SAGA OF DARKNESS VISION OF LIGHT
Chapter Thirteen - The Return of Prometheus
by Dennis R. Cook
I felt a tad rough. We had taken naps upon
returning down the mountain, and my bones told me a
nap
wasn't enough. I told them I didn't care how
they
felt, I had work to do, and they were going
along
like it or not. They shut up after that.
Steven and I left Old Blackgoat with the sheep and
high
stepped our way through the meadow toward hell
central. Two plain clothed officers monitored the
entrance to the crime scene. "Do you think they
get
off
wearing those shades and black jump suits all
the
time," Steven said as we approached.
"Sure," I whispered, tongue n' cheek, "don't you
remember that line from the movies? Chics dig the suit."
Having
our little joke at the expense of the two
officers helped take the edge off. Being at ease
addressing the two made it easier to communicate who
we
were and why we needed to speak with Ketchum
again.
One officer ducked inside to check for an O.K.,
while the other detained us.
"You'll find Ketchum in the living quarters,"
the
returning guard said.
Ketchum had a most haggard look about him, no
doubt
drained from the all night ordeal. "You all
have a
seat," Ketchum said, shuffling p
his
lap. "Paperwork," he groaned. "The FBI can't
get
enough
of this stuff. Everything I have
on
tape to this point has to be transcribed. Gad,
this
is a mess," he moaned, looking at the mound of
papers
in his brief case. "Now, what can I do for
you fellas'?"
"We'd like to have a look at the vortex again if
we
might," Steven said.
"No can do," Ketchum said. "That hole in
the
sky flat disappeared about the time you fellas'
left
this morning. I've been tryin' all day on my
cell
phone to contact a spook expert over in Taos to
see if
she could give us some clue as to what it was.
One darn thing's for sure, ain't no record of any
type
of vortex apparition in the FBI computer, or the
military's MILNET either for that matter."
"Listen," I said, "could we just take a look
around
the altar one last time? We have some
questions of our own we need to find some answers
to."
"Suit yourself", Ketchum replied dryly, "just
let me
know if you happen to answer any of those
questions, and don't touch anything, hear?"
A few police science experts worked studiously
about
the hall dusting for prints as we sauntered
through the double doors and strode toward the altar.
"Listen," Steven said, "that FBI man is going to
discount every theory about Dr. Sheolman's
whereabouts that doesn't add up to an earthly
answer."
Querying, I asked, "What are you getting at?"
"Don't you see it, Joseph," Steven said, "you
couldn't possibly have taken an inter-dimensional
journey in your physical body, and yet you believe
you
did beyond a shadow of a doubt. Isn't that so?"
"Ya'," I said, "but you saw me fly out of that
thing. I still don't understand what you are
getting at, Steven."
"Delusion", Steven said. "Satan is a master
of
delusion. Scripture says super-powered delusion will
come on our planet in the last day, delusion so
tantalizing even the very elect will have difficulty
discerning its origin.
"Joseph, it isn't possible for us to be deceived
unless
we truly want to be. Don't you see? Dr.
Sheolman caught us off guard! The rotating motion
of
the
vortex hypnotized us. You thought you took an
inter-dimensional journey and I thought I saw you flop
out of
it. None of it was real!"
"O.K., Steven," I argued, "if the whole thing was
a
delusion, then it follows there was no pure
faith
in your boot black can and so on and so on."
"May..be", Steven said, "we've been manipulated into
walking down a blind alley. First, Dr. Sheolman
planted the torn page on Arlena, then saw to it that
neither Arlena nor Torre could observe his escape.
The
vortex must have been some type of illusionary
manifestation with hypnotic appeal, and he must have
planted the book where we would find it, too."
"You may be right," I finally agreed, "but where
could
he have gone? He left his car. All the
secret
hiding
places have been found. I don't understand.
It all
seemed so real."
"Not at all," Steven said. "The one hitch in
his
whole plan centered on us ignoring the broken
elevator. The FBI or whoever might dismantle the
framework of this palatial hideaway block by block,
but I
would bet you anything the elevator would be
last.
There are simply too many other interesting
rooms
to choose from."
"So what is your conclusion", I asked?
"I believe we'll find tire tracks coming out of the
gully
wash somewhere between our road and the road
that
leads to the gorge," Steven said.
"Interesting theory," Ketchum said. "I
overheard the whole thing. You may just be right.
I
was
going to start beneath the altar, have some
people
go through the library, check out the fountain
in the
living room, but I hadn't considered foolin'
with
the chamber leading to the elevator, or the
elevator, since it was busted. I'll get a couple
of
men on
it right away. Meantime, let's take a walk
down
the mountain and look for those car tracks."
