Jesus the Extraterrestrial - Origins

by Leo Mark

  ‘Thank you, Galzu,’ said David, embracing the Anunnaki tightly.

  Galzu’s ship began to move and in a few seconds he and David were at the farm. A violet light shone out of the ship to the earth and David slowly descended from the ship to the ground. When he felt his feet touch the grass he looked up, and the ship had already vanished. David sat on the ground, put his head on his knees, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he lifted his head and opened his eyes it was nighttime, and he began to think: ‘My God, how I wish it was just a dream!’ Now he carried a great responsibility. The weight on his shoulders was immense. The burden was heavy. ‘I just hope I can do it!’

  CHAPTER 27

  Brazil, 23rd December 2008

  David went home. Not having a horse he took a long time to get there, but they could not have landed any closer for fear of someone’s seeing the lights of Galzu’s ship. The boy was several miles from the house, but the walk would do him good. He could take the opportunity to think about everything he had witnessed and to plan his next moves. The green stone in his ring was giving out a light which gradually went out as he moved further away from where the ship had left him. It was night now and his parents would probably be getting ready for bed. When he got to the house he saw all the lights were out. ‘That’s impossible; mother doesn’t usually switch off the lights.’ He went up the old wooden steps that led to the door at the front of the house. When he got to the veranda he saw there was a piece of paper stuck on the door, and it was sealed by two black and yellow tapes. It was dark and David couldn’t read what was written on the paper, so he took it to the edge of the veranda where he could read it by the light of the moon. It read: “Crime Scene – No Unauthorized Entry. Civil Police of Assis-SP”.

  ‘My God, what has happened here? Where are my parents?’ David broke open the door with a single kick and ran desperately into the house. He switched on the lights and as soon as the living room was lit up, he saw a great bloodstain on the floor. He began to cry and fell to his knees, trying to grasp what had happened. He hurried round the house, trying to find anything that would give him a clue as to what had happened there. He went upstairs and down again, then ran to the barn where he saw that the animals had gone. He ran to the garage where there was still an old truck; the other cars had disappeared. He started the truck and drove madly into the town. In a few minutes he reached the police station. He left the truck in the street and ran inside.

  ‘Please, I have to speak to the officer in charge. I found this on the door of my house. Where are my parents?’ asked David, desperate and nervous.

  ‘Calm down, son, you’ll have a heart attack. Take it easy and we can talk.’

  ‘I can’t calm down till I know where my parents are.’

  ‘Tell me, where is your house.’

  ‘Beija-Flor Farm,’ he replied at once.

  ‘Good Lord, you must be David!’

  ‘Yes, that’s me. Tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘Sit down here, lad, and I’ll tell you what happened… Two days ago a neighboring farmer went to the house to talk to your father. The door was open and he found your parents dead in the front room.’

  ‘Dead? What do you mean, dead? It can’t be true.’

  ‘It was a brutal murder, the worst that’s happened in the history of our town. They were decapitated, it was horrible. It made the papers all over the world. We even thought the killers had kidnapped you, as your parents had been in here some days before to report you missing. Where were you?’

  David had heard no more after the word decapitated. He was practically in a state of shock. His head was spinning and he could already imagine who had done it. Probably his enemies had gone looking for him and had killed his parents when they weren’t able to tell them where he was.

  ‘This can’t be happening to me, it’s a nightmare.’

  ‘David, tell us: where’ve you been all this time?’

  ‘I… I was traveling. I went on a trip and I didn’t tell anyone, or my father wouldn’t have let me go.’

  ‘I see. Have you got any idea who could have done this to your parents?’

  ‘Yes. I mean… No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Well, have you or haven’t you?’

  ‘No, I have no idea. Nobody would do this to them. Everyone liked them,’ replied David, sobbing.

  ‘We’re working on the hypothesis that it could have been one of your competitors in the coffee business; after all, you are the major producers in the region and there are witnesses who say this was upsetting a lot of people.’

  ‘I don’t know about that… I must see my parents.’

  ‘That’s not possible - they were cremated. The family took them to São Paulo for the cremation.’

  ‘And what’s happened to all the animals?’

  ‘They are at the farm next door. The farmer is looking after the animals until your uncle and aunt recover from the shock and can take over the work at the farm. Which reminds me, we must tell them you are OK.’

  ‘Wait, did you say my parents came here some days ago to report that I was missing?’

  ‘That’s so.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘We put your photo and description in the national register of missing persons. Your father went on television to spread the news of your disappearance, it cost him a fair penny for the national network. Your photo was all over Brazil. As for their deaths, I can’t understand how you didn’t hear about it; it was in the media here and abroad. And the tabloids said that you had done away with your parents and run off with your inheritance.’

  ‘Oh God, so that’s how they found me here, they must have recognized me from the photo and come after me. It’s all my fault,’ David was thinking as he strode up and down. ‘I’ve got to get out of here; they’ll be looking for me.’

  ‘I’m going back to the farm. I’ll speak to my uncle and aunt later.’

  ‘Are you sure, boy? We need you back here tomorrow to take an official statement from you, when you are less upset.’

