“Jove, I will take him to the car.” She said as she grabbed the man by the arm and hoisted him up and made it towards the car. “Do your thing and clean up my mess.”
“What?” I yelped as they made their way to the car. “My thing? What is my thing?”
“You know. Do something super.” She quipped.
“Something super?” I said to myself.
As they reached the car I took a deep breath and rose into the air above the human wreckage. With thought speak, I summoned the elemental power of the earth to have gravity pull the circumference of the clearing in a steady tug towards the center of the earth. Slowly the ground tore away from the perimeter and created a funnel in a whirlpool of the earth in on itself until there was a hole in the ground as if a meteor had hit the earth. I then called upon the wind to gather the surrounding dirt, and underbrush from the surrounding area to fill the hole. When that was completed called upon the surrounding storm clouds to move over the site and begin to rain to flood the surface area and then called to the wind again to dry the area. The process took a few minutes in total. Then I flew to where Alma’s car was.
“Almathea, how did you know?” I said, as I opened the passenger side of the Cougar and got in. Our new friend was unconscious in the back seat.
“Jove? Come on? You didn’t know I knew?” she said as she slowly pulled out onto the main road before gunning it and taking off.
“I have no idea what you mean?” I said as I looked at her imploringly.
“You don’t know who I am - Aegis?? She said as she investigated the back seat to make sure our passenger was still out cold.
“Aegis? What is that?”
“Jove I know you are a Pilgrim of Eternity. And that you here to save humankind before they smite themselves. I know you are a God with a human complex. I know that you were chosen for this mission because you have humanist qualities for a deity. I believe that the P.O.E elders saw you as Earth’s best chance because you understand these savages.” She said. As she looked at me in earnest.
“Thank you, I guess? Sounds about right but who are you and what is the Aegis?”
“Jove my dear godchild. Aegis is the Shield. An advance team was sent ahead. A sleeper cell of emissaries that wait and watch for a P.O.E is sent. We are here to protect you on your mission. To aid you in your quest. To have your backs. You guys, you P.O.E are in charge. Thinks of us as your backup band, sidekicks, to assist you.”
“I was not aware. I had heard something about emissaries. But I did not know for sure.” I said as I sat there trying to take this all in.
“Like you, we are supposed to stay under the radar and only surface and present ourselves to the P.O.E when needed. When I saw that our friend in the back seat not once but twice see you and engaged with you did I think to talk to you and start watching him? I was right. Him being a human sacrifice back there was an odd plot choice, to say the least.”
“OK Almathea, before we get to him. Are there other emissaries on Earth or Aegis as you have called yourself?”
“Yes, Jove. There are five of us here at any given time. Right now, there is I. Alma, and Thea. There is Ursula, Puer, and Senex.” She said as she glanced again toward the back seat and then to the rear-view mirror.
“Thea? I don’t understand?” I said.
“Apparently. We are one here and I am yet two. She drives the Jaguar and I drive the Cougar. She has her abilities or powers and I have mine.” She said.
“OK. Your ride from the coffee shop. That was her. Oh. So, you are twins?” I asked.
“No, we are two beings but one entity. We merge when we need to. To strengthen our powers, we come together as Almathea when separate we are Alma and Thea. Make sense?”
“OK. Starting to. When you two are merged what car do you drive?” I asked.
“Seriously? I tell you all that, and your question is about the car? Wow! You do have a human complex.”
“Sorry. OK now to our comrade snoring in the back seat? Who is he? And what part in all of this is he responsible for? I am starting to think he is crucial to me, us saving the rest of them.” I said.
“OK.” She said as she began the back story of our friend sleeping the dream of angels who now started talking in his sleep. “His name is Rex Goodman. He was orphaned at age eleven. His parents died of an overdose. He was a street kid who learned how to hustle to survive. He was a good kid. Didn’t steal or hurt anyone. He sold oranges at the exit ramp of highways or roses that kind of thing. Collected cans and newspapers for food money. He didn’t do drugs or anything like that. You couldn’t blame him if he did. Life was hard on the streets, but he was a survivor. He was mature for his age. He looked older than he was. He would stop what he is doing and help an old lady across the street. When he was thirteen a group of drunks coming out of the bar started picking on him while he was trying to sell roses to outdoor diners. Trying to get the gentleman to buy one for their dates. One male patron didn’t appreciate Rex’s entrepreneurial spirit when the man saw behind the restaurant and started to taunt him for being on the streets. Other men started to torment him before they all teamed up and beat him almost to death. Rex woke up in child protective services and found himself in the foster care system. He did alright for the longest time before he once again found himself in harm’s way. The foster care family he found himself with when he was sixteen were militant Christians. The real spare rod spoils the child crowd. If he was late from school or forgot to take the trash out. He was punished. Punishment meant that he had to go to the garage and be beaten with a cane. Pretty archaic right? Real old-school bullshit. However, he was not alone in his suffering. There was another boy his age that found himself in the same hell. The two became close friends. They looked out for one another and tried to mitigate their shared pain and torture. In the time after countless occurrences of being beaten and healing from their physical wounds and their psychological scars the two’s bond went beyond friendship and the two became lovers, and soulmates. They were stronger together and they both felt that they might be able to survive another two years of this captivity until they both turned eighteen. Or so they thought. The other boy's name was Virgil. On his seventeenth birthday, things took a disastrous turn. The father of the fostered children, which there was twenty in total, caught Virgil and Rex kissing in the backyard. The father’s name was Richard Haman. The boys called his Dick behind his back. He was outraged and took Virgil by the arm and pulled him into the garage and began the boys' ritual beating. Rex was locked outside and pounded on the door for Dick to stop. But he didn’t. It seemed the more that Rex ponded and pleaded the worst the beating got. Until it was silent. Rex could not hear Virgil crying, screaming, or sobbing. He feared the worst. When the door opened he pushed Dick aside and rushed to Virgil. When he reached him what he had feared had come to be the truth. Virgil was dead. Beat to death by the man who was supposed to love and support him. Did I mention that Virgil was black, or of African American descent? Rex flew into a rage and came at Dick and began to beat him near death. Before the mother, Patsy Haman hit Rex over the head with a shovel. Rex fell to the ground and when he woke this time he woke in the county prison. He was in solitary confinement and on suicide watch. Rex spent the next year in that facility before he was released. While he was incarcerated he fell in with a bunch of neo-Nazi skinheads. That was ten years ago. He is now twenty-eight. A grown man a victim of his life’s circumstances which have created the being you see back there sawing wood and speaking in tongues as he dreams about God knows what. Poor man. He has the blues. He was screwed. And look at those tattoos. They tell a story of the hate within his soul. We need to help him Jove. Maybe by doing so we can create a butterfly effect that will spread across the world and heal the rest of the larvae before they hatch and kill each other off?”
