“You saw this in the short period you were in contact with her light?” Rafa queries.
“Yeah. Yeah and more, but I need time to put together all that I saw and felt.” He looks at me and says, “But being with the life forces of mom and dad, that was the highlight of it all. They haven’t forgotten about us and they certainly haven’t ceased to exist. The life force they are now is beautiful.”
He turns to Twizzle and tells her, “Take hold of my hand.” She gives him a wary look and then grasps his palm in her fingers, cocks her head sideways, and frowns. After a moment a huge grin replaces the frown. “Oh!” she exclaims. She releases Zed’s hand and looks up towards the sky and then twirls around slowly looking all around us until her focus comes back to Zed. “They are everywhere, aren’t they? The life force of my mom and dad and your parents, too. Everywhere! They never left. They never deserted us.” She takes my hand and gently says, “For you.”
Instantly, I hear our parents Maggie and Bob at my ears as their presence washes over me. I close my eyes and see them everywhere, in everything as a life force. I am floored. I had no idea. Their presence extends over the horizon in every direction and up into the sky. When I open my eyes, Zed and Twizzle are watching me with big smiles on their faces.
“Radical, huh?” Zed remarks.
Twizzle joins in. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
I nod in silent awe. “Who knew? Who the hell knew?” It’s a mesmerizingly happy moment.
“We should have done something like this years ago," Zed proposes in jest. “All we had to do was kill off our local Gi and look what happens. Houston, we have contact.”
We face each other smiling like idiots, all except Rafa who laughs and quips, “Whatever just happened, I don’t mind being part of it even if I have only a vague idea of what’s going on.”
Zed smacks him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the weirdest family reunion in the world, Bull. More than what you bargained for, huh?”
Sonnet’s legacy Chapter 14
Three Days Later
Yesterday, around noon, we had one of the legendary “leopard rains.” The morning started out clear and bright with only scattered, happy clouds. Then tall, sinister clouds raced forward and darkened the sky to a greyish magenta. Winds whipped the treetops and shredded the softer papaya and banana leaves. Lightning was everywhere, crashing to the ground, cutting trees in half with great explosions. The accompanying odor of ozone stung our nostrils and permeated the air. Then, sounding like a gargantuan army of small drums, a hard-driving downpour of heavy rain—sudden, furious, and paralyzing—soaked us. All life in the village and the compound scrambled for cover. With animal speed, the deluge roared through the area and pounded on the metal roof so that all conversation was rendered impossible. Everyone took shelter inside buildings and under eaves—miserably wet and chilled while the water ran off of the roofs in liquid avalanches. The soil, already soaked from the previous day’s downpours, became inches deep in quick delivered water, too fast for the land to absorb.
One hour later, the shower tapered off abruptly as the storm thundered out of the area. When it neared ending, the sun burst through the departing clouds and colored the falling water beads in silver. A brief rainbow appeared, signaling the end of the drenching and the beginning of recovery. Building doors opened and the Bangala Elongó walked out into the drenched landscape, kicking up the still-standing water with their sandaled feet. They stepped out from under the eaves and went back to what they were doing before the rain. Children ran laughing into the puddles, splashing and playing.
That was yesterday.
Today there is torrential rain and reports of flooding along the Congo River. The Kwango River rises every day, widening and increasing in volume and speed. Away from the river and inside our building, our kitchen area is slowly emptying of the Bangala Elongó who have come for another day of chanting and spiritual support for Sonnet. Bull and Twizzle sit off in a corner of the room sipping coffee and conversing with two of the security men. Zed is in another corner of the room in animated conversation with one of the Bangala Elongó who is having trouble with his truck. Kitoko and Kinshasa sit listening to our doctor, Bijanji. Kinshasa’s small infant is nestled into her bosom, nursing, and quiet.
