The Realm of the Drells

by Kenneth Zeigler

  “Yeah, but where did Lilith and Asmodeus come from?”

  “The legend doesn’t say,” said Sybil. “Lilith is even spoken of in the Dead Sea scrolls. Stories of her are scattered through antiquity. They all paint a slightly different picture of her. Your Debbie also said that she thought the drells might have more than two arms. In Indian mythos the goddess of evil Kali, had six arms. Kali has a lot of Lillith’s attributes, at least spiritually. But whatever picture you want to paint of Lilith, this second story, this alternate reality, seems to fit our situation better, doesn’t it? In that case, the drells are the offspring of Lilith and Asmodeus. Perhaps the truth is a melding of the two stories. Perhaps it is neither, I don’t know.

  “Here is how I see it. The Bible speaks of a silver cord that joins the soul to the physical body. You see we are more than just flesh and blood and our soul is more than just signals passing from one cell to another in the brain. We have a spirit and soul that belongs not to us but to God. It is the breath of life He breathed into us. It makes us a bit different from the other animals of this world. What I think the drells have done is to pull Debbie’s soul away from her body and place it in another body in another place, perhaps in this alternate reality. And no, I don’t know how. They somehow keep it in their realm, perhaps by magnetic energy. Keep in mind I’m interested in science but I’m not a scientist. I can’t back up these ideas with mathematical equations. But there is still the silver cord linking her soul to her body here on Earth. It’s mentioned in Ecclesiastes 12:6. The consequences of breaking it are found in the next verse. Our bodies return to the dust and our spirit to God.”

  “I swear, Aunt Sybil, you’re a dog gone walking Bible,” said Ron. “Do you have the whole thing memorized?”

  “Not hardly.” admitted Sybil, “But I have memorized a lot of it. You never know when you might need it. But getting back to the topic at hand; I suspect they don’t dare break that cord. If they did, Debbie’s soul would soar free and be lost to them. Keep in mind she declares salvation through the blood of Jesus. She is a born again child of God. If the cord breaks I suspect that she would be swept away and into the presence of God, to Heaven as it were. This FENS machine of yours yanked on the silver cord that joins her soul to her body here, pulling her soul back to where it belongs. It should have stayed here. But suppose, just suppose that silver cord also joins her soul to her other body over there. Now suppose that these drells discovered that her soul had escaped and pulled back, dragging her soul back to their realm. That is why she slipped back into a coma.”

  “And we could get her back by pulling on the cord again,” deduced Ron.

  “I suppose so,” replied Sybil, “but they would respond by pulling her right back into their world.”

  “Sounds like we could quickly get into a tug of war with them,” observed Ron. “We’d find out who has the most muscle on their side of the rope. I’d put my money on our side. There has never been a magnet even a third as powerful as the one in FENS.”

  “Getting into a confrontation like that would be an incredible bad idea,” cautioned Sybil. “This isn’t some sort of rope you’re pulling on, it’s a cord. We don’t know how strong it is. If it were broken she dies, it’s that simple. This is a difficult situation. Debbie is in real trouble, and now you might very well be too.”

  “Me?” asked Ron. “Why would I be in trouble?”

  “You and the others interfered in the affairs of the drells,” replied Sybil. “From their viewpoint you have stolen from them. I don’t suspect that they will take kindly to that.”

  “But they’re in another world,” objected Ron, “What can they do to us?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sybil. “They ripped Debbie’s soul away from her easily enough. That’s the problem; we don’t know what they’re capable of. I’m afraid you just made yourself some awful powerful enemies.”

  “But it’s all just guesswork,” said Ron. “They might not even exist.”

  “Now you’re sounding like your mother again,” said Sybil. “Don’t be in denial. If you’re in it for too long the crocodiles might get you.”

  Ron had to think about that one. Denial, the Nile, crocodiles live in the Nile. He smiled though slightly.

  “Anyway you know they exist,” said Sybil, “that in itself makes you a threat.”

