Piercing The Fold (17 page)

I put my hands over my face and groan. I shake my head as I try to shed all of the baggage I just brought back up to the surface. I open my eyes and feel the swollen feeling of tears. I don’t dare let them spill.

I distinctly remember being taken from Grandmother’s home when I was five years old. Her name was Nina. Nina Fosston. She had passed in the middle of the night. It was sudden, her heart. I can still remember her smell. The mixture of flowers and cocoa butter.

I was always safe in her arms.

I close my eyes again and lean back against the lounger, remembering her hands over mine at night as she prayed over me.

I am continually amazed at how long I made it with the abuse. Something, someone kept me alive and safe. I prefer to think it was my grandmother watching over me.

Then I met Samson Crest.

I was walking up Sunset Drive, and this guy pulled up in a car and offered me a ride. He said that he had something important to talk with me about. He looked nervous. He kept looking around, like he was searching for someone. He freaked me out, so I kept walking and tried to ignore him. SW 80th street, then Kendall Drive and he still followed about twenty feet behind me.

He didn’t look grungy; he was clean cut and shaven. That is the very thing that shot up a red flag for me, though. He looked like a cop or an officer of the court. No way in hell was I going back into the system. I had two more years until I was legally an adult. I picked up my pace. He got stuck behind a bus. I started to run. As I crossed Old Cutler Road, I dodged into a shop and watched from the window until he passed. I left the shop quickly and headed south on Old Cutler to Arvida Parkway and entered the Gables Estates. It was a private, exclusive, and gated neighborhood. It had a sidewalk gate for residents to enter. I pretended that I was supposed to be there and entered the gate after a woman walking her dog came through. I pulled my hood tighter over my head as I strolled more slowly.

I heard a car pull up slowly next to me. My eyes rose and gravitated to the sound of the engine. A ’99 silver Porsche 911 Carrera. A distinguished-looking man in his 40s, black slacks, and a deep blue, long-sleeve shirt was driving parallel to me. I kept walking, but kept the car and the man in my peripheral vision.

I heard car tires screech. I turned back toward the main gates. The guy following earlier hopped out of his car, passed through the sidewalk gate, and was walking quickly in my direction. I stopped and looked at Mr. Porsche. He stopped the car and rolled down his window.

“Looks like you could use a ride.”

I looked behind me again. The stalker guy was about 100 feet out and was pulling something from his side pocket and waving at me.

“You better come with me.”

Those simple words seemed to be filled with trust and honesty to me.

“Hop in, kid. Let’s get you out of here.”

I was in his car and we were driving away in less than five seconds. The side mirror reflected a man putting his hands on his head in frustration.

“My name is Samson Crest. Call me Sam.”

“My name is Alexander Fosston. You can call me Xander.”

I gave him my grandmother’s surname, not mine. After my parents died, Nina Fosston was my parent.

From that day forward, Sam and I were inseparable.

He took me into his home, no questions asked. He accepted me. He taught me everything he knew about life and business. He gave me confidence. Sam nurtured me. And that was something I hadn’t experienced in years. I trusted him.

Sam’s first mission was to talk me into enrolling at Pendleton Preparatory High School. His confidence in me was intoxicating and addicting, I agreed.

As the days turned into weeks, then months, the past started vanishing from existence. Sam wouldn’t let me forget, though. Sam reminded me that my past was going to develop my character and inner strength.

It was my senior year when Sam asked to be a permanent part of my life as my father. He explained that the adoption process would be conveniently accessible due to his ‘connections’.

“I have always wanted to be a father. To be able to watch my child grow, blossom, and succeed. I want to commit to be your father, your guardian.”

I was blown away by Sam’s evident unconditional love for me.

I attended the University of Miami with many of my buddies from high school prep. Sam was well off, if it wasn’t evident enough. He did not hide his wealth. And he taught me to not hide it, but to wield it as a tool of power and entitlement that gains respect.

Popularity was never a strength of mine, until I met Sam. The confidence I developed made friendships and romantic relationships come easy. I was on the fast track to graduate college in three years, plus two years for my masters in business administration. By the time I was twenty-three years old, I had my masters and was introduced to Sam’s business. When I was younger, I would repeatedly ask Sam what he did.

“I am an investor and entrepreneur.”

That was it; that was all he gave me. Never anything more no matter how much I asked.