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Just as she was finishing her story of Rex Goodman’s tragic tale of woe, we pulled into a cabin deep in the woods where I spent my first night here.
“Perhaps therefore he was dropped in our laps. Maybe he is the vehicle for humankind's transformation?” I said as I looked back at him with sympathy and sorrow. “Just maybe this is why we are all here.”
As she turned off the car, I got out and got Rex from the backseat and carried him inside. Inside Alma instructed me to follow her so that we could find a suitable place where we might put Rex so that when he woke he would not be too startled by his surroundings. Alma had me place him on a cot in a shed off the kitchen so that we could keep an eye on him. Then we went in, and she made a pot of coffee as we sat there waiting for it to perk we sat at the kitchen table and watched the sun come up. We sat in silence as we watched the sunrise through the wood. Where we were was on the brim of a national park. The scenery was beautiful. As the forest came alive so did we. Slowly we woke from a waking nightmare that was the events of the previous day. We would learn more when Rex re-entered the waking world. Until then we kept busy trying to figure out who that group was and what they were up to.
“When will I meet the rest of the team? Alma?” I asked as I poured myself another cup of coffee.
“In due time. They will show up as we need them. Remember low - profile. Thea, you will meet sooner than later. She is in town keeping an eye on the citizens to see if anything out of the ordinary is afoot. We will see?” she said as she sat opposite me.
“Tell me, I know you have been here for a while keeping a vigilant eye on the populace. How is it that a good young man, a kind and productive member of society even as a child could go from that to a hardened uncaring hateful person?” I asked as I stared at her. “How?”
“Well Jove, it is not hard at all. Pain is an equalizer. Fear is an equal opportunity offender. People get discouraged. They lose hope. It is easier to hate what you fear than to stand up and accept the truth. The 2020 election is a prime example. Instead of acknowledging the obvious hate will warp one’s sensibilities and we see what we want to see. We believe want we want to believe. What we want or can’t look at becomes the story we tell ourselves and we won’t accept any other explanation. We have biases. When what we hear and see with our own eyes and ears is too hard to experience we retreat into the absurd and project our insecurities outwards. Usually, it is because we are unhappy with our circumstances, that we belittle, mistrust, and buy into the ridiculous. When I say we, I mean these humans. The fanciful is always much more entertaining than the humdrum mundane of what is.”
“I have a lot to learn, Alma. I don’t know if there is enough time for a learning curve when so much is at stake.” I said as I rubbed the top of my head.
“No worries, my friend. That is why they send an advanced team to do reconnaissance. To get the lay of the land and to assess the situation to be better prepared. We got you. We are called Aegis - the shield for a reason. We are to help and assist. We got this. Our purpose is true, and our collected intent is for the greater good.” She said as she excused herself and went to get some rest. “You can take the first watch, Jove. Wake me if Rex wakes. I will be in the other room.”
“Got it, Sarge. Sweet dreams.”
Alma went into the living room and sacked out on the couch as I continued to look out the window and ponder how such a beautiful world full of wonder and opportunity was taken for granted by those who did not want to work together to make it an even better home world than it already was. Why would they let gender, the color of one’s skin, or what god they worshipped lessen their limited time and not enjoy it while they had it?
Time is short when you are a mortal. They are mortal. They created gods to explain their collective experiences and behaviors. They envision a male godhead, why? Because the male of the species think they are in charge. When they started farming and focusing their survival on growing and reaping from the earth is when they started getting Greedy and self-obsessed. Commerce came into being. Resources were then bought and sold and bartered. Things instead of people began to have worth. If you could not produce you were assigned a role of being a liability instead of an asset. It was not so long ago that politicians were using labels like makers and takers to describe people. Forget being a human being. Being human lost its value. If you were not bringing something to the party then you were stealing. Never mind your station in life. Forget the fact where and to whom you are born has such an influence on how you start in life and the odds of how you finish. There seems to be less of a hand up than there is a boot to the face for even wanting to share in the good fortune of even being alive. It saddens me to even wonder why how these people have gotten here. I will try not to use Rex as a data point on a chart or a graph but as a valued human being that deserves all that love, kindness, and compassion can do to lift. We can do this. Human willing.