  ‘Alright, I’ll come back tomorrow if I can,’ said David as he left the police station.

  David got into the truck, shut the door and began to shout and weep despairingly. For the second time he had lost his parents. He was terribly sad about what had happened to his parents, but even so he couldn’t feel hate towards his enemies. He felt sorry for them. He wasn’t looking for revenge. It was a strange feeling he had never felt before. He took a few minutes to calm down, then dried his tears, started the truck and set off towards

  the farm.

  ‘I’ll sleep a bit and tomorrow I’ll leave for the United States. This has got to stop.’

  CHAPTER 28

  New York, 26th December 2008

  David disembarked at 7 p.m. at John F. Kennedy International Airport. He tried to enter the United States with his original passport, in the name of David Griffin. The men who had taken him to Brazil on the twelfth of September seven years before had given his mother his documents, passport, identity card and birth certificate. David had found the documents some years earlier, when he was nosing around in his father’s things. The passport was out of date, but that probably wouldn’t stop him getting into the country. He handed the passport to an immigration officer who at once spotted the expiry date.

  ‘Sir, your passport has expired,’ said the officer, as he leafed through the pages of the document. ‘And there’s another thing: as you are returning from Brazil, why is there no record of your going there?’

  ‘When I left the United States, I think they took me in a private plane. That’s why there’s no record.’

  ‘I see. Just a moment while I call the supervisor.’

  The officer, a plump black woman, pressed a red button beside her computer. Twenty seconds later a man in a tie arrived to see what was happening, for it was rare for him to be called.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘This boy’s passport has expired and we have no rec
ord of him traveling to another country. The passport has no stamp in it.’

  ‘Mr. Griffin, do you have any other identification?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Here you are.’ David gave the red-headed man his social security card.

  ‘Mr. Griffin, will you please come with me.’

  The man took David to a small room, which was used to interrogate possible illegal immigrants, people who tried to enter the country with a tourist visa or even with forged documents.

  ‘Please wait here while we check your documents.’

  David was unworried. He had expected this. And his principal intention was that his enemies should know he was entering the country, which is why he didn’t use his Brazilian documents.

  The man entered the identity number in the database and the computer gave him the message: DECEASED.

  ‘Deceased? How can that be? There must be something wrong, the photo in the database is the same as in the passport, and it really is the boy.’ The man was worried and called the extension of the director of the airport.

  ‘I’ve got a very strange case, Director. A boy is trying to enter the country with an unstamped passport and the system shows him as being dead.’

  ‘Dead? How can a dead person turn up with an unstamped passport? There must be something wrong. Have you checked the boy’s photo?’

  ‘Yes, it was the first thing I did. The photo on the database is the same as in the passport, and it is the boy.’

  ‘Wait, I’m on my way.’

  In a few minutes the director walked into the room where the official was checking the documents.

  ‘Let me see that.’ The director began to check and to confirm the information. ‘I don’t know what can have happened, but it’s very strange.’

  ‘He told me he left the country in a private plane, Sir. That’s why there’s no record of his entering Brazil, which is where he’s just come from.’

  ‘That’s the least of my worries; what worries me is that he’s dead. Call the FBI and ask them to send someone here at once. The red-headed official called the FBI and explained the case. They asked for his passport number.

  ‘Mr. Johnson, my records show that this person died in the 9/11 attacks. He was in one of the buildings.’

  ‘But he didn’t die. I can see him on the monitor at this very moment.’

  ‘Keep him locked up. I’m sending some agents to check this out; they’ll be there in a few minutes.’

  Forty minutes later, two FBI agents entered the airport office where the director and the immigration official were waiting for them. The agents were taken to see David, but only one of them went in to question him. The other remained outside, with the airport director, to analyze the process on the camera.

  ‘Good evening Mr. Griffin. I am special agent Carlson of the FBI.’

  ‘Good evening. I’d like to know how long I’m going to have to wait. I’m tired and I want to go to a hotel.’

  ‘Mr. Griffin, our database shows that you are dead. Can you explain how that can be?’

  ‘Yes, I can explain. After the 9/11 attacks I was taken to Brazil in a private plane. I was in one of the towers that were attacked and they managed to save me. Since then I have been living in Brazil and now I am returning. That’s why they thought I had died. It was all a misunderstanding.’

  ‘Yes, but why were you taken to another country? And why doesn’t your passport show your arrival in Brazil?’

  ‘My life was at risk. Some people wanted to kill me, I’m not sure why. That’s the reason some friends of my mother’s hid me in Brazil until the dust settled. And you people thought I was dead because I disappeared after the attacks.’

  ‘I see. And just who were these people who wanted to kill you, and why would they want to do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was very young and I don’t remember.’

  ‘And why have you waited all this time before returning to the US?’

  ‘Because I’m no longer in danger and this is my country, right?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know what to say. As far as the US is concerned you’re a dead man. You’ll have to get an attorney to arrange a temporary stay in the country until all this is sorted out. Bringing a person back to life’s not that simple.’

  ‘Till then what do I do?’

