The Cosmic Spark

by Leo Ndelle

  “I thought I was dead too… father!” Patrick replied and the way he said ‘father’ was more intimate than the way he had said the word on the day he broke Kumba bread with Shi’mon.

  “Mind if we all get our turns?” Yehuda asked playfully. “It’s not every time one gets to meet the savior of Earth Realm!”

  Shi’mon chuckled and watched as every member of his team hugged Patrick and thanked him profusely. Miryam kissed Patrick on the cheek as a loving mother would. He could not have been prouder of his boy, his protégé. Patrick, Earth Realm’s Protector… It had a catchy feel to it.

  Patrick saw Sarael still kneeling in the snow. He smiled slightly and walked towards her. He knelt in front of her and held her gaze.

  “I’m sorry, Mari-” he started saying.

  But Sarael crashed into him and held him in a hug that was even tighter than Shi’mon’s. She was wailing for joy, a gesture which made Patrick’s heart melt.

  “I hate you, Patrick!” she said and kissed him many times on the cheek and lips. “I hate you so much.”

  “I know,” Patrick said calmly and took her face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  Suddenly, Sarael punched him hard in the shoulder and Patrick faked pain.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again! Understood!” Sarael commanded.

  “Yes, ma’am!” Patrick replied with a military salute.

  “She was always a drama queen, Patrick,” Miryam said as Patrick and Sarael stood up. “You don’t know what you got yourself into.”

  “I wouldn’t have her any other way, ma’am,” Patrick said and winked at Sarael.

  “Well, I speak for us all when I say it’s so great to have you back with us, son,” Shi’mon said. “I know Marissa is especially happy.”

  “Uncle!” Sarael exclaimed and tried to hide her embarrassment.

  “Thank you, father,” Patrick said. “Thank you all. It’s great to be back.”

  “I cannot tell you how happy I am, son,” Shi’mon said and took Patrick by the shoulders. “I do not know how I could have told your mother.”

  “You did not tell her anything yet, did you?” Patrick asked.

  “Of course not!” Shi’mon replied.

  “Wait! How long have I been gone for?” Patrick asked.

  “Less than 48 hours,” Yaakov replied.

  “Oh, ok!” Patrick replied.

  “Let’s return home now,” Shi’mon added. “You have a lot of explaining to do and we have to get you up to speed as well.”

  “Aye, Father!” Patrick replied in his agent tone of voice.

  Sarael took Patrick by the hand and laced her fingers with his as Team Shi’mon teleported away. They were the last to teleport. She turned around and kissed him deeply on the lips, not out of desire or sexual attraction. It was a kiss of friendship and happiness.

  “Seriously, though,” Sarael said. “Don’t die on me again. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Patrick smiled and the couple teleported to Shi’mon’s residence.

  Patrick and Sarael arrived just in time to hear Shi’mon’s phone ringing. Shi’mon accepted the call and put it on speaker.

  “Yes, Antonio,” he said with his authoritative voice.

  “They would like to speak with you, Father Supreme,” Father Antonio said.

  “Connect them to my monitor here,” Shi’mon said.

  “Aye, Sir!” Antonio replied.

  “World leaders,” Shi’mon said to the rest of the team. “Cloak yourselves.”

  A few seconds later, the eager faces of twelve heads of state appeared on his 65-inch monitor.

  “Hello ladies and gentlemen,” Shi’mon greeted with a coldness that these heads of state were used to seeing. “I believe you have some questions for me.”

  ***

  When the wave of cosmic energy hit Beelzebub, he innately knew something terrible was going to happen. He looked up and watched as his demons fell towards Earth Realm. He relaxed his shoulders, thinking he was just overreacting and that everything was fine. Then, there were multiple explosions in the air as every demon got wiped out by the cosmic energy blast. Beelzebub was furious beyond words! This was not Michael’s doing. But how? How could these primitive creatures accomplish such a feat? Beelzebub let out a scream of rage and flared his form, burning every living thing within a quarter-of-a-mile radius to cinders. The Beast had been poked and now, The Beast was going to react. His initial plan was to release his own polarization blast in small doses. However, given the insult the humans had just dealt on him, Earth Realm was about to feel the full blast of what he had in store for them: chaos like they had never known in the entire existence.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CONFERENCE CALL

  “SOMEBODY TELL ME what the hell’s going on!” Pres. Maurice Kirk of the United States demanded.

