The Cupel Recruits

by Willshire, Susan

  “He is stable,” Stone relayed.

  “Oh, thank God!” Chandra said, crossing herself. Wood placed a hand on Juliet’s shoulder and looked at the rest of the team members solemnly.

  “What?” Juliet asked him quietly.

  “He’s in a coma,” Wood reported.

  Chapter 15

  Lela felt a wave of uncharacteristic anxiety wash over her as she flew back to the States, not due to flying, but because her work had been abruptly interrupted with a demand to fly home. The funding was in jeopardy and she was needed ASAP, that was all Pfister had told her. She had enjoyed the escapism of Africa, ironic given that many wouldn’t consider the location she visited a place to escape to. She knew she would have to return and deal with the real world and her life eventually, but she was gradually easing up to it, preparing herself. Suddenly, here it was. It’s only six days, she kept reminding herself. At least she had reworked her ticket to not connect through O’Hare-that was a plus since she always got delayed flying through Chicago. Her connection in Dulles allowed her to stretch her legs and get some food so by the time she arrived home she was not completely worn out.

  Entering the familiar hallway of her own apartment, she dropped her keys on the hall table and picked up the pile of mail. One of the grad students in the building watered her plants and picked up her mail when she was away-for a fee of course. It used to be her mother or brother that would do these things for her. Since Lela had put all her important mail on hold or e-delivery before leaving, the pile was surprisingly small. She probably would just leave it that way when she returned home-saving trees seemed the right thing to do given the beautiful forests she had just left.

  The first thing she did was take a luxuriously long, hot shower. That was one of the few things she really did miss of civilization, feeling truly clean. The hot water danced over her body, and she wished it could wash away all her sorrow and anxiety as easily as the dust of Africa. She relaxed and let her mind wander and suddenly out of nowhere she thought of her family in danger.

  “A little late,” she mused. She fell into a deep, heavy sleep like children do and awoke the next morning feeling uncharacteristically refreshed. She resolved to do some research on the notes in her mother’s office before meeting up with Pfister later in the day. She’d tried to find a “Dossler case” reference on the internet from Africa, assuming it was something easily found, but was dismayed to discover there was no mention of it anywhere, even in the scientific journals.

  Pulling up to her parents’ house again, this time she was startled. It didn’t feel just the same. A for sale sign loomed out front and though she’d contacted the family real estate agent via email, it was different seeing it live and in color. She entered and put on a pot of coffee, and opened most of the ground floor windows, to rid the house of its closed-up smell. Entering the office, she pulled out her notes. Dossler case, red star on the calendar, the mineral. None of this seemed related, yet she was determined to learn anything that might help. She opened the filing cabinet and was not surprised to see the bare minimum files. She knew her mother’s system well-current year’s records were kept in the filing cabinet throughout the year. Once taxes were filed, every item from the prior year was boxed according to year and each small file box placed in a separate supply room. Looking through the current year files, she saw no mention of a Dossler case. She fired up the computer and hunted for 45 minutes through the files available on the desktop, again to no avail. In light of what Mr. Charles , or, she mentally corrected herself, General Charles had told her, it was likely any important computer files of her parents were in another location.

  She entered the supply room and saw boxes upon boxes of files, one for each year going back three decades. ‘Fun’ she thought. She opened the first box and in the front stood a cover page. Each file was listed by name and next to each a “file number” and “master reference number”. The first file number was 1, but its master reference number was 886. She quickly assessed that each box could hold approximately 30 files and since there were about thirty boxes, the number implied the master reference numbers corresponded to all files present.

  “All I need to do is find the master reference sheet. Thank God my mother was so logical. Well, she’d keep the master in either the first box, or the last.” Since there was no master reference sheet in the final box, Lela dug through the dusty piles until she saw box 1, toward the back. Opening the box, she did immediately see the master reference sheet in the front, with every 30 files or so hand written in slightly different ink, felt tip, blue, black, etc. She read each file name on the list and finally, on page 2, approximately halfway down the page, she spotted “Dossler” on the sheet, file number112. ‘That means it’s about 29 years ago’ she thought to herself. She tried box 4, but it ended at file 111, so she jumped to box 5, but found it started at file 113, so she returned to box 4 and went straight to the back, only to confirm that it ended at file 111. File 112 was missing. Noticing the time, she left to meet Pfister and hoped she could prevent the bastard Currier from pulling the funding because they couldn’t produce results faster than humanly possible.

  At 10 am, Pfister greeted her and briefed her on the way to the conference room.

  “Lela, he wants us to produce results faster or he’s going to pull all the funding.”

  “Well, we can only do what is humanly possible. Maybe we can speed up the crops and teleport matter for him while we’re at it,” she replied. Five hours later they left with the funding retained and a detailed, painstakingly scheduled agreement of deliverables.

  Driving down the mountain, she dialed Bianca’s familiar number on autopilot.

  “Hey, Bianca. I’m only back in the states for a couple days. That Currier jerk threatened to pull all our funding, but Pfister and I fixed it. I’m leaving the office now. Wanna meet up for dinner later?” Lela inquired.

