In the Shadow of Men

by Darren Swart

  She sat back smugly, considering the implications of her newfound talent.

  Peter continued, “Energy is all around you. It can be borrowed from almost any source that you can visualize and capture. It will take time for you to master your gift.”

  “Gift? I thought you gave me the power?”

  “No. It was always there. I merely opened your eyes to it.”

  She looked at him, curiously. “Is this a dream?”

  He smiled. “You make it sound like dreaming is a bad thing. The reality of it is that what lies within your dreams, lies within you. They are doorways to your intuitive self. Soon, you and I will be apart, but you will still have your new ability. That is not a dream. That is real.”

  “Will I ever come back here?”

  “That is difficult to say. This place is unimportant. The world you return to is critical to the stability of the system. Your gifts are important, but they are only a part of what you are. Rest assured that you will reach deep within yourself to face the challenges ahead. Your world and many other worlds are dependent upon you and your friends.”

  She sat quietly for a moment. Ribbons of iridescent energy around her began to fade into the background. In the stillness of the moment, she accepted her fate. She looked at Peter and said, “I suppose this is goodbye for now, then.”

  Peter stood and returned the smile. “For now, go in peace.”

  She felt a great wind rise around her. The barracks crumbled and dissolved into it, leaving her in a maelstrom of debris. She closed her eyes tightly against the wind. A moment later it died as quickly as it began. As she opened her eyes, she found herself seated in the middle of the motel bed. The stone sparkled and winked in her hand. She carefully returned it to the box. Picking it up, she got off the bed and carried it to dresser. As she placed the box on the dresser, she noticed the dead fly on the clean surface before her. They were definitely not in Kansas anymore.

  Chapter 18

  Digger stood in line, patiently waiting to purchase tickets for the movie. There was the usual murmur in the crowd. The conversations ebbed and flowed like the tide. He smiled at the excited titter of teenage girls and watched as parents tried to calm excited little ones.

  It was an older building, but it was clean. Still, the carpet on the floors was beginning to wear thin in spots, making it dull. Because the theater was in a mall, they wound pass hair salons and shoe shops. The movie-goers watched, as Pearl’s Hair Salon busily teased hair and clipped curls. The shoe repair man next door haggled with a patron on resoling a pair of shoes. The smell of popcorn mingled with hair gel. For some reason, it had a familiar smell like he was back home in California.

  A small trim blonde politely squeezed between the couple in front of him and eased up beside Digger. She comfortably slipped her hand in his. He looked down at her. She practically glowed, as she smiled up at him. Digger kept smiling and looked back up the line. It had moved three inches since the last time he looked.

  Her blonde hair fell over one eye, making her look coy. Every guy in the mall would have been thrilled to have her on his arm. And she was on his. There seemed to be only one problem: he didn’t know who she was. He wasn’t going to let it spoil the moment.

  She looked at him and asked, “Where are we going after the movie?”

  “I don’t know. What do you want to do?” Some things never changed.

  She smiled. “What if we go get something to eat? I hear there’s a new place out on Highway 66. It’s all chrome and glass. All the waitresses are supposed to be on roller skates.”

  “Cool. Let’s do that.” He didn’t know where Highway 66 was and he didn’t care, so long as she was with him. He was thrilled and amazed that she liked him. This was wonderful. He heard his name over the intercom in the mall. He didn’t react. It had to be a mistake. No one ever paged him at the mall.

  She curled her arm around his and stood close. She smelled like roses. When she smiled at him, everything about her smiled. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been this happy. They paged his name again. This time, it was a little louder. He would just wait this one out. Maybe there’s another Digger Delgado in the mall? Suddenly, the mall began to shake. The stores collapsed around him and his new love evaporated like a puff of smoke. Grumpily, he asked, “What?”

  Gillian looked a little sheepish. “Sorry. It’s time to get up.”

  He ran his hand across his face, took a deep breath and looked around for a second. His brain began to put it all together. North Carolina; motel; some kind of rock—begrudgingly, he accepted he was back in the real world.

