Might's Odyssey (The Event Book 2) (5 page)

Dream-walkers; the term may be unfamiliar to you and even if you have heard it before, you might not fully understand what the implications are. But no matter, I am here to make things clearer to you.

Since time immemorial, claims of people being able to see into the future have been with us.  That is why we have psychics, diviners, fortunetellers and preachers milking innocent people under the guise of being able to see what their future holds.

Most of these so-called fortunetellers are fakes. For many long years, I despised the tale that a man would be able to tell what was going to happen in the future. Was he God? The most pertinent question I asked myself after this was, does God even exist? Or maybe the tales of God were mere fallacies cooked up by Preachers to milk their gullible congregations.

I know you think I deviate by moving to the subject of preachers. But the preachers are the greatest offenders in this area. I am amused when I hear stories about preachers, especially on the African continent who claim to be sent by God to reveal his plans for his elect.

They climb on their various altars every service day pontificating, fabricating well-crafted yarns about how God would pour down his divine wealth on their congregation, elevating them from the quagmire of their poverty.

And when in most cases that did not occur, they would go all self righteous saying that the believer had some secret sin that was preventing God from intervening on his behalf. I am no expert, but through my personal studies of the bible and its teaching, most of the people that Jesus and God blessed were terrible sinners. Why should he bless the sinners of ancient times in spite of their sins and refuse to do the same for the present day believers?

It made no sense. I concluded that the ability to tell the future was just a mischievous prank played by jokers through the ages. That was until I stumbled on the term Dream-walkers.

In simple terms, it refers to the ability of an individual to transfer his consciousness to a time either hundreds or millions of years into the past or billions of years into the future. The red Indians of native America were experts at this. There are even tales that some of the more spiritual of their members could morph into animals or spirits when their society required it. That tale however, is not our primary concern. The legend of the dream-walkers is.

I scoffed when I first heard the term. Nevertheless, after years of painstaking research and investigation I am slowly becoming a believer. It seems implausible I will admit but the slight probability brings about many fascinating possibilities. As a scientist, I cannot stand in front of my colleagues in the field and postulate this kind of heresy, but let us just say it was possible and that it could be done. Wouldn’t that be amazing?

Someone close to me had the same kind of experience and much of what he said would happen has begun to happen. My studies reveal that being a dream-walker does not happen by chance.

In most cases, it occurs after a person undergoes a very traumatic experience, which could range from anything from near death (by this I mean accidents, attempted murder or even suicide) or emotional and sometimes physical abuse. I cannot say dream-walkers exist, neither do I think everyone has the potential to be a dream-walker. But it is something to think about, is it not? *smiles*

Gbenga’s eyes grew wide when he finished reading. Still blown away by what he had read, he checked the name of the person who had written the article. His name was Harry smith PhD. PhD? PhD in what?  Dream-walkers! Was that what he, might and the others were? So there was even a term for what happened to him? What he could not fathom was why he was just stumbling on this information now.

In his earlier search for information regarding what happened to him, he scoured hundreds of files and articles on the subject. This was the first time he stumbled on anything that directly addressed what he had experienced.

The shocked and surprised look on his face quickly turned to an angry one. So he was a Dream-walker, what good did that do him? Being a dream-walker was not helping him stop the event.

In some ways, he could not help wishing he had never gone on the business trip that landed him in a coma. The people that coined the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’ were not wrong. There were some things you were better off not knowing.

That thought brought him up short. Was that line of thought even right? Since he came out of the coma, he had drawn closer to God and the church. He was no expert but two verses of scripture came to mind. The first was ‘…my people perish for lack of knowledge.’ He could not remember what verse of scripture that was or where it was written in the bible. The second verse was ‘… I will show you great and mighty things, which you knoweth not,…’

He did not know where that was written either. It seemed to apply in this particular situation.