“What does the corporation invest in? The clubs around town?”

Sam would look at me softly. “You will have many years to focus on our business. Right now, enjoy life a little. You have had many years of sorrow. Savor now, while the universe has given you an opportunity to have some fun and be a kid.”

I did. Every moment of every day was for my enjoyment, my success, my entitlements. And here I am with so much to live for. So much ahead of me. It’s all mine.

Xander’s cell phone rings. He must have dozed off. He opens his eyes and pulls the phone out of his pajama pocket to see who it is.
Zach.
Xander picks up with a smile, while looking out over the deep blue pool and the lush landscape.

“Zach. We still on?”

“Yeah. Chris and I are on our way. Be there in about thirty minutes.”

“Great, man. Some hoops then lunch still good?”

“You got it!”

“Sweet, man. See ya.”

Xander puts the phone back in his pocket. He sits for a little while longer, just taking in the fresh air and the tangible beauty all around him. He slowly closes his eyes again and sighs.

Behind those eyes, just under the surface, something grabs his curiosity again. It is regularly festering in his mind lately. A few weeks ago, Sam had approached Xander with a proposition after the departure of one set of the overseas investor meetings. Sam wanted Xander’s involvement in the business to become more ‘hands on’.

Xander remembers.

“Hands on? You mean like opening another club?”

Sam paced back and forth like a lion all pumped up with adrenaline before a kill. “No, Xander, it has nothing to do with the clubs. This is a separate endeavor altogether. A key investor in our company has asked for my most trusted advisor to carry out some research.”

Xander looked a little perplexed at the vagueness. “Okay?”

Sam slowed his pace and turned to Xander. “You need to travel to Georgia. And you need to keep tabs on a couple of people.”

“Why?”

Sam raised his hand toward Xander to stop any further questioning. “There can be no questions asked, yet. The less you know right now, the better. If you were to…to be intercepted, it would unleash a hornets’ nest of chaos on our family and corporation.” Sam’s eyes were blood shot and dead set on Xander’s agreeable response.

Xander carefully studied his father. Sam was never this serious about a duty from Xander; it was intimidating.

Sam softened, seemingly knowing the turmoil Xander was dealing with inside. He ran his hand through his hair. “Look. All I can tell you right now is that you were specifically called for this duty. You are the future of this project, Xander. You have a purpose in the big picture. Can you understand that I can’t reveal too much to you right now?” Sam looked at Xander with pleading eyes and a wrinkled forehead. In that moment, he showed his age.

Xander folded his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Yes. I understand. When do I leave?”

When Xander returned from Georgia, Sam was all business with respect to Xander and the clubs. The only conversation about the project was if Xander had done what was asked. Xander did his research in Georgia and reported the findings on the two people. Every time Xander thought about asking why he was sent to Georgia to find two seemingly ordinary people, he was curtailed by marketing and advertising projects to bring in more revenue for the clubs. Nothing more had been said about his duty in Georgia, and it had already been a few weeks since his return.

Daniel calls from the balcony, “Mr. Crest. Your guests have arrived.”

Xander snaps out of his deep thought to acknowledge the announcement. “Thanks, Daniel. Send them down to the basketball court, please.”

Having a few minutes to himself before putting business out of his mind, he thinks.
Who were these people in Georgia? What did they have to do with our corporation? What is this secretive project Sam can’t give details on? Everything is so elusive.

He can’t deny that his curiosity has been piqued again.

Back in his suite, Sam is lying in bed with his eyes wide open and breathing deeply. He slowly closes his grey eyes. His eyelids begin to move from the movement of his eyes beneath. The ethereal realm begins to seep into Sam’s mind as his lucid dream becomes vivid.

A dimly lit lounge and soft music playing in the background, Sam walks into the room toward Balthazar.

“Everything is in motion.”

Sam continues toward the two chairs facing the elaborate mantle and fireplace; one is already occupied by Balthazar. “Thank you, Balthazar. Alexander is unaware of the details, but he is loyal and trustworthy. He will do as I ask.”

Balthazar turns his ageless face to Sam. “Are you certain he is not going to pursue learning any more than you have given him?”

Sam sits for a moment and looks at his hands. “I can hold him off.”

“Good. Telling him about his purpose, his influence, and the gifts he can wield can backfire and turn against all of us.”

