"Who first?" Jack asked, putting the car in gear.
"Let's see that hospital guard, Paulie first. He seemed the most observant."
They pulled up to the elegant brick home. In the front yard, they could see Paulie pruning the small hedges along the sidewalk.
"Morning Mr. Moretti," Murphy called out.
"Good morning Detectives. Please call me Paulie, everyone does. What can I do for you today?"
"We'd like you to take a look at a sketch and tell me if you've ever seen this person." Jack handed Paulie the sketch and they watched Paulie study it.
Paulie responded, "Come to think of it, it looks like that nurse I saw the night that young girl went missing."
"Are you sure?" Murphy asked.
Paulie looked at the sketch again. "I'm pretty sure. They even have the brightness of his eyes."
Jack took back the sketch. "Thanks for your time." They said their goodbyes and got back into the vehicle.
"Where to next?" Jack asked Murphy.
"I'd like to see what the Rabbi's sister says."
Jack shuddered. "Do we have to, she makes me feel like I misbehaved in school and I'm waiting to see the Principal."
Murphy smiled. "I bet you did that quite a bit."
Jack laughed, as they drove away from the curb, "No comment officer."
They stood on the doorstep waiting for someone to answer the door. Eventually the Rabbi's sister, Rachel, opened it.
"You're back. What can I do for you this time Detectives?"
Murphy smiled at her. "Good morning Ms. Jossel, I wondered if you could take a look at a sketch for me and tell me if you've ever seen this person."
"I don't know what this has to do with my brother or my niece's disappearances but I suppose seeing as you've driven all this way to see me, I can take a look." She sighed deeply, clearly expressing her disapproval at this waste of time.
Jack handed her the sketch without a word.
She pulled her glasses to her eyes and glanced at the paper. She did not say a word for a moment then, with some hesitation, she spoke, "I can't be sure of course, but this face reminds me of that salesman that showed up here the day Asher left, the one that interrupted our lunch. This is black and white but I'm sure his eyes were green, lighter than it appears in this sketch." She handed back the paper to Murphy.
"Does this man have something to do with Asher or Hannah?" she demanded to know.
"We're not sure Ms. Jossel. We are just following up on some leads. We'll be in touch if we need anything else. Thank you," Murphy responded.
They heard the door shut firmly behind them and both grimaced.
As they walked back to the car Murphy spoke to the face in the sketch, "Jason, Jason, what are you up to?"
When they were back in the safety of the car, Jack commented, "That's interesting. This proves there's definitely a connection between the disappearances and this Jason fellow. Green is not a common color for eyes." He motioned towards the sketch.
Murphy said, "Did you just figure that one out?"
"Smart ass! Let's go see if we can find Sylvia Alvarez. Now I'm curious if there's a connection there as well."
Murphy said, "You're driving Watson."
The neighbourhood they drove into was definitely not of the same calibre as either Paulie's or even the Rabbi's. A few small bungalows struggled to maintain their existence in the shadow of the large apartment complexes, most decorated with graffiti messages, their small yards untended and everywhere, small plants and spindly trees barely existing in the dust and dirt. Garbage cans filled to overflowing stood beside doorways, and cracked windows showed in many of the apartments, a faint smell of urine emanating from the open doorways to the complexes.
Jack checked the apartment number on his notepad and gestured to a three-story apartment building that didn't seem to be as neglected as most of the others. She lives on the third floor in there.
"Well, let's go." Murphy entered the building.
Sylvia answered the door, her eyes red and swollen.
"What do you want?" she mumbled, stepping back into the apartment to let them pass.
The room was clean and quite cheery. Evidently, she had tried to make the best of her circumstances. The furniture was old but well looked after.
"We'd like you to take a look at a sketch and tell me if you've ever seen this person," Murphy commented quietly and handed her the sketch.
Sylvia rubbed her eyes and then looked down at the paper. "Who is this guy?" she asked without looking up.
"Do you recognize him Sylvia?" Murphy did not answer her question.
She hesitated, studying the face. She moved to the window to allow more light on the picture.
She came back to Murphy, handed back the paper, and nodded.
"That's the guy I saw take my Vince." Her tiny body was vibrating with anger. "Who is he?" she demanded.
"Thank you for your help Sylvia. Here's my card, if you remember anything else about this person, give me a call. We'll be in touch," Murphy said.
"I still have the last one you gave me. You don't know who he is, do you?" Sylvia challenged them as they made their way from the apartment, following them. "If it is him and you find him, will you arrest him for killing my Vince?"
Murphy answered her, "Sylvia, we don't know if any crime was even committed yet."
"Typical, just because I live in the slums, you don't believe me," she responded.
