Immersion

  About The Emerald Tablet: Immersion

  Casey wonders if he’s delusional and Sophia is really a ghost. After holding the bones of a dead girl, Casey believes psychometry will only bring him pain. And using his telekinesis will just bring pain to others.

  In the forest, around his new home in England, in a burst of frustration Casey loses control of his energy, sending branches, leaves, stones, and dirt into a violent whirlwind of debris that attracts the micro-shape shifting beasts.

  Shaun sadly remembers Rachel and he remembers what his father did in Israel; Shaun, confused and alone, runs to the only place he feels comfortable; the city. Walking the city streets, he quickly realizes that the infected are out of control and govern the city.

  Kevin, after foreseeing the death of his grandparents and the drowning of Casey, abandoned his abilities. He accepts they're a curse; but now, he’ll have to quickly harness them to save his family and friends because the micro-shape shifting beasts have learned how to combine into one thunderous giant monster.

  Contents

  About The Emerald Tablet: Immersion

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1. Metatron: Casey. England.

  2. Frenzy of flies: Jade. Australia.

  3. Pestilence’s fusion: Sophia. Scotland.

  4. S = k log W: Jade. Australia

  5. Celestial warriors: Sophia. Scotland.

  6. Doorman for death: Shaun. Australia.

  7. Echoes of the dead: Casey. England.

  8. The talking stick: Jade. Australia.

  9. Labyrinth of darkness: Casey. England.

  10. Order amongst chaos: Jade. Australia.

  11. Seeds of existence: Casey. England.

  Glossary

  Acknowledgment

  About JM Hart

  Copyright

  I dedicate this book to my daughter Bianca – never stop dreaming.

  It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours.

  Buddha

  1

  Metatron: Casey. England.

  Casey sat on a fallen branch, scanning the silver birch trees. They hid him and the house from the road. He rubbed his palms on his denim jeans and cleared his mind, trying to connect to Sophia, when from between the trees a sandy-colored Labrador stepped into view. “Here girl.” The dog ran straight to him and licked him on the face. Casey shuffled the leaves at his feet for a stick. He picked one up, placed it across his knee and snapped it in two. He threw the longest piece of the stick into the air and obediently the dog fetched. Casey threw it again and again the dog retrieved it. “No more, girl. I need to think.” The dog kept pushing the stick with her nose. “No, I need to focus on my friend Sophia. Go home.” The dog picked up the stick and again dropped it at Casey’s feet. He eyed the dog, and then the stick. He began to visualize it lifting off the ground — and it lifted. Not very high, but it hovered. He flicked his head to the side, making his curls bounce, and the stick went sailing up into the air. Like a rubber band it retracted, smacking him in the face. “Shit!” He dabbed under his eye. He tried again. He connected with the stick and imagined it soaring through the air, then flicked his head up and to the side. The stick flew into the bushes. The Labrador bounded after it. Casey’s head hurt; he rubbed his temples, the pain was minimal, but an electric sensation above his eyes travelled down his face and his lips became itchy.

  Out of the woods came the dog, drooling with the stick in its mouth.

  “Yuk, I’m not touching that.”

  “Casey, you want to come and help me?”

  Casey looked over his shoulder. Terry was hanging out the back door. He turned to the dog and with a slight movement of his eyes and a tilt of his head, he lifted the stick and tossed it into the air. “Fetch,” he said. The stray Labrador mirrored Casey and tilted his head. Casey glanced over his shoulder at Terry. “Sure, Terry, give me a sec,” he yelled back. He picked up the stick with his hand this time, and tossed it towards the hedges and the dog started to lumber after it. The ground vibrated. The Labrador stood still and began to howl.

  “What is it, girl?” Through the narrow parting in the trees, a series of army trucks shot past in a blur of camouflage-green. “It’s starting, girl. It’s the virus. Hell’s circus has come to town. Come on, girl, you look like you could use some water.” Casey headed over to Terry at the house.

  “Who’s your friend?” Terry asked.

