Mendez Genesis

by Edward Hancock II

  Lisa, too, seemed unscathed. Perhaps it was a front, geared towards protecting her daughter’s right to move forward. Anymore, Alex wasn’t sure. She never wanted to show fear and she’d been forced to show the worst of it that night. She’d experienced things she still hadn’t fully confided in him. He often wondered if she ever would. Wondered, but didn’t press. Her privacy had always been important to her. Her sense of independence was something she’d always clung to. She’d dropped her guard some over the years, but it undoubtedly had gone back up since… Well, since that night.

  “So, you’re really retired, eh?” Danny said, breaking Alex’s train of thought.

  “Yeah,” he sighed.

  He wasn’t necessarily happy about it, but he didn’t truly have regret about the decision. He’d seen too much. He knew they would stick him back behind a desk and that was no way for a cop like Alex to survive.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to survive by harassing your old lady,” he laughed.

  “I don’t know about that, Danny,” Lisa said.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

  “Why don’t you ask Alex?” she grinned, suspiciously.

  “What?” Alex said, “Ask Alex what? Why is he asking Alex? Alex doesn’t know anything.”

  “Check your stocking, Mr. Mendez,” she smirked.

  Funny. He hadn’t noticed the small plastic object near the bottom of his stocking. He’d removed everything he thought. When he removed the small plastic object, he didn’t know what it was at first. A thermometer perhaps? A tube of makeup? Lisa was not immune to the occasional practical joke. But no, it wasn’t. And where it mattered, there was a distinct blue plus sign.

  Instantly, he smiled, but could not find the words to echo the thoughts of his heart and mind.

  “When? What? How?” he stammered. “I mean I know how but, um…” Leaning over to kiss him, she smiled. Her face glowed with life he hadn’t seen since, well, since before Christina came along.

  “Merry Christmas, Daddy,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” came Christina’s tiny voice. In front of the television, a large pile of wrapping paper, clothes boxes and bows began to move, Christina’s smiling face appeared, covered in marker. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

  On the television, Jimmy Stewart wished the world the same.

  From the Author ~

  Anyone familiar with the East Texas area in which this story takes place is likely to recognize that the cemetery described in this book bears little resemblance to the actual Rock Springs Cemetery, located near Gladewater, Texas. Though I have been to the cemetery many times and am intimately familiar with both its layout and its look, I have adopted the concept of literary license to change the way it is depicted in this story. I have combined several cemeteries in various cities throughout Gilmer, Gladewater and Kilgore, Texas to create the fictional Rock Springs Cemetery depicted here. Too, I have purposely refrained from detailing names, dates, burial locations and accurate descriptions of tombs and headstones in any cemetery I have visited. First, in the interest of not disturbing those at rest therein. Among those who have been interred inside Rock Springs Cemetery are several of my relatives and ancestors. In planning this story, I felt it was important to create enough fantasy so as to avoid infringing on the realities of those spirits now resting under that sacred ground. While some may disagree, I felt that it would have been disrespectful to the tenants of Rock Springs Cemetery and their families to more accurately depict certain graves tearing themselves apart, tombs crumbling and I worried that it might encourage persons of overzealous or destructive character to seek to recreate the carnage caused in the opening scene of this book. Though I will forever be of the opinion that books, videos, movies and games cannot be fully held responsible for the carnage caused by those with overactive imaginations, lacking in base human impulse control, there is this other voice inside me that recognizes that some people are just not responsible enough to differentiate between fictional entertainment and real life responsibility and respect. To put it bluntly, books, movies, videos, et al, in the hands of those without the capacity for empathy, reason and simple human compassion are dangerous tools. For that reason, I purposely fictionalized the landscape of the cemetery and carefully avoided the use of names, dates or other facts and figures that might appear on certain headstones. Second, while parts of my book do take place in and around the real towns of Gladewater and Gilmer, Texas, I did not want it set entirely in the real world in which I live every day. Simple things like the way the Longview Police Department conduct investigations across jurisdictions are entirely a product of the author’s imagination. Imaginary, too, is the existence of a Medical Examiner’s office in the Gregg County area. Necessary “real world” editing was done to make the fictional plot flow better. I spent months researching the make-up and functions of the police departments in Tyler, Longview, Gilmer, Gladewater and Kilgore. I also spent many hours researching Sheriff’s departments, FBI roles and other law enforcement and jurisdictional issues. Each police department had its own command structure and way of dividing responsibility. While it is not unheard for officers to cross jurisdictional lines to assist their fellow policemen, it is rare and most often done in an “off-duty” capacity on the officer’s part. Often, the Sheriff’s department plays a bigger investigative role than was described in this book as well. As it has been with many real world cases, such as the disappearance of Kelly Wilson, the Sheriff’s department has been known to take on the role of lead investigating body. However, police officers with more than one police force admitted an unspoken rivalry existing between different law enforcement organizations. While rare, moments of competitive spirit have found their ways into investigations from time to time. In the few instances that a small town such as Gilmer has found itself overwhelmed or its resources overextended, federal investigators are likely to be called upon to assist local law enforcement only if local resources – including those of the Sheriff department and other local law enforcement agencies – fail to adequately meet the needs of the investigation. Such a decision would be most likely made at the local level. However, it was not my intention to tell a story that took place in a world that was 100 percent real. It has long been my belief that a story is better told when not placed entirely in a real world setting but, rather, in a world closely resembling that in which it takes place. With just enough truth to make the fantasies seem inconsequential. Truth is subjective and as anyone should be able to tell you, reality is subject to individual perspective. While I have labored to accurately depict the East Texas area, its people, landmarks, atmosphere and landscape, I have also attempted to create a world that is, at least in part, all my own. Rather I should say a world that belongs to the Mendez family and friends. A real world Gilmer, Gladewater or other “real life” East Texas town simply would not be big enough for the personalities embodied in the Mendez circle of loved ones. They must live in a world all their own, for it is that fantasy world that gives them life. That fantasy – a fantasy to us anyway – is their reality. Writers are, by nature, paranoid. We must be to believe – as so many of us do – that we are the Gods of the universes we create on the pages of the tales we weave. We must be paranoid to carry on conversations with our characters, ask them what they think of their situation, consult them on the best way to get out of a predicament, and rely on the expertise we give them to get them out of the situation into which we place them. Only paranoia can convince us that our characters answer back with their own feelings, thoughts and opinions on the stories in which they are born. We grieve for them when they are hurt, mourn with them when they experience a loss, cheer for them as they battle the forces of Evil and celebrate with them as they finally overcome. It can only be paranoia that explains how the characters on the pages of Splintered Souls became so special to me that I felt the need to continue their story here in the pages of Breath of God. It can only be explained that paranoia leads me now to plan a series of books ba
sed upon the exploits and adventures of Alex Mendez. Alex must live because, over time, he has become a very real part of me. More so than any character I have ever created, Alex Mendez lives inside me. He wakes me at night with a call to action. He hinders my daily activities, such as driving, with his sudden rush of plotted inspiration. He demands that I end meals with my family early because his family’s life hangs in the balance. He forces me to stop cleaning my house, insisting that his duty to the citizenry of his make-believe world takes priority over the pile of socks and underwear now several days high. As with any childhood dreamer, Alex is the “me” I was never able to be.

