by Greg Ness
Moros needed to protect his son.
Moros plucked himself away from Jesus’s grasp. He looked at his son, who now seemed entirely vulnerable. “How long ago did Elpis leave?”
“The woman who led me here? Hours ago. You know her?”
Moros smirked and nodded.
Jesus remarked, “She is a holy spirit.”
Moros was amused by Jesus’s revelations. “Indeed, she is a holy spirit. The light in her is brighter than any of us. But the light in you…” Moros gently pointed to Jesus’s chest. “…is the brightest I’ve ever seen.”
Jesus smiled. His cheerful attitude couldn’t help but remind Moros of Elpis. Moros asked, “What is the committee having you do?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Jesus’s admission stunned Moros. But Jesus couldn’t tell. Michael told him so. Raphael told him so. Gabriel told him so. Jesus knew Moros was forbidden to see him. And while he longed to meet his true father, the Light Bearer, he made a promise not to tell the details of his mission. It was a secret only few could be entrusted with.
Moros was shaken from his son’s reluctance. “I know you are here to save humanity. We all know that. But are they worth saving?”
“Yes. Their capacity for good is great. The light in many of them is bright. The darkness outweighs the light, but they all have a choice. They just need to know which choice to make.”
Moros countered, “Have you personally seen their capacity for such a choice?”
Jesus stood amid the blowing hot wind. Silent. He couldn’t tell him.
“I’m sorry, Father.”
“I don’t know what the committee has told you. But if you fail, they’re going to destroy this planet and start over.”
Jesus cryptically responded, “They don’t have to start over. The Most High will start over. Until we get it right.”
Moros was growing frustrated. “What does that mean?”
“Father. Surely you know all of this will happen again.”
Moros pondered. The Universe would repeat and had repeated. He knew that. “Of course I know. But ‘until we get it right’? No one can change the path, Jesus. Everything stays the same.”
Jesus smiled at his assertion and silently disagreed. “Of course, Father.”
Moros didn’t understand. Did Jesus really think the course could be changed? Moros relented. “The people of Earth were brought here long ago, before my time. Despite the time they’ve had, they have failed to evolve spiritually. Therefore, they can’t do what you can do. If you want to win them over, you should demonstrate your abilities. Then they will know you are special. Your following will become vast. People will utter your name across the land.”
Jesus silently inquired further.
Moros pointed to a stone that laid idle on the desert floor. “That stone. You can turn it to bread just by using your hands. And focusing.”
Jesus was hesitant to try. He always knew he was different. But he didn’t know he had such special abilities.
Moros continued, “You have a control over nature that none of the people here have. And with the brightness of your light and your closeness to The Most High… there’s no telling what you are capable of. And when they see that, you will be able to bring them to the light.”
Moros looked into Jesus’s blue eyes and continued, “Whatever it is they’ve sent you to do, I hope you succeed. Not just because I love you, but because I want humanity to survive. It’s not going to be easy.
“When Gabriel asked me to be the father of a son I would never be allowed to meet, I did it… but I soon realized I couldn’t go on without meeting him. Immaculately conceived and half human, but still from me. I imagined the man he would grow up to be. Would he be a man of virtue? Would his light be bright? Would he even age? The questions haunted me. I had to know. If the committee ever found out that I traveled to meet with my son, they would immediately evict me… and maybe worse. And when I finally, now, meet you, Jesus…” Moros grew distressed. His eyes watered. Jesus wrapped an arm around his father to comfort him. Moros continued, with his voice cracking, “…I realize what a fine man you’ve grown to be. I love you. I want to be your Father.
“I want to be there for you.”
Jesus, still comforting his father, responded, “I love you too, Father. I have always loved you. And I always will. But you don’t need to risk everything to be my father, because no matter, I know you are there.”
Moros forced a smile as he faced Jesus. The two had made an instant connection. “I suppose it is time for me to leave,” Moros uttered.
“Thank you for visiting me,” Jesus replied.