  “Yeah. Dandelion Café at six, babe. Oh, and James keeps emailing me asking how you’re doing. Why he doesn’t just call you is beyond me, but please call him, I beg of you.” Bianca responded.

  “Unbelievable. He barely cares if I’m alive or dead for months and now it’s all, where am I? I’ll call him if I have time. Thanks, Bianca. I’ll see ya later, just gotta take care of something first.” Lela watched the scenery change as her hybrid SUV made its way through town and into the winding streets of the historic district. Pulling up to the antique Victorian home with its’ familiar wraparound porch, it seemed a million years since she’d first visited Phillip Harriman’s office. She smiled as she thought of her guarded exchange with Brett on the porch, which now seemed odd since he had come to be someone she trusted more than almost anyone else.

  In the cocoon of Harriman’s office, sitting in a Queen Ann high-backed chair, Lela’s relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to the tension of her first visit. She looked at Phillip more as a person for the first time, and noticed he was a pretty handsome fellow, and his easy manner made him seem almost-dateable. She resolved to introduce him to one of her friends when things calmed down and gratefully accepted tea from him.

  “Thank you. Okay, here I am, as requested, with the raw mineral.” She plopped a lemon-sized chunk of raw mineral she’d retrieved from the cavern on the carved cherry table. Phillip Harriman pensively lifted the purple gem from its resting place and held it in his hands. Feeling overwhelmed, he quickly replaced the mineral to the table.

  “Powerful stuff. Give me a minute.” He lifted it again, with both hands, closing his eyes.

  “God. I can see everything over there. Your family is fine. They made it to the other side. Gabriel wants to get you a message, but he hasn’t learned how yet.” Phillip informed. He put down the rock and opened his eyes.

  “That mineral sure does act like an amplifier. Everything is much clearer,” he added.

  Lela struggled for her questions, forming them slowly, “What are you saying, that they’re in heaven? And what happened with the accident?”

>   “I don’t have all the answers, Lela. I never think of crossing over as going to heaven because it doesn’t come across that way to me, but I don’t like to tell people what to think. It was an accident, from our point of view, but really they were called. They have a higher mission and they had to leave here to achieve it, but there was no malice in it.” He was clear and thoughtful in his explanation.

  “There’s a file I was looking for this morning, but couldn’t find-any ideas?” she hoped he might have some useful insight.

  “This one’s different from Gabriel’s. Was this your mother’s?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she confirmed.

  “Did you ever look in that back yellow room upstairs, the one that used to be a nursery?” he asked.

  “No, I forgot,” she admitted truthfully, “I’ll look. If you say Gabriel is trying to get me a message, what can I do? I mean, I’m not really into that sort of thing, what if he can’t get through to me or something because I’m so …distant?”

  “I’d keep some of the mineral with you. It seems to facilitate. And be on the lookout-it should be something very specific, something you would absolutely know is from him. The cavern will be your savior, and Gabriel’s. That’s all I see.” Lela shook his hand and gave him the lump of mineral.

  “Thanks, Phillip. You keep this one. I have more and I’ll bring some more back from Africa for you.” Lela confided openly.

  “Thank you, Lela. Safe travels.” he responded, walking her out.

  After dinner with Bianca, though tired, Lela knew she could not sleep if she did not return to her parent’s house to look for the file. Proceeding immediately to the former nursery, she looked around and saw nothing unusual. Sifting through the dresser in the now guest room, she found only clothes and linens, nothing out of the ordinary. The only remnants of the room’s life as a former nursery lay in the closet, a disassembled crib and three boxes of baby clothes. One clearly labeled Lela, one clearly labeled Gabriel and a third, smaller box that said “Baby” on it. Then “B.D” and the year. Lela recalled it mentioned once that one of her mother’s charity endeavors was to take in a pregnant teenager for about six months, giving her a place to stay until she had the baby and could get back into school. The girl’s parents had kicked her out. Lela was reminded of her mother’s good heart. The baby was two or three months old when the girl moved out. Lela had no recollection as it was all before she was born. She opened the box and saw a teddy bear and tiny choo choo train outfit on top, with a matching hat.

  Digging further into the contents of the box, she found more clothes, some pictures and then a large manila envelope. Opening it, her heart jumped as she realized it contained a file folder. Drawing it out slowly, she stepped from the shadows of the closet into the clear light of the room and read “Baby Girl Dossler” clearly on the tab. Lela sat tentatively on the edge of the bed and gingerly opened the file, still stunned to be learning her parents had secrets from them. The file contained blood work for the infant, a lock of baby hair, and a recently-printed Pheres genetic printout for her DNA. Nothing seemed particularly notable to Lela, no diseases, no anomalies. Clearly, her mother had been researching this child and not just housing the mother. In the bottom right corner of the page, in her mother’s handwriting, Lela read “Psalm 139”.

  She immediately went to her parents’ bedroom and pulled her mother’s bible from the nightstand on her side of the bed. Psalm 139, underlined in bold red by her mother, were the words:

  “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were.”

