Rendezvous with Hymera

by Melinda De Ross

  Listen:

  In occultism could be distinguished three worlds:

  1. The material world (the one we live in);

  2. The astral world (which corresponds to purgatory);

  3. The spiritual world, or, after the Sanskrit term, devakhanic world (the Christian Heaven). There are also other worlds beside these that are above human understanding and can be perceived only to a small extent by the great initiates. The material plane restricts us into this tight space of material existence that elapses between life and death.

  Between two reincarnations, we move in the astral and devakhanic plane. But the man’s nucleus remains steadfast. It reincarnates, but not endlessly, as the rhythm of the reincarnations begins somewhere and has to have and end. Man comes from somewhere and goes somewhere. The astral world is not a place, but a state. It is around us, we forever swim in it on this Earth.”

  Clara munched, listening carefully, while he read, skipping now and then, fragments which had drawn his attention.

  “What happens in the moment of death? After death, the ethereal body, the astral body and the human ego separate from the physical body. In the physical world remains only the cadaver. Immediately after, the etheric and astral bodies merge, the ethereal body imprinting in the astral body all the life memory contained in it, after which he slowly dissipates in its element, the astral body enters alone in the astral world.

  The astral body bares in itself all the desires life holds, but without the means to satisfy them, not having a material body. Which makes it feel a consuming thirst. That’s how, in Greek mythology took birth the image of Tantalus’ torments. The astral body also has the feeling it steps into fire, hence it was born the image of Hell, of Purgatory. In the case of violent death or suicide, these impressions of void, thirst and burning are more horrible. The astral body, unprepared to live outside the physical body, tears apart from it in pain, while, in the case of natural death, the astral body, prepared, detaches easier.”

  “And how the Hell does this guy know what people experience while they’re dying?” she interrupted, scandalized.

  Colin shrugged.

  “Have no idea! He jumbles in here some things about the Bible, about Nietzsche, about white and black magic and all kinds of stuff. Vivisection...”

  “God! Who comes up with this shit?” exclaimed Clara, horrified.

  “Better ask who listens and believes it! The guy who wrote this is a lecturer or something of the sort,” he told her, gently massaging his tired eyes.

  “Hm... Among all that crap might be a grain of truth,” she said. “I’ve read once in a science book that I-don’t-know-what-guy had somehow proved in theory, the existence of three parallel universes: a material one, in which we live, another universe of antimatter, where all things were going backwards than in the first, and a third universe, timeless, in which time itself wouldn’t have any significance. I can’t quite imagine how these things work. Actually, back then I was looking for some references about the Philadelphia Experiment.”

  “And did you find something?” he asked curiously.

  “There haven’t been any official statements ’til this day, but mainly, it seems they’ve managed, by producing huge EMF’s – electromagnetic fields – to make a ship disappear, the escort-destroyer USS Eldridge De-173. It vanished from a port in Philadelphia and appeared, about simultaneously, in a port from Norfolk, about two hundred miles away. There were also a few statements from witnesses, who declared they’ve heard, all during the experiment, a loud, vibrant noise, like a buzzing, and the ship seemed to be enveloped in a greenish fog, but that, even after it vanished, its imprint could be seen on the water. Someone actually stated he’d seen Einstein aboard.”

  Colin was listening amazed. When he managed to articulate a few words, he said:

  “Fascinating! Just fascinating and scary at the same time! What could have happened with all the people aboard that ship?”

  “No one knows precisely,” she answered. “Immediately after the experiment, some of the people were found burning or dead, completely burned. Others were simply encased in the ship’s metal. Several statements coincide, showing that after a while some of them were seen simply disappearing. They just became invisible, and they had lost the notion of time. One man appears to have left home one day just going through a wall and was never seen again. Horrible,” she said, suddenly shaken by a cold shiver.

  “It really is awful,” he agreed, lost in thoughts. “Maybe they are lost in another plane, another universe. Can you realize how they’ve felt? It’s beyond my imagination. Maybe even now they still exist somehow, in another dimension, without knowing what happened to them.”

  Both remained silent for a while, pondering all kinds of assumptions and thinking of how much complexity was in that simple expression Unexpected are the ways of God.

  “That concept with a spirit’s existence in more than one universe is an idea also encountered in yoga,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Whatever, I’m getting a headache and it’s awfully late. Let’s go to bed, tomorrow is another day, as Scarlett says.”

  So saying, they rapidly cleaned the table, then made their way on the narrow stairs to the bedroom, which was enveloped in darkness and fragrant with the cool night air coming through the open window.

  A small portable device – miracle of modern technology – kept away the mosquitoes or cut off the appetite of even the most voracious predators.

  After a while, the silence was broken by Clara’s voice, playful, but half-sleepy:

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m stroking you,” he whispered.

  “Baby, that couldn’t possibly be your hand... No one’s got such big fingers,” she said giggling.

  He sniggered, face buried in her hair, and embraced her tighter, nestling her arched back close to his chest.

  ***

  “Hey, Nick! Did you get me the stuff?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re the best!”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “And modest with it! Will you be at work in an hour?”