  “But we’re just guessing about how they work, how they steal souls,” replied Ron.

  “Granted,” admitted Sybil, “this whole idea is what you scientists call a hypothesis. But it works, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I guess it does,” admitted Ron, who proceeded to tell his aunt about a few other supporting pieces of evidence Dr. Wilson had uncovered, about the regularly occurring marks on Debbie and the others cursed with this affliction. That data only strengthened Sybil’s case.

  “I need to contact someone,” said Sybil. “I’m going to try and set up a meeting between you and the director of the foundation. As a member of the board of trustees I think I might be able to arrange it.”

  Ron was indeed surprised. “A meeting with Dr. Matthew Martin himself?”

  “Yes,” laughed Sybil. “He is the director. Let me show you to your room, give you a chance to relax. You’ve had a long trip. I need to make a few phone calls. I think Dr. Martin will be interested in what you have here. I hope you don’t mind repeating all of this to yet another person.”

  “No, not at all,” assured Ron.

  “Then you rest,” replied Sybil. “Let me see if I can pull off a little magic of my own.”

  Chapter 9

  “Wake up sleepy head,” said Sybil, walking into Ron’s room to find him sound asleep.

  “Oh gosh, I must have dozed off,” said Ron, sitting up in bed. “What time is it?”

  “Almost three in the afternoon,” said Sybil, you’ve been asleep for about two hours. I think you probably needed the sleep.”

  “I did,” confirmed Ron. “I’ve been keeping insane hours these last few weeks.”

  “Medical professionals seem to,” noted Sybil. “Twelve hours on twelve hours off, tell me that you can be at your best near the end of a twelve-hour shift.”

  “I won’t argue that point,” said Ron.

  “Well, the limo is going to pick us up in about half an hour,” announced Sybil. “Tonight we’re going to have dinner with Dr. Matthew Martin, the director of Martin International. You might want to spruce up a little bit.”

  “You actually arranged a meeting with the director on such short notice?” said Ron. “I mean, I thought this guy was like another Howard Hughes, isolated and reclusive.”

  “He is,” confirmed Sybil. “Your aunt just had to turn on the charm, that’s all. I have his personal cell number.”

  “Cell number?” asked Ron. “You mean he lives in a cell?”

  Sybil laughed. “No, silly. I mean cellular phone. It is a hand held wireless phone he carries about on his person at all times. Only a few select people have his personal number.”

  “Amazing,” said Ron. “You just keep amazing me.”

  “Oh you haven’t seen anything yet,” assured Sybil.

  Ron nodded. Right now not much would surprise him. But all of that was about to change.

  The ride to Dr. Martin’s home was a picturesque journey through the forested hills of western Pennsylvania. The hundred-year-old mansion was located on a 500-acre tract of land far from the city. From the beginning it had been the very heart of the ministry of the Martin International Foundation. It was the head office and residence of its director Dr. Matthew Martin.

  Dr. Wilson had spoken of Martin and his exploits on several occasions. Martin was a brilliant man by his account, a psychologist by profession. Wilson had never met him in person, though he’d wanted to. Come to think of it, very few people had. Martin was a very giving yet private person, directing the foundations from the shadows, as he had for the past sixty years. He’d been an outspoken critic of Adolph Hitler in the late 1920s, long before mo
st of the world had taken the threat he represented seriously. He spoke of renewable energy and the dangers of global pollution and global warming decades before it was fashionable. There had been so many crusades over so many years. To actually get the opportunity to meet him was quite an honor. He’d never imagined that his aunt was so well connected. Dr. Martin had to be rather elderly by now; ninety at the very least.

  They were quickly passed through the front gate and onto the secure grounds of the estate. The majority of the grounds were forest lands like those beyond the gates. However, the forests soon gave way to a dozen acres of well-trimmed trees and a nearly perfect green lawn that surrounded the magnificent three story mansion. The Victorian style mansion itself occupied every bit of twenty thousand square feet. Before it was a tall marble fountain surrounded by a pool of crystal clear water. A marble angel with a shimmering golden trumpet in hand stood atop the fountain like a pale white guardian. The wide driveway orbited the great pool, widening at the front of the mansion where a magnificent porch supported by tall and very ornate marble columns shaded the two front doors.”

