Title Page
THE TWELVE
A Novel
WILLIAM GLADSTONE
McArthur & Company
Toronto
Copyright
This eBook edition published in 2010 by
McArthur & Company
322 King Street West, Suite 402
Toronto, Ontario
M5V 1J2
www.mcarthur-co.com
First published in Canada in 2009 by
McArthur & Company
Copyright © 2009 William Gladstone
All rights reserved.
The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise stored in a retrieval system, without the expressed written consent of the publisher, is an infringement of the copyright law.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Gladstone, William
The twelve / William Gladstone.
ISBN 978-1-55278-859-2
eISBN 978-1-55278-931-5
I. Title.
PS3607.L344T87 2010—— 813'.6 ——C2010-901145-7
Cover design by Szol Design and Linda Mark
Text design by Linda Mark
eBook development by Wild Element www.wildelement.ca
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the twelve who have carried the energy of the ancient prophecies for the benefit of all humankind.
A Note from the Author
Dear Reader:
According to the Mayan Elders and scholars who have studied the Mayan Calendar, December 21, 2012, is the end of the Mayan Calendar and the beginning of a new era. This new era will have a different vibration from the present era. Greed and materialism will have a lesser role in this new era. There will be a greater emphasis on harmony among all living beings. Individuals may or may not perceive specific changes in their lives on December 21, 2012, but the changes will be enormous and grow over time.
Some scholars believe there will be specific galactic changes and even an altering of the magnetic and electronic poles of the earth. The majority of true Mayan experts do not believe that the changes will be in the form of upheavals that are harmful to the planet or human beings.
The Mayan Elders believe there is free will and, just as in my novel The Twelve, that humanity will choose its destiny on December 21, 2012. The decisions and affirmations you make on December 21, 2012, can create the tipping point that can lead to planetary harmony. The choice is yours.
In Joy,
William Gladstone
Preface
THE YEAR 2012 HAS BEEN HERALDED AS THE END OF THE MAYAN
calendar. There are ancient legends from the Hopi, the Tibetan shamans, even from those who believe they channel the wisdom of the ancient worlds or myths of Lemuria and Atlantis, all pointing to 2012 as the beginning or the end of life as humanity has lived it over the past several thousand years.
Christianity has long awaited the second coming that will be heralded by end-times of fire, as well as the promise of “heaven on earth.” The Jews wait for the coming of the Messiah, and many aboriginal spiritual traditions have anticipated the transformation of the planet in some magical way.
All in or around this sacred year of 2012.
If you have come upon a copy of this book and are drawn to reading it, then without doubt you are one of the chosen many who may help determine whether these end-times result in planetary destruction or the transformation of all humanity.
Chapter One
The Big Bang
March 12, 1949
THE BIG BANG THAT OCCURRED ON MARCH 12, 1949, WASN’T
the event that led to the creation of life in the universe—the one described by Stephen Hawking and many other scientists—but the one that created Max Doff.
On that auspicious, star-filled, winter evening at exactly 11:11 p.m. and forty-five seconds, in the bedroom of their ranch-style suburban home on Benedict Avenue in Tarrytown, New York, Herbert and Jane Doff experienced the most joyful mutual orgasm of their forty-five-year marriage.
For Herbert it lasted fourteen seconds.
For Jane, it was much more significant. While her physical body quivered with waves of sensual pleasure pulsating deep within her soul, she simultaneously had an out-of-body experience, wherein she was surrounded by magnificent colors of purple and blue.
Time stood still, and she entered a state of complete surrender. She’d never experienced anything like this in her life and knew for a fact that at that precise moment in time, she and her husband had created the child they desired.
Herbert and Jane already had an 18-month-old son, Louis, who had been born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. It was only through the heroic measures of the hospital staff that he had survived the trauma of his birth.
From the start, Louis was colicky, irritable, hyperactive, and uncontrollable. Fortunately for Jane, Herbert owned a successful book publishing company and was able to provide a full-time maid/nanny to help her care for the child, but even so, he was still a handful. And both of them still longed for a normal child.
Thus it was that by 11:12 p.m. on the night of March 12, 1949, Herbert was able to relax, completely satisfied, and observe in awe Jane’s pulsating state of bliss. He held her for three full minutes, while she experienced a full body orgasm far deeper than any climax of his own.
The Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges has written that, if a single couple made perfect love, the entire universe would change, and that couple would become all couples. The Dalai Lama of Tibet has called the Tantric path to enlightenment the path of laughter and of touching. His belief also posited that two people loving each other perfectly would save humanity and bring all beings to nirvana.
To his knowledge there has never been such a couple, nor such a coupling.
***
On December 12, 1949, at five past 4:00 p.m., Max Doff was born with both eyes open and a smile on his face.