The pastor of the church he worshipped with said something. God always speaks to his people. He cited many instances in the bible where God had spoken to people about things that were coming. Taking a cue from the book of revelations, God showed John a vision of what was to be in the hereafter.

Could it be that God was also speaking to him? A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. Who was he kidding? Great, powerful and mighty God speaking to a two-bit idiot like him? That thought seemed so far fetched.

If God was in fact speaking to him and trying to warn him of what was going to be hereafter, what was he supposed to do with the information? Besides prepare for it, he could not see what other use revealing the event had to him. He could not stop it from happening.

That thought like the one before made him still. Or could he? Is that what this was about? How could he stop the event? No one would listen to a Nigerian businessperson protesting against the great Gerald Summers new invention.

As his experience with Seyi had shown, telling people about what was going to happen was not likely to have good results. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of it. The least that could happen if he decided to engage in a campaign to discredit Gerald Summers was he would be laughed to scorn. The worst was they could throw him into jail.

His thoughts grew even sadder. Why were there no easy answers to the questions of life? A knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie.

“Yes?”

“Sir__ Mr. Bayo Ajibade is here to see you.”

“Send him in__” He growled quickly switching off his computer. It would not do for the man to see him searching for more information about Gerald summers. He did not need a lecture.

The door opened a few moments later and his housekeeper walked in holding the door open for a bulky man. He wore a navy blue shirt tucked into brown slacks. His face was narrow, his eyes brown pleasant pools; with neatly cut hair which had more grey in it than black.

Gbenga rose to his feet as the man approached his desk. Try as he might he could not stop a wince of pain from streaking across his face as he stood up. Whenever he did anything but sit, slivers of pain coursed through his legs.

“Still having the pain I see__” Bayo said giving him a concerned look as he stretched out his arm for a handshake.

Gbenga smiled wanly taking Bayo’s hand in his. “It comes and goes Bayo__ can’t complain though. The pain is a small price to pay for my life.”

“Can’t argue with you there__” Bayo replied with a sigh. “How have you been?”

Gbenga shrugged sinking back down into his chair. Bayo remained standing until Gbenga pointed at the chair behind him. He gave Gbenga a wide smile as he sat down.

A long silence stretched out between them as they appraised one another. Gbenga began to get uncomfortable with the man’s intense scrutiny. Eventually Bayo spoke breaking the heavy silence.

“So how are you today? Anything you want to tell me?”

Gbenga shrugged. He had a gazillion questions surging on his insides, but he did not know how to ask them.

“I sense you have a lot on your mind.”

Not having an answer to that, Gbenga simply shrugged. Bayo sighed. Gbenga was not an easy patient. Getting anything out of him was like trying to squeeze water out of a stone. He decided to try a different tactic.

“What were you doing before I came in?”

Gbenga grew still giving Bayo a hard look.

“I was browsing on my computer.”

“Surfing the internet?”

Gbenga took a deep breath and nodded. Bayo paused pondering on the best way to ask the question he needed to ask.

“Was there something in particular you were searching for?”

Gbenga’s face instantly closed up. Bayo leaned back in his chair thoroughly exasperated. He should have taken things slower. It was too late now.

“Don’t shut me out Gbenga. I am only here to help. Tell me what you were searching for online.”

Gbenga was tempted to ignore the question, but he realized the man would keep bugging him in that soft I understand, you completely voice. Getting angry and trying to insult him never seemed to work. He just never got offended.

“I was looking for information on people who have had similar experiences.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Find the information?”

“Yeah__”

“Did it help?”

He continued slowly at Gbenga’s puzzled look. “Did the information you gathered give you closure.”

Gbenga shook his head slowly. Bayo sat up straight in his chair at that.

“I did not think so. Look Gbenga, I don’t think you should be scouring the internet looking for answers to your heart questions. You are only likely to have more questions and become more confused.”

“So you are saying I should stop searching for answers?”

