Jezebel's Ladder

by Scott Rhine

  Jezebel’s Ladder

  By Scott Rhine

  Amazon Edition

  Copyright 2011 Scott Rhine

  On the cover: The Origamido Butterfly is design used with permission from Michael G. Lafosse, and appears in Advanced Origami, An Artist’s Guide to Performances in Paper, Tuttle Publishing, Vermont, 2005.

  NOTE: Approximately 13 chapters of this novel were e-published previously as the novella The Icarus Transformation

  DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Corporations, places, and characters depicted herein are imaginary and for entertainment purposes only. Any similarity to real companies, places, or people is coincidental.

  To my wife, Tammy, who is one of the many strong, capable women in my life.

  To my son, Pierce, who helped with the origami.

  To my daughter Emily, who sacrificed valuable play time with me this summer.

  Thanks, also, to Katy Sozaeva, Weston Kincade, DJ Feldmeyer, and Coral Russell for the edits and proof-reading.

  Cover art by http://www.thecovercounts.com

  Table of Contents

  Amazon Edition

  To my wife, Tammy, who is one of the many strong, capable women in my life.

  Part 1: How the Dinosaurs Died Chapter 1 – A Drink Before the War

  Chapter 2 – The Ward

  Chapter 3 – Intake Interview

  Chapter 4 – Secretary for Eye Corps

  Chapter 5 – Work Smarter, Not Harder

  Chapter 6 – Recruiting

  Chapter 7 – Higher Truth

  Chapter 8 – The Top Ten

  Chapter 9 – New Blood

  Chapter 10 – Spy School

  Chapter 11 – Taking Charge

  Chapter 12 – The Way We Do Business

  Chapter 13 – First Class Offers

  Chapter 14 – Of Cabbages and Kings

  Chapter 15 – Growing Pains

  Chapter 16 – The Problem with Claudette

  Chapter 17 – Think Tank

  Chapter 18 – Spy versus Spy

  Chapter 19 – The Smell of Desperation

  Chapter 20 – Judgment

  Chapter 21 – Debriefing

  Chapter 22 – Iron Butterfly

  Chapter 23 – Preparation

  Chapter 24 – Chiaroscuro

  Chapter 25 – Siege

  Chapter 26 – Peace

  Chapter 27 – Redefining

  Chapter 28 – Meet the Press

  Chapter 29 – The Family Grows

  Chapter 30 – The Eye in the Sky

  Part 2: A Debt to Midas Chapter 31 – The Warning

  Chapter 32 – The Icarus Transformation

  Chapter 33 – A Small Problem with Physics

  Chapter 34 – Celebrations

  Chapter 35 – Finding Nick

  Chapter 36 – Warrant

  Chapter 37 – The Midas Project

  Chapter 38 – Things You Don’t Want to Hear

  Chapter 39 – Simulation

  Chapter 40 – Dysfunctional Family

  Chapter 41 – Impending Doom

  Chapter 42 – A Common Reaction

  Chapter 43 – Facing the Juggernaut

  Chapter 44 – A Desperate Plan

  Chapter 45 – Protect Your Quarterback

  Chapter 46 – An Expert in Handling Nutcases

  Chapter 47 – Breakout

  Chapter 48 – My Name is Elmer J. Fudd, I own a Mansion Und a Yacht

  Chapter 49 – Every Cooperation

  Chapter 50 – They Also Serve Who Only Stand and Wait

  Chapter 51 – The News

  Chapter 52 – Daedalus

  Chapter 53 – Tell Me All Your Thoughts on God

  Chapter 54 – The Beginning of an Era

  Chapter 55 – Aftermath

  Epilogue – The 28th Page

  Part 1: How the Dinosaurs Died

  Chapter 1 – A Drink before the War

  Jezebel Johnson hadn’t hit rock bottom yet. By 2:00 a.m., she couldn’t remember the day of the week. She was stuck in Yesterday, her second favorite bar, because she had bounced a check in her usual place, and couldn’t go back. Jez sat next to the speakers so she could feel the beat in her chest. The pounding music also kept conversation to a minimum. The last ounce of her Screwdriver had been bitter, but she stared at the empty glass, wishing for more.

