Excerpts from The Menorah

 
Excerpt # 1

    Ellen Adams knew beyond all certainty her life would never again be the same. It wasn't a revelation, or conscious thought. Rather a knowledge that surpassed any reason. The moment she glimpsed the sail through the early morning mists she felt a shift, as though she'd happened into another time, another realm. She blinked. It disappeared! She strained to identify the apparition. Did the mists obscure it, or did they create the illusion with their wavering, wispy dance?

    My God, what's happening? The pier seemed to dip and sway beneath her feet, as vibrations shivered upward through her body. Her temples throbbed with a shrill pulse invading her ears, flooding her head with a tidal wave of cosmic energy. A sudden gust of wind whipped her silver-brushed hair about her face, and then with its hasty departure, released it to fall once again to the middle of her back and around her shoulders. 

    She felt a desperate need to lunge at something, a treasure that she must rescue. Blindly she grabbed at the air in front of her. Fireworks exploded in her head. She felt that she would fly apart at any moment, or was it a wish that she would. Her senses cried out, desperate for relief from the unbearable pressure that threatened her sanity.

     Without warning, the reverberating waves of energy and the light show receded. She opened her eyes, still entrenched in the shifted reality. A Menorah, asplendor in a blaze of gold, arced above her clutching fingers, then descended out of reach into the waiting waters.

    Oh no, I must save it! Horror infiltrated her being. It'll be lost forever! The ghostly sail, half hidden in the hazy cover, hung, still as death. She seemed propelled into the air, then falling, falling, as the waves leaped to engulf her. The chill inched upward, closing around her, as icy fingers pulled her deeper into the illusion.  

Help me! I can't breath! Her silent cries froze in bursts of crystal.

     The flag waved from the top of the mast, its black skull leering good-by. Her desperate protest, I can't die now, found no audience. The sail in the mists melted away as the clutching waters claimed their prize.    

  The scream sparked in her depths, strengthening as it grew, shifted the reality back to the present, January 1995 at the marina in New Mexico. Its fire penetrated the mass of ice inside. Her cry erupted in a crescendo that slammed against the hills in shock waves of terror.

 

Excerpt #2

    "Did you hear that?" Mike turned to Ellen, as they sped through the Mojave Desert.

    "Did I hear what?" She asked, distracted from her review of the recent events.     
    "Someone spoke my name, a strange voice. I've heard it before." He tilted his head to the window. "There it is again." He peered into the night.

      "What's that in the road? Watch out!" He swerved, nearly going into the ditch.     
Ellen and Tony twisted in their seats; saw only the empty road behind them. "I don't see anything. What was it?"    

       Trembling, Mike stopped the car, slammed the gearshift into park, and ran to the spot where he'd seen the body. "She's not here! I know I saw her." He wasn't as sure as he appeared. Was he seeing things?     

    Ellen ran to his side. "Who did you see?"  

    "Susan." His voice was barely audible. "I didn't see her face, but I know it was her." He stared at the road, as if to will the body back. 

     "Mike, there's nothing there. I had my eyes on the road; I didn't see anything." She gently took his arm urging him toward the car.

    Breaking away, he bolted to the side of the road, but found only sagebrush and cacti illuminated by the moonlight. Confused and frightened, he stood for a few moments, scanning the countryside. Then, with a determined set to his shoulders, he swung on his heels and returned to the car.      

    He sat, distracted, behind the wheel. I must call Susan; make sure she's okay. He shook his head, trying to remember. That voice, just before the thing in the road, where have I-----? 

    "Mike!" Ellen shook his arm. "Are you sure you're alright?"

      "Why don't I drive for awhile?" Tony offered. "Looks like you need a break."     
Mike hesitated, and then climbed into the back, happy to be relieved of the responsibility. Unusual things had happened to him before, but never like this. Weary and tense he announced, "Tony, first pay phone we come to, I have to call Susan. If I'm sleeping, wake me."    

    "Sure thing." Tony was worried about his friend. "Will you tell us what that was all about?" He had never seen him so confused.  