  He mumbled, “Another ten seconds. That’s all I needed.” He rolled his legs over the side of the bed. He still had his clothes from last night on. Sometimes, these field operations left something to be desired.

  Gillian considered him with a degree of anticipation. Marty was leaning against the dresser. He rubbed his eyes and asked, “Is everything okay?”

  Gillian smiled. It wasn’t as nice as the blonde had smiled, but it was okay. It meant everything was all right. Both had a strange look about them, though.

  She started with, “We need to talk.”

  That was how his last girlfriend broke up with him. This was never a good way to start a morning. Marty handed him a fresh cup of coffee. It was just the way he liked it; one sugar and two Hazelnut creamers.

  He considered Marty for a moment before speaking. “My coffee is perfect. How did you know?”

  Marty smiled, noncommittally. “Doesn’t everyone drink coffee that way?”

  It was too early. He let it go. Gillian sat on the bed next to him. Marty pulled up a desk chair beside them. He started to feel a little hemmed in.

  Gillian opened the conversation with, “I need to show you something.”

  His eyes were open. He heard the sound of her voice, but in retrospect he wished he had paid closer attention. Digger sipped his coffee, careful not to burn his mouth and tried to blink the sleep from his eyes. “So, can this wait until after we’ve had breakfast?” He tried unsuccessfully to tone down the sarcasm.

  Gillian responded, “Not really.”

  He rolled his eyes in response. “Oh all right, what is it?”

  Marty excitedly bubbled out, “Well, we found this jewel…”

  Digger half-listened. When Marty finished, he sighed. “Oh, all right. This had better not be some kind of practical joke. You do know I can rewrite both your personal credit histories, so you can never buy anything on credit, don’t you?”

  Gillian looked him in the eye. “Dig, I’m serious. You can’t understand this until you see it.” Something in her tone made him look at her seriously for the first time.

  “Okay. I’m with you. Let’s do this.”

  Gillian led him into the next room. She sat him in the middle of the bed. The whole thing felt very much like a grade school sleep over. Marty handed him the small wooden box and said, “When we leave the room, open the box and pick up the stone. Don’t be afraid. It won’t hurt you, but you need to be prepared. It’s going to be very different from what you’re used to.”

  Digger gave him a contemptuous look. “Dude, I’m from California. You’d be amazed at what I’m used to.”

  Marty smiled, but said nothing. He thought to himself, Dude, you haven’t seen this.

  The room was quiet and dim. A single lamp lit the bed. With the doors closed, Digger shook his head, carefully placing the box on the bed in front of him. He removed the lid and inspected the contents. For a moment, he considered laying down for another twenty minutes. They wouldn’t have to know.

  The stone was so dark blue, it almost looked black. It appeared perfectly benign sitting in the box. There was no glowing sphere, no chorus singing, no thunderclap. In fact, there was nothing particularly dramatic about the stone at all. It seemed like a somewhat crudely cut black rock. He didn’t see what the big deal was. He lifted it and placed it in the palm of his hand. Nothing happened. He yawned and closed hi
s eyes, rubbing them with the back of his hand. He opened eyes to find the motel room was gone and in its stead his old college physics auditorium. He closed his eyes again and then opened them to see if it had changed back. It didn’t. This was definitely his physics auditorium. He was alone in the cavernous room. The quiet was a little unnerving.

  The door in the back of the hall clicked hollowly and swung in, as a white-haired professor walked in. He looked a bit disheveled, even though he wore a cardigan sweater. Half of his shirt peeked out from under the sweater. His hair went in all directions. His reading glasses rested on the tip of his nose, threatening to fall off. And yet, even with his unkempt appearance, there was no mistaking the quickness in his eyes. There was something about them. He peered over his glasses at Digger. “Ah, Mr. Delgado, would you be so kind as to help me with today’s problem?” The professor walked toward a whiteboard the size of a football field.

  “I am Professor Peter. You can just call me Peter, if you like. Would you care to join me at the blackboard?”