  In the underlining, one phrase within the paragraph was underlined twice, whereas the rest was underlined once: “my soul knows it very well,”

  Back in Phillip Harriman’s office, he held the mineral and focused on his remote viewing techniques. He saw Gabriel sitting next to Mr. Aquila on a semicircular sofa with several others. He couldn’t believe how much clearer his visions were with use of the mineral. Phillip watched as the scene unfolded.

  Chapter 16

  The recruits sat on two semicircular sofas in the common area. Kyle bit his nails as Jane tapped her foot nervously.

  It was Jane who finally broke the silence. “When will the doctors be finished with George? Ugh.”

  “And where’s Saraceni?” David added.

  “Wood said that Saraceni will be in as soon as he can, that he’s with some other team fixing the alarm. He’ll be here” Jack reassured, his shoulders set back and square jaw jutting forward slightly.

  “Kyle, are you okay? What happened back there?” Chandra queried.

  “I just felt like I was gonna pass out, that’s all,” he replied. “Then my head started hurting really badly. I felt…like I had something I wanted to say, but then it went away. I’m fine.” Looking at him, his hair was pushed back from his face for once. A cold sweat had frozen it in place, making his face appear thinner and paler than normal. He did have an odd look, as if he hadn’t slept in a thousand years. Kyle’s brow was knitted, struggling to remember, yet he could not. The key images were just out of reach.

  Wood and Gabriel entered the room and many recruits stood, anticipating the news they would bring.

  “How’s George?” Jane asked urgently.

  Wood delivered the news welcomingly. “He’s alright. No change.”

  “Where is Saraceni, Wood?” Gabriel asked sternly.

  “What’s wrong?” Gabriel paced the common area and all of Molior could tell that he was upset. Some walked toward him, huddling around, eager for any additional information about the unfathomable events of the day. Others were attentive from their seats.

  “What’s wrong?” Alexander asked his son. As if on cue, Saraceni entered and immediately registered that something was wrong with his prized training class. Having just come from the briefing room, he, too, looked as tired as Kyle.

  Gabriel thought carefully and examined the others. His father paced, clearly rattled by having seen Mrs. Aquila with no opportunity to speak to her. Kyle was biting his nails, while Chandra now tapped her own manicured nails nervously on the countertop. Enam’s eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, clearly calming himself.

  Gabriel decided to go on the offense. “Saraceni, what’s going on? We know nothing. There are alarms going off-we’re powerless to do anything. Now I find in George’s room detailed writings that talk all about killing Governor Jacob. How on earth are we to trust you people when we clearly don’t even know what’s going on? How does George even know who Governor Jacob was? He wasn’t even on our bus.” Gabriel watched Saraceni like he had cast a line into the deep sea.

  Saraceni sat on the sofa edge, rubbing the back of his neck with closed eyes. Again-careworn, weary. The shoulders of Atlas. A full minute passed. Saraceni slowly opened his eyes and clocked Gabriel with a level gaze. The shift in the air was perceptible to all. Finally he spoke.

  “Because George is Governor Jacob. Many of us here have lived before. Many times. You even know some of our other names from history,” Saraceni said.

  Even Juliet was speechless. With no witty comebacks, the group just digested the information.

  “Like reincarnation?” Jack was the first to hesitantly break the silence.

  “Somewhat, but not exactly like you know it. Again, we merely reframe what you already know into the proper context. You don’t die and go to heaven and all that and go back. Not through our process. It’s really more medical. We’ve just perfected body recreation and repair to such a point that it takes many, many cycles for someone here to actually die,” Saraceni responded.

  Kyle stepped back, blinking a few times, looking like a teen that just learned it was time to be a man.


  “I’ve been here before, too, haven’t I? That’s why it seems so familiar?” he asked Saraceni.

  “Yes, Kyle, you and George have been here before. You were needed and we had to pull you back early.” Saraceni put his arm around his longtime friend.

  After a pensive moment, Enam, absentmindedly rubbing where his scar used to be, was the next to query, “Then why doesn’t George look like Governor Jacob?”

  “The first time you are here, you are created in the image of the body of your life, but after you have been here many times, you can choose before you leave which body form you would like to enter when you return. George chose one of his historic forms before he left,” Saraceni explained. Gabriel again hesitated before proceeding. He almost wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question.

  “You keep saying “there” and “here”. Where are we?” he asked on behalf of the entire group.

  “On Earth,” Saraceni responded. A long pause ensued.

  “Then where were we?” Alexander asked hesitantly. Ruth had been standing unnoticed in the doorway for some time. She wouldn’t have chosen this path for these recruits. Not this early. Their assimilation was too important, but now Pandora ’s Box had been opened.

  “Come with me. I must show you,” Ruth confided. She turned and walked down the corridor to the training room with the measured steps of a General going into battle . It was not just Ruth’s experience through many lifetimes that translated into her calculated demeanor, but a formidable character that had been hers from the beginning. In her youth, she was more energetic and brash, more like Juliet, but no less exceptional. Upon reaching the training room, Ruth stood against the back wall, the warm amber glow of the light from the orb caressing her features and the progression of paintings through time displayed behind her on the wall. Just above her right shoulder clearly displayed on the middle painting was the signature ‘Saraceni’. Chandra, who had minored in art with her anthropology degree looked at Saraceni with awe.