Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

  In the doorway stood Jessie. The lingerie she was barely wearing, coupled with the light of a lone tapered candle she held in her hand, transformed her into a goddess. In truth, Kade thought, it wasn’t much of a transformation.

  “Whoa. I’ve got shoelaces with more material,” Kade said, though he could say no more. Had he honestly been contemplating a night without sex, just hours before? Had he just seconds ago been worried about his engagement? Surely not, because on the bed next to him – now on top of him – was this fierce angel, his fiancé, covering his cool skin with her thermal kisses. So much kissing he didn’t think he’d be able to make it through the free rolls, much less the main course. Then, it wasn’t kissing anymore – well, not just kissing – and he couldn’t stand it any longer.

  13

  After they’d made love, he pulled her to him, much as he had earlier, smelling her hair and her sex-and-lavender scent. Everything was right with the world and apt to stay that way, forever more.

  “No Conan,” Jessie asked.

  “Didn’t I satisfy you enough,” he replied feigning hurt.

  “Honestly, you’d better hope I never have to get my laughs from our love-making.” She playfully flicked his nipple.

  Kade grabbed the remote from the headboard and turned on the little set at the foot of the bed. He was just in time to catch the tail end the ten o’clock news. It was a re-capping of that afternoon’s press conference with VPI spokesperson and head legal eagle, Don Bishop.

  “Mr. Bishop? Raymond Childress, E-business News. How can a company as large as Van Parson, Incorporated, hold up to allegations on this scale?”

  “Mr.? Childress is it?” Bishop asked. He was a tall, stocky man, in a navy blue suit that probably cost more than E-business News brought in monthly. “Mr. Childress, I assume the ‘allegations’ you refer to are those stating my client and his company are gaining power from this war on terrorism. If this allegation is the one you mean, then, I must ask this: is my client, Mr. Van Parson, a businessman? And does a businessman not, by definition, seek to make profit every legal way possible?

  “My client is a man of business, plain and simple. He is an honest man, and he is for the community. He is for the global community, too. He has worked hard and long to help bring about peace. If he is able to make a profit from war, does that make him a bad man? Or an unjust one? Mr. Van Parson is one of the greatest men I have ever been associated with.

  “To even hint at unethical behavior on his part would be preposterous. Thank you. That’s all the time we have for questions, today, I’m afraid.”

  “Man, can this guy pull his lips back from VP’s butt long enough for him to take a dump,” Kade wondered.

  “I don’t even think a man like Van Parson does that,” Jessie replied.

  Kade went to the kitchen and brought back a light snack of strawberries, cheese, and Ritz. Never in his life, would he have ever considered combining cheese and strawberries. Leave it to Jessie, though. That girl will eat cheese on anything! By the time he got back, Conan was in the middle of his opening monologue, but Jessie was out like a light. She deserves it. She played hard, today. Kade smiled and settled to watch some TV, while he started on his snackage.

  14

  Kade noticed two things upon waking: the first was someone had finished off the leftover strawberries and cheese; the second was the same someone, presumably, had been very busy during the night. “Babe,” he called, getting up and wiping away the sleep from his eyes. “I think someone broke into our house while we slept and ate our snacks before boxing up half your stuff.”

  Just then, Jessie came into the bedroom, glistening with sweat. “Don’t you love my new décor? I’ve been working on it for the past four hours. My way of saying not to worry about New York.”

  With a hug and a kiss on the cheek (no morning mouth for her), he said, “You’re the greatest, and you don’t even know it.”

  “Yeah, I do. I know I’m the greatest, but you feel free to go right on telling me as often as you like,” she replied, beaming up at him.

  “Humble, too, I see. I’m reminded every day of just why I proposed to you. Mrs. Congeniality, you need a shower, you’re sweating all over the bedroom.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind it last night. Besides, southern women don’t sweat, we glisten.”

  “You’re not exactly southern, you know?”

