FIERY ILLUSIONS (Keeper of the Emerald Book 2)

by B. C. Harris

  As the camera zooms in on the Miracle Man’s face that now seems to be glowing from the rising sun, he smiles and raises his hands to acknowledge the deafening response from the crowd.

  Although I’m temporarily lost in what’s happening, when I see his face I shudder. I know for sure that he’s the horrendous man from the fire, the very man who would have gladly killed me to steal the emerald. I will never forget his thick lips, high cheek bones, and deep-set eyes.

  I glance at my mother. She hasn’t moved since the broadcast began. She has tears in her eyes. Her face reflects a great pain in a manner that I’ve never seen before.

  “Mom, what’s wrong? Do you recognize him? That’s the man who tried to steal your emerald in the fire at your office.”

  With her face ablaze in anguish, she replies, “Stay away from this man. No matter who you think he is, he is someone else. You’ve got to let this go. Don’t interfere in what’s happening.”

  I’m confused as my mother turns to run up the stairs.

  Before I reflect on what she said, I turn back to the TV where someone announces that the Miracle Man is about to speak.

  His presence is captivating. Even before he speaks, he radiates unbelievable charisma, so different than he displayed in the fire at my mother’s work.

  “My friends,” he begins with great sincerity. “I come to bring hope to a world that is badly in need of help.”

  The crowd erupts. The TV screen splits with one side of the screen showing a delirious mass of people while the other shows the radiant face of the man who has brought thousands and thousands of people to their knees in homage.

  He raises his arms as if to silence the cheering crowd.

  Almost immediately the massive throng becomes quiet.

  “Just as the sun rises each day to wipe away the darkness,” he begins again, “I will bring light to a dark world. I am the light that the world has always been waiting for.”

  As the crowd cheers once again, suddenly there’s a blinding light.

  The sound and the picture vanish.

  Rapidly I use the remote to change the channels.

  There’s nothing.

  - 10 -

  FREEDOM OF SPEECH

  This morning is certainly not a normal day at school. I have already witnessed countless arguments in the hallway. Last night’s events in Rome are causing problems in my school in the same way that they have polarized much of the world.

  As I enter Mr. Kraviak’s room, the unusual day takes another unexpected turn. Ms. Cathbert is standing beside Mr. Kraviak at the front of the room.

  When I awoke this morning, my mother had already left for work. That did not surprise me. After her strange comments last night about the mystery man at the Colosseum, why should she be around this morning to answer my questions?

  My interest in what happened last night in Rome was so strong that I watched the news on the TV before leaving for school this morning.

  No one had an explanation for the blinding light that killed all the TV transmissions from Rome last night, although a well coordinated attack on St. Peter’s in the Vatican started at exactly the same moment. The exterior of St. Peter’s suffered extensive damage.

  The news announcer, this morning, suggested that the attack was somehow connected to the New Messiah, as he was now officially being called. A rioting mob, believed to be followers of the New Messiah, attempted to destroy St. Peter’s, the home of the Roman Catholic religion and in many ways the symbolic birthplace of Christianity. For some, the New Messiah symbolized hope; for others, he symbolized despair.

  It was estimated that there have already been hundreds of deaths due to the fighting and also due to the crushing crowds.

  The Pope, who has reportedly fled the Vatican, was calling for Peace. The President of Italy was telling the people of Italy to remain calm, although the news analyst stated that a significant number of people now in Rome were from other countries.

  Since the blinding light last night, no one has seen the New Messiah, although it was assumed that he was inside the Colosseum.

  Outside the ancient Colosseum a wall of soldiers and police surrounded the structure. One announcer made the comment that these uniformed men and women appeared to be ready to defend the New Messiah, while another said it looked like they had placed him under house arrest inside the Colosseum.

  Another announcer made the comment that hundreds of police and soldiers were stationed outside St. Peter’s to protect it from further damage, although there was a massive throng of people who seemed to be preparing for another attack on the sprawling historical structure.

  At the time I turned off the TV to leave for school, a discussion was beginning concerning the possibility that there was a split that had occurred within the Italian army and local police force. One TV host stated that this could be the start of a holy war between the established church and a possible new religion.

  As the last few people drift into my ancient history class, Ms. Cathbert starts to speak.

  “It is my understanding that during yesterday’s class there was some discussion about religion. It’s also my understanding that several people within this class criticized the personal beliefs of one student.”

  Everyone glances at Susan Michaels who is looking smug, as though Ms. Cathbert has confirmed that she’s better than us.

  There are a few suppressed groans around me.

  From what I remember of yesterday’s discussion in class, it was Susan who was attacking the other students. She had placed her beliefs on a pedestal. She had acted as though she was better than everyone else in the class.

  “This is not a class on religion,” Ms. Cathbert forcefully states.

  She obviously knows nothing about ancient history where gods and the religious traditions surrounding them dominated the way people lived.

  “And,” she continues, her voice rising, “school is certainly not a place where anyone’s personal beliefs are to be challenged.”

