with light and balance. This is why people meditate in the woods, find peace and rehabilitation at a waterfall. The gods set it up this way.” He cuts into his turkey and broccoli then properly places the knife along plate’s edge.

  “A sanctuary?”

  “Hmm, delicious. Yes, this is also why the dark forces cut down trees and woodlands at an alarming rate.” He shows this image of bald hillsides and clear-cuts, trees falling into rivers.

  “Tell me more about the cleansing. How does it work and how do we undo it?”

  “Well, to tell you about the cleansing I must first tell you about human history. In fact, there were two cleansings millions of years apart. So, to tell you about one I must first tell you about the other. An unusual campfire story to be sure.” He pauses. “I am sorry about your parents, Claremone.”

  “Thank you. The turkey is delicious.”

  SENTIENT BEING WAR AND THEIR SENTENCE

  “There was a great war on another planet between higher and lower forms. This lower form attempted to subjugate with deception and murder, instead of evolving naturally over time. This universal history can be found in the records.”

  Confused, I ask, “What do you mean war—on another planet? I’ve never heard of that.”

  He chuckles. “No, I’d imagine you would not have. Earth had no humans then.” He waves his hand to demonstrate with images. “It was lush, with waving foliage and pristine oceans. Beauty abounded without cities or sentient beings. It was a balanced world without dominion and its ecosystem worked harmoniously.

  “Have you ever wondered why humans aren’t in balance with the food chain? Because they are not from it. They’re not at the top of the chain, either, as they like to believe. Humans are in fact imprisoned entities from this planet here.” He points to a dot in a distant solar system. “As a sentence they were devolved and sent here.”

  I was lost but totally fascinated. This was not the history they taught us in school. “What do you mean ‘devolved’?”

  “Their sentence, as per universal code NC11488, Naricanian chapter, was to be stripped of DNA, unplugged, and disconnected. Strands of their higher evolutionary abilities, such as extra sensory perception and telepathy, were eliminated, energetically cut away through their sentencing. Similar to shutting off the lights in a
house. They were provided the same toxins that are here now.

  “On Narican there are thirty-five chakra or energy chambers. On Earth there are seven. Each one represents an awareness, an ability that a specific DNA strand handles: motor function, predispositions, eye colors, insight, concepts, ESP as mentioned, flight, accounting… everything that makes up a person’s traits and abilities.”

  He shows this devolution and energy centers going dark within a body.

  “So, if you strip certain DNA functions by shutting them off, a person may look the same, yet be forever changed.

  “The war council—” he shows several levitating beings—“chose Earth as the most sensible planet for lower sentient beings. It was an oasis, a chance to start anew.”

  He shows them tumbling through space within a moment’s time as if through a vacuum hose.

  “These lower beings evolved into the ape. That is why certain apes evolved into humans and others did not.

  “You’re staring at me with that vacant look again.”

  This is so beyond me. I simply nod.

  “In simpler terms, clouds pull away after an afternoon rain, yes? During the rainstorm one cannot see very far. Yet on the sunny day that follows, one can see to the horizon.”

  “Are you saying most humans live in that cloud where they cannot see far, but feel?”

  He nods.

  “My dad used to tell me to get my head out of the clouds.”

  “Yes, that is one way of saying it. Most humans live dualistic lives in a daily battle between their minds and souls. Within the soul of every person is a locked pulsation of that individual’s truth and higher self to guide them, while the mind only knows experience, often trapping them in doubts and fears. This is where the dark forces and cleansing comes in. The cleansing manipulates and distorts one’s truth, making them susceptible to suggestion and pain.

  “The humans of today are failing. Just look at their cities and culture: greed, ignorance, waste, working longer hours for less.”