CHAPTER ELEVEN
"We wait," Shabazz replied, finding the shade of a tree to shield him.
"Great, Confucius. But shouldn't we be going after our new Guardian brother?" Rider leaned forward with his forearms on his knees.
Shabazz shut his eyes. "We don't know where he is, man."
"Like that's ever stopped us before." Rider issued Shabazz a sideways glance when he didn't respond. "The man vanishes into thin air like a puff of mist with three old wise men like in some biblical passage, and-"
"It wasn't vampires, dude, so chill," Big Mike said, finding a spot near Shabazz to doze. "We wait. If we move out on a rescue and recovery, and he comes back here, we'll pass him."
"Especially if he is in a time-space differential," Monk Lin said quietly as he sat.
Everyone turned and looked at the aging monk.
"Time is an illusion, space is also that," the monk said in a matter-of-fact tone as though he were describing a blade of grass.
"I cannot wrap my head around that right now," Rider admitted, flopping back on the sand. "All I know is we are in a foreign land, got no water that we're particularly ready to drink without boiling it first and dropping in some purification tablets-which you may have noticed, got incinerated on the plane-cholera and yellow fever shots, notwithstanding, along with food, supplies, we got no papers-"
"We've got papers," Dan said, hosting his backpack off and letting it hit the ground with a wobbly thud. "I was scared so shitless, I never took it off."
Rider and Big Mike chuckled.
"Way to go, newbie," Rider said, offering his fist for Dan to pound.
Shabazz glanced at Marlene. "Sis got her black bag and fighting stick, too. Ma don't travel without it, even through a damned crash." He winked at Marlene as she stretched out on the sand. "But girlfriend's Juju is strong, so if they had gone up in flames, whatever."
"All right, cool," Rider fussed good-naturedly. "So, I stand corrected. We've got papers. But has anyone given any thought to the fact that maybe, in a very short while, this area could be flooded by Ethiopian police that will have questions we cannot answer? They might take us in for questioning, putting us miles away from where we're supposed to be. Then what? And, does anybody know if there are lions or anything around here that we should be concerned about, given we don't have a weapon between us? Holy-water bombs ain't gonna fend off a hungry-"
"Jacob Rider," Father Patrick finally scolded. "After the miracles you have just seen, why do youpersist in being negative?"
"It's his way," Jose said, chuckling. "You knowhombre has to always play devil's advocate and dream up the worst possible scenario. But once he's gone through his battery, he's cool."
"Sort of like my computers," J.L. said, nudging Rider in the side as he plopped down next to him. "The old dude has to run self-check diagnostics before he completely boots up, then he's cool."
"At least someone understands me," Rider said, becoming testy. "I'm not being negative, I'm just being real."
"Words and thoughts have power," Imam Asula said quietly. "Let us focus upon our goal to be reunited with both Damali and Carlos, for now, if we can."
"Let us also not forget to continue our prayers," Father Lopez said, glancing at the others. "It has been our most effective weapon thus far."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you," Rider said, slinging his forearm over his eyes.
Damali sat beside Telek, quietly watching the landscape as it passed them in slow-moving still frames of beauty. The open-air Jeep allowed the wind to brush her face, and the dust from the road reminded her that she was alive under an azure, cloudless sky. She'd been told much, but it was all a riddle. Some of it made sense, some of it didn't, but she knew enlightenment was something that would come in time.
She fastened her attention to the small shanty homes that they passed on the hillsides, marveling at the people working, women walking with baskets upon their heads and children strapped to their backs in bright-colored cloths within the rural community. It was as if time had actually stood still, or bypassed this part of the world. People still farmed with hand instruments, but seemed also to possess a profound sense of peace, even in a land devastated by war.
And what was time, really, she wondered. It now seemed to be a manufactured illusion of western culture designed to manipulate people into becoming worker bees trapped within tiny cells that could not appreciate the expanse of time's greatness, rather than something tangible and real. The seasons had her own time, Telek's grandfather had said... rainy season, the dry season, a time to plant, a time to harvest, time with family-invaluable. Time to love, endless. Birth, death, renewal; it was all a circle not judged by time, simply coordinated by it. The beginning of time lived here, as did probably the end of it.
Then, again, what was the end of time, if one considered the infinity of the other realms beyond earth?
Damali clutched the two stones she'd acquired in her palms. In her left hand she held the first one she'd seen on the ground. It was a tiny white stone, worn smooth. Perhaps it was limestone, or something more solid, but it felt like it had once been a part of the great rock formations that had serviced the building of temples, churches, and the monumental obelisks she'd seen. In her right hand she fondled the small quartzlike stone that the sparrow had dropped. What did each mean? What was each for? There were five more days until November 5, and each day a stone would come to her of its own accord, the old man had said, until she possessed seven in all.
The sky, although brightly fired by the sun, offered a warm blanket of sunshine while the breeze gave a mild, balmy fusion to its covering. Balance jumped into her mind as they silently progressed down the bumpy, unpaved road.
Seven rings above mirrored the seven levels below. It was all so well orchestrated, how could one not believe? she mused.
Below, on level one, confused and anxious spirits resided. On the outer ring above, helpful spirits and ancestors with clear purpose and love rested. On level two below, angry, fierce poltergeists screamed and howled and frightened; on ring two above, the ancestors became more focused, gained wisdom and knowledge, and assisted the living in more profound ways. On level three below, jealousy and envy lived in a slithering, vengeful, serpentine world... Carlos had told her that.