The New World Covenant

by Norm & Kim Bourque

  "So Dr. Greer what would your opinion be then on the content of the message?" asked Jerry.

  "Rubbish. Words used to provoke fear in people and as you can see, it certainly has been very successful. You only need to go out on the street and listen to would be preachers on the corner spewing such nonsense as the world is ending. Other zealots are capitalizing on these reports of Messengers as well. Some are even trying to say they are one of these Messengers and don't even get me started on the conspiracy theorists, they're having a grand old time saying it's the government trying to cover up evidence of 'little green men', absolute nonsense in my opinion," replied Dr. Greer.

  Jerry asked, "What about the miracles that we are now experiencing? Is there any connection to this?"

  "Things like this happen all the time, we're just hearing about them now because of this reference to Messengers. Ignorant people are just looking for their thirty seconds of fame," Dr. Greer replied.

  "Well I really appreciate your coming on the show tonight Dr. Greer, it has been very informative. That's our show for tonight. Join us tomorrow for another episode of ‘Expert's Corner'."

  Chapter 11

  FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

  Stranger Saves Partygoers from Certain Death

  New Delhi, India - Man leads wedding party through burning building to safety.

  Last night, The Taj Regent Resort was hosting a wedding reception for two hundred fifty people in its penthouse dining room when a fire broke out a few floors below it and quickly spread. Reports coming in indicate that the resort was not properly equipped with fire sprinklers in the stairwells and they quickly filled with thick black smoke preventing the guests from escaping the burning building.

  "We were sure we were going to die," said the groom as panic spread through the room.

  When smoke began to filter into the room and it seemed that there was no hope, witnesses reported that a young man appeared from the stairwell and gestured for them to follow him.

  Some of the guests reported feeling a strange sense of calm come over them, while others reported being in a trancelike state as they lined up behind him to follow him into the smoke filled stairwell.

  “It was strange the way his eyes lit up,” one young girl stated.

  An older man told reporters, “There was smoke all around me but I could breathe just fine.”

  The fire department indicated that the man was not one of their personnel and was unknown to them and as they hadn't been able to reach the top floor, they had presumed all the guests would perish.

  The fire department was able to contain the fire to the resort and everyone watched as the building burned completely to the ground. How anyone got out is unbelievable. The fire chief declared it a miracle.

  It appears that the Good Samaritan left the scene unnoticed in all of the commotion and authorities were unable to locate him.

  Witnesses described a young white man with possibly brown or dark blonde hair.

  Authorities are actively seeking any information on the identity of the individual.

  Contact:

  Police Commissioner

  New Delhi Police Department

  br.brapta@nic.in

  New Delhi, India

  Chapter 12

  Murphy was dreaming of their honeymoon in the Caribbean, lying on the beach under a palm tree sipping fruity cocktails, him with both feet in the warm white sand soaking up the heat and Seraphina staring out over the water. He watched her for a few minutes her long blond hair bleached from the salt water drying in the hot tropical sun. Her figure was perfect, breasts firm, waist tiny, legs long and tanned. He could still feel the softness of her skin under his hand as they made love and the smell of her hair when she rested her head on his shoulder. He could feel the fullness of her lips against his and he was content.

  A young man observed the man from the hospital ICU viewing window with deep interest. He watched as a smile crossed the tired face and he knew the sleep was fulfilling.

  He quietly entered the room and picked up the medical chart. He rested his hand gently on the patient's stomach while he reviewed the papers and with a nod, he slipped back out of the room.

  “Not time yet,” he whispered.

  The rustling of the papers startled Murphy and he jerked awake. There was no one there.

  He rubbed his aching eyes. He longed to be back on that beach with his lover, his best friend.

  Murphy held her hand and silently promised the unconscious woman that he would be a better husband if she would just come back to him. A tear slid down his cheek and he absently wiped it away.

  He sat quietly observing the fine laugh lines faintly visible, radiating from the corners of her eyes and wondered if he would ever see those beautiful brown eyes sparkle with laughter again. His eyes traced the shape of the full mouth and remembered the passion they could ignite. He never realized just how much he truly loved this woman. What would life be without them if she never woke up? Was this why he was now questioning what he had always believed in?

