by Ken Hansen
Tomadus looked down and mumbled, “I do not know.”
Isa tilted his head, smiled and said, “Then neither do I.” He looked up at the others. “Rest assured all of you: that ship will soon sail, not three days after I tell everyone it is finished.”
Chapter 88
Jochi remained in the garden alone, thinking about Isa’s latest words. She struggled to reconcile them with what she now knew of the other world of this Jesus that Tomadus and she had seen. Would they soon sail to paradise? When would the ship be finished? She shook her head and kneeled down in prayer. “Dear Father, I thank you again for sending Isa to us. Please let me travel with him on his ship to paradise. Dear Lord, help me understand these visions you have sent me of this other world. Isa calls this ability a gift, yet it confuses me so. Please help me to understand why you have given me this gift.”
Jochi looked up at the sky. She saw the glow of the sun, its comforting rays warming her cheeks. She smiled. The sun’s rays seemed to grow in intensity until she could see nothing but light. Then the visions of the other world began. She saw a beautiful city from a distance, like she was on a mountain above. Suddenly, the brightness of the sun seemed to envelop the city for a second, evaporating into a cloud that covered the city from view. When the cloud finally cleared, much of the city had simply disappeared among the ashes. Except it had not just disappeared, it had been ruined, for the rubble began to appear through the smoke along with the burned bodies of now unrecognizable humans. As she began screaming in terror, a gentle man appeared—was it Isa? He smiled softly at her and touched her on the shoulder. When she covered her hand with his, he waved his other hand, and the city began rebuilding itself before her eyes.
When the light subsided, Jochi found herself on her hands and knees, sobbing. On the ground before her, she noticed the former contents of her stomach. She returned to her knees and yelled out, “Why have you shown me this? I do not understand.”
The light flashed again and the former vision of the sun exploding over the city repeated many times, though each episode differed. Yes, she was on a mountain above a beautiful city. And yes, the beautiful city was destroyed. But each time the destruction came to a different beautiful city. And this time, a man in black hair and a black beard sat next to her on the mountain watching the destruction. The man had a tattoo on his upper left arm consisting of tiny identical black dots repeating in equidistant spaces in increasingly larger rows to form the shape of a perfect equilateral triangle with “T36” written below it. The other arm displayed the tattoo of a leopard. Each time a new city was destroyed, he looked at her and bellowed as if gloating over yet another victory. The light began to subside, but the images had overwhelmed her, and she collapsed.
When she awoke, only a few long rays of the sun still found their way through the line of trees to the garden. She felt the dampness of her chador against her body, the abundance of sweat still cooling her body late in the day. She returned to her knees and tried again to pray, but the visions would not return. When she began to shake and cry, she bit her lip and thought of Isa. He could help me understand. She took a few deep breaths and the shaking stopped.
Jochi soon found her way back to the small house in Bethany where Isa and many of the Ten were staying. When she entered the common room, Diego stopped playing his oud, stood and walked over to her. “Are you all right, Jochi?”
“I…I don’t know. I think I’ll be OK. Have you seen Isa?”
“He’s in the bedroom upstairs.”
“Asleep?” she asked.
“No, praying I think.”
“Oh.”
“You look like you need him.” Diego gestured up the stairs.
She looked up the stairs and hesitated. “I don’t…I don’t know.”
“He won’t mind. He and I are the only ones here. You can go—it is Isa.”
Just before she arrived at the door, Isa opened it. “Jochi, welcome. You feel great pain. Come, sit down and tell me what troubles you.”
After Isa closed the door quietly behind them, Jochi sat on the bed with Isa beside her. “I have told you before that I am having visions of the other world Tomadus mentions.”
“Yes. A gift from the Father.”
“I know you have said that, but I am having trouble believing it is anything but a curse.”
“A curse?”
“The visions I am seeing grow increasingly horrible. Tomadus has mentioned none of these. He talks only of threats from a Pardus his Huxley is trying to stop. Why do I see these other terrors when he does not?”
“Like Tomadus, you must find your own answers, Jochi.”
“I know, but please help me down that path. These visions are tearing me apart. I passed out for several hours after the last vision. I don’t know how much longer I can continue.”
Isa smiled gently and patted her shoulder. “Be careful not to become fixated with time.”
“Fixated with time? You mean my visions may be of a time different than Tomadus’s? But how? I feel like I see this world through Sonatina. I have seen his Huxley with my own eyes.”
“And yet…”
“And yet I see things he doesn’t see. Horrible things. They must be the other world in his Huxley’s future.”
“Must be?”
“Yes. No. Wait. I had two very different visions. The first made me wretch in horror, but then you…”
“Me?”
“Well, someone like you. He seemed to make things better. But then I woke and began praying again. The next vision made me whimper helplessly. It was worse, far worse. The wicked man just kept laughing as everything was destroyed.”
When she began crying, Isa put his arm around her and pulled her head to his chest. “These two visions seem to conflict.”
“Yes, it is as if they are two different futures, two different versions of this other world. What can this mean? I beg of you Isa, please tell me. You must know. You know everything.”