Moros nodded. “I will see you again.”
Moros and Jesus embraced one last time.
39
Sara Ixley closed the door behind her and slipped the shoes off her feet. She stood on a welcome mat, letting some of the water drip off of her before traipsing through the apartment. Despite the gloomy, rainy weather outside, Sara’s spirits were high. It wasn’t going to be easy to sever ties with Ronnie, but she was prepared to do it. Bruce was ready to spend the rest of his life with her, and she was eager to do the same.
Sara took the mail that was tucked under her arm and sorted through it. Bills, bills, and junk. Eck. She hurried through the hallway to the kitchen and clumsily tossed the pile of mail onto the kitchen table. Underestimating her strength, the envelopes slid across the wooden surface and fell over the edge. “Nice one, Sara,” she mumbled. Sara walked to the end of the table and picked up the envelopes.
She slapped them, one by one, back on the table. One particular envelope caught her attention. The return address header read Bruce Dennett. She sat indian-style on the floor and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a letter. Instantly anxious, she began to read it:
“Whenever my mind wanders, it finds its way to you. When I fall asleep at night, I imagine I am with you. When I close my eyes, I only see your face. I say these things, not just because I love you, but because I cannot imagine my life without you. I’m sorry if this letter is the lamest thing you have ever read, but I want you to know that I love you so much, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Sara’s eyes teared up. And for once, it was because she was happy. She stared out at the window perched next to her. The rain fell outside. It was serene. Quiet. A smile rose from her lips as she thought about her future life with Bruce.
Sara Ixley was finally at peace with her life.
A knock at the door took her out of her daze. Who could it be? She wasn’t expecting anybody. Sara stood up walked toward the door. “Who is it?”
No answer. The door handle furiously jiggled. Sara stepped backward in surprise. “Who is it?” she asked again with a hint of worry. Sara cautiously put her eye to the peephole to grab a peek. She couldn’t see anything but blackness. The visitor must have been covering the hole with his hand. “If you want to come in I need to know who you are!”
The visitor violently pounded on the door. Sara stumbled back, frightened. “If that’s you, Bruce, this isn’t funny! You’re scaring me!” The door fell silent. Sara waited. All was quiet. It was probably some kid trying to be funny. Sara looked through the peephole again. She could see the hallway now, but no one was there. “Hello?” Sara knocked on the door. “Hello??”
Now convinced it was a prankster, Sara unlocked the door and whipped it open. There was no one around. She took a few steps out of her apartment and looked down the wooden stairs. There was no sight of anybody. “Not funny!” Stupid frat boys. They were always trying to get her attention. Sara stepped back in her apartment and closed the door behind her. She locked it and headed back to the kitchen.
As she walked near the table, she noticed a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor. That was odd, she didn’t remember doing that. She uncrumpled the letter and looked at it: “Whenever my mind wanders, it finds its way to you…” Bruce’s letter. Sara lifted her eyes with horror. She de
finitely didn’t crumple this up.
Sara’s stomach tightened and her heart raced. She had to get out of there. Sara ran toward the front door as fast as she could. She unlocked the door and opened it. But just as quickly as the door opened, the hand of a stranger slammed it shut.
A male voice from behind her said, “Hello, Sara.”
She turned around as her eyes darted toward the figure. He was wearing all black, a daunting form. When she looked at his face, she recognized him: it was the mysterious stranger who had saved her life so many years ago. It was the man whose name she didn’t know.
It was Moros.
Her wide eyes stared at him as panic filled her lungs. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Moros coolly replied, “I just came to talk.”
He stood uncomfortably close. Sara stared into his eyes. He was just as she remembered: calm on the outside, but on the inside, pain. Darkness. It wasn’t hard to see it in his eyes. Sara said, “What do you want? I delivered your message. You said you would leave me alone.”
Sara nervously fidgeted with the E.M. ring resting on her finger. Moros noticed, prompting a flood of emotion to swell within him. He ignored it and said, “I know. I appreciate you giving Bruce the message.”