It was still a stretch for me to accept
Dr.
Sheolman's presumed disappearance as nothing more
than
an elaborate hoax. If I had been hypnotized,
then I
had been put way, way under, and had been darn
lucky
to come out of it at all. Had my will been
weaker, it would seem that I might have remained
under
Dr. Sheolman's spell for months, even years.
It
scared the heck out of me to think about it.Steven
just about had me convinced by the time we
reached the exit ramp. But I wasn't certain some
doubt
wouldn't linger in my mind even if proof could
be
found to back up Steven's theory.
Walking down the gully wash which separated the
mountain from the highway wasn't easy. Brush
piles,
downed
trees, broken beer bottles, slippery, moss-
covered rocks and the like, made the way treacherous.
Patches of plain dirt that would reveal tire tracks
were
few and far between. I was afraid
we
were wasting our time. If Dr. Sheolman had left a
trail,
it wouldn't be easy to find. We had to cross
our
fingers his presumed departure had been through a
clearing, otherwise, we would have to wait until
Ketchum's men uncovered something back by the
elevator.
Thank God that wasn't to be the case. Not three
hundred yards down the gully everything gave the
appearance of falling into place. Ketchum
recognized the wide track tread marks etched in the
road
bank as those of a late model king cab pickup, a
six
wheeler.
"Someone's Navajo Cadillac sure rolled outta' here
in a
hurry," Ketchum said. "Looks like whoever
it was
headed west. Could be to California by now.
All we
can do is alert the highway patrol from here
to the
coast to be on the lookout for a six wheeler
with
New Mexico plates. I'll have them check the MVR
list
to see if Sheolman had a second vehicle
registered in his name. May come up dry on both
counts....This guy ain't exactly predictable."
"Maybe we can help," Steven said. "We don't
want
you to arrest us for withholding evidence, but
we
might know where Dr. Sheolman headed. We've been
tailing him for several weeks now. His secretary,
a
Mrs.
Begay, told our friend Old Blackgoat about Dr.
Sheolman's periodic trips to the west coast that just
happened to coincide with various Satanic meeting
dates."
"Easter was coming up," I interrupted, "and we
wanted
to follow Dr. Sheolman and see if he would
lead
us to some bigger fish."
"You see," I said, "we had good reason to
believe Dr. Sheolman was responsible for the rash of
sheep
thefts on the reservation, including some
belonging to our friend Old Blackgoat."
"How so?" Ketchum asked, showing interest?
"Old Blackgoat and I decided we had better keep
an eye
on his sheep before they began disappearing,
too,"
Steven resumed. "Late one night two mysterious
figures appeared out of nowhere and carried a few of
Old
Blackgoat's sheep to the valley of the mountain
we're
standing on right now."
"How'd you know they'd come here?" Ketchum
asked.
"You clairvoyant or something?"
"Simple," Steven said, Old Blackgoat had a
hunch
this was their hiding place, so we drove up
here
to see. You know, even police have that kind
of
foresight.
Ketchum frowned. "I guess Old
Blackgoat's hunch was correct."
"Yes," Steven said, "it was."
"Then why in heaven's name didn't you inform the
proper
authorities right then and there," Ketchum
demanded testily. "You might have spared that young
couple
the indignity, pain and shame they endured
from
Sheolman up here last night. What's a matter
with
you people, anyway!"
"You're jumpin' the gun," Steven shot back,
bristling with his Peterian fire. "Even though we
got a
glimpse of Dr. Sheolman that night, all we had
was a
figure, no more. And that view came in a
vision. Even Old Blackgoat wasn't willing to be
convinced at that time that Dr. Sheolman was the
culprit. Even after we followed him to Los
Angeles, definitive proof, proof that would compel or justify
us
contacting you, didn't present itself until last
night."
"Alright," Ketchum conceded with a
conciliatory gesture of his right arm, "I thought you
fellas
said something about knowing where in the Sam--
hill
Sheolman might be headed. Before
I go
sendin' any of my men on some Gol-dang wild goose
chase,
I have to have some facts. Now which one of
you
two visionaries is gonna' fill me in on how you
know
where this Dr.Sheolman headed."
"Listen," I said, "we're all exhausted,
and
the proof of that is the testiness we're
beginning to exhibit. There's no sense coming to
blows. What say we get together tomorrow morning
around
ten. A good night's sleep will make what we
have
to say about Dr. Sheolman's whereabouts much
easier
on all of us. If Sheolman is going where
we
think he is, he will still be there in the morning,
if
not, what we have to tell you is irrelevant. And,
who
knows, you all may have him in custody by then
anyway."