  Digger corrected him non-confrontationally. “Whiteboard.”

  The professor peered over his glasses at Digger. “Excuse me?”

  Digger looked at him earnestly, as he stood. “It’s a whiteboard, Sir.”

  Peter turned to face the board and smiled. “So it is. Semantics… Don’t get bogged down with them.”

  Digger proceeded to the whiteboard and stood beside the professor. He gave Digger a sideways look and asked “Have you heard the one about the two black holes that walk into a bar?

  He looked at him, politely. “No, Sir. I don’t believe I have.”

  “One black hole asks the bartender, ‘Say, have you got the time?’”

  “The bartender holds out a cigarette and says, ‘Sure, pal. Tell you what, you give me a light and I’ll give you the time.’”

  The professor laughed heartily at his own joke.

  Digger gave him a pained grin. “No, Sir. That’s a new one.”

  The professor wiped tears from his eyes, as he peered over his glasses at Digger. “So, for today’s problem, we are going to use religion as the denominator and science as the numerator.”

  Digger stared at him. “I’m sorry. Those terms are like apples and oranges, aren’t they?”

  “How so?”

  “You’re asking to mix discrete terms with non-discrete terms?”

  “Hmmm. You’re correct. Why is that a problem?”

  Digger looked confused. “Well, there can’t be a solution to problems of that nature.”

  The professor smiled. “Very good! So let’s get started, shall we? How did life begin on Earth?”

  Digger looked at him confused, but answered the question. “Well, I guess we evolved from simpler life forms.”

  “That’s a sound hypothsis. What did the simpler life forms evolve from?”

  Digger felt like he was taking a test that he hadn’t studied for. As disciplined as he was in physics, he was lost in biochemistry. He played along just the same, hoping it would lead somewhere quickly. “Simple single celled organisms formed and evolved.”

  “Good. So, these single celled organisms are made up of what, exactly?”

  “Various proteins, amino acids, water, trace minerals…” He trailed off, not knowing how to finish the response.

  “Fabulous. So we have this great big pot of chemical soup floating around the planet and out pops the preliminary forms of life on the planet?”

  Digger eyed him warily, trying to understand where the conversation was going. “I’m pretty sure there is more to it than that.”

  Peter pushed him a little further. “I’m sorry. What did we leave out? The planet was this large melting pot of gases, liquids, vapors and so on. Everything mixes together and life occurs.”

  Digger pushed back a little. “I think it’s safe to say that there was some sort of catalyst to cause life to begin. One theory is that some extra-terrestrial influence such as a comet or meteor may have introduced the necessary elements.”

  “So, if you mix all the materials like amino acids, water, minerals in the right proportion, a life form should just pop out, correct?”

  “I’m pretty sure that there’s more to it than that. If it were that simple, we would have figured out how to re-create life already.”

  “So you’re saying that science has not adequately explained how life began.”

  “Not yet. I mean, we can recreate amino acids in the laboratory, but we can’t combine them to form DNA. That’s the challenge of discovery.”

  “When do you think that humans will be able to solve the puzzle?”

  “That’s difficult to say.”

  “Would you say the occurrence of life is a series of random events?”

  Digger stuck doggedly to his position. “It seems unlikely. However, that is the only conclusive data we have to this point.”

  “So you’re saying you would rather believe in a theory of random actions than a planned event?”

  Digger would not be baited so easily. “I believe in what the facts tell us. That is all I can do.”

  The Professor smiled, cagily. “Do you feel there is a desire to know the answer to that question?”

  “Without a doubt, most people want to know,” he responded a little testily. “Honestly, though, we both know that this is something I cannot solve, so why am I here?”

  Peter nodded, agreeing with some unseen presence, and then responded, “To prepare you.”

  “For what?”

  “Something your facts can’t explain.”

  Without a word, Peter walked away from the board and sat in the front row. He sat, waiting. Digger was confused by the odd little man. He didn’t understand the whole discussion they had just had. Peter smiled, knowingly. He baited the lad intentionally to force him to think outside of his box.