“Do you have faith in me, Jochi?’
“Of course. You were sent by the Father. I believe.”
“Then you understand what must happen here, in this world.”
Jochi pulled back and looked into his eyes, which gazed back into her, as they always did. She nodded and burst into tears. “There must be another way.”
“Tomadus must play his role. I believe in you, Jochi, as you believe in me. If only Tomadus could…”
“Could what?”
“Jochi, you and Tomadus play an important role in this other world. Can you see that?”
She nodded.
“And Huxley and Sonatina play an important role in this world. Can you see that?”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“This gift you and Tomadus share is exceedingly rare. Such gifts are not granted without purpose. Your awareness of your intertwined souls can benefit both worlds.”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.
“Our Father works in mysterious ways,” Isa said. “If each of you have faith, you shall do what is right. Have faith. You shall save yourself and so many others.”
Jochi begged Isa to explain, but he would say no more. They stood and embraced, the tears still running down her cheeks.
Despite so little sleep, Huxley had struggled to nod off in the transport back to the States. And every time he managed it, he awoke thinking of the same strange dream. When his transport reached Andrews AFB, Huxley saw that Anwari had sent him a brief text: “Is Najwa Pardus? In Dubai w Dracoratio.” I should have flown to Dubai. His chest pounding, Huxley tried calling Anwari, but there was no answer. Damn! He could not call Emirate Security forces. That would completely blow Anwari’s cover. All he could do for Anwari now was hope.
Sonatina had called but left no message. The only voice mail was from Lt. Patismio, who told Huxley that he was heading to bed, so Huxley should call him tomorrow.
Huxley’s phone started singing to him, and he saw Sonatina’s name pop up.
When he closed his eyes, he envisioned not the gentle smile of her pleasing visage but the winking eye of a cardinal’s conceit. He looked at the phone again, began returning it to his pocket, then stopped and hit the green button. “How is my favorite Vatican art administrator? I hear you give a great tour.”
“Che cosa? Chris, you all right?”
“Just tired.”
“Tired—you still having that same dream?”
“No, onto a new one.”
“Tell me.” After a few seconds of silence, she added sweetly, “Please, Chris, I can help you.”
Huxley tilted his head, his eyes darting. Why not? She needs to believe you still trust her. “Ok. On the transport I kept dreaming that I was sitting in a garden on a hill in a strange land. I was with a dozen or so men and a woman—I think it was you. No, not quite. Anyway, we were all sitting in a circle, listening to that same man in white robes. He was telling us a story about a boat builder on an island and how the boat builder planned to take his followers across the sea to a land of paradise revealed to him only in his visions. He wanted one of his followers to believe his vision, but he couldn’t. He said he could only go with him to paradise if he believed the vision. He stopped the story and looked right at me. I was wearing a strange robe as well. He asked me what the brilliant man did and I told him I didn’t know, though I knew he was talking about me.”
“What…uh…what did the man in the white robes say when you said that?” Sonatina asked.
“He just told me that he didn’t know either.”
Sonatina gasped. “Chris, these dreams are from God. Don’t you see?”
Huxley laughed. “It is just a strange dream. I always get those when I have gone too long without sleep.”
“But what about me?”
“You?”
“I had the same dream, but from the woman’s perspective. I’ve had many crazy dreams lately, but this is at least the second time I’ve dreamed the same thing as you.”
“You’re joking. You must have heard me talk about it.”
“No. You were on the transport. We’ve never talked about boat builders or paradise. It is not coincidence. You must listen to your dreams.”
“Listen? To what? A man in robes talk about building boats?”
“You know who He is.”
“I know who you want him to be.”
“He said He didn’t know.”
“So?”
“So, He’s telling you that you still have a chance. You must believe in Him.”
A tingle slinked slowly down Huxley’s back. Huxley closed his eyes and shook his head. She trying to screw with me—another Pardusian tactic? “Why do you keep doing this to me?”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to shove God back in my face.”
“Chris, I don’t dream for you. I don’t carry the crucifix for you. I don’t have conversations with priests about the existence of God. Just admit it to yourself. You still need Him.”
“Look. Just drop it, will you. I’m tired. Yes, I dreamed again. But let it go. I am so tired from this long journey.”
“Your flight to Washington,” she said.
“Yeah, that too. No, I mean this much longer journey.”
“Oh, the terrorist’s game.”
“Game? Yes, his game. Know anything more?” he asked.
“I identified the Arab who received the package. Patismio said it was some guy named Najwar, or something like that.”
“Najwa? Baqir Najwa?” Huxley asked with excitement.
“Si. Is that helpful?”
Huxley shook his head. “You never disappoint.”
“I hope not, yet you sound disappointed.”
“No, just worried.”
“About what?” she asked.
“Sorry, can’t share that.”
“No. I guess not.” Now she sounded disappointed.
Huxley stared at two F-22s taking off. Should he say more? If she were with him, it wouldn’t matter. If she were not, then it would help confirm for Pardus that he believed in Pardus’s fake target. “I do have some good news. I figured out the latest poem, well, most of it. You were right on the father angle. Washington is the father of my country. Washington never slept in the White House, which lies in front of Jefferson’s statue. And it appears Washington was not murdered like all those Washington residents may be soon if I can’t manage to wrap my head around this thing.”
