Revealing Revelations (22 page)

Blinking continuously and gasping in disbelief of what my eyes see in the short distance before me. I’m both happy and encouraged at what I now see. My silent gaze must have built curiosity in both James and Jessie follow my lead and look over the dash.

“Thomas, what is it?” Sparks asks me, crawling from out of her cubbyhole. It’s Auron levitating before the Tahoe with extended arms and head hung low. From his body emits a shining aura around him, the locust-like creatures still overrun the city around us, but Auron creates a wall of light separating the swarming darkness from harming us. He seems almost lifeless as he hangs there dangling as if he was being crucified. Slowly, his head rises and with it an emotion inside mildly burns my heart with joy to see him more than alive and well. As he throws his head back his eyes begin to roll to the back of his head and on his forehead shines the most beautiful white cross I’ve ever laid my eyes on. The locusts go crazy as the light from Auron grows brighter. I don’t know if it’s the anger of knowing the favor and grace of God now protects us or if it’s the fear to see God’s seal on this vessel. I step out of the truck and walk toward Auron, the red beast raises his spear and yells again the same war cry as before, but I remain untouched or harmed by the darkness. It tries to reach me but it can’t.

As I walk past the Tahoe, I feel the eyes of the others watch silently as I proceed forward. They open doors and get out as I climb on the hood of the truck. They remain quiet and watchful as I now stand directly before Auron as he levitates mere inches away from me. I don’t know what drives me to do any of this. It’s as if there’s a head on collision between sorrow and happiness creating a tornado spiraling inside of me. I can’t think, just feel at this point, just like in the gas station. And all I feel inside once again are the words, “Do it. Do it.”

Auron lowers his head back to regular level where we would at this point look each other in the eyes but his pupils were still in the back of his head. I’ve never seen a person look so beautiful the way he does with this holy power inside him. I want to be on the level he was on. I have to feel the same marvelous anointing that consumes his body. “Do it. Do it.” The feeling of those words throbs through my body compelling me wrap my arms around his high held shoulders, pull him close and embrace him. Hugging him, I can now feel the powerful force surge from his body into mine causing me to jerk backwards but I couldn’t let go of him even I wanted to. The feeling wouldn’t allow me to. It feels so warm, so dominant and yet so peaceful. It increases inside me the longer I hold him like a empty cup being filled with fresh spring water. I feel the flow in my extremities. I feel it rise to my head like blood pulsating in my veins. It’s really happening, I’m receiving what I desired to I feel. The power of God like Auron is experiencing. My body is no longer under my control, but I don’t become afraid or fight this feeling, I understand fully what’s happening and I welcome it. God is my Lord and I am His loved vessel. My body remains wrapped and clenched to Auron’s. The flow now reaches my head and as it reaches the top it can no longer contain it. I feel the force throw my back with my forehead towards the sky as I feel a gentle touch on my forehead. I close my eyes as I feel the touch move slowly down to the center between my eyebrows and then cross that line horizontally. I open my eyes and see it, the light. It shines brightly in the shape of the cross the same cross that illuminates from Auron’s forehead now shines from mine. The same power that surged from his body into mine spills out through the symbol that was placed on me by He who is greater and I love it. I don’t know what it is, but inside I just feel… love. Then a voice of great authority and power whispers to me, “I have filled you with My spirit and I have sealed you with my love. I am your Father and you are my son because today I have begotten thee. You are no longer alone. No longer will thy be unprotected or vulnerable. I will guard you as a treasure of my own heart and build you until you are able to fight the evils of the world….”

~Chapter of Foreshadow~

Hidden location

November 22, 2014 12:17 p.m.

A troubled man sits alone at a desk in a small room holding a phone to his ear. “Yes, I understand that but none of this is going to plan… No, I mean no disrespect at all…I… yes…yes. I understand, but...,” he says speaking in broken parts. Seeming to be cut off after every attempt to speak, the man grows more agitated as the conversation goes on with the unknown party on the opposing end. The man leans over the desk placing his elbow against the wooden top as he cradles his forehead in his palm. “So, what do you need me to do next?” Just as he asks into the phone the door creaks open.