I am at the sink, washing and stacking dishes and silverware from the morning’s breakfast. The clink and clatter of people eating at the table is gone, replaced by the sounds of water from the faucet and the clack of the plates I stack in the drying basket. A soft murmur of voices surrounds me. The rain has let up briefly, making conversation easier over the din of precipitation hitting the metal roof. The Bangala Elongó woman helping me by drying dishes returns to my side, towel in hand, to reduce the stack of wet dishes in the drainer. She gives me a kind smile and tells me to not worry about Molingami Sonnet, that she is looking better every day. When I ask her about Kitoko and Kinshasa, she shrugs and says they will recover, they are young and unbreakable. I glance over my shoulder at the two of them and wonder. It seems that the healthier Sonnet gets, the worse they appear. Unsmiling, they look terribly fatigued. They have not left Sonnet’s side since they started except to eat occasionally, take bathroom breaks, and sleep.
Kitoko catches me staring at her and simply stares back, apparently too exhausted to do much else. She feels weak to me and I wonder how effective she and Kinshasa are going to be if this drags on much longer.
She stands and walks across the room to me. She gestures for me to bring my head down to her level. When I stoop to her, she places her lips only inches from my ear and whispers in Lingala, “Do not worry for me, Mundélé Elombé. I draw strength from the Bangala Elongó who give me their love every day. The journey is almost complete. Molingami Sonnet is nearly joined fully with her selves. All will be well. Maybe today your Molingami Sonnet will be whole and without sickness.” She kisses me on the cheek, and then turns and walks back to Kinshasa who is still listening to Bijanji.
The woman helping me with the dishes touches my forearm and says in Lingala, “See. There is still life in little Kitoko. I see it in her step. Her face betrays her fatigue, but her walk is that of youthful strength. She and Kinshasa will endure.”
When Kitoko joins Kinshasa, the doctor and Kinshasa stand and start out of the room. Kinshasa’s baby is handed off to another woman who beams with a bright smile at the child. I watch their backs and then watch them through the windows as they head over to Sonnet’s building. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Twizzle is watching me. When she sees she has my attention, she waves me over. I ask the woman helping me if she can take over for me. She happily sets her towel down and tells me to go to my sister. Apparently, she was watching both of us.
As I sit down in a wooden chair next to Bull, Twizzle touches the top of my hand affectionately. “You holding up?”
“That is what I should be asking both you and Rafa.” I glance over to Rafa, who looks rested. His eyes no longer have that tombstone dullness that was there when he first returned. They are intelligent and almost happy. “You been eating since you got back?” I ask him.
“Can’t stop. Twizzle has been so accommodating, cooking and accepting prepared dishes from the Bangala Elongó women who bring them for me. They say they can’t stand to see me like this—that I must eat and return to my former bigness. They say it is bad medicine for me to be so boney. Couldn’t agree with them more. I’m doing my best to keep up with the outpouring of welcome. Still limping, but I’ll get over that.”
“Have you seen Sonnet this morning?” Twizzle asks me.
“No. ‘Women only,’ remember? I’m banned from the ‘voodoo lounge.’ You talk to her today?”
Twizzle nods in the affirmative. “We’ve been talking about Chile’s Atacama Desert for the laser array. She says we need to relocate there.”
This is a surprise. “Abandon the village?”
“Yeah. Pick up everything and move. She is adamant. She says we need to establish ourselves there with the
laser array and the telescopes and everything.”
“What about the Bangala Elongó? We just abandon them?”
“This is their homeland. They belong here. They wouldn’t want to leave, even if they could. We’re just peripheral to their lives.”
I snort my disagreement and point to the Bangala Elongó around us. “Does this look like peripheral to you? They’ve stopped everything to be here with their Molingami Sonnet. She’s a central figure to them.”
“Not anymore, according to Sonnet. She says they feel her change. They sense the distance between them and her growing as she heals. They feel she is no longer in the trenches with them, but is moving on to some other place. She says they know what is happening and they talk among themselves about life without her and Zed and you. They say they have been taking care of you, not the other way around. They appreciate and love you all, but they have lives here. The Chilean desert is too foreign to them. It’s not their way of life.”