  “Careful, I can still fight like a southern girl,” she said shoving Kade over the corner of the bed. She forced a pillow over his face. He retaliated in the most effective way he could: he tickled her. He gives her all he has, until the world is reversed. He finds himself on top her, covering her with kisses, tickling her to the edge of tears. Then, it’s no longer tickling, as the two mix their sweats together. When they are finished, they take a quick shower.

  Wednesday is only a handful of days away, and Kade has a lot of business to attend before moving day. “I’m heading into town to get some more boxes. Then, I’ll head to my place to pack.”

  “Can you pick me up a bunch of boxes, too?”

  “You are certain of this, aren’t you, Jess?”

  “Yes, Kade, I am. I mean, it’s New York, but I’m in love. And besides, with any luck at all, it’ll be an adventure we can share with our grandkids,” she answered sweetly.

  “We’re not even married, but we already have g-grandchildren. What, are you trying to make me back out?” he said, planting a loud smack on her forehead. He slips on his shoes, kisses her again, and is out the door.

  15

  When the moving vans pull up at Kade’s apartment, his few possessions are already packed and ready for travel. The packing hadn’t taken all that long, really. He hadn’t had much room for too many belongings. He has had all utilities switched off with the exception of the electricity. That’ll be off within the next few hours. He is nervous and a little scared. He’s not scared the movers will break or lose anything. It isn’t the flight: no concerns of turbulence or terrorism or of high-and-mighty flight crew for him.

  “Wasamatter, babe,” Jessie asked, snapping him out of his foreboding thoughts. In one hand, she was carrying a plate of leftover Dutch apple. In the other, she had two Coca Cola mugs, held handle-to-handle, of milk.

  “Hey, hey! Looky here. You know I do love your pie.” He gave her a wink. “What did I do to deserve special treatment, anyhow,” he asked, turning away from his fear.

  “I’m just sweet and thoughtful, I guess.”

  “That’s my girl, alright.”

  “Kade, what were you so deep in thought about? It looked like I woke you from a bad dream or something,” she coaxed, taking hold of his hands.

  “Nothing. Just got an odd feeling about this. About everything, I guess.”

  “Relax, I’m sure everything will work out like it’s supposed to. Think of the money. Think of the adventure. I mean, New York, baby!”

  16

  “Well, that’s the last of it, Mac,” said the squatty man from the moving company. His badge identified him as Joe.

  One name. Like Madonna. Joe and Mac, that’s us. Kade had to stifle the immature laughter just waiting to break the surface. “Thanks, guys,” he said. Only a ghost of the laughter managed to make it to Kade’s lips. He signed the last of the paperwork on this side of the move. Doing the final walkthrough of his empty home, he had a sudden picture of his mother as she had been in his youth. God knew he loved her still. I miss you, ma. I’ll come visit you soon.

  Jessie’s voice from the sidewalk: “Plane leaves in two hours. Got to move your cute little be-hind, if you want to get there on time.”

  “Coming,” he replies. As he heads for the door, he runs his palm over the bar partition in a farewell gesture.

  17

  His next memories are laced and edged with cotton, gauzy awareness and little more. Senses, that’s all he is, it seems. Copper and sea salt, cold leather and metal, pain, heat, burning. The only smell is singed life, a smell that will haunt him
for the rest of his. His vision comes and goes. He fears blindness. He hears a continuous ringing and is afraid he is going mad, to boot. If it is so, then at least I won’t know that I am blind.

  Finally, there is something more. In the background is a radio newscast. Not new. He realizes it has been playing for some time. The shocked and awed voices are echoing the same thing, the same tragic story, and

  (Like hogs wallowing in filth)

  the media personalities have already given birth to an abomination of a headline: “Ladies and gentlemen, Liberty is gone.” Where has he heard this before?

  Before he was able to give it much thought, he was gone again. The darkness had returned, an insatiable lover.

  18

  “Madre de Dios! No!”

  “My baby, my baby! Carolina? Carolina!”

  “Stay calm. Everything will be okay,” boomed a voice from the sky. Whose voice? My voice? Did I? Was that me?

  Voices. Darkness. The world is black. The air tastes of burning fuel and grilled pork. Here and there are scattered, melted pieces of metal, concrete … were those people?