“You can only truly have answers when you are a hundred percent certain of the question you are asking. Now if I am to ask you now what answer you are seeking, what response would you give me?”

A long pause stretched out as Gbenga considered Bayo’s question. As much as he hated to admit it, he realized he did not truly know what he was looking for. Was it closure? Hanging onto a hope that maybe what he had seen would not really happen.

Perhaps he needed to prove to himself and everyone else that he was not crazy. Maybe that was it. There were times, especially when Seyi rubbished his vision, he felt as if he was indeed going nuts. Maybe the accident had knocked one too many screws loose in his head. But like the million and one times he thought this, a surge of certainty filled his insides, coming from a place deep within him. That certainty told him that the event would happen and the steps he took now would determine whether he and his family survived it.

He was so entrenched in his thoughts that he did not realize Bayo was speaking. “Did you hear me Gbenga?”

He shook his head to clear it of his chaotic thoughts. “Am afraid I was not listening. What did you say Bayo?”

“You haven’t answered my question? Do you know the question you want an answer to?”

“Yes__ I do__”

“Would you mind sharing that information with me?”

“I want to find out all I can about the oncoming Event.”

Bayo sighed deeply leaning back in his chair. “So we are back to talks about the event again?” He blurted out without thinking.

His comment drew Gbenga up short. His eyes grew hard with his displeasure.

“What do you mean by ‘so we are back? Was the issue of the event ever put away?”

Bayo grew flustered by the barrage of questions. What was he thinking? His careless words may have just undone the work he had been trying to do for months.

“Now I get it__” Gbenga began as understanding dawned. “You never really believed me when I told you about the event. You’ve just been humoring me all this time.”

“Look Gbenga you have to understand__ my job entails putting the subject at ease. Making him gradually come to terms with his true reality and putting the fake one at rest__ I could not afford to antagonize you. I needed to bring you out__”

“SPARE ME!!!!” Gbenga roared leaping to his feet. He was so incensed that he did not notice the sharp pain coursing through his legs.

“Look you stupid stuck up pig__ whether you chose to believe me or not__ the event is real and it is going to happen. In December this year, our world will change into a desert wasteland. And you want to know why that will happen? I will tell you. It will happen because of something that Mr. Goody too shoes smart-ass scientist; Gerald summers is going to do. That secret discovery he just made, that is supposed to save us, bring us to our heaven on earth, is only going to destroy our world.

“I don’t expect you to believe me__ you can go back to the hospital and tell your friends and colleagues that Mr. Akintunde has lost his mind. I don’t care. The only thing I know is, I do not want you coming here again. I agreed to your sessions because I felt you were the only one who believed me. Now that I know you don’t, you and I have nothing more to say. Do not let the door hit you on the way out.”

Bayo remained silent through Gbenga’s furious diatribe. His mouth opened when he finished as if he wanted to speak, but closed again after a couple of seconds.

He stood up striding for the door. Opening it, he paused looking back at Gbenga for a couple of seconds before he walked out shutting it firmly behind him.

Gbenga stood still, his furious gaze fixed on the door for almost fifteen seconds before he sat down. The silly git of a man he thought still seething with anger. What did you expect? A sardonic voice in his head asked him. If your wife does not believe you, why should a perfect stranger believe you?

Sadness filled his insides at that thought. Well that did it then. He was on his own again. A feeling of loneliness engulfed him. He did not know how much more of this he could take. His eyes drifted to the computer once more and a steely determination entered his eyes.

Since no one believed him, he wouldn’t tell anyone about it again. It was time to find out more about this dream-walker nonsense. He typed in Harry Smith in Google and began to read the results one after the other. It did not take him long to realize that Harry Smith was something of a maverick in the science community. No one denied the fact that he was brilliant. But some of his theories and papers were controversial to say the least. Leaning closer to the computer screen, he continued his search.

Nephilim

The land ahead was cloudy, the air filled with dust. Might had to keep wiping the dust off the glass of his gas mask so he could see out of it.