  “Don’t think so. Let’s meet at that coffee shop, Star. I have to see someone at lunch for a mini-interview.”

  “Ok, in an hour and a half I’ll be there.”

  Colin placed the phone on the nightstand and turned to slowly caress Clara, who was sprawled on her stomach with one hand and one foot hanging on the floor - laziness personified.

  “Do we really have to get up?” she asked in a small voice.

  “If you want, I can go by myself,” he suggested while gently massaging her bare back, an action that generated unintelligible but ecstatic sounds.

  “Hmm...”

  Clara stretched with feline delight, then rolled over.

  “We’re partners in this business, so I’m going too.”

  After getting dressed, they quickly put together a light breakfast consisting of cheese sandwiches and fruit salad, with ice-cream from the ice-cream cake they had brought along the night before.

  They renewed the supplies of food and water for Tony and Morris, placing each bowl at a cautious distance, as the greedy cat had apparently developed a taste for dog food.

  Clara stuffed in her ever-present shoulder bag two bottles of mineral water and a few chocolate bars, completing the already existent stock.

  Outside, waves of oppressive heat were making their presence felt, especially after leaving the cottage’s shadowed area.

  In the gazebo, surrounded by a cool intimacy created by vegetation, Marie and Robert appeared to be having a romantic breakfast. Clara waved to them cordially, receiving the same amiable gesture.

  Soon, the air conditioning equipment in Colin’s car began to do its job, reinvigorating the two while they covered the road to town, on the smooth highway shaded with trees bowed by time and weather, but still imposing an air of respect to those who knew how to pay homage to nature.

  The coffee shop where Nick was expecting
them was placed in a quiet area and had a comfortable, clean appearance and impeccably mannered staff.

  Joining Nick at a table placed near a window, they ordered ice-cream.

  “How’s it going, precious? Why did you bring him along?” the journalist teased her.

  “I like his company,” she replied intertwining her fingers with Colin’s.

  “Look here, I’ve brought what you asked,” he said, indicating a small folder.

  Clara superficially browsed through the printed pages. Each name was accompanied by a black and white photo, a bit faded, and by some personal data, including the address and the place where each person had been last seen.

  They finished their desserts, making small talk. At one point a tall, dark, overweight man entered the coffee shop and Nick, signaling him, rose.

  “Here’s my buddy,” he said. “We’re moving into a booth, so I can thoroughly grill him... See you. I hope that info will be useful.”

  “Thanks again and good luck with your interview,” Colin told him, shaking his hand. Once they were alone, Clara opened the folder again, this time carefully studying each photo. There were alarmingly many children, most of them being last seen in parks or secluded places, places where any responsible parent should prohibit a child to go. Unfortunately, she thought, very few listen to their parents.

  Suddenly, a name caught her eye and, even before looking at the attached photo, she knew, inexplicably, that the first part of their search was over.

  “It’s her!” exclaimed the young woman putting her finger under the photo. “Eva Aris.”

  ***

  “Eva Aris?!” he repeated looking at her with big, incredulous eyes.

  “Yes,” she answered, amazed at his reaction and tone. “Don’t tell me you know her!”

  Still trying to absorb the new turn of affairs, Colin formulated with difficulty a reply:

  “No... I don’t know her, but I’ve heard that name before.”

  He thoroughly studied the woman’s face, whose image he had created himself only a day before. Although the quality of the picture was execrable, even an inexperienced eye could detect it was the same person.

  “I’ve heard the name, but I’ve never seen a photo of her, didn’t pay much attention to the incident...”

  “What incident?” Clara asked exasperated. “Could you please give me a coherent explanation instead of this muttered monologue?”

  Colin looked up sharply.

  “Sorry, I was trying to remember the details of the case. You see, several months ago, on the verge of the road near Rose’s cottages, was found an abandoned car. Its owner was called Eva Aris. Somebody alerted the local police department and there was an investigation, searches were conducted throughout the area, in the forest, on the explorable surface of the mountain. All available forces were mobilized, even a team of volunteers... There was no trace found of this woman. No clue. The story was all over the news, in the papers. One of my colleagues reported the facts. I remember the Chief of Police saying, in an interview, that Eva Aris seemed to have vanished.”

  Clara remained silent, too shaken by this avalanche of information, turning on all sides in her mind what she had just learned.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t immediately register the question, nor its significance.

  “What?”

  “How did you know it’s her?” Colin repeated, a little impatient in his turn.

  “I don’t know... I just felt it... I can’t explain, but it’s like, for a moment, I watched myself in a mirror, like I’ve known this face forever.”

  He scanned the data next to the woman’s picture.

  “Looks like she was last seen on the seventh of March, by a neighbor, leaving the apartment where she resided. Here’s her address, it isn’t a pleasant area as far as I know.”

  Clara took Rose’s register book out of her bag.

  “Let’s check if she stayed at Rose’s in March.”

  “Leave that for now, we can look it up when we get back to the cottage.”

  “At least we found her... So, what now?”

