Redemption: Supernatural Time-Traveling Romance with Sci-fi and Metaphysics

by Jacklyn A. Lo

I’m like a fish out of water, he thinks, and realizes he is lying on the ground, thrashing around much as that fish had done. Alfreda! Despite the pain still coursing through his body, Ra tries to sit up but feels too weak to move. O Isis, help me! Give me strength to carry on.

  With an almost superhuman effort, he manages to get onto his knees and then clamber unsteadily to his feet. Still trying to catch his breath, but finding the struggle beginning to ease, he starts running again with a curious, lopsided gait.

  After what feels like an eternity, Ra arrives at the arena and barely pauses as he scrabbles for a handful of coins in his purse and throws them towards the guards. As quickly as he can Ra makes his way towards the barrier which separates the audience from the fighters and peers over to see what is going on. All around him, the shout of the crowd tells him what he already knows, the spectacle has already begun!

  Ra grips the rail to steady himself and looks down into the arena. Almost immediately he spots Alfreda, her golden hair pulled back into a ponytail, her slender body covered by a short tunic and her face set in a fearless snarl as she squares up to one of the beasts, a lion at least twice her size. Ra’s breath catches and the pain in his chest bursts into agony once again, but he cannot tear his eyes away from the Briton.

  She looks so small, he thinks as he watches her slash out at the lion with a short sword. If only I had got here sooner. As another wave of pain slices through him, he feels the scroll slip from his fingers and fall to the arena floor where it is quickly trampled beneath the feet of a large man, trying desperately to fend off two massive dogs.

  As the pain in his chest reaches its peak and he finds himself sliding down the barrier, he holds on, desperate to keep his eyes on the woman he loves. “Oh Alfreda,” Ra whispers, tears streaming down his face. The last thing he sees before the life leaves his body is the light of the sinking sun glinting from the beautiful emerald embedded in the bracelet that still clings to Alfreda’s wrist. Alfreda, my love. And then, as Ra falls to the ground, the light fades and is gone.

  Chicago, U.S.A. 2045

  Ann blinked her eyes open, her hand over her heart, still feeling the pain in her chest. For a moment the sense of sorrow and loss seemed as if it would engulf her, but it passed as she realized she was not in danger, it was only her vision.

  “That’s right, my dear,” came the cracked voice of the psychic. “Breathe it in deeply.”

  Slowly, Ann turned her head to see that the old woman had lit one of her strange candles again and the scent helped to calm her nerves.

  “And that was?” asked Ann, catching her breath at last.

  “Another glimpse of your past, another of the lives that make up your one, whole life stream.”

  “I see.” Ann nodded, a frown creasing her forehead for a moment. “So that was what? My second life?”

  The psychic sat back, a knowing smile on her face. “As you saw, my dear.”

  “And what does it mean? Are you saying I saw myself die… a second time?”

  “That’s simply part of the chain of reincarnation, something that stretches out behind and before us all.”

  Ann, feeling her normal self once again, turned and sat up on the couch facing the psychic. “Please,” she said. “Tell me more.”

  “It’s quite simple, my dear. Birth is not a beginning. Death is not an end. There is existence without limitation, continuity without a starting-point or terminus.”

  “Right…” said Ann, not sounding entirely certain. “So what exactly is this chain of reincarnation?”

  The old woman held out her hands in an expansive gesture. “We call it a chain,” she explained, “because we are all trapped in this cycle of birth and death.”

  “Trapped?”

  “Exactly. . . until the release when a person gains redemption.”

  Part Three

  COURAGE

  Chapter Fourteen

  I don’t think so,” said Ann, peering over her menu. “They’ve never really appealed to me.”

  She and Michael were sitting in the Fleur-de-Lis, a snug French restaurant on the edge of the city. Shunning the hi-tech computerized service of their competitors, the Fleur-de-Lis insisted on the traditional card menus, candlelit tables and human waiting staff. As such it was one of the coziest restaurants in Chicago, setting itself apart as a destination for couples only, and all the tables were for two.