  “She came out of the trees.” Casey turned on the tap and the dog lapped it up. He jerked his head to the road. “Where do you think they’re heading?”

  “Town, probably.”

  Terry rested his hand on Casey’s shoulder. “Come on. Come give me a hand downstairs. Maybe give her something to eat first. She’s looking a little thin. Give her a couple of powdered eggs and the sausages left from last night.”

  “Wait here, girl,” Casey said.

  The dog sat, its tail dusting the ground.

  The kitchen was freshly painted. It was looking new except for the moldy section that grew up the side of the wall.

  “Where’s Amy?” Casey continued to mix the egg powder and water in a bowl.

  “In the cellar.”

  “What are you guys doing down there, anyway? And isn’t it called a basement?”

  “Sorting through her great-aunt’s old treasures. Some of the things are actually amazing. I have a hunch that the dampness in the kitchen wall began down there.”

  Casey took the bowl out to the dog. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  At the sight of the bowl the dog stood, a whimper escaped its mouth and saliva hung from the corner. It tapped its paw, wanting to step forward, then barked. Casey put the bowl on the grass and the dog buried her head in it. “That will keep you going for a while.”

  “Terry! Do you want me to bring the toolbox?” he yelled.

  “Why are you shouting?”

  “Ha ha. I thought you had already gone downstairs.”

  The stairs creaked as Terry descended ahead of Casey and the light bulb swung overhead. Amy was sitting on one of the many trunks, absorbed in unpacking another. Terry looked as though his heart fluttered when he looked at Amy. Casey knew she was his touchstone in life: they would fall apart without each other.

  The air was thick and moist in the cellar. “You shouldn’t be down here in your condition,” Terry said.

  “Ah!” Amy jumped off the trunk, arm up ready for attack. “Don’t creep up on me! You guys here to do some real work or just scare the hell out of me?”

  “Okay, no need for sarcasm, madam. What’s with the kung fu moves?” Terry said, chopping the dust with his hands.

  “He’s right, Amy. Mold would be thriving in this atmosphere and it’s not good for your lungs.”

  “It’s not good for any of our lungs,” Terry said. “Why don’t you pick which trunk you want to go through next and we will lug it upstairs to the sunroom for you?”

  “Well, I don’t know. It’s a lot of work for you.”

  “We’ll have to cart the stuff upstairs that you want to throw out or sell. You might as well sort it out up there,” Terry said.

  “Who are we going to sell it to? There’s hardly anyone around,” Casey said.

  “Don’t be so negative, okay. I’m finishing this one now. It’s full of beautiful old clothes. Turn-of-the-century stuff. You can take those old trunks against the far wall, behind the stairs, over there.” She pointed. “Those ones are also ready to go.”

  Casey moved over to the trunks. Examining them, he could feel the energy of the past saturating the wood.

  Casey sat next to Amy on the leather chest that smelt like a worn saddle.

  “The room was filled with priceless memories,” she said. “Think of the
people who must have worn these clothes years and years ago. The dinner parties, balls, formal courting. How romantic it must have been.”

  Casey saw her aura expanding, as she imagined her family’s past.

  “Did you see the cot, Terry? It’s to die for. It’s so old — and that desk chair, look how worn that seat is.”

  “Yep, a lot of backsides have been in that chair. Maybe your great-uncle, with a pipe in one hand and a whiskey in the other, spinning the odd yarn to guests,” Terry said.

  “You’re mocking me? You know, all of this stuff should really go upstairs. The air down here will damage it eventually. I’m surprised it’s not already covered in mold. God knows how it has survived.”

  Three trunks were stacked up high against the wall. “We are going to need a ladder. I’ll get it,” Casey said, mounting the stairs two at time.

  The back door slammed and the dog stood at attention, wagging its tail. “You still here? Don’t you have a home? Isn’t there someone missing you, girl?” Casey asked. “Come on, then.”

  They both stopped a few steps from the barn and the dog growled. “What’s the matter, girl. Afraid of a few rats?”