  Jesus. On the cross. Hanging around a Hispanic woman’s neck.

  “Carolina,” the Latina cries again. “Mi Carolina, where is she?” She is wailing, as she lapses into her primary tongue.

  19

  Darkness. Deafness. Total sensory deprivation. I am conscious, I guess, though I experience nothing. Does it automatically make me conscious, just because I register that I am? Or is it like with the whole sanity thing, where your acknowledgement of your sanity only serves to disprove its existence? Continued blankness of the senses. How long, I wonder, disconnected. Little by little, I come around. First my hearing, faintly: “Kade! Kade! Come back to me, now!” It is Aesculapus. Then, touch: he’s shaking me to wake the dead. Right, not the best metaphor. I regain the rest of my senses. Sulfur. The taste of bile. The form of a man, Aesculapus, in negative, silhouetted against flickering orange.

  “What’s happened,” I was able to manage, by swallowing hard. The taste of bile was too strong to ignore. “Did I throw up?”

  Aesculapus crowed with delight. “Hallelujah, boy! You’re back. I was beginning to wonder if you hadn’t taken a permanent vacation, so I did, so I did. And yar, you did loose yer lunch when your little glam …” He trailed off, pointing at my chest.

  I looked down in disbelief. “I absorbed it somehow.”

  Aesc made a slurping sound followed by a loud smack. He shook his head. “In all my days, I’ve never seen anything quite like it, nossiree.”

  I continued to look down at my unblemished chest. There was a little runner of vomit across my shoulder, but that was all. He must have cleaned me up. Oh my gosh, I realized, I’m still naked. Thankfully, my host had draped a blanket over my midsection. I pulled it in tighter, modesty kicking in. The thought of my nakedness brought back memories of (Mao. Jessie.) the snake-eyed stranger that had invaded my room. “The old man,” I asked frantic, “Did you see him? The Dark Monk.”

  “Say again.”

  “Black robes with symbols along the hems? Long white hair? Eyes like a demon?” He stared at me, concerned. “I’m not making this up, Aesc.”

  After a very pregnant pause, he smiled, grimly, and replied, “I don’t doubt you. In the days prior to my coming to the monastery, many of the monks – and a few of the inmates, too – made wild reports of this very man haunting their dreams. Some claimed to have even endured visions throughout their day, whilst praying or chanting. How horrible that must have been. Church officials never authenticated this specter’s presence, though it is believed his – or its – influence was the guiding factor behind many of the atrocities that occurred here. Cleaning out the files, I found numerous references to an ‘unholy man, clad in the shadows of sin.’ Some even claimed it was the Devil, himself.

  “These references increased, significantly, just prior to the gruesome suicide of the man above the courtyard. Then, they, abruptly, stop altogether. I have found very little literature on the satanic events that unfolded behind door thirteen, but I, reluctantly, admit I have always figured heavily on the presence of this ‘unholy man, clad in the shadows of sin.’

  “Decades and nothing. Now, poof. He fills your dreams? Why now? Why you? What’s so special about Kade Truth?”

  He lets my name hang in the air, almost tangible. Hearing someone say that name aloud, after all this time, should be exhilarating. The way he’s looking at me, though, studying me … He’s looking at me like we’re on a deserted island, and I just turned into this great big turnkey dinner.

  Finally, I’ve had enough of the spotlight and I turn it back on him for a while. “Aesc, if there was no intruder, what are you doing in my room?”

  “You were wailing away like a banshee. I could hear you all the way in my room. When I came to check on you, you were off of your bed, naked, and pulling on that stone necklace of yours. By now, the stone was well on its way to being buried inside you. I tried to help you pull free, but I was thrown across the room. Something inside it – inside you – pushed me back. I rushed to my feet, but it was already too late. The stone was gone. The chain was all that remained. You held it tight in your fists, screaming. Then, abruptly, you stopped screaming, made a liquid noise, and …” He placed his hand in front of his mouth and made a projectile motion.

  “I can help you remove the stone, if you desire.”

  I blinked. He probably could, but: “We don’t know what that would do to me.”