  It had taken her five years to work up from showgirl to magician’s assistant, and another year to work up to The Amazing Chance’s fiancée. For a few years, they’d had an apartment and a good life. He’d been a rising star. However, her comfortable home had vanished in a flash when The Amazing Chance was killed in a car-jacking. Since he’d forgotten to change his will, their joint condo, bank account, and magic show had all gone to his greedy sister, Olive. Months later, Jezebel had nothing left of him except the gold, origami butterfly around her neck.

  But she could still rely on her toned legs and shoulder-length, ginger-blonde hair. When she wore her short, red dress for a night of forgetting, she never had to pay. It wasn’t long before the bartender said, “The two guys at the end of the bar want to buy you a drink.”

  She knew she could go home with any man there, or even the bartender, if she requested a Screaming Orgasm in her husky voice. The two men wore tan hunting vests and cowboy boots. Their idea of a good time was probably sex in the back of the truck with the strapped-down deer watching.

  “Long Island Iced Tea,” she said to the bartender, waving to the hunters with a forced smile. She could nurse it for a long time, and it even had a little water and vitamin C in it. Maybe the headache wouldn’t be so bad tomorrow.

  The pale, round-faced, sixteen-year-old boy to her right muttered, “Lady, you need to stop drinking and get out of here while you still can.”

  “Mind your own business,” she snapped. She jabbed her thumb toward the boy and said to the bartender, “I thought you were supposed to keep kids like this out.”

  The bartender raised an eyebrow as he slid the tall drink to her.

  When Jez looked again, the kid had vanished. She felt a wave of dizziness. Damn, that usually didn’t happen till at least three in the morning. Since somebody was already snorting lines in the ladies’ room, she decided to step out back for some fresh air.

  The sudden silence after the overpowering music felt liberating. The disadvantage to standing on the loading dock was the noxious smell coming from the open dumpster below her: the unwanted parts of the all-you-can-eat buffet, fish heads, onions, and rancid sour cream that had been in the heat all week, garnished with cigarette butts and beer-soaked napkins.

  The kid appeared at her left elbow again, making her heart run like a startled rabbit. He looked innocent, with a mop of sandy-brown hair that hadn’t seen a brush in days. He wore a gray, chamois shirt, and waved his hands in the air as he hissed, “Run! Get out of here. Those guys dressed like hunters are coming after you.”

  The nearest exit from this alley was three buildings away, and the route was riddled with heel-snapping chuck holes and rats. The guys buying her drinks had looked like thick-neck morons but weren’t scary enough to risk needing a tetanus shot. As she started to object, the boy disappeared. To herself, she said, “It’s either blackouts or hallucinations; neither one is good.”

  Without a sound, the boy reappeared on her other side. If she concentrated, she could see moonlight through his form. The shock of the ghostly apparition caused her to drop her purse. She stared down as the purse bounced off the cement into the open trash container. “Oh, this can’t get any worse.”

  Impatient, the kid shouted, “They’ve got guns, and they’re going to rape you before they kill you. Hurry!”

  Holding her nose, she h
opped into the dumpster on top of some nasty, stained carpeting. When the heel snapped off her right, candy-apple-red shoe, she decided to use the tragedy for misdirection. After throwing the broken shoe down the middle of the alley, she pulled the dumpster lid shut over herself.

  Jez heard the blast of music as the men came out the back and let the back door close again. Next, a nearby gun made a distinctive click as someone slid a round into its chamber. She held her breath. A calm, male voice with a Texas drawl said, “She took off that way. You try to catch her while I get the car.”

  Footsteps pounded down the cement steps and away. Then, she heard a burst of static before the Texan spoke again, “Control, target is in the wind. Send a unit to her apartment for pickup.”

  Between the stress, the smell, and her alcohol intake, her stomach was on a rollercoaster. The moment she heard the man go back into the bar, she threw up, worrying that everyone on the Strip could hear her. As soon as Jezebel was able, she climbed out of the dumpster, shaking. Her left shoe came off, stuck in something disgusting, so she left it in the trash. At least I still have my purse, she thought wryly, wiping a brown lettuce leaf off her shoulder.