Sam looks up at Balthazar. “Yes, I am aware of that.”

Balthazar speaks more aggressively. “Telling him of his lineage as a guardian will need to be revealed soon. It is inevitable obviously.”

Balthazar pauses and looks at the fire embers in the hearth. “They are in route. It could affect what we are doing here in Miami.”

That gets Sam’s attention. “When will they be here? How do you know they have found us?”

Balthazar looks at Sam and raises his voice. “I know!”

Sam shifts his gaze back to the fire. “Ezra?”

“Yes. And her.”

There is silence between the two.

“Alexander will inquire of his parents, Sam. It is undeniable that as his purpose unfolds, he will learn of their tragedy.”

Sam scoffs and begins the tragic story. “Yes. The two Dobrian guardians. Paul and Rebekah Sera. Murdered by the Sondian guardians and survived by a child. A boy, Alexander.”

Balthazar takes his half-smoked cigar and plants it into Sam’s arm. Sam winces and tries to shift his arm away, but Balthazar grabs him and holds him still.

“Don’t mock the situation. You may have the assurance of our golden boy right now. But your upper hand can easily be replaced. You can be replaced. Don’t undermine me, Samson. Your salvation, the power that you so desperately desire and hold dear, can be gone in an instant.”

Sam is hyperventilating from the pain. He answers through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes on Balthazar’s. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”

Balthazar releases his arm and stares back into the glowing orange flames of the fireplace.

Sam holds his injured arm close to his body as he quiets his rapid breathing.

Balthazar seethes through gritted teeth. “Feed him the story we discussed.”

Sam turns to him, perplexed by Balthazar’s words. “What? You just said—”

“I know what I just said!” Balthazar turns his eyes to Sam. “Plans have changed. Tell him that he has been chosen as a guardian for Sonde. Tell him of Sonde and the guardians involved in its protection and progress. But as I said before, do not reveal his parents’ lineage.”

Sam becomes angered. “Why now? He could hardly be ready to handle the weight of all of it.”

“Don’t underestimate your boy, Sam. You may know him now. He may seem pliable now. It will not always be so. He will learn certain things along the way, and he will choose what to believe. Then, will you have his unfaltering loyalty? His trust? Will you be allies or enemies fighting a battle?”

Sam focuses on Balthazar’s words and answers flatly with no emotion. “I will tell him. And I will have his unconditional loyalty, Balthazar. If he chooses wrong, then he will be eliminated. The same way I eliminated his parents.”

Sam stands up with his eyes on Balthazar. “Don’t underestimate my loyalty.”

I am running in the facility. It is so much like the first run I had there. The sound of treading on dirt and rock echoing through the caverns. Then there is a second set of feet. Dense in sound and out of sync with mine. I want to turn and look, but I can’t. My body won’t let me. My pace picks up; that is the only thing I can control. The heavy weight of humidity whirls around me. Then my speed begins to slow, like I am running through snow. I press on with fear being the stem of my adrenaline.

A tall, muscular man in a hood comes alongside me. He does not look at me, just keeps the pace. The hooded sweatshirt he wears is familiar. I can see the steam from his quick exhaled breath.

Where have I seen that sweater?
Then, it clicks.
The sweatshirt. On campus in Georgia.

The memory floods back into my mind like a dam being released.

Those addicting green eyes.

The concern about me. “Are you okay?”

Even though I am in a dream state, I somehow control my body enough to grab his arm and turn him toward me. It was him. The guy from campus.

Breathlessly I ask, “What are you doing here? Why are you following me?”

He smiles, then flips his hood off. His face shifts and contorts into someone inhuman and unrecognizable. He grabs both of my arms. I push him away from me, but he holds on to me tightly. I am standing close to a very steep drop off. He is trying to push me off. My footing starts to fail; he is too strong. I look up at his face. He looks terrifying. The bone structure around his eyes is protruding. His mouth has widened like a jack-o-lantern.

As quick as his face contorted, it shifts back to the comforting, human form. Then he shifts again. His smile is sinister, like the sides of his mouth are being stretched beyond normalcy. The color of his skin is lifeless. His appearance takes my breath away, and I feel my body weaken from fear. In the midst of my shock and trying to hold my ground from his strong pushing arms, he throws me back like a ragdoll into a free-fall over the ledge.

I feel myself trying to yell and scream, but only a whimper comes.