  Nighttime in the hospital was quiet and lonely. He looked out into the hall. With the lights turned down low the shadows seemed dark and forbidding. He had a feeling of being watched but could see no one in the darkness. He went back to his chair. He tried to shake the feeling but the more he tried the stronger it seemed to be getting. The hair on his arms and back of his neck stood up. He looked toward the glass-viewing window but it was too dark and he could not see through to the other side. He only saw the lights in the room reflecting back at him and his wife lying still in the bed and he could see himself, pale and gaunt, eyes deep dark hollows. He got up from the chair again and moved to the doorway. He glanced down the hallway to the right but the long corridor was empty. He turned to the left and stared down the equally long corridor. Was that a shadow down near the exit at the end? He continued to watch the area hoping to see someone but nothing moved and eventually he shook his head and went back into the room. The feeling was gone and he settled back down in the chair for another long night.

  I guess the cop inside never sleeps, he thought.

  Chapter 13

  Tightly clustered little white bungalows radiated from a small square, their red clay roofs gleaming in the early morning sun. The little community lay nestled on the top of a flattened hill, surrounded on three sides by lush tropical forest and on the fourth by a gentle slope leading down to the ocean, the waves tirelessly breaking onto a pristine strip of white sandy beach that stretched for many miles in both directions from the opening.

  In the centre of the square stood a tall fountain, its top a beautiful marble tiger lily. Gently the water cascaded along its delicate carved petals to trickle down into a small basin and as it filled, it overflowed to a second, larger, even more ornate basin. Some days the light would reflect on the water and form such beautiful rainbows, it was almost magical. A wide cement ledge encircled the bottom basin and it was here that the residents came together to sit and talk.

  The square was not technically square, but more of a long rectangle that started from where the main road to the village ended, forming a circle that led back away from the village and ending at the other end at a small path leading down to the ocean. It was made of bricks running in a circular path out from the fountain.

  One side of the square contained a number of shops, and on the other side stood the grocery store.

  On the shop side, it started with a small restaurant on the corner of the square nearest the roadway. In front of its large picture window were two small tables that residents and visitors used frequently. Next to it was the small bookstore, a Laundromat, hairdresser and a small gift shop that sold crafts made by the villagers. A small side street ran alongside the gift shop away from the square. This led to the small group of residential homes, separated by small paths that ran in a grid pattern, each path leading to five or six homes on each side, approximately fifty small bungalows in total.

  On the other side of the square
, fronting the whole block stood the grocery store. It being such a small village, the grocery store served many purposes; its main purpose of course was to supply the residents with basic packaged foods, fresh produce, and meats. It also served as the pharmacy where the residents were able to fill their prescriptions and even sold a limited selection of clothing items. To the villagers' one of its most important functions was its role as the local post office where people could get their mail and the parcels they had ordered online through one of the two community computers, the one in the school and the one in the corner of the museum. The government continued to provide these free internet connections to the residents as a means to allow them to remain in the community but still have some connection to their families and to products and services available throughout the world.

  Along the side of the grocery store, following the shoreline ran another path, which led to a small clinic for the community and one-room schoolhouse on the left and the church and graveyard on the right.

  Twelve-year-old Leilani walked slowly along the small street, not concerned about cars, the paths being far too narrow to accommodate them.

  Where the two lane main road formed its circular turnaround, there was just enough room for the daily tour busses to pull up and let out the curious outsiders. Since the time when the village received its designation as an historic sight, the tour busses started to bring people. The government used the monies they raised to help with the upkeep of the property and keep the school and clinic staffed.

  Leilani would sometimes stop to watch the visitors as they stepped down from the bus, and she would laugh at their nervous looks when they caught glimpses of the residents. Some of the women and young girls wore pretty gloves and big floppy hats that came down low on their foreheads. Leilani would shake her head and wonder why these people came here if they were so scared of them. She would not come if she did not already live here. It was a strange concept to Leilani that someone would choose to come here when there were so many more amazing and beautiful things to see in the world. Leilani spent many hours learning about places she could only dream about visiting, a virtual world available to her through the magic of the Internet.

  She could understood the reasons why the residents still remained here, in this community together, but she knew she needed more than life in this village could offer her. She wanted to taste the world beyond the safety of her home. One day, I will see the world, she thought defiantly.

  Her parents understood these feelings but they were quick to try to discourage them. They knew how it would break their daughter's spirit if she really knew what was out there.

  "They do not understand us Leilani. We are better off here, in our homes. They do not have any possessions that we can't get here. You are too young to understand that the world is an intolerant and cruel place to those that are different. You should be content with all the blessings you already have." They would say this whenever the subject of leaving the community came up, and they would not consider even taking a day trip.

  Every week Father Brown came to the village and held the sermon in the small church that overlooked the ocean on the edge of the village. It was here that she learned of God and she eagerly looked forward to these weekly visits. Over time, Leilani learned how to develop a personal mantra that she would repeat to herself whenever she felt her spirit tested. "God believes in us and we must believe in him." She repeated it again this morning but it did not seem to change her mood. If anything, she was even more depressed and lonely than normal.