I sit back in my chair to absorb the news. “Guess I’m not so in touch with the Bangala Elongó as I thought.”
Twizzle gives me a soft look of sympathy. “Mundélé Elombé, you have always been the odd man out. Face it. It’s your lot in life. In Chile, I’m sure you’ll acquire a new nickname just as endearing as your nickname here.”
“So why do we uproot ourselves from here? What is in the Chilean desert besides your laser array?”
“Sonnet says Gi will reestablish there.”
“Are we talking about her as the Gi or are we talking about something else?”
“We are in a quandary here, aren’t we? When I talk to Sonnet, I see Sonnet, but I’m not sure who or what I’m talking to. She weaves in and out her former self to the new self. I can’t tell which I am in the company of. She has a presence about her that is unmistakable. It’s hard to disbelieve her words. She projects a new authority. God only knows what is inside of her head now that she is combined Gis.”
“And who knows what else, according to Zed. Does he know about this?”
“He does and he’s making preparations for maintaining his contact with them to fix stuff when it breaks down. He’s setting up software and hardware so he can troubleshoot with them anything that breaks down while he’s in Chile. He doesn’t want to completely abandon them. He wants to travel back and forth between the two sites, making sure all is still functioning after he leaves.”
“Him they will miss,” I note.
“I think he will miss them just as much.”
“So when does the break happen?”
“As soon as Sonnet is well and ready to travel. It’s her schedule. I’m only hanging around until she gives the signal. Once she says ‘go’ we pack and start preparations. I’ve already phoned the Foundation to obtain visas for us. We fly out of here, rest up in Napa Valley for a week or so while preparations are made for us in the desert and then we leave for Chile.”
“You’re moving to Chile also?”
“No. My situation doesn’t change. It’s just you, Zed, and Sonnet. Same arrangements as here. Only you three will be starting over. Exactly where, remains to be seen. This is pretty new.”
“You aren’t worried about the security of the Bangala Elongó?”
“All my security team leaves with us and goes back to the states. I know you’re thinking I don’t care about these people, but I do. My guys will give them whatever they need to make them feel comfortable here. Sonnet says they need very little. They’re used to life here and are unafraid. I guess I’m the one who worries, not them.”
Rafa directs our attention to the doorway of our building where the doctor, Bijanji, has just entered. She’s walking in our direction and smiling. “Mundélé Elombé,” she announces in Lingala, “Molingami Sonnet asks for you. She is much improved and much stronger. She says it is time you and she spoke.”
Sonnet’s Legacy Chapter 15
A heavy wave of warm, damp, musky wild animal odor assaults me when I enter Sonnet’s building. The presence of thousands of butterflies and moths of various colors and species fluttering about the room offsets the effect of the pungent and rank atmosphere. Sunlight through the windows bouncing off of their colorful and iridescent wings gives the room a magical feeling. The sound of animal feet skittering over the metal roof above, mixed in with the last of the still-falling rain, creates a sort of cacophonic ambiance.
Seated on a pillow on the wooden floor in the middle of dust-laden light cascading through an adjacent window is Sonnet, cross-legged like an Indian swami, spotlighted by the sunlight and holding a luminous butterfly in her palm. The wings of the butterfly slowly open and close as if it were a mechanical creation controlled by tiny clockworks with spinning gears. Her hair, dry and wispy, appears as a reddish Renaissance painting halo around her head. Her all-white short-sleeve shift covers her body down to her knees. Her skin radiates porcelain cream in the solar beam. Gazing up at me when I enter, she pats the colorful pillow on the floor next to her as an invitation to join her.
I glance around the room and see we are the only humans in the building. Everything else is insects. The musky odor intensifies as I close the distance between us, making me uncomfortably aware she is the source of the scent. She looks up at me, benignly, as my nose instinctively wrinkles. In the distance, I hear receding thunder from the fast-traveling storm that recently drenched us.