  Digger recalled that Marty and Gillian had both said the experience of the stone was unique to the individual. This must be his personal twist. As he pondered what to ask next, the door across from him opened and she entered the room. He stared at her in disbelief. He watched as she flipped her hair. Her eyes sparkled unnaturally, as she moved toward him. Her smile was as radiant as he remembered. It was the same blonde from his dream. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest like an anvil. His palms felt sweaty, if that was even possible in this place.

  She wore a simple pattern pink dress with tiny white flowers. The open bodice accentuated the curve of her slender neck and shoulders. It struck him as odd that she was barefoot. Her bare feet were browned and tan with pink edges to the toes. It was a summer tan. Her skin glowed in a healthy radiance. Digger thought to himself, I’ve fallen asleep again. If Gillian wakes me up this time, I’ll strangle her.

  She walked up to him and took his hands in hers. She giggled, as she said, “Don’t worry. She can’t wake you. You’re not asleep.”

  Digger’s eyes widened slightly. She knew what he was thinking. It unnerved him slightly. He quickly pulled himself together and responded brightly. “So, I guess we missed the movie. Is dinner still on?”

  Her accent sounded Swedish. She looked at Peter. “He’s very quick, don’t you think?”

  Peter shook his head and smiled at them both. “Yes, my dear. He’s very quick, indeed.”

  She turned back to Digger. “We might have to take a rain check, there, Slugger.” She placed a single finger under his chin and traced his jaw line. Her touch was almost electric. “My name is Rachel.”

  He smiled. “I’m Digger. But then, you probably know that.”

  Her smile broadened, as she moved closer. She stood close. Her lips were tantalizingly near. It was all he could do to concentrate. He swallowed hard.

  She hated to break the mood, but it was necessary. She turned and sighed solemnly. “Digger, we need your help.”

  Trancelike, he continued to smile. “Sure, anything you need.”

  “I need you to help me escape.”

  His smile remained un
changed. It seems like a silly game, but it should be fun, though. He playfully continued, “Okay. So what do I need? Magic rope, enchanted beans, energy balls, what?”

  Rachel and Peter exchanged looks. Peter looked at Digger, gravely. “Digger, I’m sorry, but this isn’t a game. Rachel chose you because you are uniquely capable of understanding her complexity. Your intellect, your personality, and your history singled you out among all others. Your friends Martin and Gillian are equally gifted in different ways. Together, you form a powerful trinity. It will take something as unique as you three working together to free Rachel from the duke.”

  Digger looked at Peter, confused. “If I need to rescue her, how can she be here with us now?”

  Digger took her hands in his. They were soft and warm. She smelled of lemon blossoms. She seemed real enough. He looked deep into her eyes. Digger could feel the conflict raging within her like a storm. It was strange, as she seemed so calm on the outside. Rachel could sense him reading her angst. It made her pause for a moment. She realized she was seeing her own emotion through the eyes of another. She dropped his hands and stared across at Peter. Her thoughts reached out to Peter. How is he able to read me that way?

  Peter responded telepathically, They are His creation. There are many layers.

  It isn’t supposed to happen this way.

  It is not our place to say what is to be.

  She looked back at Digger. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. He smiled at her with his eyes. “Don’t be afraid for me.”

  She blinked. Humans never failed to amaze her.

  Digger continued. “What do you need me to do?”

  For the first time in a millennia, she felt a twinge of fear, though not for herself. “You’re sure you can go through with this?”

  Digger looked at her, slyly. “You’re not a ghost, are you?”

  She giggled and made an arc with a barefoot toe on the floor in front of her. The carpet moved like sand under her foot, making a trough in the floor. As her foot resumed its position at her side, the floor resumed its natural condition. “Not all the time.”

  Peter had never understood this type of banter. He stepped in, almost abrasively. “She can assume any form she wishes when she needs to. However, the essence of her being is contained within the confines of the vessel. The duke continues to experiment on how to control the Ark and assume control of her. Her power is limitless by mortal standards. She can level entire cities—even mountains.”