"Suits me just fine," Ketchum said. "And
speaking of getting' that guy into custody, I've
got to
get an all points bulletin goin' on that Navajo
caddy
anyway. Besides, I get the feelin' I might have
trouble swallowing what you fellas think you know.
So
O.K., see you at the parkin' garage around ten in
the
mornin'....and no hard feelin's, just doin' my
job."
Steven and I arrived back at the sheepfold
in
time for dinner. As if by woman's intuition,
Sarah
had anticipated our hunger, and surprised us
all by
coming to camp and preparing some chili.
"What smells so good," Steven said, lifting a
pot
lid to get a better whiff of Sarah's cooking.
"Navajo surprise," Sarah answered propitiously,
sporting a Cheshire catlike grin that made me a tad
suspicious. "Go ahead and try some," Sarah
said.
"It's ready."
"What is it, really?" I asked Steven, not quite
sure
what to expect after seeing her grin.
"You'll just have to take pot luck," Steven said,
filling himself a bowl full.
Soon Old Blackgoat, Steven, Sarah, and I were
digging into a hearty bowl of good old Texas Chili.
Every
bite tasted like manna from heaven. Enchanting
perfume and enviable camp-site chili. I just had
to
get to
know Sarah better. Maybe she wasn't all that
cold
and distant after all.
After dinner Old Blackgoat surprised us by
pulling a guitar from his camper and singing some of
his
favorite Navajo tunes. The campfire, guitar, and
full
moon made for a perfect evening under the stars.
Too
bad Sarah couldn't stay longer. Guess our rock
pallets didn't look so appealing, but I knew the
reality was,...she had business, and, it,...was none
of
mine. Ha!
I was out like a light when bedtime came.
Bleating sheep and chirping birds blended with
other
nocturnal sounds to produce an odd mountain
rhythm
that was remarkably conducive to deep
somnolent sighs. In plain English, that's snoring.
I wouldn't have dreamed anything could have
brought me out of the warm comfort of my sleeping
bag,
not even a resounding thunderclap directly above
my
head, but Shep's incessant barking around
2:00
A.M., had me on the verge.
Old Blackgoat finally had to climb out of his
sleeping bag and bring the dog to his bedside in
order
to calm her down. She settled down after that.
I
couldn't help noticing, however, that although Shep
was
quiet, she continued to pant heavily. Saliva
dripping from her tongue by the cupful indicatedshe
was still nervous about something.
I sat up in my sleeping bag and gazed wearily
out
into the moonlit darkness. Trees drew a fortress
of
shadows all around the meadow. They seemed to
speak
of days when a quiver of arrows measured the
stature of an Indian brave against the reflection of
virgin
waters, released for an eagle's admiration on
a
buffalo plain.
A screech owl arced high over the meadow and
warned
its mate of our campfire below, while a large
buck,
replete with multiple point headdress cast his
moon-lit shadow on the field below us, his powerful
sinews
glistening in the moonlight for a brief
moment, before the blazing moon slid in behind a lone
feathery cloud wisp effortlessly floating across the
nighttime sky, leaving only a glowing orb to caress
the
darkness.
At first light Old Blackgoat was up rummaging
through a rustic looking old tool chest he had stowed
away
in the back of his camper. A tad curious, I
walked
over. Steven was still snoozing away.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on
an
Indian from behind?" Old Blackgoat blurted out
when I
was about ten feet away. "I could have
mistaken you for a bear."
"Sorry," I said, "didn't mean to startle
you."
"You didn't." Blackgoat said. "I heard you
coming
through the fence like a heard of buffalo.
If I
had been Dr. Sheolman, you would have been a
dead
man."
"Did you find whatever it was you were
looking for?" I asked, trying my best to get a look
at
whatever it was he was holding in his hands.
"Right here," Old Blackgoat said, holding up
a
sawed off, double barreled shotgun in one hand, and
some
shells in the other.
"Why the gun?" I asked, taken aback a
little.
"I think my old friend the bear was close by
last
night," Old Blackgoat sighed. "He knows I will
be
insulted if he kills any of my sheep, but he will
try
anyway. I will be ready for him."
"Do you think Shep was barking at the bear last
night?" I asked.
"I am sure of it," the old sage said.
"Can you kill a bear with that thing?" I asked,
pointing at the deadly looking weapon.