  Michael smiled behind his menu. “Are you telling me you’ve never had frogs’ legs? My dear, you haven’t lived!”

  “Oh, I’ve lived alright,” said Ann, thinking back to her latest session with the psychic a few days earlier. “And I’m fairly sure eating amphibian limbs is not a necessary ingredient for life.”

  “Fair enough. But I’m still going to give them a go. Have you chosen your main?”

  “Yes,” said Ann, laying the menu gently on the table. “I’m ready to order.”

  As if at a signal a waiter appeared, his notepad and pencil at the ready.

  Having taken their order, the waiter took their menus and sidled away to the kitchen. Michael leant back in his chair and smiled at Ann over his glass of Chateau Latour Pauillac 2000, the finest French wine the Fleur-de-Lis had to offer.

  “You look stunning tonight, Ann,” he said, gazing at her approvingly. And it was true. Inspired by thoughts of Egypt, she had colored her hair a deep blue-black with a “Just For One Night” dye, and gathered it up in a long ponytail held in place with a silver ribbon. Her outfit was in the vintage style that was all the rage at the moment, a short black top, which offered glimpses of her silver embroidered bra, flared black trousers picked out at the bottom with silver thread and secured with a wide silver belt. The outfit was finished off with silver high heels and handbag and, as Michael took this all in, he was intrigued to see the silver up and down her body slowly change to a deep gold. He leant forward to get a better look as the gold changed back to silver again and was enveloped in the scent of Ann’s Je T’Aime perfume.

  “I match my partner,” said Ann, gesturing to Michael’s dark-blue suit and shirt, which suited him very well. As he reached out to take her hand, she also noted that the white gold Rolex fastened to his watch matched the chain around his neck, nestling against his perfectly tanned skin. He leaned his head forward and kissed her hand.

  Ann laughed. “Just like in the movies!”

  “Except this movie,” he said, looking intently at her as he stroked the back of her hand, “is just for the two of us.”

  After what may have been an hour, or just a few seconds, Ann lowered her eyes, becoming aware of the music that was playing.

  “Such a beautiful song,” she said.

  “Ah yes. An old Joe Dassin song, I believe.” Michael cocked his head to listen. “Et si tu n’existais pas”. Do you know what it means in English?”

  “No. I’m lousy at French. Something about love?”

  “Sure. It’s about true love. It’s called, ‘And if you didn’t exist’.”

  Michael gazed deep into Ann’s eyes and they both sat in silence for a while.

  “Well,” he said, finally breaking the silence and waving expansively at the surroundings with his free hand, “this is certainly a nice restaurant. I’ve never been here before.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Come on!” said Michael with a mischievous look. “You must have been here before with one of your other men.”

  “What other men?” Ann raised her eyebrows at the suggestion. “I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date with another man.”

  “I can’t believe it. A gorgeous lady like you. You must have plenty of suitors trying to win your affection.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “But I’ve been busy. No time for extra-curricular activities.”

  Michael looked at her for a while, a shrewd look on his face. Eventually he said, “No. I think there’s something more to it than that. Something happened, didn’t it? Won’t you tell me?”

  “There’s nothin
g to tell, really,” said Ann, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. “There was a guy, before I moved to Chicago, but he was no good for me. Everyone said he’d let me down in the end, and it turned out they were right.”

  “Then he was a fool! It’s his loss, my dear. You deserve someone who will love you with all of his being, with a love that even death cannot overcome.”

  “I don’t know,” said Ann, frowning slightly as she sipped her wine. “I’m not sure I can imagine such a love.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to have to imagine it. I want you to experience it!” Michael paused a moment, considering. “It reminds me of a story told of Isis.”

  Ann’s eyes widened in surprise at this mention of the Egyptian goddess and she almost choked on her drink. She continued to listen in silence.