  She had been born in this village and never ventured beyond its borders and therefore had no preconceived notion of what others may consider acceptable to society. In her mind those who shared this village and how they conducted their lives, should be no different from any other community. To her, all people were the same, but with her flawed vision and without an outside frame of reference, she could not understand or appreciate the differences others could see between herself, her neighbours and the outside world. Here in the safety of this village, where all were equal, there could be no prejudice, no looks of disgust or revulsion, no fear, and no intolerance. Here there was only love, acceptance, and understanding, nurtured by the circumstance of life itself.

  As she slowly moved past the identical white bungalows, she could tell you who lived in every single one of them. The one with all the flowerpots belonged to Mother Mia, the oldest remaining resident. She would be turning eighty-nine this year, Leilani marvelled to herself. Next to her was grumpy old man Suni. He wasn't always grumpy though, sometimes he would give her a quick little smile when she went by. This house across the street was where the Chong family lived. They had tried to brighten the place up by putting on bright blue shutters beside the windows, but they somehow looked out of place, a little like how she felt, she thought, as if she really didn't fit in. Her attention drawn to another little house further along, Mr. Clarkson was just coming out his front door. He had painted it a really, shiny red to show that he didn't want to be like everyone else with their plain old white doors. His wife could make great cookies, big ones filled with chocolate chunks and raisins. She always brought them to the monthly community potluck dinner. The potluck dinner was a way for everyone to share in the lives of those who had passed and those remaining and even those who had managed to relocate from this place. It was a way to celebrate a common legacy and appreciation of the beauty within each one of them.

  Leilani continued on her way to meet up with the rest of the remaining village children at the fountain, just as she did every morning. From here, they would probably end up on the beach, just as they always did on nice days. She sighed with boredom. Today was the same as every other day.

  She looked across the square as one of the big white tour busses pulled up to the curb.

  She slowed her pace, she was in no hurry to get where she was going this morning, choosing to wait and see who would get off today.

  The first off was the tour guide. She was an average looking woman with straight brown hair and slim build. Her name was Katie and even though Leilani had seen her many times before, they rarely said more than a quick hello to each other in passing. Leilani would have liked to talk to her more and learn about the world she lived in, but she was much too shy to start a conversation.

  An older man and woman disembarked next, clearly a married couple of many years and their two young boys, who looked to be about 9 or 10. The woman looked around nervously and cautioned the boys not to stray too far. The boys joked and pushed each other as they waited for the rest.

  Katie stepped forward to help three senior women navigate the steps, their nonstop chatter continuing long after they had reached the square just to the left of the bus.

  A quiet young man made his way down the stairs as Katie was helping the older women. He looked about him, his eyes intense as he took in the surroundings. His eyes met Leilani's and briefly held them. He smiled and turned to help the two college students with their backpacks, waiting to climb down after him. They followed him to the paved square where Katie waited patiently.

  "Okay everyone," Katie began as she gathered them all together, "This is the famous Mana’olana Lae Leper Colony, which translates to 'Hope Point', and even though this is an historic site, there are still a number of residents that live in these homes, so please stay to the pathways and public buildings. Now, if you will follow me, we will get started.”

  “Is it okay to talk to them?” one of the young boys asked curiously.

  “We must try to be respectful of their privacy, but if you are approached, you are welcome to enter into conversations,” Katie replied.

  She led the way to the centre of the square and gestured up at the fountain.

  “This fountain was built to provide water to its residents by one of the original founders of this colony, Father Kameáloha. The Father came here shortly after he was banished from his homeland of Ireland as a form of penance for teaching his flock more about the world o
f spirituality than was allowed in the doctrines of the Church for the time. His name was originally Father James but the islanders called him Father Kameáloha that meant ‘beloved one’ in their language.”

  She dropped her fingers into the water. “It’s a really marvellous piece of engineering for something that is almost one hundred fifty years old. The Father was very skilled in engineering and many of the conveniences available to the community over the years were due to his inventions. He knew no community could survive without a good drinking source, so he dug an elaborate system of underground aqueducts to funnel water from the surrounding countryside to form a pool under this fountain. Then, using a unique water hydraulic system originally designed by the Romans to supply water to their fountains, he brought the water up to the top of this one so it could cascade down and by keeping the water circulating, was able to prevent it from turning stagnant and undrinkable. And as you can see, he was quite the artist as well; he hand sculpted the tiger lily on the top to hide the mechanics of the water delivery system and giving it a classic beauty.”