  “Watch your tone, Maurice,” Pres. Petrov Sergei of Russia said calmly. “You work for China and not everyone works for you.”

  Before Maurice could reply, Pres. Qi Fong-Wei, of the People’s Republic of China stepped in quickly.

  “Perhaps we should all focus on the situation at hand,” he offered. “We have much to discuss.”

  There were slightly delayed nods on every monitor as each president waited for a translation. President Kirk was the last to nod his agreement.

  “Thank you,” Pres. Fong-Wei said. “And to the leader of the O.R., what can you tell us about this situation, please?”

  “Better yet, do you have some secret weapon we should know of?” President Kirk interjected, more out of ego than genuine curiosity.

  That Chinese bugger was not going to run the show while he, Kirk of the USA was on the conference call.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for joining the call,” Shi’mon said, ignoring President Kirk’s rudeness.

  Each leader spoke in their native tongue and Shi’mon understood them. When Shi’mon addressed the leaders in general, he did so in English. But when he spoke directly to a leader, he spoke in the leader’s native tongue.

  “Your space agencies must have already informed you that this was no meteor shower,” Shi’mon dove right in. “And your extraterrestrial friends must have already informed you that this was not an ET invasion. Our intel indicates that the shower was from ODB’s.”

  “I’m sorry, what are ODB’s?” Prime Minister-elect Indira Patel of India asked.

  “Outer Dimensional Beings,” Pres. Catherine Versailles of France replied.

  “Oh!” Prime Minister-elect Patel said. “Thanks, Catherine. Please, continue,” she added, referring to Shi’mon.

  “So what were these ODB’s?” Pres. Kirk asked. “Could you please provide us with some further details?”

  Presidents Sergei and Fong-Wei smiled visibly, not at the question, but at the fact that Pres. Kirk had learned his manners. The taming was successful.

  “You only need to know that 1), these were ODB’s and 2), they have been taken care of,” Shi’mon replied firmly.

  “What are you hiding, Mister Mystery Man?” President Kirk was insistent. “And what do you mean by they’ve been ‘taken out’?”

  Shi’mon furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance.

  “I wanna know if we should be concerned about you and your organization!” Pres. Kirk ranted. “You leave us in the dark, you defy our authority…”

  Shi’mon was no longer listening to Pres. Kirk. He sighed heavily, picked up his phone, pressed a button, spoke a few words into his phone and before he placed the phone back on the table, Pres. Kirk’s portion on the monitor went black. Kirk had been disconnected from the conference call. Shi’mon took a few seconds to look at the remaining faces on his monitor.

  “Before I continue,” he said, “does anyone else wish to express any concerns as to what we do for this planet?”

  Everyone remained silent, while the presidents of Russia and China chuckled away. The Prime Minister of Great Britain was visibly furious.

  “Good,” said Father S
upreme. “As I was saying, we neutralized these ODB’s but we have reason to believe that this is not over yet. We are still gathering intel and assessing our next line of defense.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Pres. Fong-Wei asked.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Father Supreme replied. “But thank you for offering.”

  “You’re welcome,” Pres. Fong-Wei said. “But I’m compelled to ask; what makes you so certain that we can’t help you? I mean, we are the leaders of the most powerful nations in the world. We have the best weapons and technology this planet has to offer. I believe we can come together for the sake of our planet to fight any ODB’s or E.T.’s that threaten our existence. Would you not agree?”

  “I agree with Qi on this,” Prime Minister James Foxworth of Great Britain chimed in, partly because he did not want to feel left out and partly because he was curious as to why the organization was rejecting outside help.

