The Reluctant Prophet_A Love Story

by Karl Morgan

  "Is there any money in that?"

  "Probably less than serving tables," he chuckled. "But I'm just starting."

  She sat next to him and pushed him further into the booth. She leaned close to him and whispered, "Zeke, there have been some men looking for you."

  He pulled his head back and stared back in shock. "Who? Were they Asians?"

  "No. One was black and the other white. They said they were from the CIA. They showed me your picture and asked if I'd seen you. Of course, I said no."

  "Sally, I appreciate what you did, but you should have told them the truth. I don't want you to get in trouble. If they really are from the CIA, you could be arrested," he replied.

  "Are you in some kind of trouble, Zeke? What did you do?" she asked, her face only an inch from his.

  "I didn't do anything, Sally," he answered.

  "Well, well, well," a man's voice said.

  They both turned to see two men standing by the booth. Zeke had been so focused on Sally's words and face that he had not noticed them come in. Sally turned bright red and mouthed the words "I'm sorry" to Zeke. "Can I help you gentlemen?" Zeke asked.

  "Mr. Thompson, I'm Agent Langley and this is Agent Stanford. We're with the Central Intelligence Agency," the black agent said. "Can we talk to you for a minute?" Zeke nodded and the two men sat on the opposite side of the booth. "Miss, could you please get us a couple cups of coffee?" Sally rose quickly and retreated for the counter.

  "What do you want to talk about? I'm in a hurry," Zeke said.

  "Let's be frank, Mr. Thompson," Stanford said. "First of all, you're not going anywhere unless we let you go."

  "Chill a bit, Max," Langley interjected. "Mr. Thompson, may I call you Zeke?" He nodded. "Zeke, we know what's been going on. We know that some of our agents attempted to sell you to the North Koreans. We know a drug cartel killed those agents and took you to Mexico. We also know that the Koreans hired a second cartel to get you, and most everyone died in the attempt."

  "We also know about the traffic accident near your parent's house and the lottery numbers," Stanford added.

  "That was my father's ticket and I had nothing to do with that," Zeke lied.

  "Zeke, we don't care about the money," Langley replied. "We've been following your blog too. Do you know that your prediction accuracy is almost one hundred percent?"

  "No. I don't bother checking that out. Obviously, I've been too busy trying not to be kidnapped or arrested again to worry about my accuracy!"

  "Zeke, you're missing my point," Langley noted. "You are in a dangerous predicament right now. If we know all of this, don't you think everyone else knows it too?"

  "Like the North Koreans," Zeke said.

  "Yes, them and others too," Stanford replied. "Zeke, now that the North Korean story is out, governments all over the world will be after you. But that's the least of your problems. There are mobs, gangs, organized crime, warlords, and everyone else, not to mention every stock picker and gambler. Knowing the future is a valuable commodity, Mr. Thompson."

  Sally came up to the table and set down the two coffees along with a plate of pastries. "It's on the house, gentlemen. Bert is honored to support the United States." She smiled and walked away.

  "That's why I ran away," Zeke said. "I screwed up by staying here too long. If I had left two days ago, you still wouldn't know where I am."

  "How long can you keep this up, Zeke?" Langley asked. "You honestly want to move from hotel to hotel every couple of days until you die of old age? That's not a life, Zeke."

  "What else can I do?"

  "Come with us, Zeke," Langley replied. "You can live anywhere you want and the US Government will protect you."

  "And what do I have to do for this generosity?"

  Langley and Stanford exchanged a wry smile. "Just keep us in the loop for anything major. We don't want stock tips or the ten-day weather forecast. But if something big is about to happen, you could save many lives."

  Zeke watched the two men for any deception, but saw nothing. He glanced out the front windows to see four black SUVs and two Highway Patrol cars parked in front of the cafe. "Well, it doesn't look like I have much choice. I have been freaking out that the North Koreans would come for me again. Can I at least eat my breakfast first?"