  One of my toughest experiences as a writer to date was writing the hospital scenes where Alex was unconscious throughout. It wasn’t until that sequence of events that I truly realized how much say-so Alex had always carried in the way the story played out. When left to my own devices, it was much more difficult to decide what to do with the story. I labored for many a night, in the hopes that Alex would approve of the story as I told it or, even better, just wake up so that he could take over the story himself. It was quite a wonderful surprise the day I came to the computer to find Alex awake from his slumber, ready to resume the telling of his own story. Call it paranoia if you wish, but truly Alex’s name should share, at minimum, co-author status on this book. Without his strong personality channeling through, there’s little doubt in my mind that this story would have likely gone untold. The characters in this book wanted this story as much as, if not more than, I did. They made the story easy when it needed to be easy. It was my own insecurities that raised any difficulties along the way. Paranoia is a double-edged sword and I can honestly say I took blows from each edge, the positive and the negative. It can only be paranoia that made me “edit” the reality of the East Texas landscape I see every day. For it is paranoia that convinces me that, by editing the world in which I live, Alex would have greater trouble seeking me out from deep within the fantasy world in which he reigns as king. And it must be that same paranoia that convinces me that I am the God of this Universe when it is so clearly Alex that is in control. Paranoia granted Alex and this macabre cast of characters life on the pages of this book. That same paranoia refuses to let them stop living even now as I write this closing commentary. Perhaps, as was previously mentioned, we’ll all meet again on the pages of the forthcoming Alex Mendez series. For now, I hope mostly to catch up on lost sleep, dirty laundry, neglected housework and a renewal of family connections lost to Alex’s demands. I know I have a family around here somewhere. Now where did I put them?

  * * *

  An Explanation of Biblical aspects found in this story.

