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Harvest Dawn

by John W. Steele

Table of Contents
Table of Contents
parts: 1, 2, 3

part 2

“Welcome to our home, my brother. I am Julian Adames; it is a great honor to greet a warrior of your stature.” His face lit up with a smile and he extended his hand.

Juan set his cup on the tray and stood up. He reached forth and Julian gripped his hand with a cool and powerful embrace. Their eyes met and there was a moment of silence. Adames released Juan’s hand and sat down; he motioned Juan to do the same.

From a drawer in the desk Julian removed a magnificent hand-woven basket. The container was round and its pattern was like nothing Juan had ever seen. He set the basket on the desktop and folded his hands before him.

For a while they conversed about spiritual and esoteric matters. Julian asked a few questions, listening carefully to the goat-herder’s answers and the tone of his voice. As if assured by Juan’s responses, Julian unfolded his hands and tapped his fingers on the desktop.

“What are your thoughts about the pillar of fire in the sky?” Julian asked.

Juan lowered his head and spoke in a humble voice. “I am but a poor Indian. In the eyes of the world I have no value. The fire in the sky does not concern me. Those of my status learn what is needed to survive when very young. The power of this deity is merely another authority outside of my control. If it chooses to annihilate me, there is little I can do to avoid it. If it does not, its presence does not affect my world. My challenges remain the same. But, Don Adames, that is not the reason I came to you, I—”

“I know why you’re here.” Julian said.

A contrite expression formed on the Indian’s face. “How could you know why I came to you, Don Adames? I have informed no one that I would seek your good council.”

Julian sighed and his eyes grew kind. “My dear brother, there is not one particle of sand or one living thing that does not fall under my jurisdiction in this sector of creation. I am the Guardian spirit of this desert, and in this reflection of true reality, there is nothing that can escape my scrutiny.

“My allies are stationed everywhere, in every blade of grass, in every cactus, in every grain of sand, and in the eyes of every locust. Your sad misfortune has intrigued me deeply and I wish to assist you in the calamity that has befallen you. But our purpose is far deeper than the loss of your goats. We are on a mission. We are the same.”

Genaro folded his hands in his lap and spoke in a hollow voice. “Muchas gracias, Don Adames, but how can this be so? You are like an eagle that soars very high, a man revered of great understanding. As for me, I am a stranger to the world and none but the few of my village know of my existence.”

Outside the window a thrush appeared and perched on the branch of a Chuparosa bush. The bird began to sing, its warble sincere and veracious. “Do you hear the voice of our ally, Don Genaro? He sings of your noble heart and your long-suffering courage.”

Juan remained silent and his throat contracted.

In time Julian spoke. “You have an astral body, Juan, a rare and priceless gift. Few men born into the valley of tears possess such a treasure. This world is not your true home. Long ago we made a pact to journey here to face a formidable enemy. Tell me, how did you know to come to me?”

Juan raised a finger to his lips, and his brow knitted. “I do not know how I knew to come here, Don Adames. I cannot explain this notion any more than a needle on a compass can explain its will.”

“Like a seasoned fruit falling from a tree, our vow has ripened and you have honored your pledge,” Julian said.

Juan looked at the elder, his eyes pleading. “I beg your pardon, Don Adames, I have made no such vow with anyone, nor would I. I have no faith in the future, and I would not trust its promise.”

“It matters little whether you remember or not, Don Genaro, the fact that you are here is a testament to our commitment.”

The men stared at each other, one confused, the other assured.

“Tell me, Juan, what are your thoughts about the realm of matter?”

Juan lowered his head and did not answer.

“You need not fear me,” Adames said. “Each of us is composed of permanent atoms. Our home lies in the dimensions beyond eternity. We are temporarily stationed here. Answer me, what is your impression of the physical dimension?”

The Indian raised his head, his eyes cold and empty, a hard look formed in his features. “I think the world is cursed, Don Adames. I think the world is exceedingly evil.”

A noise like the rattle of a cicada sounded inside the basket. Julian laid his hand on the lid and the buzzing ceased.

“There is no reason to feel ashamed of your answer, my brother. The realm of matter is a predatory dimension. It was created by evil to serve evil. Matter is composed of impermanent atoms that are subject to decay. No aspect of the physical dimension was created by Divine energy.