Murphy turned back to her, his voice stern, "Sylvia, I don't care where you live or what your circumstances are. We're still trying to piece this all together. You have to appreciate that we have no body and no other witnesses so we're doing the best we can. The person in this sketch may or may not be a person of interest but when we have something we'll let you know," he paused, his voice softer, "Sylvia, I intend to find him and then everyone will have answers."
Sylvia did not respond, she just stood on the step, and watched them leave.
Jack was still driving, heading back to the station house as Murphy absently stared at the sketch.
Murphy thought to himself, I'm going to find you Jason and we are going to have that talk.
They drove back to the station house in silence.
"I guess we'd better get an APB out on this Jason guy. We know he's somehow involved in these disappearances. What I can't figure out is what the connection to Seraphina is?" Jack commented.
"I don't know Jack, but I am worried about it. What is going on here? I can't help thinking it has something to do with this Messenger business. Is it possible that this Jason is one of the Messengers and if so, what are his intentions?" Murphy took a deep breath and released it slowly.
Jack tried to reassure Murphy as he said, "If he is one of the 'God Virus' Messengers, has there been one negative story out of all the stories we've heard?"
Murphy looked at Jack. "How would you explain the ghosts?"
Chapter 35
The old Indian Chief watched out over the valley. His heavy lidded eyes masked the sadness in his heart. The wrinkles on his face attesting to his many years on this earth. He reached down and gently rubbed the neck of his painted mustang. They’d been together for so many years and had seen the world change in so many ways that were confusing to each in their own way.
To the old mustang, he no longer roamed freely, enjoying the bounty his journey would once have offered. Now he endured the confines of an enclosure where only old tired grass was available to sustain his waning hunger. He nickered softly in response to the old man’s touch. He felt comfort and peace as he listened to the sounds of the valley.
The proud old man felt the age of his bones with each movement of his stiff fingers and bent back but he gained no satisfaction in knowing that soon it would not matter, he would be one with the Earthly Mother, and the mighty Spirit in the Sky, and his pain will be no longer. But what of those he would leave behind, those brothers and sisters of his beloved mustang. What would become of them? The lands of the r
eservation seemed to be closing in and settlements were pressing against them.
No longer could the "God Dogs" run free across earth’s majestic mountains and valleys and he and his people could no longer assure their safety or even their very existence in these modern times. No longer were they to be revered and valued. Now they were to be rounded-up and slaughtered if they strayed beyond the safety of the reservation. He knew the men were waiting, eager for their prize and the majesty of the once mighty herds would be but a memory to speak of over campfires.
These wild horses, unchained in a land of freedom, were a statement to a fading way of life and a poignant symbol to the few who could remember, and a constant reminder to those who sought to make the rules to chain the freedoms of other living things.
There would be no holding back the progress of humankind but sadly, the mustang would not be part of that future. If only destiny had played a different game, he thought as his mind wandered through the history of the ages. He sighed. Perhaps he would not now feel the heavy burden of his sacred earth as she struggled to understand the scars inflicted on her by the very ones she nurtured.
He watched the clouds pass over the peaceful valley and turned his mustang back towards the mountains.
********
A young hiker was slowly making his way along a narrow path flanking a rocky outcropping when a thunderous sound filled the air and the ground shook under his feet. The hiker stopped, not sure whether to proceed or retreat, fearing the ground near the cliff edge would be unstable.
The sound persisted and his curiosity overcame the fear. He moved closer to the edge and peered over.
Below him was an unbelievable sight. Hundreds of wild mustangs surged down the narrow valley, heading towards a wooden pen off in the distance, designed to block their way to freedom.
He could see their coats were shiny with sweat, their manes, and tails flying in the breeze created by their frantic flight, their multi colors of black, brown, and white merging as one then separating again like a vibrant flowing blanket moving down the valley. He could not recall ever seeing so magical a sight. He had always heard about the majesty of the wild mustangs, but never imagined that he would actually see them.
The first blush of his euphoria waned as he realized what the fates had in store for this group and his heart felt heavy as he looked back towards the waiting pen. He knew what it meant; they would soon be losing their freedom, their way of life. Once captured many could face an uncertain future.
He walked further along the cliff edge toward the pen, irresistibly drawn to the enclosure. He understood that if the horses continued to multiply without some controls this could be a problem but he also knew these horses represented a quickly vanishing legacy of the past. Soon, all this would be gone and no one left to hand down the story of this time in history.
By the time he reached the edge of the cliffs above the enclosure, the gates had closed and many men now stood around waiting, allowing the horses enough time to calm down and adjust to their new surroundings.