"No, no, no, of course not," Old Blackgoat
said
shaking his head. "The bear is my friend. If
I was
superstitious like my ancestors, I would say
his
presence on this mountain would bring us good
luck.
I'm only going to salt his backside a little
to
remind him this is my mountain, then maybe he'll
return
to Colorado where he belongs."
"But won't that only make the bear angry?" I
asked.
"No, I don't believe so," Old Blackgoat
said.
"I talked with myself long about this very
thing
last night, and I decided if I was trespassing
on
someone's mountain, and they shot me in the butt
with
rock salt, I would be smart enough not to
return. I believe the bear is at least as smart as
I
am,
that is why he will attack my sheep today, he
needs
me to test his resolve. I will not
disappoint
him.
"Here," Old Blackgoat said, "you take the
gun
and stand watch while I make breakfast."
Steven was still sawing logs, but the sound of
bacon
sizzling on the hot griddle, and it's crisp,
tantalizing aroma, soon brought him up.
"Oh, my," Steven said, stretching the kinks out
of his
limbs. "I didn't realize how sore walking up
and
down this mountainside was going to make my
legs."
"You're right, there," I said, "but no pain,
no
gain."
"Are you two going to eat, or complain," Old
Blackgoat said.
Herding the sheep up the mountainside helped us
work
the kinks out of our muscles. It wasn't nearly
the
chore I thought it would be. A few hundred yards
up the
slope and my leg muscles felt stronger than
they
had in some years.
Shep was as feisty as usual. One minute she was
ahead
of the sheep slowing their pace and the next
she
was behind nipping at the heels of the
stragglers. She was a marvel to watch, never
losing
her
concentration for a moment. That's why I was
caught
off guard, when, within yards of the spring,
she
left the sheep, and made a beeline through the
trees.
Her fierce barking told the tale.
"Bear!" Old Blackgoat said.
Steven took charge. "Blackgoat," Steven said,
"get
between Joseph and me. Joseph, you take the right
flank,
I'll take the left. We'll surround the bear.
He
won't know which of us to charge. Wave your arms
and
yell. The bear should become confused and run
off.
Moments later when we broke through the tree-line
in
full view of the spring, the bear was in the
process of chasing down Shep. Both were headed
straight for Old Blackgoat. Old Blackgoat didn't
hesitate, forcing a round of rock salt smack dab in
the
middle of the beast's right shoulder. That
stopped him. Bellowing and bawling, the bear
turned
and
sped off a few feet, but didn't keep going.Seeing
Steven flailing his arms brought the bear up
short,
dead in its tracks. With all ferocity, the
thing
raised itself to its full 8-foot height, and
began
making its way toward Steven, bellowing and
growling like the behemoth it was.
Old Blackgoat took aim a second time, but there
was
only the click of the hammer against a dead
round. Shep charged the beast and began tearing at
the
fiend's ankles. Steven was frozen in his tracks.
One swipe of the bear's mighty piston like arm
sent
Shep sprawling into the icy spring water. Then
it was
too late. The bear was down on Steven. Only
microseconds separated Steven's crumpled body from the
bear's
sharp talons and fangs...but it wasn't to be.
Two titan arms formed around the bear's neck and
waist,
momentarily restraining the beast from it's
prey.
A head appeared, and then the trunk of a
mighty
creature. Prometheus had returned!
The titan rained a crunching blow down upon the
primeval beast's leathered skull, buckling the knees
of the
predator,.. ending the challenge. Within
moments the misplaced grizzly vanished into the
coniferous jungle.
Prometheus extended his arm to Steven to help him
up.
"Praise God!" Steven said, brushing needles
and
dust from his duds.
"Are you alright?" Old Blackgoat and I
asked,
rushing to Steven's side.
"Don't know," Steven said, still trying to
catch
his breath. "Man, I thought I had bought the
farm.
Thank God for you, Prometheus," he said,
grabbing hold of the titan to initiate a bear hug of
his
own.
"It's all my fault," Old Blackgoat moaned,
interrupting the celebration.
"What do you mean, all your fault?" Steven
said,
turning to comfort Old Blackgoat. "No
one
can take the blame when a bear goes mad and tries
to
maim everyone with whom it comes in contact."
"Maybe so," Old Blackgoat said humbly, "but
I
should have checked those salt rounds to make sure
they
were good. I've had them in my tool chest for
years."
"Forget it," Steven said. "Everything turned
out
fine. We're all fine. The bear is gone.
Prometheus is back."
"Maybe not all fine," I said. "Where's
Shep?"