  ‘Till then you remain in detention. As this is a new one for us, we’re not sure how to handle it.’

  ‘I can’t stay in detention, I’m an American citizen. It’s not my fault if you decided someone was dead without even seeing the body. If you don’t have a body, I’m not dead, just missing.’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that. As the records showed you were in one of the WTC towers at the moment of the attack, and you were never seen again, you were automatically declared dead. And your file shows that your grandfather confirmed you were in the building, and that you must have died in the attack together with your parents.’

  ‘But as you can see, I didn’t die.’

  ‘Does your family know you’re alive?’

  ‘No, they don’t. I don’t know if I have family any more and if I do I don’t know where to find them.’

  ‘Well, we do. Your great-grandfather is a VIP and it won’t be hard to get him here. I’ll have you put in a more comfortable room, with a bed and a bathroom, so you can relax. I’ll order a meal for you, you must be hungry. We’ll try and locate your great-grandfather and bring him here to sort this out.’

  ‘OK, thanks for your kindness,’ answered David, getting to

  his feet.

  ‘What a mess! We must keep it under wraps or the press will have a field day. We’ll phone George Griffin, the boy’s great-grandfather. If the kid is really who he says he is, Griffin will recognize him,’ said agent Carlson to the others, as he picked up the phone to call his superior.

  ‘The boy is Governor Griffin’s great-grandson, sir. We should tell him what’s happening and bring him here.’

  ‘Senator Griffin’s great-grandson? How’s that possible? Inform him at once. But just tell him someone’s trying to pass himself off as his great-grandson, no need to worry him by saying the boy’s story is convincing. Use that argument only if he’s unwilling to come to the airport.’

  ‘Yes, Sir. I’ll call him now. Goodbye.’

  CHAPTER 29

  New York, 26th December 2008

  The governor of New York, George Griffin, was in his penthouse flat in Manhattan, where he had spent Christmas with his family. As a rule the Griffin family stayed on in the house till the day after the celebration. It was nighttime and George was in the living room with his wife, listening to an audio book beside the fire, while some of their grandchildren ran around the huge apartment and the adults played poker by the pool. To his surprise, his butler John came hurrying into the room with a cordless telephone in his hand.

  ‘Mr. Griffin, there’s an urgent call for you, says he’s an FBI agent.’

  ‘From the FBI, at this time of night? Another terrorist threat? Thank you, John, let me answer it.

  ‘Governor Griffin speaking.’

  ‘Mr. Governor, this is special agent Carlson of the FBI. Sorry for bothering you at this hour.’

  ‘Don’t worry, young man, I’m used to it.’

  ‘Sir, a boy arriving from Brazil has tried to enter the country with the documents of your great-grandson David Griffin.’

  ‘My great-grandson? David died in 2001. The documents must be forgeries.’

  ‘We’ve checked the documents, they’re in order. We knew your grandson had passed away, which is why we contacted you. We want to find out if someone could have had access to his documents, as we have no record of their being lost or stolen. The boy we have here is in possession of David’s passport and also of his identity card.’

  ‘My God, hold him there, I’m on my way to the airport.’

  ‘Yes, Sir, we’ll be waiting for you in the airport director’s office.’

  ‘What’s the matter, George? You look pale
. What’s going on?’ asked his wife, thinking he was looking strange when he hung up the phone.

  ‘The FBI agent says there’s a boy trying to enter the country with David’s documents.’

  ‘David’s? Impossible.’

  ‘Where were his documents?’

  ‘At the time we thought they were with Sarah, in her office at work. When we brought their things here our great-grandson’s documents weren’t among them. You don’t think it really could be David at the airport, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m heading over there now. John, get the car ready. We’re going to the airport at once. My dear, don’t say anything to anyone, especially Thomas. Wait till I’ve found out what’s really going on.’

  The governor’s car had hardly stopped in front of the airport doors and the governor was jumping out. John turned round to speak to his boss, but George was already hurrying into the building. Following him were two security guards. In minutes Griffin was at the door of the director’s office. All the guards recognized the governor and saw he was in a hurry, so none of them had dared stop him to ask him what he wanted. He opened the office door without knocking.

  ‘Where’s the boy?’

  ‘Good evening, Governor, I’m special agent Carlson and this is the director…’ He had barely completed the sentence when George interrupted him.

  ‘Agent Carlson, take me to the boy at once, after that we can talk.’

  ‘Yes, Sir. This way.’

  They took the elevator and entered a corridor with doors off it.

  ‘Governor, he’s in this room. Would you like to see him first on the closed-circuit camera?’ asked the FBI agent, pointing to one of the doors off the long corridor.

  ‘No, I’m going in. Wait out here, please.’

  ‘As you wish, Governor.’

  The governor let out a long sigh, feeling a tiny flame of hope. His hope was that, by some miracle, David had survived and had been missing all these years, perhaps having lost his memory or been kidnapped. Slowly he turned the handle and went inside. At the end of another corridor he saw a bed, two armchairs and a television showing the Weather Channel. George went forward slowly, trying to see who was there.