“The Reptilians who have come here in the pillar of flame have no permanent nucleolus. They cannot survive in the higher dimensions. The Lizard men are sons of evil. They have come to harvest the Divine energy that was imprisoned in the physical realm before this dimension was sealed; and we, my brother in arms, have come to stop them.”

The Indian’s eyes shone like the moon and his face, like the sun. “Don Adames, for reasons I cannot understand your words ring true in my heart. But I must confess I have no interest in this world; it is a hell for me. I have no desire to aid those who have tormented me unmercifully.”

The Guardian smiled. “To shun the realm of matter and its glimmering magic is a good sign, Juan, a very good sign indeed. The intricacies of your crystallization are nearly complete. One last act of courage and you will never return to a world such as this. But we must act quickly; our time is short.”

The Indian shifted in his seat. “I do not understand how your authority has enchanted me, Don Adames, but I am deeply touched by your words. Still I must ask you: of what value to the Lizard men is this nine-holed sack of meat called man?”

Adames sat back. He closed his eyes and hummed a tune. The melody echoed softly through the chamber like a lullaby. Old memories flooded Juan’s awareness and a tear formed in his eye.

“Do you remember the mission school you attended when you were a boy?”

“Yes, Don Adames, the song reminds me of my world long ago. I have never remembered that melody until now. I do not understand how I ever forgot it. It is so beautiful!”

“You were programmed to forget this song, and I have broken the engram. Think back, and tell me the words of this melody.”

Juan raised his head and stared in the distance. “He hummed the tune and the words flowed gently from his throat. I will bathe in your blood, and wallow in your gore, and curse the life you knew before.”

Their eyes met and a chill ran down Juan’s spine.

“The Chapucabras are ghouls who must survive on recycled energy, my brother,” Julian said. “The secretions of the adrenal glands have an effect similar to cocainum for them. They harvest the glandular hormones of humans and animals and use these endocrines as apothecaries and stimulants to expand their longevity and intensify their perversions. The body parts of the true creation are placed in vats where the Lizard men bathe to absorb nutrients through their skin.”

Juan lowered his head and closed his tired eyes; he rubbed his forehead and groaned softly. “The memories are vivid now, Don Adames. Visions are emerging, my beloved benefactor. Suddenly the purpose of my life so wrought with pain and misfortune has flooded my awareness like the scorching sun fills the desert. I remember my vow and I will honor it.”

The senior stared out the window and his breathing stilled. “Many are called but few remember, Don Genaro. The season of the Light Warriors is at hand. Everywhere on the planet abductions occur in abundance. Millions have disappeared without a trace, and no explanation is offered.

“The Lizard men have allies as well, and they are stationed in positions of authority and power. In time, more pillars of flame will emerge from the distant corners of counterfeit creation, and the bloodbath will increase with unbridled lust.

“When all life has been drained from this planet, the Chapucabras will journey deeper into the cosmos in search of other worlds to vanquish. Their legacy is wanton malevolence, and in the aftermath of their crusades, they leave only the desiccated remains of their victims.”

The Indian drew a heavy sigh. “I will not surrender, my captain. But I am sorely afraid. How can someone of my stature do battle with the cosmic demons? Their strength is terrible and there is no defense against their supernatural power.”

A look of discernment graced the elder’s face. With the tips of his fingers Julian slid the basket to the center of the desk and an eerie buzz erupted from inside the container. Adames rested his hands in his lap. Their eyes met and the Angel locked Juan in his gaze.

“Evil wears many disguises, Don Genaro. Sometimes those that appear the holiest and most virtuous harbor the most virulent demons. Though I trust you implicitly, I must answer to the Absolute. A test is required before I can grant you the power to defeat the evil infestation that has come to devour the Light in humanity. Are you truly one of the chosen?”

“What is it you ask of me, my Lord? I will do what I must to evolve from this cesspool of ignorance.”

With a flick of his wrist Julian removed the lid from the basket. The height of its rim and the density of its weaves concealed the contents within. The rattle inside increased until it sounded like the buzz of angry hornets.

“It is through intuition that the greatest truth is accomplished,” Julian said. “Knowledge is granted only from within. Reach inside the basket and remove the entity.”

Juan swallowed hard, and his eyes grew wide. He raised his arm, and then placed it back in his lap.

“There will be no dishonor if you refuse this cup, my brother. I will aid you regardless of your decision. If you cannot contain the power there shall be no ill will, and you are free to go.”

* * *

Proceed to part 3...

Copyright © 2012 by John W. Steele

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