  “It is said,” Michael continued, “that when her lover Osiris was murdered by Seti, the god of storms, she spent many years traveling the world, gathering up the strewn parts of his body. When finally she had found them all she used her magic to restore him to life again. Now that is true love, my dear. That is what I want for you.”

  “That would certainly be something! How do you know these things?” asked Ann.

  “It comes with the job. We archaeologists have to know all about the theology of the cultures we study, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, even the gods of the Stone Age.”

  As they ate their meal together, Michael regaled Ann with the stories of ancient gods and goddesses, stories of love and war, of life and death, and she listened in fascination. When finally their desserts arrived, Michael asked her about her childhood.

  “Well, there’s not much to tell, really,” she said. “I was raised in one of the lovely old houses in Manhattan, within walking distance of Central Park. My parents adopted me when I was very little, though I only found that out when I turned eighteen. They were great parents, so warm and caring.”

  Michael leaned back in his chair, giving Ann his full attention as he enjoyed his white chocolate mousse. He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  “We used to have family gatherings every Sunday, with dinner followed by a walk around the neighborhood or the park. We would be hand-in-hand, with me in the middle skipping along and sometimes being swung up into the air. And we’d go to the movies and dad would buy us all ice creams, popcorns and candies.” She smiled at the memory, pausing to taste her cheesecake with a latticework of raspberry coulis.

  “It sounds delightful,” said Michael, savoring his coffee laced with Hennessy Paradis. “So what was the most exciting thing about your childhood?”

  “Exciting?” Ann considered this as she sipped at her golden drink, Chateau d' Yquem 2010. “It would probably be exploring my parents’ library. It fascinated me every time I entered the place. I can remember wheeling around a stepladder, easily twice my height, and standing on tiptoe to reach up for the thickest, heaviest tome on the top shelf.”

  Michael laughed. “A proper high-risk-taker!”

  “Am I indeed?” said Anne with a smile.

  “Oh yes!” he said, taking her hand again and raising it to his lips. “And I love it!”

  She blushed as he kissed her knuckle, and she noticed that nearby couples were taking surreptitious glances at them. Such an old-fashioned gesture, but touching, all the same.

  “So what made you climb that ladder?” he asked, ignoring the onlookers.

  “I just wanted to read all the books that filled up the library. They fascinated me.”

  “And were you successful?”

  Ann shook her head. “Hardly. There were thousands of books in there! But I read as many as I could.”

  “So what happened to your passion for books?” asked Michael, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “Why didn’t you choose to become a librarian or something?”

  “Funnily enough, it was because of the books. I found myself drawn to Science Fiction novels. I loved them all, from H G Wells and Jules Verne to Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury. And as I read them, I found that my real passion was for technology, the really cutting edge stuff. And so I naturally ended up becoming a developer of robotics products and solutions.”

  “Of course. I’ve seen your AI products. They’re very impressive!”

  “Yes, they are. And now I am a head of the sales and marketing of these products at A.I.I.”

  She pulled the E-A device from her temporarily gold handbag and held it in her hand. “The E-A is my latest and most favorite project, a completely automated, intelligent Electronic Assistant.”

  “It’s fascinating,” said Michael, placing a hand on her free one. “Absolutely fascinating!” Ann was overcome by a sudden urge to tell him about all of the strange things that had been going on in her life. Looking into his eyes, at that moment, she had the overwhelming feeling that there was nothing she couldn’t tell him. But I can’t, she argued with herself. He’ll think I’m crazy! So she let the moment pass, though as soon as it had, she couldn’t help feeling a tiny twinge of regret.