“Sit, Uncle Forbes. It’s been too long since we last spoke. I’m sure you’re concerned and curious in equal measures about me. Sit and let me quell your worries,” she instructs, patting the cushion once more.
I drop myself to the cushion and lean my back against the wall below the window. I position my legs and feet to mimic her posture and place my arms on top of them. She repositions her pillow so we sit facing one another. She studies me for a minute, gazing from one eye to the other. She is not smiling and neither am I. My concern for her weighs heavy on me.
Finally, she breaks eye contact, stares out the window, extends her hand to me and proposes indifferently, “Would you like to read me?” Her aloof and detached tone and the careless and unexpected offering of herself wounds my feelings. Am I now so insignificant to her? With great effort, I hide my irritation. The question tossed out so casually about something so personal— in a moment when I am rendered vulnerable by my concern for her—feels unwarranted and unfair.
“Is that what you want?” I ask doubtfully. If she is what everyone thinks she is, she could bury me inside of her vastness, never to return. It could be fatal to me.
She lowers her eyes to gaze calmly into mine. “You worry too much for me. I am now beyond your burden.” Serenity and confidence radiate from her.
“If you are no longer my burden, then what are you? You’re still my niece no matter what transformation you’ve made. You’ll always be my niece; I made a promise to your father and mother that I would look after you for the rest of your life. It’s a bond that will never be modified.”
“It has all changed, Uncle Forbes...everything. Evolution has taken a step forward and I am the vessel of that progress. Another branch has been created and I am the bearer of that line. Nothing will ever be the same.” She is the adult teacher admonishing the child pupil. “A new phase for the care of mankind is dawning.” Her tone walks the line between condescension and gentle patience. “We must evolve and adjust to each other. Your relationship with me is now subordinated by this development.” I am being put in my place. But the turn of the table is new and I am not so easily put off.
“What happened to you, Sonnet? What the hell have you been through? Why are we abandoning the Bangala Elongó? Why Chile’s Atacama Desert for laser array?”
“The Bangala Elongó are able to be on their own. They no longer need our assistance. They have Kinshasa and, more importantly, they have Kitoko. She will lead them.”
“Without the benefit of Gi?”
“They are strong now, very strong. Their numbers will multiply rapidly. It will make them untouchab
le here in the DRC.”
“What of Kinshasa’s people that are killing and eating the Bangala Elongó?”
“They are weakened to obscurity. They will pose no threat. They are marginalized by the acquisition of their Gi. Their purpose is to evolve in other lands. In Africa, they will find no solid ground to spread their roots.”
“You want me and Zed to accompany you to Chile. Why? It sounds like you have little need for my supervision or even Zed’s companionship.”
A look of sadness crosses her face that humanizes her, making her feel more accessible to me. “I’m sorry if my words made it sound like that. I will always need you, Uncle Forbes, just as I will always want Zed nearby...and Twizzle...and now Rafa. You all are now my obligation, my charges to be protected and nurtured and...”
“Used?”
“Of course. Gi has always used our family in Gi’s efforts to further human technological advancement. We’ve been willing attendants to the cause of saving our species and our planet, as we currently know it, from deadly interstellar events.”
“And Chile?”
“It’s from this place in South America that mankind will discover the exact location of the nearest portal. Gi must be there to help and watch over human successes.”
“In our lifetime?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t want to tell me what’s happened to you.”
“I am an open book to you, Uncle Forbes. All you have to do is read me. I will ensure that you do not get swallowed up like the biblical Jonah in the whale. I would never let that happen to you.” Her head inclines to the left and her voice takes on a clear and open feel. “What would you like to see first?” It is a question asked in earnest. “Should we start at the beginning? Say, at the arrival at Goma? Or should we skip forward to my discovery of the other Gi, the Snake God worshipped and feared by the locals? Or would you rather go right to my consumption of all that is important in the world of humans, the melding of myself and the two Gis and our parents and the intelligence that made Gi and allowed Gi to enter our world?”
Aliens, Tequila & Us: The complete series Page 34