  “Your points are very valid,” Shi’mon replied and adjusted his form on his seat. “Rest assured that we reject your aide, not out of spite, but for the fact that these attacks cannot be neutralized with your weapons and technology.”

  “And YOU possess the weaponry and technology to wipe out these ODB’s just like that?” Pres. Sergei asked, snapping his fingers.

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk.

  “Or powerful enough to cause a global blackout?” Pres. Versailles added.

  “We do have someone,” Shi’mon replied. “Not a weapon. Just someone. And you do not have to worry about this person.”

  “But I am concerned,” Pres. Sergei said. “I am seriously concerned about this secret… weapon that you have that you are unwilling to share with us.”

  “No more willing than you are to share yours with us,” Shi’mon retorted.

  Shi’mon let a few seconds go by before he continued.

  “Fellow leaders,” he addressed them with polite sternness. “Earth Realm is in grave danger. Now, I can’t stop you from doing your part in saving the planet. But the time will come when you realize the truth of my words; that your weapons are useless against what is coming. My organization and I have work to do. I will keep you all promptly apprised. You have my word on that.”

  A man walked in and whispered something into Pres. Sergei’s ear as Shi’mon was talking. Pres. Sergei excused himself and disconnected from the conference call. The same thing happened to each leader. Shi’mon looked at his phone, expecting it to ring at any moment. The team removed their cloaks of invisibility as Shi’mon’s phone started ringing.

  “There is a serious spike in consciousness levels worldwide, Father Supreme,” Father Antonio sounded frantic. “I have never seen anything like this before.”

  “I understand,” Father Supreme replied. “I will be on my way shortly.”

  “Any orders while we wait, Sir?” Father Antonio asked.

  Father Antonio’s voice was heavy with helplessness at the situation. It was the first time he or any other member on his team had witnessed such a massive spike in consciousness levels. Historical data had indicated slight spikes during major events like the world wars, hippie, civil rights, women empowerment movements and some major natural disasters. But this spike dwarfed all the spikes in the last century combined.

  “Keep monitoring the spikes and keep me apprised,” Shi’mon replied and disconnected the call.

  That was a better reply than saying there was nothing he or anyone else could do. Shi’mon then turned around to face his team. Eliel’s words were coming to pass and there was nothing they could do about it.

  “Hey Yoch,” Tau’ma said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “How does it feel witnessing firsthand your prophecies becoming fulfilled?”

  “You know I didn’t write the Book of Revelation, don’t you?” Yoch replied as he grinned. “Do I look greyed out and living in exile on the Isle of Patmos?”

  “You do to me, brother,” Matt chimed in. “Come on now, there’s no shame in owning your phenomenal display of your psychic powers. Ooohhhh!”

  Matt made a funny face and everyone laughed out loud.

  “Wait!” Sasha snapped. “So, if you did not write the Book of Revelation, then who did? And, who wrote the Gospels?”

  Sasha’s question was fair. The team looked at one another and smiled at her naiveté. They thought her curiosity was cute. So they took their time to explain to her that during their earlier lives, they met some good and bad people. Some of these good people elected to share their stories with these folks. Some of these folks transcribed with good intentions. But later, thanks to the Council of Nicaea, many of these stories were either left out or grossly edited to suit the religious, sociological and political purposes of the time, and hence, the present-day, multi-revised editions of the Christian Bible. Sasha nodded.

  “I learn something new about you all every time,” she said.

  “We will have to face The Beast again,” Yehuda said and everyone’s focus returned to the subject at hand. “It may be a much tougher battle this time.”

  “That will not remedy the situation,” Shi’mon countered. “He has already given his mark.”

  “What do we do then?” Miryam asked.

  “We will still kill The Beast,” Shi’mon said. “But I think our priority should be reversing the mark and killing billions of people is out of the question.”

  “There has to be a way,” Sarael sounded frustrated. “The mark is a tag for a much greater polarization to come, right?”