  “That is some home,” noted Ron.

  “Oh, it’s much more than just a home,” assured Sybil. “It is our central office, a theological studies library that dwarfs mine, a conference center, and a worship center. Director Martin’s residence and office doesn’t occupy a tenth of the entire building.”

  The limo pulled up in front of the mansion and a well-dressed young man opened the door for Sybil and her nephew.

  “So good to have you with us this evening, Bishop Conners and Dr. Griego,” he said pleasantly. “The archbishop will be meeting with you in the library.”

  Ron and Sybil followed the young man into the mansion.

  “Bishop Conners?” asked Ron.

  “The seven members of the Martin International board are granted the title of bishop,” said Sybil, “the director is the archbishop.”

  “That’s different,” replied Ron, gazing about at the absolutely fantastic hallway.

  The floor was composed of a dark hardwood and the walls of the hallway were replete with large framed paintings of scenes from both the Old and New Testament of the Bible, and curiously enough, great scientists and philosophers of the past. The assistant opened a sliding wooden door on the right and motioned for Sybil and Ron to enter the library.

  This library was vast and very old school. Books occupied shelves that ran most of the way to the fifteen-foot-high ceiling. Ladders mounted upon wheels which ran through tracks mounted to a balcony eight feet up permitted users of the library to access the books on some of the higher shelves. The balcony that ran the whole way around the room gave readers access to the highest shelves. Yet Ron’s attention was drawn to a large leather bound book setting upon a wooden lectern near the center of the library. The book itself was open to a page near its middle and was protected by a sealed glass cover. Ron looked at the writing on the page. The book was written in Latin. Ron recognized the language from his two semesters of Latin in high school so many years ago. In large ornate letters the word Psalm 23 appeared near the top of the page. Then he realized the significance of the book.

  “Aunt Sybil, this is a Gutenberg Bible, a real Gutenberg Bible,” exclaimed Ron. “I’ve never seen one before. This book is almost priceless.”

  “I assure you young man it is not just a Gutenberg Bible, but the third one to come off the presses in 1455, over five centuries ago,” said a voice from the far side of the room. “All of its illustrations are hand drawn, and you are right; as a historical artifact it is virtually priceless. It was the first title to be printed on a printing press, it brought the printed word of God to the masses. This one is the oldest one in existence today.”

  Ron turned in surprise to see a man standing by the huge windows at the far side of the library. He wore a burgundy colored smoking jacket of a sort that had surely been out of fashion for years. He appeared to be in his early sixties, with brown hair that was a bit gray along the fringes and gray eyes. He smiled broadly at his guests.

  “Dr. Griego I presume,” he said walking in Ron’s direction. He extended his hand, Ron accepted it.

  “Dr. Martin?” asked Ron.

  “Yes, I am Matthew Martin, but please call me Matt, all my friends do.”

  “And I’m Ron.” Ron was confused. How could this be Matthew Martin? He appeared far too young.

  Matt laughed. “Yes, I know, you were expecting someone far older. I’ll have you know I recently celebrated my 97th birthday. The years have been kind to me. God is good.”

  “Amen,” said Sybil.

  Ron only nodded. This was getting weirder by the moment.

  “I need to congratulate you and the other members of Dr. Wilson’s team on your medical breakthrough,” continued Matt. “I realized from the start that it was money well spent.”

  “I believe the neurological facility in York in which we have been working is also named in your honor,” noted Ron.

  “I funded its construction using my own personal resources,” noted Matt. “I hadn’t wanted for it to be named in my honor but the doctors and staff insisted.”

  “As did I,” interjected Sybil.

  “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity,” said Matt. “But I digress, we have unforeseen problems.”

  “Yes,” replied Ron, not sure what else to say.