“We’re almost ready for you, sir,” says a small Hispanic man wearing a button up blue shirt and badge pants as he peeks through the cracked door. The man in the chair nods his head in return, shooing him away with a hand gesture. As the door closes he directs all attention back to the unpleasant phone conversation. “Happy Thanksgiving to you too.” He hangs up the phone and leans back in his seat thoughts weighing heavily on his mind.

“Happy Thanksgiving, tch!” he says to himself, mocking  the concluding statement from his phone conversation. The door cracks again as the same Hispanic man peeks though, reluctant to speak to the clearly aggravated man. Hearing the door open once again the man stands up and grabs his black suit coat that hangs from the back of the chair. Buttoning up his blazer he gets his composure back for what he knows awaits him in the room down the hall. The Hispanic man begins close the door in relief of not having to agitate the tall slender man any further.

“Just a second,” the man in black says stopping the man of Hispanic ethnicity from closing the door.

“Yes sir?” The timid man asks re-opening the door wide open.

“I’m ready,” he says, walking out the small office while locking the door behind himself. The taller and shorter gentlemen walk down a long narrow hallway. The commotion of a large audience can be heard as he reaches the end of the hall, walking up a small staircase to a grassy blue stage he makes his way to a brown wood-grained podium with multiple microphones mounted to it in the front center of the stage. Half of the large room before him is filled with cameras and bright lights and just in front of him in the lower pit seats is an audience all aimed and directing full attention on him. Not too long ago when he made any public appearance he was welcomed and glorified with cheers and ovation, but now, then he analyzes the eyes of every lost soul in the crowd. It appears they’re here searching for direction, direction on which way to go and Auron intends to give them what they need to get on the right path. But, really they’re looking for a way to find something to live for in this hell filled world. A word or gesture maybe even something as simple as eye contact that may inspire them to have hope to live when everyone is overwhelmed with pain and anguish. He sees that everyone puts their faith in this one man. They put their faith in him, a man that feels deep down he’s more in need of their inspiration instead. But he digs deep down and musters up enough courage to carry on. He raises his hands in the air in a welcoming gesture as cameras flash as he says the nation’s most warming intro statement.

“My fellow Americans!” The crowd begins to grow in cheer with an overwhelming sense of inspiration. As their cheers die down and claps start to cease, he clears his throat preparing to give the speech articulated for this press conference. Looking at the teleprompter off to the side he starts to feel guilt weigh down on him again. He just looks at the words on the screen of the teleprompter “My fellow Americans,” he says, in a slight ironic chuckle. He clears his throat and wipes sweat from his forehead. “You know… I had a speech prepared prior to today, but I can’t do it,” he says, dropping his head for a brief moment. “Now I know until recently I’ve been out of the public eye and quiet for a period of time that’s un-excusable. And I will be the first to come before the public and apologize for my absence when you needed your nation’s leaders the most. But make no mistake about it, your nations leaders never, I repeat never, hid in fear!” he says, grabbing the top side edges of the podium. The crowd claps in a false sense of inspiration. “Do you think even for an instant that your very own secretary of
defense
would abort the mission and not
defend
you?” he asks with such emphasis.

“No!” the public shouts in response.

“Or your vice president a coward?” he asks continuing to examine their thoughts of loyalty and faith in him.

“No!” they respond again to his question.

After hearing their replies, he boldly stands up straight with open palms waist level at his sides. “Well, what do you think of me your president?” he asks. Slowly, raising his fist into the air, he says, “I remain strong in the face of danger, I remain strong over the pain of grief, I remain strong just as we all have. So when you think to yourselves what type of man is the president of the United States, just know I’m an American.” He explains raising his other fist high into the air mirroring the other. “And Americans… ARE FIGHTERS!” he says with emphasis.