  Ten minutes later, the two men flanked Zeke as he exited the restaurant. Zeke had winked at Sally and given her a twenty-dollar bill with his phone number on it as a tip. Langley led him toward the second SUV. Its right side passenger door was open, as if waiting for him. For a moment he wondered if this was another trap. He hadn't asked the men for their badges and regretted his shortsightedness. They arrived at the open door, and Zeke could see his backpack on the seat. He was about to climb in when a screeching sound made him freeze in place. Four more black SUVs raced around the corner toward the cafe. Armed men piled out of the cars next to them. Stanford pushed Zeke to the ground just as gunfire erupted.

  The front passenger in the lead attack vehicle had extended some kind of weapon out the window. There was a poof of smoke and a missile or projectile of some sort shot through the air and exploded into the lead Highway Patrol car, which flew through the air and smashed into a storefront. "Keep your head down, Zeke!" Stanford shouted. Bullets zinged by Zeke's head and he hugged the sidewalk with all of his strength. Suddenly, Stanford was not on top of him anymore. "I'm hit!" Stanford shouted. Zeke could see the trail of blood pouring out of the man's chest. "Get out of here, Zeke. Save yourself," the man pleaded and then blacked out.

  Zeke grabbed his backpack from the vehicle, pulled it over his shoulders and began to crawl down the sidewalk away from the action. He glanced to his right as he crawled past the cafe door. He could see Sally coiled up in the fetal position at the back of the shop. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tried to remember what Bea had done to get them rescued in Mexico, but his mind was a blank. A man's voice shouted, "There he is!" Zeke turned his head to see an Asian man rushing toward him. He jumped to his feet and began to run. The man chasing him could be another CIA agent or perhaps a North Korean. All Zeke knew is that he did not want to find out. He ran around a corner and kept going. "Stop Mr. Thompson!" shouted a voice behind him. "I don't want to kill you!" Zeke's phone vibrated. He looked at the screen and saw a red light flashing. Some kind of nozzle had also come from an opening in the top. Zeke pointed the phone behind him and pressed the red light. A flash of white light shot from the phone, and the recoil knocked Zeke to the ground.

  He hurried to his feet and noticed the Asian man lying in the street groaning in pain. Five other men came around the corner and were closing in on him. He wondered if he should shoot again. When he looked at his phone, the nozzle was gone and a green light was flashing. It was now or never. The men would be on him in seconds. He pressed the light. A huge ball of white light exploded where he had been standing, knocking all the men to the ground. Zeke was gone.

  Zeke's head was throbbing and his limbs tingled. He remembered pressing the green button, but then blacked out. The sidewalk felt strange. He forced his eyes open and saw a full moon and stars. How long had he been out, he wondered. He felt around his body and realized he was laying in the sand on a beach somewhere, but how? As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he could see the waves slowly rolling up onto the beach. There were a few residences a few hundred yards up the beach, but where could he be? After a minute, he tried to stand up, but his head disagreed and he fell back into the sand. Now there were sounds, the sounds of people coming in his direction. He thought about crawling out into the water. Several people came over a low rise and were walking right toward him. He looked at his phone for help, but it seemed dead. Zeke could now tell they were holding weapons of some kind with lights mounted on them. Soon, he was surrounded by at least fifty people wearing black uniforms and balaclavas pointing rifles at him. "I'm not armed," he said.

  "Zeke, is that you?" Bea's voice said.

  "Bea?"

&
nbsp; One of the people rushed to his side. Bea pulled off her face mask and put her arms around him. "What in hell are you doing here, Zeke?" she asked as she kissed his lips.

  §

  Zeke, Kally, and Bea were sitting at the breakfast table in the Maui house. Each had a cup of coffee, and a plate of pastries sat in the center of the table. Zeke told them of the events of the day. Bea immediately began flipping through “A Simple Life.” The exact story was there in print, even though it had been completely different the last time she had looked. "What did I say about the events there, Bea?" Zeke asked.

  "It's not really clear. You said you did not know who the good or bad guys were," she reported. "What does your intuition tell you, Zeke?"

  "I'm not sure," he replied. "At this point, I'm not sure there are any good guys. Is this the future again?"