Because of the chaos surrounding the birth of Louis, Jane had been advised to schedule a Caesarean section. While creating trauma for Jane, it provided the easiest possible birth passage for the baby, establishing for Max the precedent of a life of comparative ease.
There was, however, a dark shadow hovering over the blissful circumstances of his birth. That shadow was embodied in his brother, Louis, who was twenty-seven months his senior and strong enough and mobile enough to be completely dangerous to his younger sibling’s well-being.
***
On Max’s third day of life, Jane and Herbert brought him home and, sitting on the large bed in their master bedroom, introduced Louis to his new brother.
Within seconds and before they could react, Louis grabbed Max and began squeezing him tightly around the neck. Recovering from the shock, Jane quickly broke Louis’s vice-like grip and pulled the older child away, while Herbert moved to shield the newborn.
Upon being restrained, Louis let out a series of loud shrieks and began hitting first Jane and then Herbert, who had to remove him from the bedroom altogether.
Max survived this overzealous introduction to his older brother, but it was the beginning of countless such explosive episodes. It was clear from the start that he found such violence strange, frequent as it was and always focused upon him.
In all other respects, however, his life was relatively trauma-free, and he was a peaceful child.
As a young boy, Max was adorable. He had reddish brown hair, long, black eyelashes, deep brown eyes, and a face of almost perfect proportions, especially when he smiled—which was most of the time.
Max was neither heavy nor skinny, but well-proportioned. He was athletic
and strong, though small boned, with delicate wrists and ankles.
He showed no alarm in the presence of strangers and seemed to trust that everyone who met him intended nothing but love and affection. And except for the aberration with Louis, this proved to be true throughout his infancy.
For some unknown reason, however—whether due to the trauma of Louis’s attacks or some genetic predisposition—Max did not develop normal speech abilities. He was able to make sounds like any other infant but could not form words.
Indeed, he seemed to understand what people were saying to him and had an almost telepathic way of conversing with his mother and even with his tormentor, Louis, but that was the extent of his communication skills.
This condition provided his older brother endless hours of potential for abuse.
“Retard, get me another cookie from the kitchen,” Louis would command.
“Hey simp, come here, or you’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’,” he would shout.
He thought himself clever to have shortened “simpleton”—which was his pet name for his younger brother. And though Jane and Herbert drew the line at “retard,” at least in their presence, they reluctantly allowed “simp” and hoped in vain that he would grow tired of it.
Out of his parents’ hearing, Louis had no regard for their rules, regularly saying things like, “If you don’t give me that truck, retard, I’ll beat you to a pulp.” Or, “Get out of my way, retard.”
***
Jane and Herbert also inferred from Max’s lack of language development that their son was mentally impaired. When he was four years old, they decided to employ a speech therapist to work with him, and the therapist quickly realized that she was dealing with an extremely bright little boy who seemed to comprehend everything.
Nevertheless, it wasn’t until he reached the age of six that Max began talking in full sentences and immediately exhibited a complete command of language far exceeding his years. One day, seemingly as if by magic, Max simply spoke up.
“I think when we go to Martha’s Vineyard this summer, we should rent the yellow house that has its own pond and boat,” he said. “I loved going on that lake last summer and would love to be able to go every day.”
When they recovered from their shock, Jane and Herbert were overjoyed.
At the same time, Max achieved extremely high scores on intelligence tests, putting to rest any fears his parents had harbored.
While this turn of events came as a complete and welcome surprise to Herbert and Jane, it was beyond annoying to Louis, who became even more intense in his role as Max’s childhood nemesis.
***
Max knew from the beginning that there was a purpose to his life and an important destiny that he had been called upon to fulfill. This understanding wasn’t something tangible, however, There was a voice in his head that spoke of a reason for which he had been born, yet there were no words—just colors and powerful vibrations. His inner world, this secret playground, was filled with beauty and elegance, and it made Max very happy.
He seemed to be able to summon knowledge on any subject but had a particular attachment to the art of mathematics and exhibited an uncanny ability and proficiency with numbers, which constantly swirled around in his mind, vibrating in a multitude of colors. Even before he could talk, he was able to multiply triple-digit numbers in his head.
And this talent adopted a three-dimensional component. He imagined boxes placed vertically and horizontally and at tangents without end. He envisioned each box as a universe complete unto itself and would contemplate the shape, direction, and lack of beginning or end within each box and collection of boxes.
Such exercises afforded him great pleasure, as did most things in life. However, there remained one constant reminder that all was not perfect.
Louis.
Despite the violence and sadism he experienced at the hands of his older brother, Max considered Louis his best friend. Their uncanny link caused Max to feel great empathy for his sibling, and it seemed as if they both remembered that blissful paradise that had been the womb.
From the moment of his birth, Max accepted that wherever he was, he was exactly where he was supposed to be in life and was completely at peace with the idea.
Louis, on the other hand, was angry that he had been forced to leave that perfect state of being and that the world had greeted him with a stranglehold. Thus, he had come into this world kicking and screaming and remained in a constant state of revolt.