  The Christian Bible begins with (among other things) the Word of God saying, “Let there be light.” The literal translation of that scripture says “Light in Me, Be!” From that, it can be inferred that God literally breathed light into the world, much the same way He first breathed life into Man. It can be just as easily assumed that The Breath of God was responsible for the flood that wiped out all of humanity, save for a few people on an ark built of gopher wood. For those of us who accept The Bible as God’s inspired word, The Breath from within our Almighty God becomes an all too infrequently celebrated power source from which we – mere humans – could, and probably should, draw more of our own strength. As for the story of Ham, Japheth and Shem – Noah’s Sons – miniscule amounts of literary license have been taken where research and available data does not lend itself to absolute true accounts of events during that time. In no fewer than fourteen different articles, I found several defending the conclusion that Shem was the oldest child of Noah while just as many claimed that it was “Japheth the elder.” In places where The Bible is silent, such as on the names of the female players in that epic drama, for example, I have allowed for events to write themselves in a very creative and, yes, fictional way. Where available research simply contradicts another set of data – as described above with Noah’s sons – it has been my duty to sort through the available information and decide only what “facts” worked best within the context of the fictional story I have tried to tell. At no point have I tried to portray my fictional tale as any form of living truth. At no point have I made the claim or felt the need to claim that my work should be taken as a religious document or an attempt to indoctrinate anyone. While certain Biblical principles, morals, themes and stories have been presented, I leave it to the reader to understand that this is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. In particular, I have found nowhere in any literature – sacred or secular – that would point to Ham making a deal with Satan or his anger burning so horrifically as to cause him to resign his descendants to serve the powers of Hell for all eternity. That aspect is entirely a product of my imagination. I have used Biblical accounts as the foundation of my fictional story simply because I find the stories interesting and I believed that they could make for a believable backdrop for my fictional tale. As with any creator of fiction, my attempt is to entertain. If in the process I am also able to inform, so much the better.

  Finally, as it relates to the scenes that depict the crucifixion of Christina Mendez, it must be pointed out that this was not meant to be sacrilegious or offensive to anyone on a moral, ethical or personal level. The fact is that Jesus Christ was crucified. That is an indisputable fact. Without arguing His Deity, historical records prove He was crucified. However, the fact remains that He was not the first person, nor was He the last person crucified. In fact, many of His very followers were themselves crucified. His crucifixion, however, had truer meaning simply because of who He was.

  During the time of His crucifixion, The Bible allows for the question if Jesus was truly The Messiah, why did He not save himself? Why did He not simply come down off of the cross and destroy those who would persecute Him? He did not do this. Rather, He stayed on the cross; becoming the sacrifice Christians celebrate Him to be today. According to Christian beliefs, Christ bore the burden of sin for humanity by dying on the cross. The only way for us to be saved from sin was through the sacrifice that could only be fulfilled when He gave His life on the cross. By having Christina Mendez come down, magically if you will, off of the cross it was my intention to differentiate her from Jesus Christ. It was, within the context of a fictional story, my intention to show that she was not The Messiah. She was not meant to be a sacrifice for all Mankind or a way out of sin. She was simply someone of a special nature in something of a special circumstance, possessing something in the way of special powers that allowed her to fight for the side of good, though she would suffer greatly for it at the hands of the very same dark forces that thought killing Jesus would be a good idea. As I pointed out earlier, many of Jesus’ disciples were themselves crucified, including Peter, The Rock on which Jesus said His Church would be built. The crucifixion scenes in this story were meant, simply, to show a disciple of God being called to fight a battle within herself, just as we must each fight.

  The battle between Good and Evil is not always one that is fought between one person and another. Often times – more often than not – the battle is waged within the heart of each individual, very likely with the influence of beings – call them angels if you’d like – on both sides of the struggle whispering instructions not into our ears but into our very souls. Once the choice is made on which side you will fight, one battle has already been won. The ultimate battle – the battle for ultimate superiority between the forces of Good and Evil – has yet to be fought. Someday, once everyone has had a chance to choose sides, perhaps that battle will begin. I believe, as do many of my Christian Brethren, that the outcome of that forthcoming battle has already been determined. For those who may wonder if I’ve ever felt as though I flirted with blasphemy by editing and adding to God’s word, my honest answer is yes. But I also know that I prayed for weeks about the scenes in which editing and fictionalizing Biblical accounts would come into play. I continued researching long after the Biblical parts of the story were laid out, jus
t hoping that I could find the most satisfying conclusion. I asked for the guidance of my Heavenly Father and I believe wholeheartedly that I have been granted a certain amount of latitude in creating this story. As the Great Creator He is – having created me, the world and everything in it – I’m sure He understands far better than I do the concept of improvising.

  I ask the readers of this text to please realize this is, first and foremost, a work of fiction and is intended to be entertainment. While based loosely around Biblical fact, many of the things written herein are not to be accepted as gospel truth. For that, I suggest the reader refer to The Bible. As with any work of fiction, my purpose here was primarily to entertain and, if I’m being honest, to cause the reader to think. I have read the Biblical accounts of Noah and his sons many times. Too, I have read more articles than I dare count on the subjects of creation, and the various accounts of a Great Destruction Event from various civilizations throughout time. I have not tried to “get it right” entirely, which I freely admit to my readers. To do so would involve, in my mind, accomplishing the impossible. By that, I mean if I were to accurately depict the events of the Great Destruction, I would know the mind of God, His motives, thoughts and actions. As I would never make such an assertion, I have simply labored to inform and, as stated before, entertain. The Almighty granted us free will and then sat back to see if we’d be tempted enough to use it. If nothing else, at least He can rest comfortable in the knowledge that I asked permission before venturing out to use mine. Free will, as Adam and Eve learned so very long ago, is hardly free after all.