  The decaying wooden door hung unevenly with one corner wedged into the grass. “It will need to be fixed, girl, but not right now.” Casey gave it a couple of good yanks and it opened. Instantly, he saw the ladder hiked up on the side wall. He reached up to unhook it, but lost his grip, the ladder crashed to the floor, landing a hair’s breadth away from the dog. “Sorry girl, I — what the hell!” A black mist of tiny insects, like a thousand fruit flies, swarmed down from the rafters and encircled him. He coughed and choked. They went up his nostrils and down the back of his throat. Pain exploded in Casey’s head. He grabbed his hair and doubled over gagging, vomiting up his lunch. His body was on fire, his head hammering. Tiny claws dug into the sinus cavities up his nose, the fastest route to the brain. His ears and nose bled. “Oh, God!” He released an agonized scream as his eyes turned black like swirling pools of oil. His mouth stretched wide, his jaw unhinged, and the black vileness travelled to his brain.

  Casey fought for control. The barn came alive with projectiles and the dog ran.

  An explosion of intense blinding light filled the barn and everything stopped in mid-air and collapsed to the ground. A figure, which stood three times the size of a man, emerged from the center of the light. It had three sets of wings unfolding behind him: from his shoulder blades, from the middle of his spine, and a set from just below his waist. They sparkled with trails of misty light. The lower right wing gracefully extended and swooped down, catching Casey and rolling him up, squeezing him tight, pressing out his last breath until all the devil’s vermin was expelled from his body, freeing Casey from the virus. The heavenly being held him tight until the demons were crushed and vaporized.

  Casey felt no pain as his bones were crushed. The angel’s touch was gentle, its illumination was blinding. He couldn’t look into its face, his eyelids sealed tight and in Casey’s mind’s eye he saw a rainbow enclosing them. In a partially conscious state, in that feeling of being between sleep and wakefulness, just before the sensation of falling, Casey saw his mom. No oxygen left in his body, he smiled back at his mom while the wings unfolded two at a time, lowering Casey to the dusty floor of the old barn. He heard the dog move. Casey imagined it was listening, tilting its head to the left and to the right. The dog barked in the distance, running to the house. Casey, not breathing, moved towards his mother.

  The angel gently laid down Casey’s head. “Metatron, my name is Metatron.”

  *

  The barking echoed into the house and down the stairs. Terry and Amy looked at each other for a second, then together they ran for the stairs. “Casey,” Amy yelled. The sound of the step splintering under her foot was like bones breaking to Terry. She lost her balance. Reaching for him, she felt her fingers skim his shirt. Terry stretched out to catch her but missed and Amy fell over the edge of the stairs landing on the hard dirt floor.

  “Amy!” He raced back downstairs.

  The wind knocked out of her, she struggled to breathe. She spoke between breaths. “I’m … okay. It’s … Casey. I know it … go!” She pulled herself up awkwardly.

  Terry ran up and outside. The dog headed in the direction of the barn.

  “Oh no, dear God, no,” Terry mumbled. Casey was on the ground with blood coming out of his nose. Terry’s mouth went dry, his heart raced. The horror of the first time he’d seen Casey lying motionless came flooding back and he was afraid. Terry got down on his knees and placed his hand on the boy’s chest — nothing; he put his ear to his mouth — nothing. A tear escaped from the corner of Terry’s eye and dripped onto Casey’s neck. Terry waited to feel the warmth of his breath — nothing.

  “Terry. What’s happening, what’s wrong with him?” Out of breath, Amy crouched opposite him.

  Terry ignored Amy’s quivering voice and began resuscitation. Compressions, one breath, compressions, another breath, compressions, another breath, … He kept repeating the mantra inside his head.

  The sound of Casey coughing and choking was bliss. Terry turned him on his side. Casey coughed up blood and spat.

  Amy brushed his hair out of his eyes. “What happened?”

  Casey looked pasty; exhausted, he managed to push out a smile. He watched them fuss over him. He lifted his head up. Amy gently pushed it back down and moved his hair out of his eyes.