  Ms. Cathbert pauses, her face turning red, and her body getting rigid.

  “There will be no further discussion related to religion in this class. For that matter, this topic is not permitted anywhere in our school. You are here to learn, not to talk about religion.”

  Ms. Cathbert’s comments shock me. She said we are not permitted to talk about religion anywhere in our school. Isn’t this what we might expect in a communist country or in a dictatorship where the state told everyone what they had to believe? This is not a dictatorship. This is a democratic country where freedom of speech, even it’s about religion, is guaranteed. Unfortunately, I have just learned a horrible lesson. I have learned that freedom of speech only applies when the conversation is not about religion.

  As Ms. Cathbert finishes speaking, she glares at each of us, although she reserves a faint smile as she glances at Susan.

  We have been warned.

  “Mr. Kraviak, you can now begin to teach,” the vice-principal states as she proudly walks to the back of our room as though she’s a member of the Gestapo, ready to pounce on anyone who dares to speak out against her edict.

  Mr. Kraviak turns on his trusted projector. He begins to read, “Construction of the Colosseum began under the rule of the Emperor Vespasian, somewhere around 70 to 72 AD. To a large degree, the Colosseum was funded from the treasures taken from the Jewish Temple after the Roman soldiers defeated Jerusalem.”

  There’s a collective stoppage of breathing throughout the room. Mr. Kraviak mentioned something about religion. Is Ms. Cathbert going to discipline him? Mr. Kraviak pauses before continuing as though he anticipates a reaction from her.

  There’s no response. I guess that Mr. Kraviak’s words must have been missed by our vice-principal. Perhaps she doesn’t realize that the Jewish Temple has something to do with religion.

  “The original name of the Colosseum in Latin was Amphitheatrum Flavium. It is thought that the name Colosseum came from a colossal statue of Nero which was near
by, although Nero’s head on the massive statue was replaced several times with the heads of succeeding emperors. The statue was believed to have magical powers and was seen as an iconic symbol of the permanence of Rome.”

  We have heard before about the Colosseum being named after the colossal statue of Nero.

  As Mr. Kraviak drones on, I imagine Ms. Cathbert standing at the back of the room with a smirk on her face.

  “The Colosseum was completed by Titus, Vespasian’s son, in the year 80 AD. The opening of the Colosseum was celebrated with more than one-hundred days of games to appease the Roman public and the gods.”

  Did Mr. Kraviak just say gods? Didn’t he hear Ms. Cathbert’s speech at the beginning of the class?

  “The opening games involved the killing of thousands of animals. It’s estimated that over the life of the Colosseum that between five-hundred thousand to one-million people were savagely killed, sometimes in gladiatorial fights but also including people who were executed. Those who didn’t follow the commands of the Emperor or failed to believe in the Roman gods, such as the early Christians, were often slaughtered in the Colosseum.”

  Roman gods? Christians? Yes, Ms. Cathbert, you are absolutely correct. The study of ancient history has absolutely nothing to do with religion, I say to myself with embellished sarcasm.

  - 11 -

  A HUNCH

  By the time we reach the end of the week, Rome has erupted into a civil war. One side is fighting for the established religions such as Christianity, while the other side is supporting the New Messiah.

  Although Jasmin has been back at school for two days now, I have kept my distance from her. Today at lunch I saw Drew and her together again.

  I invited Jamie to my house tonight. It wasn’t so much an invitation as a command. I made it very clear to him that we were not going to be talking about Drew or Jasmin. I had a more urgent matter, and I needed his help.

  My mother has worked late every night this week. Although she warned me about staying away from the man in Rome, it was obvious from her reaction when she saw him on TV that she knew him, or at least she knew something about him. The fact that she keeps working late is a clear message to me that she doesn’t intend to talk any more about him. If she isn’t going to help me learn more about this mysterious man, then I’m going to have to discover who he is on my own.

  As the doorbell rings, I race to the door.

  It’s Jamie.

  “Come in,” I say, wanting to hug him for being here, but quickly realizing that this might cause a resurfacing of the unresolved mess with Jasmin and Drew.

  I think that Jamie looks a little happier to see me this time than the last time he was here. I know he likes to solve mysteries so I’m hoping that he will be a willing participant in a little adventure I have planned.

  “Let’s go downstairs,” I say, already leading him in that direction.

  Although I’m not sure when my mother will be home from work, I definitely do not want her to hear any part of my conversation with Jamie. It’s important that she doesn’t know what I’m planning to do.

  As I sink into one of the cozy couches, James does the same, although he’s sitting on a different couch than me. He brushes his wavy blonde hair away from his forehead.

  “Jamie, I need your help.”

  The look on his face and his squirming to get comfortable suggest that he might have some reservations about complying with my request.

  I decide not to mention anything about Drew and Jasmin. Although the problems with them might be the reason why Jamie is being somewhat reserved with me, it would serve no purpose right now to revisit what happened earlier this week between Jasmin and me.