Excerpt #3

      Tony stared out the window at the passing scenery. It's been a while since I've been in Vegas, he thought.  The other times were under much different circumstances. The power he felt when the cards spoke to him was comparable to the courtship of a beautiful woman. He hoped he'd get a chance to flirt with them again.     
     What am I thinking! His wet palms were proof enough, without the exaggerated pulsing in his chest that he was treading on dangerous territory.  Memories flooded in of broken promises, desperate pleas to friends for loans to meet household expenses because of gambling losses, the turmoil and heartache he'd brought to his marriage, all because he'd allowed the cards to rule his soul.   
    But what could he do; how could he jeopardize his friend's safety by refusing to co-operate with these jokers? I'll just have to keep reminding myself why I'm there. It's not for the game, but to help Mike. His newfound strength empowered him. The magnetism of the cards is no match for a man with a mission in this game of life or death.   
    His gaze wondered to the front seat. Look at those two, he thought with disdain. I feel like I've never really known them. I guess I don't.
He met them one night while winning at blackjack. They watched, cheering him on, as if they were close pals. By the time he cashed in his chips, you'd think they'd been friends all their lives. They wanted something from him then; they want something from him now. He was determined; he'd give it to them, till he could find a way to help Mike. They weren't after Mike's best interest, no matter what they said. He'd play along, for now. What choice did he have?     
    "Hey Tony." Sven looked over his shoulder. "You're awfully quiet. You're not having second thoughts, are you?"
    "Not a chance!" Tony emphatically responded. "Mike's my friend, I want to help him. I'm grateful to you for giving me the chance." Hoping they were convinced, he changed the subject. "I'm beat; I could use a beer! What do you say we stop somewhere?"     
    "We're almost to Vegas. There'll be time for beer and sleep when we get there." Ralph tried not to show his impatience. "We won't be meeting our contact for about twelve hours."     
    "Hell, we could even get you a woman." Sven chuckled. "I remember your appetite for the lovely ladies."      
    "Well you don't mind if I get a little shut eye, do you? I don't plan to spend my time in Vegas sleeping." Tony settled back into the plush contours.   
 

Excerpt #4                                                          
 
    Manuel dropped into his chair. With trembling hands he opened the bottom drawer, and carefully produced a figurine of a Mayan God, adorned in gold leaf. The fierce dark eyes glared back at him as he placed it at the precise center of his desk. 
    He reached once more into the drawer, and brought out matches and incense. He inserted the latter into the cupped hands of the icon, and lit it. As the smoke permeated his senses, he settled back, and murmured apologies to the gods for the ineptness displayed thus far. He promised that all the blundering would be dealt with as was deemed appropriate.
 
     Ralph and Sven hurried to the car, silently accusing each other for trusting that Ben could carry out the job without blowing it. How can they undo this mess?     
They sat, contemplating their next move. Neither of them spoke until, faces alight with inspiration, they exclaimed in unison, "Margy!"     
    Sven roared the engine into submission, and they headed toward the outskirts of town.  

Excerpt #5                                   
 
    Ellen sat back from the book she'd been studying. "Boy, this is eerie! If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, and heard it, I'd never believe it! There does seem to be some sinister force at work on Mike. But, if Manuel and his men didn't know about Susan, why has every mysterious incident involved her and Mike? Is there another thing afoot that is separate from the Menorah?"     
    "It would seem that way." Justin answered. " But in all probability, it is all connected. There are all kinds of supernatural incidents as yet unexplained by any of the Mayan teachings. The words that Mike uttered were definitely words of death by fire."     
    Justin was deeply troubled, but he couldn't convey to Ellen and Tony the significance of those words. It was obvious they didn't know that part of Susan and Mike's history. It wasn't up to him to tell them, at least not now.     
    Ellen barely heard the last words Justin said. A memory of a ghostly sail in the mists of an early morning had flashed through her mind. She felt compelled to tell Justin about it. "Tony, do you remember that night we saw the sail in the mists on the lake?"     
 
 
 Excerpt #6
 
    …………..He looked at each of them. "If there is something you feel may have a bearing on this, no matter how slight, share it with me. It could be important."     
    The owl again, Mike shivered. It will not happen; she will not die from this! It's only a dream, a fantasy. "There have been some pretty weird things taking place since this all began," he said, saddened by the memories that came unbeckoned. "Some tragic things, as well."     
    Margy was puzzled, "What are these things, weird and tragic?" They had told her of the events up till now in their quest for the menorah. They hadn't mentioned the details; the sails in the mists, the body in the road, the words of death that had come from Mike's mouth, or the wooden box with the figurine representing death, that mysteriously appeared on Susan's doorstep. The tragedy of their young son, dying in the flames that consumed Mike and Susan's home, and the death of Jose Garcia, added to the details that they now told Margy.
    A look of grave concern came over her face as she listened. Mysterious happenings, yes, but maybe not so unexplainable. Those years ago, the Shaman had told her of powers available to any who were versed in the ways of the ancients. He warned that these powers could be used by people with evil in their hearts, when they should be used only for the good, in love.     
    "There may be some people involved in this who are using their knowledge of the occult in evil ways. We are protected from them; as long as we hold love in our hearts, we are in no danger against these people and what they may try to do next." Margy drank the last of her coffee and headed for the van. 
 