  “Don’t try to get up, wait a few minutes,” she said. “Think it’s about time you had a haircut, mister. You’re a mangy poodle.” Amy’s attention was drawn to the lofty heights of the barn. “I never noticed how much light there was in here. I bet the rafters would be filled with secrets.”

  Casey lifted himself to his elbows and slowly sat up, breathing deeply. His chest expanded, filling with air, triggering a fit of coughing.

  “Take it easy, pal,” Terry said crouched beside him.

  Once the coughing stopped he took in a couple of deliberately short breaths. His body wasn’t satisfied, and independently took in consecutive rapid shallow breaths. He looked as if he had bottled up the tears of a lifetime and breathed out in a heavy sigh.

  “My mouth tastes terrible.” He snorted back blood from his nose and spat. “I feel like I have just gone twelve rounds in the boxing ring.” He massaged his cheeks and said, “My jaw’s stiff, and my ear is throbbing.”

  “And you don’t remember what happened? You gave us a hell of a fright!” Amy said.

  “I’m not sure. I opened the door, grabbed the ladder, then my head exploded.

  After that, I don’t remember.”

  Terry held out his hand and Casey looked up. “Ready to stand, pal?”

  “Yeah, yeah sure.” He steadied himself against Terry. He wanted to just hug him and bury his head into Terry’s chest and sob. But he couldn’t; he was supposed to be grown-up now. He had had hairy armpits for the past year, and his voice had matured. Then why do I feel like a terrorized little kid? he mused. They both helped him walk back to the house and into the kitchen. The dog followed, settling in to sit by the door.

  *

  “Well, good morning,” Amy said, a little too chirpy, turning off the computer screen. “You slept well. Grab yourself a bowl of cereal and come downstairs when you’re ready. I’m off to sort out those last few items. We’re going to have a great garage sale when the world gets back on its feet.”

  “What are you doing on the computer that you don’t want me to see, Amy?”

  “Nothing. Nothing really.”

  She looked embarrassed, avoiding his eyes as she glanced out the window.

  “What am I doing? This isn’t like me,” she said and looked him in the eyes. “I was just watching the online news. It feels like we are cocooned out here and I want it to stay that way. I want to protect you from the chaos out there.” She flicked her head towards the window.

  “You can’t protect me, not really.”

 
“But we have to keep trying. I saw you with my book the other night.”

  “Which one?”

  “Don’t play dumb, you’re no good at it,” she said, pulling her long hair into a scruffy ponytail. “My grandfather’s leather book of splendor.”

  “Sorry, I should have asked.”

  “I don’t mind. I don’t own it, I’m just the caretaker. You’re welcome to meditate on it anytime. I know you speak Aramaic too.”

  Casey laughed. “I know, right. And I feel something, I really do — I don’t know how come. When I hold it, when I open it, I become transfixed on the letters. I’m pulled into its energy, I don’t know how to describe it. My body relaxes, I feel calm. It’s like somewhere inside me a treasure box is flung open and sparkling sapphires, rubies, emeralds and diamonds radiate through my body. I feel illuminated in gold dust, and my eyes are filled with a scintillating light. I feel close to God — to all things, as if the universe is cradling me.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing! Were your parents religious?”

  “No, I haven’t even been baptized.”

  “Have you ever read the Bible, Torah, or Qur’an?”

  “I read the Bible a little when we were in the hospital. There was nothing else to read.”

  “I think God has his eye on you, Casey.”

  “There’s something else though.”

  “What’s that? You can tell me anything, Casey, honestly.”

  He paused. Should I tell her about the experience of drowning in the river, or about my ability to see auras, or that I can move objects with my mind? Can she help me? God, I wish she could. But she has enough just surviving, and now the pregnancy. I’m not her kid, I’m not her responsibility. Sophia will help me.”

  “Casey, what is it?”

  “Um, nothing. Let’s just finish watching the news together.”

  He turned the computer screen on. Amy watched him sit on the side of the old table, dressed in denim jeans and a white t-shirt. “That shirt is getting too tight around the arms for you.” She patted his leg, letting him know everything was okay.