  Down the right side of the alley, the transparent teenager beckoned to her. She ran, ignoring protests from her bare feet. Every time she got close to him, he would vanish and reappear a short distance further. Jez felt like she was in a bizarre dream sequence. Once on the main drag, he flickered over to a shiny, new, chrome-plated bus that looked like the home for a rock band, and pointed to the door. Then, her guide was gone.

  Jezebel fumbled open the door and closed it behind her. Desperate for a weapon of some kind, she grabbed a small fire extinguisher from behind the driver’s seat. She crouched behind the two rows of royal-blue seats, waiting for her breathing to slow and for any evidence of her pursuers.

  After a few minutes, she heard rustling from the back area. Jez clenched her makeshift club and peeked through the curtain into the main cabin. She saw computer terminals, a big-screen TV, a sound system, two sets of bunk beds, and the kid who had helped her in the alley. He was dressed in the same gray, long-sleeved shirt over a heavy-metal band t-shirt, and blue-flannel pajama bottoms. However, this time he was definitely solid and sitting in a wheelchair. Electrical cables dangled from his forehead like dreadlocks, causing jittery sine waves to dance on one of the monitors.

  The absurdity of the pajamas put her at ease a little. She set the fire extinguisher on the black, rubber floor and held out her hand tentatively. “I’m Jezebel. Thanks, I think.”

  The teen smiled. After peeling off the last electrode lead, he reached out as well. Seeing the amount of garbage still clinging to her arms and dress, he hesitated. “I’m Daniel… crap, I mean Oobie. Pretend you didn’t hear me say that.” He sounded more nervous and nasal in person. There were also traces of a struggle with weight gain in his face that she hadn’t seen before. He threw her a hand towel from a pouch on the side of his wheelchair.

  Grateful for the towel, she started to clean slime from her hands and face. “Thanks again. Now, what the hell is going on here?” she whispered, afraid the thugs outside might hear her.

  “I can’t tell you,” Daniel said, biting his lower lip.

  Desperate, she struggled to find some way to extract an explanation. “Where are your parents? Maybe they could help me.”

  He rubbed his head, thinking. “I have guards, but I sort of sent them out on a burrito run. Bad timing.” Then, an idea lit up his face, and he raised a forefinger. “I have something that will clear everything up.”

  Daniel rolled his chair over to the work desk and opened a small safe with his thumbprint. He pulled out a sheet of paper the same width as normal stationery, but a quarter the length. It had gold threads and shimmered in the dim light from the desk lamp as he slid it toward her.

  Cautiously, Jez took the page from the desktop. The black letters flickered a little at first, but then became perfectly clear.

  The Collective Unconscious, the Union of Souls:

  We all come from the same over-world and will return there someday. Someone once said, if we closed our eyes at the same time, we’d see the same thing. That’s close. We do all go to the same plane, but with different locations and with different points of view. This multiplicity is important when defining or triangulating upon a higher truth.

  Theta state is necessary for…

  Jezebel felt her eyes roll back in her head as the dream state swept over her. She fell to the rubber mat, unconscious.

  Chapter 2 – The Ward

  Jezebel had an amazing dream. She was performing again, with hundreds of people watching her. Coming from backstage, she felt waves of support and a sense of belonging she hadn’t experienced since her father died.

  She wanted to stay in that wonderful place, but sunlight battered its way in. Jez woke in clean clothes, on starched-white sheets, with a headache that would have brought an elephant to its knees. Grabbing her temples, she moaned, “Shoot me now.”

  “Not only would that be ungentlemanly, but it would probably make all the tabloids,” confided a man with suave voice from his chair across the room.

  She was in a private hospital room of some kind. She instinctively pulled the sheets up to her chin. Her hair was a rat’s nest and still caked with fragrant organic material from the night before. After she patted her chest, she exclaimed, “My butterfly pendant!”