  "Yes, but I'm not exactly sure how that happened," Kally replied. "Your phone doesn't have the power to do what it did."

  "Can I stay here? Things are crazy back in my time right now," Zeke said.

  Kally and Bea exchanged worried glances. "No, that's too big a risk, Zeke."

  "Maybe a day or two would be okay," Bea suggested.

  "But we have a new problem, Bea," Kally countered.

  She sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know. Zeke, people in your time saw what you did with the phone. That kind of technology would be a very dangerous weapon in your primitive time."

  "Primitive?"

  "Don't take offense, Zeke," Kally interjected. "But if anyone from your time thinks this kind of technology is possible, or gets their hands on a sample, the balance of power would change forever. Time will change, maybe irreparably."

  "So when I go back, I'll use a regular phone," he agreed.

  "The good news is the attackers were undoubtedly Black Ops," Bea began. "There won't be any news coverage of the incident at all. Everyone will deny everything. But their governments will now be intrigued by what happened."

  "It did happen, so what can I do now?"

  "Just like them, Zeke, you deny everything," Kally replied. "They have no evidence to prove anything. As long as you keep denying everything, nothing else should happen."

  "Should. You said nothing else should happen," Zeke noted.

  "We can't control the future, Zeke. You might be able to see it, but you cannot control it either," Kally replied.

  "We can't just let Zeke be a sitting duck, Kally!" Bea argued. He nodded and walked out of the room.

  "Did you piss him off or something?" Zeke asked.

  "He'll be right back. We do have some things that might help."

  "Bea, remember when you asked me to look into the future to see if we would meet again?"

  "Yes. Is this what you saw?"

  "No. Do you think that's important?"

  "The future is infinitely variable, Zeke. The attack you just lived through was not in the book a few days ago when I last looked. Somebody changed a decision and made that happen."

  Zeke looked down. "It's just that the earlier vision made me very happy."

  She flashed her smile at him and said, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

  Zeke coughed and muttered, "Not just yet."

  She laughed softly and squeezed his hand. "Well, just sit back and think about the future again. If the same image comes again, then it's still a real possibility."

  Zeke sat back and closed his eyes. He cleared his mind and thought of his future. A gauzy image formed in the front of his mind and quickly cleared. He was kissing Bea's lips. A crowd of people were applauding. A man's voice said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present Mr. and Mrs. Ezekiel Thompson." He took her hand and led her up the aisle.

  His eyes shot open when Kally walked back into the room. He held a pistol-like device in one hand and a plastic container with multiple compartments in the other. Bea was carefully watching Zeke's expression for a clue to his vision. Kally said, "Okay, Zeke, this is going to hurt." He opened a compartment and removed a green slug and snapped it into the gun.

  "What the hell is this?" Zeke balked.

  "It's okay, Zeke, trust us," Bea replied.

  Kally grabbed the top of Zeke's head so firmly that he could not move. He felt the gun pressed to the back of his skull. "Please don't shoot me!" Zeke begged. Kally pressed the contact and the green slug was shot into Zeke's skull. Waves of agony rolled across his brain and he thought he would vomit, pass out, or both. Kally released his head and Zeke dropped his face onto the tabletop and groaned.

  Through partially opened eyes, Zeke saw Kally load a red slug into the gun. He grabbed Zeke's head again and fired. Pain and shock almost knocked him out. Zeke felt his consciousness slipping away. He had traveled to the future twice on a mission to save the future of mankind, only to be murdered by a man claiming to be his friend. He forced one eye open and saw Kally shoot Bea in the back of the head as well. She flinched and clawed at the table. After a minute, she sat back as normal and sipped her coffee.

  After several minutes of pain and anger, the pain abated. Zeke felt almost normal again, except for the holes where the slugs had penetrated his head. He sat back and looked at the two watching him. "What the hell was that?" He touched the back of his head and looked at his bloody fingertips.

  Kally touched his hand and said, "I'm really sorry about that, Zeke, but it couldn't be helped. I'll let Bea tell you about it." He stood up and collected the gun and case and walked out of the room.