“What do you want from me?”
Moros stared at her without response.
Sara inquired further, “Who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Moros replied. “I’m not from around here. That’s all you need to know.”
Sara boldly asked, “You’re an alien, aren’t you?”
Moros smirked. “An alien? You could say that. Technically, yes, I am an alien. I’m from another planet, a place called Raqiya. Raqiya is in a galaxy that’s simply too far for you to imagine. Raqiya is a place unlike Earth. A place where we care for each other. A place of love. You say alien. They say angel. Both the same. It really doesn’t matter what you call me.”
Sara heard what he said but didn’t quite soak it in. “You saved my life. I helped you already. What do you want from me now?”
Moros sighed. “I’m sorry. I have to kill you.”
A horrible heat overpowered Sara. Panic spread throughout her veins. The words Moros spoke created a feeling of dismay within her. She didn’t know if he meant it. But she didn’t want to think about it. “No,” she panted.
Moros looked at Sara. But something was different. Sara was no longer staring back at him. In her place was Elpis. Moros squinted and couldn’t believe his eyes. Sara and Elpis looked alike, but not like this. “Elpis?” he asked.
Elpis? Sara was confused. The stranger was stuck in a daze. Sara took advantage and slipped away.
To Moros’s eyes, Elpis sternly stared back at him. “Do not kill this girl,” Elpis demanded. Was he hallucinating? Elpis wasn’t here, she couldn’t have been.
Moros exclaimed, “I told you to stay out of my way. Leave me alone!”
Elpis put her hand to Moros’s cheek. “She is in love. Just as we used to be. Do not take that away.”
“You’re not real!” He shoved Elpis’s arm away. A sense of longing tore his insides apart. “I love you, Elpis. I’m sorry.” Before Moros could absorb more sorrow, he pushed it away and stormed down the hallway after Sara.
Moros ran into the kitchen and ripped open the back door. He found himself on a wooden deck with stairs that spiraled down seven stories. He leaned over the rail and saw Sara exit the stairs into the back alleyway. Moros scanned the area: the alley was wide. There was a tall wooden gate preventing a clear exit. Someone could see him, but it seemed unlikely. There wasn’t a person in sight. If he was quick enough, no one would suspect foul play.
Moros pulled himself over the rail and leapt off. The wind blew in his face as he hurled toward the ground. He held out his hand and noticed the water pouring down with him from above. Moros landed on the pavement with a thud. Sara, desperately trying to run away, turned and saw Moros walking toward her, the rain pelting him.
Unfortunately, Sara was running out of room. There was no getting over the tall wood. She reached the gate. Instead of trying to climb, she turned to face Moros, who was closing in on her. “Please. Just leave me alone. I’m finally reuniting with Bruce. I love him. Don’t do this.”
Moros continued walking toward Sara. She was beautiful, even as the rain drenched her. He didn’t particularly want to kill her. It was just a necessary part of the plan.
Sara put her hand in her pocket and gripped the handle of a thick knife she grabbed from a drawer before running out of the apartment. Unexpectedly, she lunged forward and drove the blade deep into Moros’s chest. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked at her with great surprise. Moros casually clenched the handle of the knife, pulled it out of his chest, and placed it in his back pocket. He was uninjured. No blood, no pain. Sara looked in shock at his invincibility and gazed into his eyes with horror.
Moros could see a bright light in her eyes. He just wanted to get it over with. “I’m sorry.” Moros put a gun to the side of her head and pulled the trigger. Sara fell to the ground. The light in her eyes disappeared.
Moros knelt down, lifted her limp hand, and removed the E.M. ring from her finger. After examining it, he slid it on his own finger. Moros gently placed the gun in her hand. He walked toward the staircase and effortlessly jumped several stories to her deck. After walking in her kitchen, he took the crumpled letter off the table and glanced at it: “I say these things, not just because I love you, but because I cannot imagine my life without you…. I want you to know that I love you so much, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Moros snarled. People on Earth were not capable of love. Of that, he was convinced. Sure, they might think they were in love. But it simply wasn’t possible. They could choose the light. But it meant nothing. They were a lost cause.