“Yeaaahhhh!” The crowd yells out as if they’ve just been revived.

Dropping his arms he continues on with his public speaking. “For nearly five months we have endured struggles and hardships of immense proportions. We’re fighters! We’ve taken countless unexplained loses all over the nation. We’re fighters! AND WE…WILL NOT… GIVE IN!!” The crowd grows hysterical with the thought behind that last statement. “Thank you!” he says as he quickly walks off the stage and down the long hallway by himself, returning to the same small private room. Double checking the knot of his black tie with one hand, he reaches to insert the key into the silver horizontal door lever. Before he inserts the key, the door cracks open suspiciously. Well aware that he locked the door behind him he knew someone was inside the small office, but he proceeds to walk in the office. Half of the room is dimmer than how he left it while the other is still just as bright. Scanning the room he sees the short Hispanic man to his left leaning against the wall, but awkwardly, his attention is directed across the room to where the desk would be visible if it weren’t so dark on that side of the room. He turns his head to the right and sees a dark figure. “Who’s there?” He knows someone is sitting in the darkness and acknowledges it.

“Must you ask, Mr. President?” asks the mysterious man, the silhouette leans forward and dawns his face. A long pale wrinkled Caucasian face with dark brown beady eyes stares back at him. Grayish eyebrows rise, causing more wrinkles in excessive skin than usual.

“How’d you get pass my security?” the president asks the man.

“Ha ha ha!” The mysterious man laughs. “Your security, you mean the same security that allowed their nation’s most powerful leader to walk unsupervised through potentially dangerous halls and into crowded places public?” he asks in a sarcastic tone with a smirk that insists on remaining on his face. “You know like I know there is no security anymore, but why? Perhaps you want a sense of independence, who knows?” the mysterious man says to the president. “But why seek out independence when you were allowed such great privileges and success?”

“It’s guilt,” the president answers. The smirk on the mysterious man’s face disappears as he begins to talk in a more stern voice.

“Guilt!?”

“After everyone we took from, the public we’ve lied to and the dead we had sacrificed and killed don’t you feel a little guilty?” the president asks.

“A few minor setbacks and you turn coward, I see,” the mysterious man says.

“I can’t see what’s minor about hundreds of thousands reported disappearances, indestructible locusts and unexplained famines sucking this planet--”

The mysterious man stands up and cuts the president off in mid-sentence. “Have you forgotten who’s in charge of you, your miserable country,
and
this planet you so mention so freely?” he shouts in an angered volume. The president shuts up quickly, sweat begins to form on his forehead.

“No, not at all,” the president answers. “I thought by our phone conversation you were beyond this way of thinking, but something told me to come by just in case you needed a more… persuasive reminder.” He digs in his pocket and hands the president a diamond engagement ring and wedding band. The president holds it in his hand and lets a single tear fall down his right cheek. “You didn’t do the speech prepared for you, but I must admit you did well to encourage them without answering a single question as to what’s been going on and how you plan on fixing the problem. They instead settled for a sense of false morale and hope, so you’ve done well enough in my eyes to look past your outbursts this time, Mr. President. But this will be my last time reminding you,” he explains to the president.

“What’s next, Cardinal Blithe?” the president asks as the mysterious man and short Hispanic man both walk out the door.

“You go to Colorado, you’ll be more useful there,” Cardinal Blithe instructs the President. As the cardinal walks through the door, he stops in the middle of the hallway. “Oh, and in case you have forgotten, I’m no longer a Cardinal. Remember, I’m the Pope now.

About the Author

Ric Neró was born and raised on the Southside of Chicago in a single parent home under his mother’s loving care and guidance. He is the youngest of three boys. He was the first of the three to officially graduate West Side High School in Gary, Indiana. After completing high school, Ric quickly enlisted in the military. After a three year enlistment, which included a fifteen month tour of Iraq, Ric exited the military with all hopes and aspirations of realizing his dreams of becoming an amazing author. This is his debut novel.