That Max felt no such thing angered Louis even more, and he was determined to make his brother’s life as miserable as his own by virtue of force and fear. Even as toddlers, Louis would attack Max, pinning him to the floor and choking him, and then retreat as soon as Max started to cry. When the adults came running, he had achieved a safe distance, and they never realized the level of the violence. Since Max couldn’t express himself, they remained utterly ignorant.
Eventually Max learned to play dead. He found it otherwise impossible to resist, since Louis was filled with such superhuman strength when enraged that it would have taken more than one adult to subdue him, had they even been aware of the need.
And despite his inherent inclination to be optimistic, Max found that the constant violence began taking its toll. He never felt safe at home and knew that whatever success he achieved at school, or in any aspect of life, he would suffer for it.
As the attacks increased, he seriously considered ending his life in order to escape his tormentor.
At the age of seven, he contemplated stabbing himself in the stomach with a butter knife. While in his secret, inner world, he had seen the potential for his existence and was excited at the possibilities that lay ahead, the outer world presented him with a very large, seemingly unavoidable obstacle.
His decision made, he picked up the knife.
Yet as he pushed the soft-edged blade into his tummy, he remembered that quiet, inner voice from early infancy. So he put the knife aside, realizing in that moment that he had a purpose—a true mission—and even though there might be obstacles in his path, he would have the courage to face whatever came his way.
Once he’d learned how to escape his brother’s choke holds.
***
As a toddler, despite his lack of coherent speech, Max exhibited leadership qualities by taking charge of any group.
As he grew, he excelled in every subject at school and had real joy in learning. He was very good in sports and at twelve years old was Westchester County’s fastest runner in the fifty-yard dash. Max joked that it was running away from Louis that had led him to become such a fast runner.
When he graduated from eighth grade, he was valedictorian, president of the student council and captain of the football, wrestling, and baseball teams. He had an extraordinary sense of anticipating where the ball or opponents might be headed, he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time, and the idea of making an error never occurred to him.
He expected himself to be perfect in every thing he did, . . . and so, he was. Yet these expectations didn’t yield the anxiety experienced by most children.
There was no question that he was loved by his parents, and thanks to his father’s success, he had material abundance. So, despite the torments leveled in his direction by his brother, Max managed to survive his early adolescence.
Then when he was fifteen years old—on Thursday, February 19, 1965, at 3:15 p.m. in Dr. Howard Gray’s medical office—Max Doff died.
Chapter Two
The Death of Max Doff
1965
JANE AND HER SON MAX ARRIVED AT THE TARRYTOWN MEDICAL Center complex of offices at precisely 2:44 p.m. that fateful February afternoon. It was cold, and there was snow on the ground—not a clean, fresh snow, but a melting-then-refreezing snow that became less inviting by the moment.
The roads were mostly clear, although from previous salting and plowing, they had a film of crunchy dirt that was unappetizing to the eye and ear.
; It was a good thing the roads were clear. Jane Doff was an awful driver. She had no confidence at all behind the wheel of a car and had been in a terrible car accident just two years previously—an event that had changed her life.
***
Jane Lefkowitz was a beautiful woman. Standing five foot five inches with perfect skin and a perfect figure, she had dark, curly hair, incredibly soft, dark eyes, and a captivating smile that was irresistible. She reminded those who met her of Mary Pickford, Norma Shearer, and the other movie stars of the 1920s and 1930s.
She was just sixteen, and accompanying her twenty-four-year-old sister Mona on a boat cruise to Cuba. As the daughter of Russian immigrants, Mona was perceived to be an “old maid” with few chances left to marry. The eldest of three sisters, Mona was not beautiful like Jane and did not attract suitors easily. But this was 1939, and her parents were from the old world, so she had to be the first to marry, or her siblings could not.
Such was the tradition of Russian families, or at least of the Lefkowitz family.
Jane’s father, Arnold Lefkowitz, made a modest living as an egg seller in Newark, New Jersey—a profession that his wife, Gladys, looked down upon. A deeply intellectual man, he was an expert on the Torah and became well regarded by rabbis throughout the world. But this wasn’t enough to compensate for the degree to which Gladys felt she had “come down” in the world.
Her own family had owned their own store in Europe, and her father was a medical doctor, which was quite prestigious. So Gladys considered herself worldly, and sophisticated, and much too good for her humble husband.
Gladys never worked but was an excellent homemaker and managed and controlled all the money generated by her husband, Arnold. Despite the expense of the cruise, she went to the “for a rainy day” jar she kept hidden in the third drawer above the kitchen icebox, pulled out the necessary amount—almost completely depleting the fund—and sent not just Mona, but also her sister Jane, on a ten-day cruise from New York City Harbor to Havana, Cuba.
The Twelve Page 1