About a dozen large horse tractor-trailers stood ready to receive the animals, the drivers smoking and drinking from their open bottles of alcohol as they waited impatiently for the time when they could take their share of the animals. Their posture showed their boredom, many having performed this same act several times in the past, it would be a bountiful haul. Their trailers would soon become overloaded.
Darkness was quickly descending and the hiker made the decision to set up camp for the night where he could see and hear the horses. It may be the last opportunity he would have to experience this.
The men below built a large campfire to keep warm before an early morning start. They were becoming boisterous and laughing loudly as the effects from the liquor took hold.
The hiker sat up for most of the night watching the mustangs and watching the men by the campfire. Not daring to build a fire, keeping quiet, trying not to bring attention, no need to have the men below investigate and start a confrontation. There was time and it was best to keep them guessing.
As he watched, one big black stallion seemed to sense him there and his head turned towards him. The horse's nostrils flared as it tested the cool night air and a glowing light reflected in his eyes. His big head shook as he lowered it to the small grey mare by his side as she looked up at him. He nudged her neck in a gesture of reassurance.
The men below grew quiet and fell into a deep alcohol induced sleep. When he too could keep his eyes open no longer, he curled up into a foetal position on the ground, Mother Earth being so comforting, as he drifted into sleep.
His mind filled with wondrous thoughts. A beautiful scene unfolded in his dream standing behind the silhouette of a man wearing a cowboy hat. He was seeing the land that stretched out before him as far as his green eyes could see, in every direction. Rolling hills and plentiful green grass gently swaying in the breeze and a babbling stream sounded in the distance. When he looked closer, he saw wild mustangs, many hundreds of beautiful shades of browns, blacks, whites, and greys. He studied them as they meandered through the grasses. One big black fellow looked over at him, lowered his head while gently pawing at the ground in front of him, then he raised his head, his nostrils flaring as he stood beneath a giant oak tree. He flicked his long tail, gave a mighty snort, and started to move away. The remaining mustangs raised their heads to follow him and turned in the direction he had started in, and as one, the herd moved towards the distant hills.
The stallion paused for a moment, looked back at the man, his eyes lit up one more time in gratitude. The man acknowledged by touching the brim of his cowboy hat. With a toss of his big black head, he turned back to his herd and never looked back again as they faded into the horizon.
The hiker woke and without looking back continued along the path. The men below silently dismantled the pen and without a word, left without their bounty, their trailers empty, their minds puzzled but at peace.
Life once again returning to nature in balance, somewhere our Earthly Mother in agreement, her paradise...and for one old man a debt owed returned in full, the haunting of the sightless eyes...now at peace.
As it was meant to be living in harmony with nature. Knowing the Carter family would not mind.
Chapter 36
Emma sipped from her water glass as she waited for the class to settle. The lesson she was to teach today dealt with how spiritual belief be interpreted through modern religious dogmas.
She sat on the corner of her desk and smiled at her students.
“Good morning everyone, before we begin, let’s take a moment to make a list of what constitutes spirituality."
She stepped to the whiteboard and stood poised with her marker ready to write.
The room grew quiet.
“Professor, I know this isn’t the topic of the lesson but we’ve been hearing a lot of stories that we are having trouble understanding. I was wondering what your thoughts were on the accounts of God’s Messengers maybe being on the earth. Could we discuss these current events?” asked one of the young male students.
Emma turned to the class. “Well Derek, I do agree that isn’t really the lesson for today but it certainly is relevant to the topic of spirituality, which we know is the belief in a higher divine power. Why don’t we start by listing some of the stories you’ve heard and then we can discuss them in more detail.”
She turned back to the whiteboard.
Derek responded, “I guess one of the first things I’d like to know about these Messengers are who they are and what they are? Are they Angels?”
Emma wrote, "Messengers – who/what are they?" on the board.
“What about that twelve year old girl who they say can cure people?” One young female student offered.
Emma nodded and added "young girl cures people" to the list.
Another young student commented, “I was reading on the Internet that there are a lot of people vanishing, some in front of witnesses. There was one report
that says the Pope himself might actually be among those that are missing. I heard the Vatican won’t respond to the rumours but it seems no one has seen the Pope in public for a couple of days now, so I’m wondering if it might be true.”
Emma nodded and added "the Pope Vanished?" to her list.
“I had heard that as well Melanie. I also heard that recently missing person reports were filed with the police on a local Rabbi and his daughter, who also vanished.” She added these to her list.
She turned back to the class. “Okay, so let’s take this word 'Messengers', what do you think it could mean?”
The responses ranged from angel to alien.
Emma asked, “So what evidence do we have that they could be here?”
“Well, we do have people vanishing,” one person responded, "Does that sound like something that an Angel would do or perhaps it's an alien abduction?"
The New World Covenant Page 25