  The attractive, thirtyish man deactivated and pocketed his smart phone. “Relax,” he coaxed. “It’s standard procedure for the nurses to take your clothes and accessories. You’re officially checked-in to a drug and alcohol rehabilitation spa in the Hollywood hills. You'll get your personal possessions back when you leave.”

  “I can’t afford…”

  The man held up a perfectly-manicured hand. “It’ll be on our dime. Oobie was indiscreet on several levels.”

  His voice triggered a memory. Jez pointed. “You’re that guy, Benny Wholesome, I mean Hollis! You were in all those buddy pictures. I loved when you played that high-school kid who could get away with anything.” She could still see the boy inside, with a little more weight and polish. Then, she stopped the gushing, embarrassed by her fan-girl outburst. The smooth character-actor had been in twenty-three pictures before suddenly disappearing from the spotlight.

  As he stood, she noticed that his legs were more firmly muscled than most people who wore suits for a living. Benny walked over and examined her pupils with a pen light. When they responded normally, he smiled. “Beautiful. No apparent damage. In here, please refer to me as ‘Uncle Buddy.’ I’m a dozen years older than you, so the staff will believe it.” She revised her estimate of his age upward, but the years had been kind to him. “You seem coherent. Have there been any ill effects from your ordeal?”

  She wrinkled a lip. “I need to shower for a few hours and find a new place to live, if that’s what you mean. Then, I’d like some answers.” She remembered reading the golden document. The sensation had been familiar. “What’s this Collective Unconscious thing the paper mentioned?”

  “Human beings are connected on a deeper level than most of us realize,” Benny began. “Some of our more religious members call it the Community of Saints, but I think being human is the only real requirement.” When she looked puzzled, he said, “Allow me to demonstrate.”

  The actor’s warm hand took Jezebel’s with surprising gentleness. The moment his thumb caressed the palm of her hand, she felt the sea of belonging supporting her again. “Oh.”

  Benny released her hand, but the pleasant tingle remained. “You’ll develop your own definition and sensitivity. More important is the responsibility it places on us to help our fellow humans.”

  “Why did I pass out?” Jez said, mellowed by the touch. Even his voice was soothing.

  “First, you have to dry out,” Benny said. “The doctors are going to poke and prod you a lot, and ask a lot of silly questions. Cooperate and my employer will give you a fif
ty-thousand dollar bonus at the end of two weeks, with the possibility of an employment offer. Once you work for us, I can answer any question you like.”

  Jez laughed. “What’s the catch?”

  The former star’s winning smile dropped as he stood up. “Oobie didn’t know about our failures with this page.” From his emphasis, she knew he was discussing the strange golden document. He turned away in shame, unable to face her. “You’re the first woman who ever read it that didn’t either go stark, raving mad or die outright. The EMTs monitored you the whole way here.”

  The revelation shocked her into momentary silence. He walked to the door before she could react. Before he left, Benny said, “Even if you don’t take the job, see the rehab program through as a personal favor to me. I’ve seen too many good people end up dead in the gutter.”

  ****

  Jezebel showered, ate, and went through the motions of living while doctors bombarded her with tests and more questions than the IRS and college-entrance paperwork combined. Early on the third morning, just after she woke, she had a visitor.

  Daniel wheeled in, carrying her breakfast tray. He was wearing the same band t-shirt as before, unwashed. Guilt shrouded him. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’ll leave if you’re mad.”

  Jez waved him in. The page might’ve killed her and had given her persistent headaches; nevertheless, she couldn’t stay mad at the kid. Daniel’s sad eyes reminded her of the puppy her family had owned after it’d been caught with a shredded slipper in its mouth. As she put her blonde hair up in a ponytail, she said, “You saved me from becoming a murder victim, or worse, and put me in a five-star hotel. I can’t be too pissed.”

  He handed over the food on a beige tray. In addition to the bland eggs, apple juice, and English muffin, Daniel had smuggled in a bag containing two chocolate Pop-Tarts. She ripped open the foil bag. After days of nutrient paste, the sugary pastries smelled divine, and she started wolfing them down.