  “True, but there’s no way to know just what will happen with it housed inside you. You don’t even know the stone’s origins, where you got it. Do you?”

  “I …” Did I know? Wasn’t there something? Something at the end of my memory reload? I wasn’t sure. Besides, something about my regained identity made me feel the need to keep guarded. “I don’t know,” was all I said.

  “Well. You’ve no doubt suffered an ordeal. And you’ve regained yourself. That’s quite a lot of trauma for one night. Get some shuteye, and we’ll cuss it and discuss it in the morning. Over breakfast, if you’d feel better.”

  “Sure,” I said, trying to sound agreeable. “Sounds good.” After all of that, how am I expected to sleep? I wrapped the sheet around me and headed toward the bathroom. I nodded to my host. “Good night. I’ll try to keep the banshee noises to a minimum the rest of the night,” I said and gave a wan smile.

  “That’s a good boy.” He flashed his accustomed, solicitous smile. “We’ll see you in a few.”

  Aesculapus left, pulling the door closed behind him. I dropped my sheet and began to dress. “Kade Truth,” I tested it in the chilled room. This time, it sounded right. Who is Kade Truth, I wondered. What is Kade’s truth? Kade Truth, Lady Liberty, “And Justice for all,” I chuckled.

  I headed back into the room, lit a second candle from my first. Time to get going. I gathered my things and sat quietly in the corner until daylight crept through my blinds.

  20

  At the first hint of dawn, I got to my feet and indulged myself with a leisurely stretch. I had been sitting in the same position for the past few hours, and I was really starting to get stiff. I hadn’t been bored, though. Nor had I gotten sleepy. I knew I wouldn’t, as I had way too much to think about. I kept replaying the events of my dream. To tell the truth, I didn’t really like thinking of it as such. Finally getting my memories back, and it only being a dream, well … as my friend Stephen would have said, “That would blow.”

  Stephen. He had given me the job with Statue Security. I could remember him from my youth, but there were only bits and pieces of any time we might have spent together after I had taken him up on his job offer. Everything had really gotten jumbled at the end, before Aesculapus had shaken me awake. Now, I could remember Jess, and my love for her. I couldn’t help but feel weird after what I had experienced with her and Mao in my dream – that part was a dream, thank God – boogeyman or no boogeyman.

  Despite all of
that, I couldn’t wait to see her again, to see everyone. Mostly, I found myself filled with a strong desire to see my mother. I can’t believe it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. Since I visited. She’s lived in the same little town all my life. It’s my fault, my stupid pride. What if I hadn’t ever regained my memories? What if she had spent the rest of her life thinking I just gave up on our relationship completely? I can’t live with the thought of that happening again. I’ve got to go see her. Make it right somehow.

  Whether I went back to my hometown or back to Caduceus’ house – if it was even still parked where it had been – one thing was certain: My time here was drawing to a close. A huge chunk of my memories had dislodged last night, and what was left would no doubt come in time. With my decision made, I hoisted my duffle and headed to my final breakfast at Chez Aesculapus.

  21

  He’s not in the kitchen or in the living room. I know it’s early, but I still expected he’d be up with breakfast waiting. He had been anxious about our next session. After things went bump in the night, I was certain he would practically be waiting outside my door. Maybe he’s still in bed, after having to get up in the middle of the night to help out his houseguest. I head to his room and stop at his door. It is cracked, and I’m about to knock, when I suddenly hear him talking to someone. I figure he’s on the phone, so I hang back a little to give him some privacy. Then, I hear him speak my name, and I could suddenly care less about his private space. I lean in for a closer listen.

  “Turns out his name is Kade Truth. Yes, I know, I know. How poetic, with the whole ‘quest for the truth’ he’s been on, these past weeks. I don’t think he knows too much about himself yet. The way he reacted last night, he merely regained bits and pieces … No, I could only pick up a few, but it appears as though he came from a town out west. Texas or Oklahoma, maybe … No … Nothing specific, but with time … Yes, a possible girlfriend. That’s going to play havoc with the other one.”