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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1366495
by Kitson
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Occult · #1366495
Here is a story of Reincarnation where truth is often stranger than fiction.
Chapter 04
         2,192 words
                   By one o’clock, they checked into their adjoining rooms. She went to her room without a word and spent the afternoon studying the bird books while he went back to customs to pickup the supplies.
                   Shortly after dark, there came a knock at Robert’s door.
                    “Who could that be,” he wondered as he said to himself as he walked toward the door, “no one knows we’re here — and James already left.”
         He opened the door and stood staring speechlessly into the eyes of the dark skinned native from his vision.
         “Good evening Mister Grayson,” said the man with no noticeable accent.
         Robert stepped back and looked at the man and stated, “You’re the man from my vision!” He immediately called Joyce, and as she came from the adjoining room, he excitedly explained, “This is the man, Joyce. He’s the one I told you about — the one who showed me where to find the artifacts.”
         “Really!” she exclaimed, “If he’s the person you say, he’s more than an apparition from your dream.”
         Robert reached out his hand to the man and asked, “You are, aren’t you?”
         The native, ignoring Robert’s outstretched hand, spoke softly. “I am Gazali Tupac,” then directed to Joyce, “I assure you Miss Armand, I am more than an apparition,”
         “Robert,” Gazali said, “I am happy you received my message and grateful you both came to the island.”
         As Robert stepped back to let Gazali enter the room, he asked, “How did you know we were here?”
         As he entered, he said, “Just as my name Gazali Tupac translates, mystic messenger; so I am, and that is how.”
         Joyce offered him a chair at the small table and asked, “Who are you and how …” 
         “Give the man a chance,” Robert interrupted.
         Gazali Tupac settled on the chair and waited while Joyce and Robert seated themselves across the table from him, then spoke, “In answer to your first question, Miss Armand, I am Peruvian. I am also a direct descendent from a lineage of Inca soothsayers. As for your second question, I have perfected the ancient skill of dreamscape manipulation and projected the required images to Robert.”
         “How did you know…?” Joyce began, “I hadn’t asked you that yet. Do you read minds too?”
         Gazali smiled at her and continued, “As a soothsayer, I have access to knowledge and many skills such as astral projection.”
         What’s that?” She asked.
         “Everyone is multi-dimensional.” Gazali explained, “The astral body is one of the seven body sheaths which include the physical, mental, causal, etheric, emotional, and spiritual. Astral projection occurs when the astral body leaves the physical.”
         Joyce sat dumbfounded and said, “I didn’t understand a word of that.”
         Gazali smiled at her and said, “That is quite all right Miss Armand, not many people do.”
         Robert said, “I do,” then asked, “but how did you project those images?”
         Gazali explained, “Once I located you, I used my dreamscape skills to create a series of lucid dreams. You saw and perceived what I wanted you to see.”
         Joyce stood and declared, “That’s illegal!” She sat back down giving it a second thought, and muttered, “Or at least — it should be.”
         Gazali calmly stated, “What I did was not illegal on any plain of existence, for you see, I had his permission.”
         “You what?” she exclaimed.
         Robert said, “Mr. Tupac, I followed most of what you said; that is until the permission part.”
         The three of then sat in silence as Gazali contemplated before he spoke, “I am about to tell you something that may be beyond your religious teachings. We all existed long before this mortal experience and will continue long after. Robert and I have shared many mortal existences together, one being here on this island many millenniums ago. We agreed then and again just prior to this life that we would disclose the truth of what we knew. Robert chose his lineage well and it provided him with an education commensurate to the task. I chose a life affording me the means for us to accomplish the task.”
         Joyce said, “By getting him to this island?”
         “Yes,” Gazali said.
         She huffed, “Now I suppose you’re going to tell me, you knew I’d be here.”
         “Of course.”
         “And you arranged that too!”
         “Yes,” he said again.
         Joyce questioned, “How can you say that? I never had any dreams of this.”
         Gazali stated, “I used other means to give you the opportunity of choice.”
         She scowled at Gazali and demanded, “Did you manipulate Anthony too?”
         “Only indirectly,” Gazali replied.
         She blurted, “Now I know that’s got to be illegal,” then added, “In any case, you weren’t sure I’d be here.”
         “Not until after you chose.”
         She cocked her head slightly and asked, “Why me?”
         Gazali smiled and said, “You will come upon the answer in due time.”
         She stammered, “Mr. Gazali Tupac, I find you most disquieting.”
         He smiled at her and said, “You have told me that before.”
         “Now you’re confusing me.”
         His smile broadened, “That too.”
         Robert stood and said, “I think we need to concentrate on the primary reason we’re here.”
         “Precisely,” Gazali said, “There will be transportation here to pick you up in the morning at seven o’clock. The guide will take you along an off-beaten trail to a point south of the airport runway. I will meet you there and we will take a fishing boat to an offshore island.” He rose from the chair, went and stood waiting by the door, and said, “I will leave you now.”
         Robert went and opened the door and as Gazali left, he said, “Until the morrow, I bid you good day.”
         Robert closed the door and Joyce snapped, “What Island is he talking about, or is that another one of your surprises?”
         “Bird Island, it’s…? He began.
         “I know where Bird Island is,” she interrupted, “It’s some distance off the southern tip of this island. Why there?”
         “Because that’s where the artifacts are.”
         She sighed, “I should’ve known from the Audubon Society cover story.”
         He said, grinning mischievously, “Precisely.”
         As she went back to the adjoining room, said, “Good night, Robert,” and closed the door.
         The next morning Robert and Joyce rose early and had a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s open-air coffee shop. Joyce stood in front of the hotel while Robert went to the room for their backpacks and supplies. When he returned, Joyce was at the side of the hotel conversing with a young native boy holding four scruffy looking horses.