“Brilliant,” she replied enthusiastically. “Then you have reached the end of the line. It makes sense because Washington is the American capital. Yes, that is where a terrorist would strike if they could. It even fits my…”
“Fits your what?”
“Nothing…uh…my thoughts. It fits my thoughts. You have found your answer.”
Huxley cocked his head. She really excited or just priming the pump for Pardus? Keep playing. “Not quite. I still don’t know who Pardus is, unless…” He paused to see if she would fill in the blank.
She accommodated. “Pardus is Baqir Najwa?”
“Why would you say that?” he asked.
“Why not? He’s obviously tied in with Fine. Maybe you could find out for certain if you arrest and interrogate him?”
Huxley frowned. Are you tied in with Fine too? “Kind of hard to interrogate a dead man.”
“Dead? I saw him. You have to believe me, Chris.”
He tried to make his voice upbeat. “Of course I do. Yet there is still something quite disquieting about a supposedly dead Arab receiving a package from a corrupt former cardinal in the middle of the night.”
“You being funny?” she asked tensely.
He shook his head. “How else can I be? You?”
“Funny?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think so.” Worry tightened her voice. “You all right?”
“Just tired, I guess.” That and he couldn’t get the cardinal’s wink out of his mind. “You said you didn’t know Fine well, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?”
Sonatina spoke quietly. “I forgot to tell you one thing about Fine.”
“What’s that?” Huxley asked.
She paused a few seconds. “He was on the Vatican Art Board for a year or so. He was a creep and kept looking at me with wanting eyes.”
“He think you were the Mona Lisa?”
“More like Venus de Milo. And that man has taken a vow of celibacy. Now you know why I think he is a snake.”
Huxley frowned. Was this honesty or had he tipped off that the cardinal had mentioned something to him and now she was covering? “You just thought of telling me this now?”
“Si. Mi dispiace, but it did not seem important to your investigation, and I…I tend to block it out. Have you ever done that, Chris?”
He sighed. “Sure. I’m a bit worried about you though. Washington may be one target, but I have a feeling Rome is the other.”
“Should I come to see you there? I have plenty of vacation time saved.”
“No. It’s probably more dangerous in the States right now. I’ll let you know if I think you should get out.”
“I trust you with my life, Chris. Do you trust me?” she asked.
He held back a sigh. “How could I not?”
“Do you trust me when I tell you that I love you?”
“That takes a warhead full of trust for me, but I think I’m almost there.”
“Almost?” she asked, this time pouting genuinely.
“Hey, Venus, it doesn’t matter, you know, because I would love you even if you favored my worst enemy. How could I not?” His tone had made it sound like a joke, but he wasn’t sure…
…As Tomadus climbed the stairs to Isa’s room, he paused halfway up to let his latest vision wash over him. Huxley had struggled to trust Sonatina again, but this was not just another episode in Huxley’s life. Huxley had told her of a strange dream with a scene so familiar to Tomadus that he had not even realized Huxley had drea
med it because it overlapped with his own memories in this world. Huxley had dreamed it, but Tomadus had lived it. He still felt pangs of doubt when he thought of Isa’s last question to him: “And what do you think this brilliant man did?” After he closed his eyes to dispel the vision, its import finally struck him—if Huxley dreamed of him and he heard Huxley’s dreams, then maybe the two could find a way to communicate across the divide of these parallel universes. But why was Huxley dreaming of Tomadus now? And how could he cause Huxley to dream of him again? He shook his head. He must discuss it with Jochi. He continued up the stairs.
Not wanting to disturb Isa from prayer, Tomadus quietly opened the bedroom door. What he saw in the dimly lit room sent his heart to his stomach: Jochi emerged from Isa’s arms as she wiped a tear and turned to leave. When Isa held her hand firmly and looked at her with such a soft look of pure love, Tomadus nearly turned away in embarrassment. She nodded at Isa gently with a loving yet slightly restrained smile and turned to the door, seeing Tomadus for the first time. She smiled at him too, and he wanted to return the expression, but a somehow familiar verse clouded his thoughts: “Poor king of love, in my own law forlorn. To love a cheek that smiles at me in scorn!” Where had he read that? Scorn? She had only been kind to him as had Isa. He forced a nod and smile to Jochi as she left the room.
Isa stood silently, his arms crossed. “You must forgive her,” Isa said softly. “She is being pulled in many directions, but she, too, will eventually understand.”
“Do you love her?”
“Of course,” Isa replied as if Tomadus had asked him whether he breathed air. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, I would like to share my plan with you.”
Isa raised his eyebrows. “Your plan?”
“Yes. The broadcast was only a beginning. In some ways, it may have made things worse. We need to change your path before it is too late.”
“My path?” responded Isa woodenly.
“Yes, you know as well as I do what happened to Jesus. You seem to be going down the same path, but we can find a new way. This time we have a friend on the inside who can help us.”
Isa laughed.
“What?”