Moros crumpled the letter again and put it in his pocket. He couldn’t let it be found. He would clean the apartment and leave. Sara’s death would be ruled a suicide, thanks in part to her failed relationship with Ronnie and her previous attempt. He peered down the hallway and saw a furious Elpis staring back at him. The sight was haunting. “She’s not real,” Moros half-assured himself.
Sara lay on her back. Dead. The rain pounded on her face as she stared blankly into the sky. Her body was useless.
But the light of her soul, the part of the soul that mattered most, was not ready to move on.
40
Ronnie Russell bowed his head and paused. The sun beat on his bare, muscled chest. He was in a private crevice surrounded by stones on a beach on Lake Michigan. Loosely holding a staff in his left arm, he lifted his head and stared out at the endless sight of water. He extended his hands outward, still gripping the staff. His biceps protruded as he allowed his anger to flow through his soul. He screamed at the top of his lungs, releasing a shockwave of rage into the air.
Ronnie thrust the staff forward and screamed again. He held the position, with his knees bent and his mind focused. His long black hair flowed with the wind that blew off the waves. His eyes squinted in the distance. But he was no longer looking with his eyes.
Ronnie burst into a flurry with his staff. He twirled it at preposterous speeds. He leaned backwards and, using both hands, spun it just above his face. As he stood up straight, the staff came flying behind his back, and effortlessly twirled above his head. Ronnie gripped the staff with both hands and thrust it forwards, then backwards, spinning his body in the process. He gracefully soared sideways, his body perfectly horizontal. One foot kicked into the sand, providing a landing. Ronnie threw the staff into the air, twirling like a fan. He effortlessly back flipped, caught it, swung the staff around his neck, and stormed into a frenzy. He took several jabs at the air, screaming as he jabbed.
Ronnie tucked the staff back into his left arm, held out his hands again and screamed the last of his breath. The savage howl soared across the lake. He fought for air and his dark eyes had the look of a man
in turmoil. It was not the look of a man who was the CEO of a multi-million dollar company.
A clapping sound filled the air. Ronnie came out of his focus and looked in the direction of the clapping. There was a man wearing all white, standing tall on a rock at the edge of the crevice. A man known as Moros.
“Very impressive,” Moros said.
“Thank you,” Ronnie replied insincerely.
“Nice to meet you, Ronnie.”
Ronnie nodded, weary of this stranger who somehow knew his name. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You’re good at that. Take classes?”
“No. Taught myself.” Ronnie wished the stranger would leave him alone.
“Do you fight people?”
“No. It’s therapeutic.”
Moros nodded. “I see. Would you like more privacy?”
“Yes I would.”
“Alright.” Moros lifted his hand toward the openness of the lake. At his command, water shot up into the sky. It blasted up at high speeds and formed a solid stream of a wall. Ronnie fell backwards out of pure shock. The wall of water had indeed created a room of privacy. But a wall of water? Ronnie looked back at Moros, who stood on the rock smiling at him. Ronnie could only ask, “Who are you?”
“I am angel. I am here to give you an offer you can’t refuse.”
With that, Moros began to explain the idea of the ILD.
Moros had spoken to 11 apostles. None of them would divulge information. Not one. There was only one apostle left to speak with.
Moros walked through a village that lied along the Sea of Galilee. Houses, pathways, and a synagogue were made largely of stone. Everywhere he looked, large slabs of stone were formed together. The villagers wandered about, smiling at him as he walked by. Moros politely nodded and smiled back. No one had any suspicion he was from another planet.
Moros walked through an open doorway of one of the houses. A man sat on a large stone at a flimsy wooden table. He was writing with a sharp edge on a wax tablet-a popular writing device of the time.