  After dinner they hailed a cab to take them to the city center and headed to Windermere’s, the city’s most stylish night club, which was situated on the crowning floor of one of the city’s newest skyscrapers. Here, among the nouveau riche and the high-flyers of Chicago society, Ann and Michael danced together, far above the world. Around them the lights of the city spread out in all directions, and Ann felt at peace for a while, held in Michael’s strong arms, her cheek brushing against his, their bodies pressed close together. Pulling her head back slightly to look into his eyes, she found herself struck even more than before at how handsome he was. The ceiling lights glistened off his fair hair, a strand of which fell across one eye, reminding her slightly of Nina’s unruly curl. His eyes were a deep blue and she felt a curious desire to fall into them, to be lost in their depths, to be kept safe there forever. But more than his looks, there was something about him that drew her in. There was something about the way he looked at her and spoke to her, the way he held her hand and her gaze that made her feel safe, as though, at last, here was a man she could really trust. She thought back to her younger days in the metropolitan jungle of New York City and the guys she had dated then. They had never looked into her eyes in a way that made her feel treasured, or communicated security by simply holding her hand. They had been a disappointing mix of mommy’s boys, spoilt and pampered and scared, who knew nothing of a woman’s needs or anything beyond their own little lives, and thrill-seekers, only interested in fast cars and even faster sex, believing themselves to be great lovers rather than the frustrating waste of time they really were. They didn’t even compare to a real man like Michael.

  As the song came to an end, Ann was surprised to hear the DJ slip in an old number she hadn’t heard in years. It was a hit from the eighties, long before she was born—in this life at least—but she knew it all the same: ‘Never Let Me Down Again’ by a band called Depeche Mode. On the screen that took up an entire wall of the nightclub, the 3D image of the band appeared, singing the words she was surprised to find she remembered.

  She started to dance, pulling away from Michael slightly. As Michael watched her, his mouth dropped open. She looked stunning. She was a fantastic dancer with an amazing body and flying long hair, and many of the guys hanging around the dance floor stopped to watch her as well. Slowly, she drew closer and closer to Michael, looking deeply into his eyes as she sang. Sliding an arm around her waist he drew Ann close to him, still holding her gaze, joining in the singing.

  “Trust me, my dear Ann,” he said, his voice serious and assuring. “I will never let you down.” Ann looked up at him. Tonight is the night, she thought to herself. The moment grew longer, but Michael made no move to do anything. Still, it wasn’t as awkward of a moment as it might have been. His eyes were filled with such warmth and understanding that she couldn’t feel embarrassed, even though eventually he pulled his arm away and led her back to their drinks.

  That night, as Ann slipped between the sheets of her
bed, she smiled as she thought of her evening. Had she at last found a man who would love her, really love her? Someone she could love in return? Someone she could spend the rest of her life with, or at least this life with? She stretched out across the expanse of the bed, feeling its emptiness, but recognizing, for the very first time, that there was no corroding emptiness inside of her anymore. “Am I in love with him?”

  It was with thoughts such as these that she drifted slowly off to sleep. Her night, however, was disturbed again by the same strange dream that had plagued her before and she woke feeling a terrible sense of loss and anxiety, afraid of the spiral that held her in its grip, and haunted by the sadness of her past lives.

  ~

  “I don’t understand it, Rob,” said Ann as she stepped out of the shower. “I had expected these nightmares to pass after going to the psychic. Several weeks passed, but if anything the dreams are more worrying than ever. It’s gotten worse instead of better.”

  “That is all part of your journey, my lady,” Rob replied, looking out from the screen of the E-A device sitting by the sink. “Consider the Buddha’s journey to enlightenment or Jesus’ journey through the cross to the resurrection. The greater the destination, the harder the journey must be.”

  Ann considered this as she began to towel herself dry. “I guess I can accept that,” she said eventually, “but from what I’ve seen on my two visits to the psychic, my what did she call it? My reincarnation chain has hardly been a series of victories. In the first life I lost my son, Wu, having only just given birth to him, and ended up killing myself. And in the second I failed to save the woman I loved and died of a heart attack. I achieved nothing!”

  “Nothing?” Rob raised an eyebrow at this and shook his head. “But, my lady, sacrifice has always been a necessary part of the greatest journey.”

  Ann stopped drying her hair to look questioningly at him. “Sacrifice?”