Excerpt #7

    "We're almost to Carlos' place." Saul announced. "This is a nice section of town. All the greenery creates a welcome feeling." He pulled into a drive. "Here we are forty seven Calle Hacienda." Cottonwood and Mimosa trees shaded the lawn and gardens that surrounded the sprawling adobe house. A tall, trim man with dark, slicked back hair greeted them at the door. "You must be Erik's friends from Australia. Happy to see you, I am Carlos Marin." They introduced themselves and followed him onto the patio where the table was laid for brunch.
"It gets hot here very early, but it is shaded, and the breeze from the sea makes it quite comfortable." Carlos said.
 
 
 Excerpt #8

    Darin King waited in his adobe hut with the thatch roof.  All his efforts to discourage the Americans from continuing their search for the Menorah had failed. He would have to double his efforts, now that they are here in Uxmal. He'd call on Stephanos to assist him. "My double-crossing big brother will not win this time," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Ward King will regret the day he excommunicated me from the Truth Disciples.
    Darin felt Ward was afraid of his power; he knew it was stronger than his older brother's. But it can only be used in hidden ways now. He took away Darin's ability to operate fully, with the organization behind him. "Soon, I will have more power. I will be able to destroy his whole world! It will come crashing down around him!" 
    He failed to scare the Americans into abandoning their journey. Now he could use their persistence to his advantage. With his abilities, he'll follow them to the hiding place of the Menorah and the secret behind it. Then he'll have the missing pieces to the puzzle of life. He'll have power over everything. Darin Kings eyes held a blackness that shone with an intense hate. Stephanos will accompany him as he follows them to their final destination.
    He sat in the darkness of the hut with late afternoon light filtering in through the one window. He peered bitterly around the gloomy interior. Along one wall sat an unmade army cot, a worn-out trestle table with one drop-leaf missing, and two paint-spattered chairs, one enlisting the aid of a section of tree trunk to replace a missing leg. Lining the facing wall, the refrigerator stayed closed with the aid of a rope hooked to a nail in the wall. Alongside, the pitted enamel sink was piled with moldy dishes, which overflowed from the two-burner hot plate sitting on the counter. He lived simply now. But soon, he would live as is befitting a King. His evil laugh echoed from the corners of the hut, sending the lizards and peeking mice scurrying.      
 
Excerpt #9

     Deep in the jungle, within a large chamber in a well-hidden cave, sat a white haired native. His crossed legs created a stand on which a large book rested. He was adorned in a flowing robe of soft, white cotton, simply trimmed with a sash, seemingly made from fine, spun gold. His wrinkled hands he clasped reverently over the fragile pages of the open book; his eyes were raised to an alter that stood six feet in front of him.
    A golden menorah, measuring eighteen inches from the first cup across to the seventh, rested on the alter. Intricate carvings of birds, reptiles, flowers, and plants, inter-laced among various gods of the Mayan culture, decorated the stems upward onto each cup.
    A beam of light from a small opening in the cave's ceiling shone down upon the man and the Menorah, illuminating the two in a radiance of unity.
    He returned his gaze to the book. Careful not to tear the ancient papyrus, he turned to the next page, and studied the timeworn script. The volume contained transcriptions of ancient messages taken from stone tablets, which dated from the beginning days of the Mayans. Early explorers of the area stayed and befriended the natives, living among them, sharing their culture. They recorded in this, and many other books, the customs and beliefs of their people. The messages contained on the tablets were translated for one of the explorers, a holy man. The other books were destroyed in an invasion of the village by people of another tribe from the south.
    The man who wrote the book escaped, taking it with him; and hid it in a cave, miles from the village. He recognized the messages as being of supreme importance to mankind. They contained answers to some of the great mysteries of the ages. He also recognized that the world was not yet ready for the teachings. 
    When he reached a land far to the north, what is now the southwest United States, he settled with a tribe of Indians. There he spent the remainder of his life. While there he had the Menorah made, and hand carved the design. The icon was a map, which, with the help of an accompanying scroll would serve as a guide to the hidden book of truths.