  “Well, since we have her address, let’s check the place out, although I dislike that neighborhood, but maybe we’ll find something helpful.”

  Clara stared at him, scandalized.

  “And how the hell would you like to get in? I suppose the door is locked... Or, even worse, maybe she didn’t live alone. You’re not suggesting to knock and tell whoever we meet that we have been sent by Eva’s spirit!”

  He laughed.

  “Any lock can be opened, darling,” he said. “We won’t know what the deal is until we’ve scanned the grounds.”

  ***

  Eva Aris’ apartment was situated somewhere on the outskirts of the city, in a bad neighborhood which was deeply marked with traces of the inhabitants’ poverty and ignorance, as well as the violence and meanness deriving from all these. Dilapidated buildings, creepy or obscene graffiti, streets studded with all sorts of waste created a truly deplorable landscape.

  Well-knowing the reputation of the area, Colin had left the car in a bank’s secured parking lot, a couple of blocks away from their destination.

  Before entering the slum, he muttered:

  “Here starts the fun... Keep close to me.”

  Clara clung harder to his hand, throwing around vigilant, cautious glances from behind the shaded lenses of the sunglasses she rarely took off.

  Once again consulting the address, they headed to the middle entry of the respective building, as dirty and sordid as the others, where a bunch of noisy kids were chasing one another, yelling more ferociously than a tribe of savages.

  “This is it,” he said. “Second floor. Let’s go upstairs.”

  They silently climbed the stairs enveloped in darkness, where the smell of urine mixed distastefully with the odor of fried fish, garbage and sweat. Colin took his cell phone out of his pocket, using it as a flashlight to see the two doors on the second floor.

  One was simple, white, without any number or inscription. On the other door, covered with a generous layer of grime and other substances, hardly identifiable, an inventive owner had written with a marker: I’M HAMMER DICK. KNOCK AND YOU SHALL BE SCREWED.

  Clara drastically bit her lips, from where suppressed roars of laughter came out in the form of a strangled hissing.

  Grinning widely, Colin knocked firmly on the slimy door. After a few seconds it opened, revealing a middle-aged guy, with an untidy beard that concealed his features, holder of multiple layers of fat, mostly hanging out in the form of a huge belly - what Clara used to call a monument raised in honor of the hero fallen a few inches below.

  The paunchy man looked at them with glassy eyes, reeking of cheap alcohol from a mile away.

  “Who’re you?” he stammered. “What’d you want?”

  Colin took the initiative.

  “Hello. We’re looking for Eva. Eva Aris. Does she live around here?”

  “That crazy broad?! No one knows anything ’bout her for months,” he muttered, scratching his unkempt, greasy beard. “I think the neighbor from downstairs reported her missing to the cops... She lived here,” he indicated the opposite door with a hand so hairy it would have aroused the envy of any respectable gorilla.

  “Weird woman, she didn’t talk to anybody, seemed to live on another planet...”

  He focused his gaze on them with difficulty, the right eye looking more to his own nose than in their direction.

  “What’s your business with her?”

  “We’re distant relatives,” lied Colin. “Thanks for the information,” he said and started down the stairs dragging Clara after him.

  He waited a few seconds, and after the fat man closed the door and a locking sound was heard clearly, he fished in one pocket and took out a tool, which seemed to be a combination between a screwdriver, multifunctional pliers and a torture instrument.

  “What are you doing with that
?” she whispered slightly alarmed.

  “Stay here,” he said, getting back up into the darkness.

  Once he reached Eva’s door, he discretely lighted the lock with his phone and, using the magic tool and his skillful hands, he rapidly unlocked the old, shaky latch. In two steps, he was near Clara again, pulling her up the stairs. They entered in the apartment unseen and unheard, closing the door behind them.

  “Hold this steady for me,” he said handing her the phone and removed a roll of black tape from his pocket, then stuck a piece on the viewfinder.

  “So that no one can see the light from outside,” he explained, then felt along the wall until he found the switch and turned on the lights.

  “If anyone catches us in here, we’re busted,” she whispered. “How the hell did you get inside?! Oh, wait, actually, I don’t wanna know. If we get arrested, I can honestly say I have no idea what I’m doing here!”

  He laughed quietly. Together, they began to inspect the apartment. It was extremely small and modest, but clean and tidy to the limit of obsession. Clara had a strange feeling of deja-vu studying the room, which served as a lobby, living area and kitchen. It was simply furnished with a sofa, two armchairs, a table and a few other paraphernalia. One corner of the room was decorated with a spider web woven with artistic craftsmanship; in its middle, the artist, an impressive specimen, stood motionless, with the predator’s infinite patience.

  One wall was entirely covered with shelves loaded with books of all genres, universal literature novels, dictionaries, encyclopedias, philosophy, science fiction, all arranged by categories and authors.

  One title drew Clara’s attention, because that book was slightly crooked on the shelf. She inclined her head and read the inscription on the book’s edge: Le Yoga de l’Occident, Charles Kerneiz. Then she noticed that the entire section was dedicated to literature having the subject Yoga.

  “Hm, what a coincidence...” she murmured, then said louder: