Fallen Masters (40 page)

“That is so cool. Can you introduce me to him some time?”

“Sure. How old are you, Marcus?”

“I’m going on fifteen.” He always liked to stretch his age a bit by claiming he was older than he really was.

“You’re lying. You are a thirty-four-year-old man in a fifteen-year-old kid’s body.”

*   *   *

Bobby got to know the Jackson family very well during that campaign, and he had grown especially close to young Marcus. Bobby had never been married, because he would have felt guilty subjecting his wife to the life he lived. But if he had gotten married, and had a boy, he would have wanted him to be exactly like Marcus. Marcus was intelligent, had a very good sense of humor, and beyond that, had an unerring sense of right and wrong.

Considering all that, it was not that unusual that the person who did show up in his dream, the person who was trying to help him deal with the concepts of good and evil, was Marcus Jackson Jr. But he cautioned himself to remain logical and professional. Stick to the data. Stick to the facts.

CHAPTER

72

As he awoke to the new reality, the President had one clear thought: He wanted to see his son. How long had it been? Was Marcus okay? In his gut—well, what had been his gut—POTUS knew the boy was alive, but he desired above all things to see him, to communicate with him somehow, and to bring him back to family and safety in the best way possible.

Likewise, he felt the need to see his own father, who had always remained a presence in his life, long after his death, when POTUS had been much younger … a time he had nearly forgotten, which now seemed as if it had been just a moment earlier, like every other event in his life. He existed now in a historical continuum and could access any time period of his earthly existence by mere thought, a sort of mental snapping of fingers to put him exactly where and when he wanted to be. Yet it was not all smashed together; each memory, each moment remained distinct and whole, though connected irrevocably to every other moment.

A light beam enveloped POTUS as he stood in the still-strange new plane of his existence. He did not and could not yet know it was Caleb, his would-be guardian and guide who caused the phenomenon. He felt it as a cool warmth, a light that blinded and illuminated simultaneously, completely cleared his mental vision and the channel that his soul had become.

“Dad!” His father was there, his face and figure before him as if he had always been there and would always be … Dad. Every conversation they had ever had ran through the President’s memory, every word and gesture of the man who had brought him into the world and held his hand when he was a little boy and shaped his decisions as a youngster, providing guidance by example. “Dad!” POTUS repeated, breathless.

“Son,” the man said, speaking the single syllable with a world of emotion.

The two embraced, though neither now existed in a corporeal dimension, in a very hard and very human hug.

“Have you seen young Marcus?” the newcomer asked his father. “I was informed by the Council that he was kidnapped. I need to know more. Is he still alive? Where is he?”

“He is alive. Still alive on Earth.”

POTUS had known it in his heart, but this confirmation from the one he trusted above all others gave him a great feeling of relief and comfort.
He may be in danger but he is still alive.
There could be no better news he would ever hear than that.

“I will find him and speak to him, somehow,” he vowed.

His father said, in the same voice POTUS so clearly remembered, “What you will do, now that you have crossed over to the side of the light, is what you are meant to do. What you were born for. Yes, you are called to guide Marcus in his time of difficulty and lead him to his own right choices, just as I have tried to do with you.”

“You were always saying that to me, Dad. I remember so clearly. When I was little, you always shared the best of yourself with me, teaching and guiding me. And I felt your influence even when you were gone.”

The entity who stood before him now, tall and strong, emanated nothing but pure love, unalloyed and without reservation or qualification.

Why did I never fully understand how Dad felt about me when I was young? Even as I matured and could look back and see all that he did for me … I never truly appreciated what it all meant and how he shaped me in every way imaginable. Did I make the right choices that he was always talking about—even now? Well, I tried my damnedest to live up to those standards he set for me, mostly by his example.

“Son,” his father said, clearly reading the unspoken thoughts, “you were elected President of the United States, for goodness sake. You saved lives when you were in the service. You fell in love and married and had a family of your own. It is not possible to count the number of lives you affected for the good. Nor is it possible for me to express the great respect I have for you and all you’ve accomplished. But here’s the good news: We have all of eternity to have the conversation, and I can try to convey to you how much I love you every minute of those hours and eons. Time is now irrelevant to anything we do—or even who we are. We exist outside the bounds of time and physical space.”

Marcus is still alive. My father is here with me to help teach and guide me. I have entered a new place and a new, unending phase of existence … As much as I want to know what it all means—
right now
—I guess I’ll have to just absorb what I can, when I can. It’s, well, it’s very different than what I imagined it would be. Not that I spent a lot of time thinking about this stuff during my so-called lifetime.

“So true, son,” his father said. “None of us truly understood fully the implications of our actions and the energy we projected during our time on Earth. More will be revealed to you—and to me. More will be revealed.”

Suddenly, with the same swiftness with which it had arrived, the brilliant, otherworldly light vanished and a chill enveloped POTUS. He stood alone. Though he knew he was not alone and never would be again, he noted the absence of his father, a source of positive, life-giving energy. He looked around and saw the outline of his new environment retaking definition and shape and dimension. And he saw IRA, standing beside him with an odd smile on his otherwise bland visage.

An insight into the true nature of the guide nearly came to him, but POTUS could not hold on to the thought that flitted across his mind then exited.
There’s too much going on right now
, he said to himself.

“You’re darn right,” IRA stated as if in answer to a spoken statement.

CHAPTER

73

Marcus could only estimate the time that had passed since he had last awakened from a drug-induced sleep. About an hour ago, he had been given some water and dried-out food by an unseen person who had opened the door and silently placed the plate and bottle on the floor, then relocked the door. The room had remained in total darkness, but Marcus could tell by the sound about where the food and water were located. He also discovered, by touch, that there was a plastic container beside the bed, which he guessed was to serve as a kind of toilet facility like they used to have in olden times. What did they call it back then?… Oh, a chamber pot. He remembered reading about that once.