  “I’ve already reviewed the taped interview with Debbie Langmuir,” continued Matt. “It is to say the least incredible. It answers so many questions even as it raises others.”

  Ron seemed confused. He turned to his aunt.

  “I’m sorry dear,” said Sybil. “I converted the tape into a WAV file on my computer and sent it to Matt via our T1 line.”

  “A WAV file?” asked Ron. “What is a WAV file? For that matter what is a T1 line?”

  “A WAV file is a digital audio file that can be transferred from computer to computer over the internet,” replied Sybil. “It was developed late last year. As for a T1 line, it is a broadband connection that allows fast data transfer over the phone lines. One of these days it will revolutionize communication.”

  “You’re talking over my head,” admitted Ron. “I never realized that you were so tech savvy.”

  “There are a lot of things about me you don’t know,” replied Sybil. “I thought it would be best if Matt had a chance to listen to the interview before we arrived. I hope that was OK.”

  “Sure, OK,” confirmed Ron.

  “When we agreed to fund Dr. Wilson’s grant proposal we’d never dreamed that his work would unlock such deep spiritual mysteries,” continued Matt. “How could we? The spiritual and scientific ramifications of this discovery will likely rewrite much of what we know about the nature of some of the more obscure forces in our universe.”

  “Have you learned anything about the Sisterhood of Twilight or this Victoria Barda?” asked Sybil.

  “Not as yet,” said Matt. “That will take time. I have our best people working on it. I’ll let you know if we find out anything.” He turned to Ron. “I wish I had more information for you, but I can tell you little more than what your aunt has already said. I do have this however. For thousands of years the Children of Israel believed that what we now call sudden infant death syndrome was in reality the work of Lilith. There might be some truth in this belief. These drells as Debbie calls them might have been in the business of harvesting young souls for a very long time. How they do it exactly and why remains largely a mystery. However, the fact that they have done it is very troubling. Who can say how many innocents have died for them. And they’ve done it with impunity. Now for the first time we’re fighting back. What should we expect? I fear it is a waiting game for now. If these drells truly have influence in this world it is their move.” Matt paused. “Be assured you have our full support in your struggle against them. It is our struggle too.”

  “You think they could strike out against us?” asked Ron.

  “They had the abil
ity to take Debbie and Leslie from this world,” noted Matt. “If they could do that then I suspect they have the power to move against you and your team.”

  “It’s just so incredible,” admitted Ron. “I mean; I’m having a hard time getting my mind around it. Curses, creatures that can steal your soul, it’s all so hard to accept.”

  “I fully understand,” replied Matt. “This is the 1990s not the middle ages. We’re used to having all of the answers provided to us by science. Now you’re faced with something that late twentieth century science just can’t explain. It seems more mystical than scientific.”

  “If they did attack us, isn’t there something we could do to defend ourselves?” asked Ron.

  Matt paused. “Perhaps there is, but it’s a bit of a long shot. Debbie’s description of a drell is interesting. She said their heads were sort of goat-like. For millennia the form of the devil has been likened to that of a goat. One of his symbols, the pentacle, the five pointed star with two of its vertices pointed upward represents a goat’s head with its horns.”

  Matt made his way to a specific book in his library, a very old book. He opened it to an image that illustrated his point. It was an indeed chilling picture of a goat’s head superimposed upon a pentacle.

  “The Bible speaks of separating the sheep, the people of God, from the goats, the evil people who follow the flesh in the end days,” continued Matt. “Yet in no passage of which I’m aware does it describe Satan as looking like a goat. Yet in the dark ages this image becomes prominent; why?”

  Ron only shrugged. He didn’t see where Matt was taking this.

  “Suppose that the drells made themselves known to certain people during those dark times. Perhaps they wanted to intimidate them, beguile them, bend them to their will. Perhaps they were intent upon harvesting their children.”

  “Doctor, if God truly exists, why would He allow these things to happen?” asked Ron. “Wouldn’t He want to defend his children?”