  “The problem I’m facing relates to the man in Rome who is causing so much controversy around the world.”

  Jamie leans forward. I think I’ve caught his interest. I hope he will agree to help me once I outline my request.

  “Before we went on our expedition to Tamor a year ago, perhaps you remember that there was a major fire in the office complex where my mother works.”

  Jamie nods. “Yes, I remember that fire. This happened at a time when you missed a few days of school. It was when we were working on our Atlantis project.”

  “Yes. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

  Jamie smiles, but offers no comment.

  “What I’m going to tell you has to remain secret between us. You don’t have to believe what I’m going to say, nor do you have to get involved with my request. But you do have to keep what I’m telling you a secret. Failure to do this could result in harm to me, my mother, and maybe even you and your family.”

  Jamie appears to be struggling with what I’m asking. No one wants to promise to keep a secret before they actually know what it is, especially if there’s something about it that might put the person’s life in danger.

  Finally, Jamie nods, even though it’s a very weak confirmation.

  Jump right in, I think. Don’t give him any opportunity to change his mind.

  “As you probably know, my mother works in the office complex that was on fire.”

  Jamie nods. The look on his face suggests his interest is growing.

  “When I woke up on the morning of the fire, my mother had already left for work. As I was eating my breakfast, I received an urgent text message from her asking for help. Unable to reach her by telephone, I took a taxi to her office.”

  “You were at the fire?” Jamie says, obvious concern in his voice.

  I change my position on the couch in an attempt to fight the anxiety that is returning from talking about the fire.

  “Yes, not only was I at it, but I had to enter the flaming building to find my mother.”

  There’s a look of concern on Jamie’s face.

  “Although I found her and got her out of the horrendous blaze, I burned my hands in the process. That’s why I missed a few days of school.”

  “But there were no bandages on your hands when you returned back to school,” Jamie says.

  “Yes, you’re quite right. The emerald healed my burns.”

  “Amazing.”

  “When I found my mother in the burning building, she was unconscious on the floor. At the moment that I reached her, a strange man appeared out of nowhere.”

  “A strange man?”

  “Yes. As I tried to help my mother, the man tried to steal the emerald from her. I was able to get it first, although he grabbed me and shook me like I was a rag doll. Fortunately I was able to use the emerald to help my mother and me escape.”

  “Do you know who this man was? Was he someone who worked with your mother?”

  I hesitate.

  “Did you report him to the police?” Jamie asks, showing a little more emotion as he moves along his couch closer to where I’m sitting.

  I shake my head.

  “No one would have believed me so there was no sense telling anyone what happened. Who would have believed my story about a stranger attacking me in the middle of a violent fire? Who would have believed that somehow my mother and I magically vanished from the inside of a burning building to the safety of her car?”

  Jamie reflects on what I said.

  “Have you ever seen this man again?” he asks.

  I know that what I’m going to say next will stagger him.

  “Yes,” I reply. “During the past few weeks I’ve seen him again.”

  “You have? Where? Did you tell your mother or the police? Has he tried to harm you?”

  “I didn’t have to tell my mother. She saw him as well.”

  “What did she say?”

  “My mother warned me to stay away from him.”

  “She knows him?”

  “I think so. But she refuses to talk about him, so I’m going to have to do some exploring on my own to find out who he really is.”

  Jamie shuffles again on the couch. I can see his interest emerging. I’m sure that he will help me.

  “Is this why you need my help?”
Jamie asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any ideas on who he might be?” Jamie asks.

  “No, but I do have a hunch on how I might begin my search.”

  “I’m listening,” Jamie says. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  I pick up the remote from a table beside me and turn on the TV.

  As an unknown announcer rehashes everything that has been happening in Rome during the week, a close-up picture of the New Messiah fills the screen. I touch the pause button on the remote.

  “What are you doing?” Jamie asks. “I thought you were going to tell me about your hunch.”

  “There,” I state, “is the man who attacked me in the fire.”

  “The man who attacked you in the fire?”

  Jamie’s face is white. His lips are trembling. “This is the man who attacked you in the fire?” he repeats. “That’s impossible. You must be wrong.”

  “Believe me,” I say, “I wish I was. When I first saw him on TV, I immediately knew that it was him.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Jamie replies. “It’s no wonder that you want me to keep this a secret. Every journalist in the world is attempting to discover who this man is, but they haven’t had any luck. How can you possibly identify who he is?”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been asking myself,” I reply, beginning to feel the excitement of a new adventure. “At first, I wasn’t sure how to do this but I remembered a bit of my own family history that I think might help.”

  “Family history?” Jamie replies, as he moves from his couch to mine.

  “If my mother knows this man, and I’m convinced that she does, perhaps there’s someone else in my family who also knows him.”

  Jamie’s face expresses shock. “I didn’t know you had any relatives.”

  “Actually, I have a grandmother.”

  “You do?” Jamie says. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”