  “Perhaps,” Shi’mon replied, trying to understand the reason for her question.

  “What if there was a way to cause a polarization of consciousness to the light side?” Sarael asked.

  “We already know there must be a reversal somehow, Marissa!” Shi’mon spoke with unconcealed frustration and impatience.

  He breathed in to calm himself before he let his frustration get the better of him. Sarael did not take offense, though. She understood the reason for his outburst. Suddenly, Patrick whipped his head upwards and his eyes brightened.

  “I think I may have an idea!” Patrick exclaimed. “It may be a long shot, but it’s our only shot.”

  The team converged around Patrick. When they heard his plan, there was renewed hope for a solution to the mark of The Beast.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE MARK OF THE BEAST

  BOB CALLAGHAN WAS passionate about his career as a truck driver and he had two decades to vouch for him. The long drives were perfect meditation moments for him, but Bob was even more thrilled by the fact that when he was on the road, he was away from his nagging wife. Their marriage was great at the start, but six years, two kids and an extra thirty pounds later, his wife had become the ugliest, fouled-mouth, bitch of a skank Bob had ever known. Just his honest opinions of his wife. He was far from perfect, but his imperfections made him a saint when compared to her. God, he hated being around that woman! But he stuck around for the sake of the kids. He longed for the day when the kids would be out of the nest. He would dump that bitch of a wife without thinking twice.

  He took the exit off Interstate 95N highway towards Towson and blended with the slowing traffic of the 695 beltway towards Towson. It was midday on a Friday and the highway was not yet a parking lot. He cruised Selena, his eighteen-wheeler at 65mph. Bob silently counted his blessings. Except for his mortgage, he had zero debt. Come time for college, his kids would have to apply for student loans because there was no way in hell he was getting into debt for them. His peers with their fancy jobs, houses and cars were miserable and heavily in debt. He, Bob, was a happy man and he had his frugality to thank for. But was he really happy? Were his thoughts in line with reality?

  Today, as Bob caressed the steering wheel of the monster of a vehicle, he felt strange stirrings deep within him. His hatred for his wife, his suppressed hatred for how his life had turned out compared to those of his peers with their fancy jobs, houses and all, his hatred for being forced
into fatherhood and marriage because he knocked up a skank he had met at a bar after a romp behind the dumpster, and everything that was wrong about life suddenly felt exponentially worse. He cursed his dead father, cursed the dead mother he never knew, cursed the job he had, cursed the highway and the drivers on it, cursed his wife, cursed his children and his freaking life!

  Yes, it was life’s fault! ALL of life was to blame for his current situation! Life was mean, life was unfair and everyone else was to blame! Screw them! SCREW THEM ALL! They will pay, even if it meant burning down the state! But no, he had a better idea. He did not have to burn down the state; not yet, anyway. He would have to start small and then work his way up and outwards like a chain reaction. Life must answer for this travesty. It was a perfect plan in his mind and he grinned evilly at his genius. With this final conviction, Bob jammed his foot into the accelerator and turned the eighteen-wheeler, filled with gasoline, into an 80,000-pound highway weapon of mass destruction and death.

  ***

  Frankie rocked her baby brother in her arms while her mother made lunch. She was seven when her mother divorced her father. Eight years later, her mother had remarried. Contrary to what she witnessed her peers from divorced family go through, Frankie did not suffer psychologically from her parents’ divorce. She had adapted to the new situation as one would welcome a new, regular outfit. It was just another outfit; big deal! Who cared anyway? She still saw her father 50% of the time, according to the divorce gibberish her parents had tried to explain to her; details she did not care for and details she wished her parents could just shut up about, which they did… three years later.

  Why could they not see that she did not care about them not being together anymore? Why could they not see that she did not care for therapy? Why could they not just believe that when she said she was fine, she actually meant she was FINE, goddamnit! Why, why, why? They were the ones who needed counseling. They were the ones who could not handle the fact that she was fine with their divorce. She, Frankie, was the adult in this triangle of a relationship. Pathetic!