He drank a little water and ate a few bites of what tasted like a granola bar. He did not feel hunger, though he knew his body needed nourishment and water. He stood by the side of the bed and walked in place for a half hour or so. He guessed he had been conscious for about three hours at this point.

He had the strong feeling that he was being held—how long, he had no idea—for reasons other than ransom or political leverage. It did not feel like a terrorist kidnapping, either, though he was not sure how he could reach that conclusion without any evidence one way or another. He was just going on his gut at this point. And he tried to think of a way he might be able to escape … though that seemed highly unlikely to impossible.

Whoever had done this knew what he was doing. Isolate the prisoner and keep him in total darkness, completely cut off from the world and from any sensory input. Perfect for their purposes, perhaps.

But little would they realize they were creating the perfect environment for him to “see” the Other Side when it needed to connect with him. Then it happened. He again heard his father’s voice, but this time it was more distinct and seemed much closer than before. He still had trouble making out the words, so he listened hard. With every bit of energy he could muster, he listened.

“My son, my son…” Now the words were audible.

“Dad! Dad!” Marcus said aloud.

“Do not speak, but listen to me, and answer me with your thoughts. Can you do this?”

Marcus bit his lips together so he would not say aloud what he was thinking: “Yes, I think I can, Dad. Is it really you, or am I feeling the effects of whatever drugs they gave me?”

“I’m no longer on Earth, but my journey, my work, is continuing. I’ve encountered my own father here on this side, and he has given me a better, deeper understanding of what role I am expected to play—and the energy, somehow, has also been given to me. I want you to know that you and your mother have been constantly in my thoughts since what happened to me. I can see you from where I am, and I want you to know that I am fine. This is but another stage of life, another way of being that is tied to my previous life on Earth with you, but there is much peace here. I want you to know that help is on the way.”

“I hear you, Dad. I want to believe you. I
do
believe that it is you.” In fact, Marcus had been trained, taken through drills by the Secret Service during his father’s election campaign, in the event of just such a contingency. He had called it “kidnapping school,” and he’d kind of enjoyed it—then. He hadn’t taken it all that seriously.

“Don’t be afraid to doubt all you want, my son. That is part of being human, part of being the son and grandson of a Jackson. But be assured that I am going to look after you. I have a job to do, and you are going to help me do it.”

“What do you mean?” Marcus felt his head spinning, and he felt thirsty.

“Son, I am not completely certain of how this all works just yet, but I know we are connected—and you are in trouble. Just as the rest of the world is in trouble. And I need your help, just as you need mine. Drink some water,” POTUS advised him.

Marcus drank the water and it reminded him of a hike he had taken one summer when he came across a windmill that was pumping water from a deep well. The water was cold and sweet, and he had never tasted any drink that was better, not any soft drink, or juice, or lemonade. The water quenched his thirst as no other drink ever had, until now, and this water, which his mind told him was tepid and stale, had the same flavor and coldness as that delicious well water.

“Oh, the water is very good,” Marcus said.

“Yes,” POTUS said. “It was like the water you drank from the well one summer.”

“How did you know about that?”

“You and I are one now, Marcus. We can communicate and share thoughts with one another across time, if we both wish to do so.”

“I have been thinking about you, Dad. I can’t put you out of my mind, did you know that?”

“Yes, I am aware of such things. Any time you think of me, I am there with you. I know you as well as I know myself, how you think and feel. I am with you now.”

“Where am I? Why was I abducted?”

“The simple answer is, you are where you are supposed to be, and all is as it should be. You will not experience pain. I will see to that. I will sacrifice myself for your safety if I must.”

“I don’t understand.”

A thousand thoughts raced through his brain as Marcus tried to hear and understand the words his father spoke to him. None of it made sense, yet he knew it was happening and that he was a part of something larger than himself.

“As above, so below, my son.”

“I think my brain is going to explode, Dad. Are you saying you were
supposed
to be killed so that you could communicate this to me?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying, son. But I will also tell you this: I am having trouble accepting that myself. It doesn’t make sense to me. I am learning many things since I left the earthly plane, many answers to questions I had been asking my entire life. Here, even though I am safe from any further physical harm, I can see what potential harm you and others are facing—and I am in a position to act upon that knowledge, to help you and others survive the evil that threatens you. Does that help?”

“A little bit.” Marcus sat down on the edge of the bed, his legs unsteady. He was trying to absorb all this, realizing there was no time to waver or ask too many questions. There was too much at stake here. “I will do what you tell me to do, Dad,” he said in his thoughts.

“I know you will,” POTUS answered. “And you will have help on Earth as well as from this side. The forces of good, what we were always taught in Sunday school, are with us.”

“You mean, like angels?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. There are angels—and other created beings and many souls of the departed all living in harmony in a beautiful place. I can’t begin to describe it to you, Marcus. There are no words to describe the beauty of this place, and there certainly isn’t any time.”

“Have you been trying to communicate with me when I was passed out?”

“Yes. I have been calling out to you, wanting to speak to you. I had to wait until you were ready and fully conscious to receive my words. As soon as you crossed that threshold, we were able to have a conversation as we are doing now. You will understand when the time is right. So, be prepared. I am going to download information to you.”

Young Marcus smiled, despite his pain and confusion. “That sounds good. A data dump, huh?”

“You’ve got it, son.”

CHAPTER

74

Melbourne, Australia

The day dragged on, and Dawson sat completely immobilized as he watched the nonstop coverage of the presidential assassination, watching it over one of the American satellite news networks. He had completed all his media appearances for the book and felt depleted, depressed as he sat in his hotel room watching the terrible news coming from the United States.