I feel my body pull out of the dream with force in the passenger’s seat next to Ezra.

Ezra hastily pulls off the road, obviously taken aback by my response. I am crouched with my feet on the seat, hands on the ceiling, and my back against the passenger’s window.

Putting the car into park, Ezra turns to me and begins yelling. “Jes! Jes! You are okay! You’re in the car! Here, roll down your window and get some fresh air!”

I am breathing rapidly and staring at him, catatonic and frozen. I don’t move my body.

He looks at me strangely.

I whisper, “I…I can’t move, Ezra.”

Ezra looks both frustrated and confused. “What?”

I am trying to slow my breathing and produce saliva. My mouth is so dry. I close my eyes, feeling irritated by his response and whisper again, “I can’t move. Damn it!”

He realizes why I can’t move. “Oh.”

He runs his hand through his dark brown and silver peppered hair. He sighs nervously. “Your mind is trying to get back to your body right now. Either you initiated the separation or someone else did. Most likely the latter. Someone is targeting you, us, again.”

Ezra begins to mumble to himself. I am able to move my hands off the ceiling. He is gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

We just left the facility.

I shift my body, and Ezra’s eyes shoot over to me.

I reassure him, “It’s fine. The practice has made it easier. See?” I am able enough to sit back down in the seat.

Ezra speaks, “It didn’t take them long to find us.” Ezra becomes angry and wells up.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Did you just hear what I said, Ezra? The practice is being used. I am fine.” I put my hands up to either side of my head and made moose ears at him. “See? Look!”

I smile at Ezra trying desperately not to let my own fear come through. “I just didn’t realize I was going to experience that right out of the facility. Now that I’m aware, my guard is up. You have prepared me, Ezra.”

Ezra’s wrinkle in the middle of his forehead starts to subside. A half smile surfaces on his face.

Just that half smile sets me at ease.

Instantly Ezra calms his expression. For his or my sake, I wasn’t completely sure.

He blocked me.

He shifts into drive, and we pull off the shoulder of the road.

“More practice, Jes. You need to put yourself into the meditative state and begin controlling the lucid dreams regularly. Now is the perfect time to practice jumping, while we drive.”

I think for a minute. Not sure of what he means. Then I sense his thoughts.

The lucid dreams. The humming. The vibration. “Jump” while we are driving.

“You’re right. I can feel everything that was gone at the facility coming back, like a slow leak at first. The sound of the humming is barely audible. The vibration is streaming in now that I’m aware of it.”

Ezra says, “If it makes you feel better, my demons have been attacking too.”

I wonder what demons those would be for Ezra. He starts in quick to dodge my approaching question.

“Let’s get started, then. I don’t need my guardian being out less than a week and dying on me. That would really tarnish my reputation.” Ezra winks at me.

I give him a small smile. “All right. I’m ready.”

The next two days of travel are filled with more self-induced lucid dreaming and jumping. I become a pro at putting myself in the dream state through deep meditation within a couple of minutes. Taking myself out of the lucid dream state is tedious. Every so often, I feel a presence break in and shift the path of the dream state. The more this happens, the faster I develop getting out and giving the presence ‘the slip’.

The dreams become a game. Talk about bizarre road-trip games; this one topped them all.

As we passed landmarks, I would set the lucid dream into motion, targeting the landmark. Then I would project there, separating my mind from my body. Interaction with objects in the dream is easy. Knocking over a salt and pepper shaker at a roadside diner. Opening a front porch door. Public interaction, not so much. I can’t interact with beings that don’t have the mental capacity and open mind.

For instance, I can interact with one or two, maybe three people out of a crowded restaurant. I wonder if this is what it is like to be a ghost. Maybe lucid dreaming is equivalent to a spirit’s state of mind. Actually, it is equivalent to a spirit without a body. Death is only material and irrelevant to the presence a strong spirit can maintain here on earth.

It seems the longer or deeper I am involved in the setting of the dream, the jump, the more accessible I am to the presence attacking me.

Ezra reminds me to be cautious. The Sondian guardian may be more experienced than I am, easily over taking my control of the jump and creating a diversion and keeping me from getting back to my body. I am a little intimidated by that. Maybe that is what the dark aura in my dreams in Georgia was meant to do, be a diversion of fear to catch me off guard. Having me use my life force to protect myself, while the real attack was looming. It was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.