  "Zeke, I'm sorry too," she said, "but you know we can't send you back with any new devices that could be copied. The risks to the future are too great."

  "What did he shoot into my brain, Bea?"

  "This is very radical technology, Zeke. It is used only by our top spies and certain time travelers. The green device is like a beacon. No matter where or when you are located, we can see you. If your stress level is extremely high, it will allow us to pull you away from danger." She winked at him and continued, "But don't worry, making love doesn't generate that high of a stress level, so we won't be yanking you out of anyone's bed." He blushed. She giggled.

  "So I'm like an endangered species with a radio collar."

  "Exactly! But you are more than endangered, Zeke. You are the only one like you we've ever encountered."

  "What about the red bullet, and why did he shoot you too?"

  "The red device is a thought tether. Your cerebral cortex and mine are now linked. You can't have a phone to call me, but now all you have to do is think of me and we can communicate," she said.

  "You can read my mind?"

  She laughed. "Even our technology isn't that good, Zeke!"

  "I just thought."

  "Wait a minute, what do you have to hide from me, Zeke Thompson?" she asked through a giggle.

  "I love you, Bea," he thought with his mouth tightly closed and his eyes averted.

  She stood and walked next to him, taking his head in her hands. She kissed his lips lightly and looked at him sweetly. She thought, "I love you too, Zeke." She kissed him again.

  Chapter 12

  Zeke fell asleep with Bea's arms wrapped around him and their bodies pressed together. He was blissfully happy and hoped to enjoy her company more when they awoke. Zeke woke wearing pajamas and in his own bed, back in his family home. He got up and looked out the window. Two black SUVs were parked in front of the house. He thought about climbing out a back window, but realized the drapes would be open and the agents would outrun him easily. "I hope these are the good guys," he said to himself. He stepped into his slippers and headed downstairs, stopping halfway down. He could hear hushed voices in the family room. He thought, "Bea, how did I get home?"

  Her voice said, "Kally and I took you there when you were sound asleep. Sorry for the bad surprise, but it would be difficult for you to explain disappearing from the planet."

  He thought, "I know you're right, but I would love to wake up in bed with you one day."

  She giggled and said, "Hopefully that time will come soon, my love. Bye."
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  He went down the last steps and walked through the short hallway to the family room. His parents were sitting with a strange man and woman, who stood when he arrived. "Mr. Thompson, it's a pleasure to meet you," the woman said extending her hand. "I'm Natalie Anderson from the White House, and this is Director Anthony Marshall of the CIA."

  "It's good to meet you, son," Marshall said. Zeke shook their hands and sat on the couch between his parents. "First of all, I want to apologize for the problem in Idaho. We had no information about the other group that attacked. We lost some good men yesterday."

  "Mr. Marshall, how are Agents Langley and Stanford?" Zeke asked.

  "Thank you for caring, Zeke. Langley was shot but will recover. I'm afraid Stanford died at the scene."

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Zeke replied.

  "Who were the men who attacked them?" Zeke asked.

  Marshall and Anderson exchanged worried looks. "I'm afraid it's too early to tell. All of them were either killed in the firefight or escaped. We have theories, but no evidence we can share with the public," Anderson replied.

  "One man was Kang Min-ho. He was a North Korean spy," Zeke said.

  "How on earth do you know that?" Anderson cried.

  "Natalie, think about what you're asking," Marshall replied. "Zeke, that brings up an interesting question. We examined Mr. Kang's body. It seemed like all of his cells exploded at one time. How did that happen?"

  "I have no idea. What happens now?" Zeke asked.

  "Son, the government has helped us buy that house in Maui you mentioned," Abe Thompson said. "They are going to provide security for us."

  "And we're just locked up there forever?"

  "Don't look at it that way, Zeke," Sarah replied. "This will all blow over soon."

  "How?"

  Director Marshall said, "Son, may I call you Zeke?" He nodded. "Thank you and you can call me Tony. There are two good options in my mind. One, you can give a few erroneous predictions that are well publicized. Others will see you are nothing but a fraud, and pass off your earlier predictions as lucky guesses."