Visibility was almost zero. If the hover cycle’s onboard computer didn’t have the co-ordinates of B1 plotted into it, it would have been impossible to find his way to it, not in this kind of weather and environment.

His Ingram shaped guns were strapped to what would have been the fuel tank on a normal bike; within easy reach. His eyes scoured the cloudiness around him for any threats. After the attack at the last city, he realized that nothing could be left to chance. That was if he wanted to escape from this world alive.

‘Maybe you are not destined to escape__
’ A voice in his subconscious barked out.

He shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time to start giving in to depressing thoughts. He had to keep his wits about him. A screech from the onboard computer brought him out of his reverie. He had left the threat detection on since he escaped from the elementals and the reptilian fiends.

The screech he realized was not warning him about a threat. It was simply letting him know that he was now just a hundred clicks from B1.

Pleasure surged on his insides. He was one-step closer to his goal. The air around him cleared as he thought this. Miles and miles of flat undulating sand greeted his eyes. His eyes narrowed.

Did the computer have a problem? If what it said was true, he should have it in his sights by now. He checked it again to make sure. The result remained the same.

The frown on his face hardened as he revved the engines and sped forward at twice the speed he was going before. The onboard computer began to blink, emitting a blinding white light.

He looked down at it puzzled. It typed out words on a straight vertical line.

“Slow down__ rapidly approaching B1. It will be foolish to continue at these speeds__”

“Well bully for you__” Might spat out in fury. “I am going as fast as I want and nothing you and your damn typed warnings say is going to stop me.”

As if it heard what he was saying, the typing on the computer stopped. Might growled and increased speed, he was now less than fifty clicks away from where the hover cycle’s onboard computer said B1 was.

“Halt!!!!!”
A mechanical voice barked out.

Surprised, Might gave the surrounding landscape a wide sweep but saw nothing. He did not slow down. He was twenty clicks away.

The desert sand in front of him began to shimmer and shake, as if you were watching a distorted picture. His frown turned to puzzlement. What in the world was going on? The shimmering and shaking continued for a few seconds and then the adaptive camouflage came away revealing a massive dome shaped structure whose surface seemed to be nestled in the clouds.

The exterior was made of a funny looking sort of glass set in hexagonal panes. Each pane was more than twelve feet across and twenty feet in width. It gleamed and shimmered with a strange brilliance that was blinding to the eye.

That was not all; the glass like surface was opaque. You could see yourself in it, but you could not see what lay within it.

“I will not repeat myself again__ you are advised to halt and identify yourself!!”

Might gave the surrounding area one more sweep. He could still see nothing. That meant that the warning was coming from B1. His eyes grew hard as he realized this. Revving the hover cycle again, he increased speed.

Ten large cannons suddenly sprouted from the roof of the structure. Might’s eyes widened when he saw them. Each cannon was two times the size of the arm of the giant creature that attacked him and his amnesiac companions at the valley of bones.

They opened fire at once, spitting out pulses from the gaping holes in front. All ten shots struck the desert sand hard raising a thick wall of sand almost ninety feet high.

The earth beneath him began to shake as massive concussions rippled through it. Seconds later, gigantic explosions erupted around him, throwing tons of rock and red-hot lava in the air.

A force field of energy sprouted in front of the hover cycle generated from the onboard computer as Might yanked the wheel from left to right trying to avoid the lava bursts.

He avoided the first two; most of the third was blocked by the force field in front of the hover cycle. There was no stopping the fourth. The explosion slammed into him, lifting him clean off the hover cycle, turning it to grey ash as it did so.

His biomechanical suit took the brunt of it before it dissolved into brittle shards of ash leaving his hard torso bare and a strip of cloth covering his privates. The force flung him back so fast that his flying body was a blur. He hit the ground hard many miles behind, drilling a ten-foot hole into it. Darkness came almost immediately and he knew no more.