         “Who’s your young friend?” he asked.
         She glared at him and stated, “That Tupac fellow’s gone too far this time.”
         “What do you mean?”
         “I mean,” she blurted, pointing at the horses. “Is this the transportation that old man said would be here at seven?”
         “So it would appear,” he said glancing at his watch, “and they’re right on time.”
         “But when Tupac said transportation, I thought he meant a taxi or something.”
         “What’s the matter, can’t you ride?”
         “Of course I can ride. That’s not the point.”
         “Then I suggest we mount up so we can get started.”
         She scowled at the guide and asked, “Why the horses?”
         While Robert strapped their packs of provisions onto the packhorse the young guide smiled broadly at her and replied, “The path we must follow will not permit automobiles.” The boy held the reins while Robert helped Joyce mount. Robert then climbed aboard his own horse.
         Joyce jolted with surprise when the young guide suddenly, in one easy motion, sprang from the ground astride his horse and said, “Please come with me.”
         Joyce and Robert rode side by side as they followed the boy and the packhorse along a narrow path behind the hotel. “Where are we going?” Robert asked.
         “My instructions were to guide you to a place by the shore.”
         “How far is—”
         “The place is on the south side of the island, about fourteen kilometers from here.”
         “What’s that in miles,” Joyce asked.
         Robert said, “About eight,” then asked the boy, “How long do you—”
         “We should be there about nine-fifteen,” the boy replied.
         Joyce muttered, “Does everyone on this island answer questions before they’re asked?”
         The horses moved easily along a sparsely wooded narrow path of soft loam for several miles. As they came out of the wooded area and onto a dirt road the early morning southerly breeze brought the ocean sent and distance sounds of seabirds. A short way along the road they could see in the distance to their right the end of the airport runway. A little further on they reached a crest of a hill where they could see where the road went down to the ocean. They continued on to within a hundred yards of the water when the boy brought his horse to a halt and dismounted, “This is as far as I am allowed to go,” he said.
         “What do you mean, Where do we—” Joyce began.
         “That is all I know Miss. My instructions were to guide you to this place and show you where to go.” He pointed and said, “Follow this road down to the water.”
         “Whose instructions,” then she muttered, “as if I didn’t know.”
         Robert thanked the boy and swung to the ground, helped Joyce dismount, and then removed their supplies from the packhorse. After the boy led the horses back up the road and out of sight, she and Robert stood looking out over the rugged rocky coastline and dark blue sea beyond.
         Robert picked up his duffel bag and handed one of the packs to her saying, “Well, let’s go.”
         “Go,” she stammered, “Go where?”
         “To the end of the road of course,” He replied.
         “You’ve got to be kidding, there’s nothing there.”
         “I’m sure we’ll find something when we get there.”
         When they reached the water’s edge, Joyce dropped her pack and commented, “This is just great. Here I am, standing on the shoreline of an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and Gazali Tupac is nowhere in sight.”
         “Why Miss Armand, I am right here.”
         Startled, they both spun around to find Gazali standing behind them.
         “Where did you—.” They began in unison.
         “That is unimportant. Are you ready to begin?”
         “Begin!” Joyce said, “What do you think we’ve been doing the past two hours?”
         “I thought you would enjoy an early morning ride,” Gazali said.
         Joyce huffed as Robert helped her with her backpack, swung his over his left shoulder, and slung the strap of the duffel bag over his right. As Gazali started to walk west along the shore he said, “Now if you will follow me I will guide you to your destination.” 
         “I swear,” Joyce huffed, “that man’s exasperating.”
         They followed close behind Gazali as he made his way along the rocky shore. After twisting her ankle, Joyce asked, “How much farther is it?”
         “Is what, Miss Armand,” Gazali asked.
         “To the place we're going, of course.”
         “The objective is to reach a point of rendezvous,” he said.
         “Rendezvous with whom?” she asked.
         “With — that,” Gazali pointed out to sea.
         Robert and Joyce, intent on watching their footing on the rock-strewn shore, failed to notice the old weathered fishing boat approaching.
         “What’s that?” She exclaimed.
         “Why Miss Armand, that is part of the transportation I promised.
         “First horses, and now this!” she studied the craft and asked, “Is that thing even seaworthy?”
         “I assure you Miss Armand,” Gazali said, “that vessel will carry you to and from your destination.”
         Scowling at him she said, “I know you mean Bird Island. Robert finally got around to telling me,” pointing offshore, “and it’s way out there.” 
         Joyce sat down on the box, looked at Robert then at Gazali, “I’ve just about had it with all your surprises. I’m here and I need to know what’s going on.”
         Robert said, “Joyce, you’re absolutely right and I apologize for the deception, but...” he did not finish his excuse, instead said, “From here on I’ll tell you everything before it happens — no more surprises.”
         "I've heard that promise before and now I don't believe you," she declared. 
         Robert tried to explain further, “I kept the island a surprise because the professor told me you were a champion diver.”
         “I confine by diving into swimming pools,” she exclaimed, “not off some island cliffs.”
         “Even it you did, there won’t be any time for that.”
         When the boat had moved to a point some distance offshore a man through something off the bow of the boat.
         “What was that?” she asked.
         “An anchor,” Gazali said, “this is a beach, not a harbor Miss Armand.”
         “Then how — oh no — I’m not going to swim out there.”
         “Relax Joyce,” Robert said, “Gazali has everything under control.”
         “That’s no assurance. Look what he’s done for us so far.”
         Gazali calmly said, “If you would be patient for a moment you will see all is well.”
         Joyce looked again at the fishing boat and saw a man rowing a dinghy toward them and said, “Is that what you meant by all is well?”
         “But of course,” Gazali replied.
© Copyright 2007 Kitson (kitson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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