"Right here," Old Blackgoat said, stepping
aside
to reveal a very wet and panting pup at his
feet.
"You brave dog, you," I said, kneeling down
to
thank the canine with a good head rubbing and
chin
scratching. Of course I was thanked for my
praise
with a healthy shaking of Shep's body,
spraying water droplets all over me.
"Except for a few bruised ribs," I think she'll
be
fine, Old Blackgoat said.
"Well," Steven sighed, "let's round up those sheep.
By the
time we locate them all, it will be time to
meet
with Ketchum again."
There was not an iota of doubt in my mind that
the
timing of Prometheus' arrival would eventually be
of
infinitely greater value to us than the morning
could
reveal. Gathering the sheep, however, didn't
leave
us any time to powwow. I couldn't imagine
whether Prometheus would be willing to disclose his
true
identity by revealing himself to Ketchum. If
he
would, however, I thought we had an excellent shot
at
convincing Ketchum to concentrate his search for
Sheolman in southern California. After all,
Prometheus lived what Steven and I saw in the Spirit.
On the other hand, if Prometheus kept his
identity secret, any attempt to convince Ketchum
we
were feeding him any more than pie-in-the-sky
fantasy would be a waste of time.... I couldn't
picture
Ketchum as the type who placed any great stock in
the
truth of spiritual realities such as dreams,
visions, and apparitions.
Steven had said it all the day before. If we
were
to be realistic we had to assume the FBI would
concentrate their investigation on evidence that was
visible and tangible. I didn't think Ketchum could
run
away and hide from Prometheus. Prometheus was the
key.
I was in the process of closing the gate as
Shep
chased the last wayward sheep into the corral,
when,
out of the corner of my eye, I happened to catch
Prometheus looking my way.
"What's on your mind?" I yelled at Prometheus,
as I
finished lifting the makeshift wire latch over
the
binding post of the sheep pen gate.
"Hey, man, I understand you and Steven need my help
convincing that Ketchum man you call FBI, that the
things
of the Spirit are real," Prometheus yelled back.
"That's right. But how did you know?" I trailed
off. "You've been reading my mind again, haven't you?" I
asked, smiling. "Yes, we need your help. Will you
help us?"
"Of course, dude," Prometheus said. "I want to see
how
this
FBI unbeliever looks after I make a believer out
of
him.
"Hey, what's going on?" Steven asked, tossing a
shovel
aside he had been using to rid the arena of
sheep
piles. "Is it time to head down the hill?"
"It's cool, dude," Prometheus called to Steven, "I'm
going
with you."
Steven appeared stunned.
"Let's go and see that G-man dude," Prometheus said,
smiling like a cat with it's head in a fish bowl.
"O.K., O.K., just give me a second," Steven said.
Ketchum had softened somewhat from our encounter
with
him the previous day. He gave us a toothy grin
as we
approached him, then turned to rummage through
the
trunk of his government vehicle. He had managed
to
lift a camcorder from its foam ringed case by the
time
we reached him.
"Who's the big fella'?" Ketchum asked,
utilizing his powerful, persuasive voice to seize
command of the moment.
"I am Prometheus!" thundered the titan, in his
most
magnificent, (out of this world), baritone voice,
before
greeting Ketchum with his hand extended.
"Well," Ketchum said, raising eyebrows with
wonder
as the powerful being gripped his hand,
"I'm
very glad to make your acquaintance."
Ketchum shook the hand of Prometheus, but
withdrew it quickly when he realized the vice like
grip
of the titan was going to be a bit much for his
knuckles.
"Whoo-wee, big fella'," Ketchum said,
"that's some grip you got there. What are
you
anyway, a wrestler?"
"That is not correct, dude," Prometheus said
matter-of-factly. "I am an angel of the most high
God
who has earned the right to my salvation like a
man."
"Is zat, so?" Ketchum said, taking a step
back
in order to size Prometheus up with the kind of
curious glare only a true Texan could muster.
"Now,
just
how do you expect me to believe that? You might
be a
bit oversized for a man, but I done seen men like
you
totin' hay bales around Texas farms when I wuz a kid
growin' up way down yonder.
"Very well, then, dude," Prometheus said, "I will
show
you I do not lie."
With that, Prometheus turned and took great
strides toward the highway, disappearing from our
sight
in seconds.
"Now what do you suppose your friend is up to?"
Ketchum asked, giving us all a puzzled look
that
mimicked our own curiosity.
Moments later we had our answer. Prometheus
shocked us all. He was carrying Old
Blackgoat's
friend, the bear,.... on his shoulders!
Steven and I retreated to the front of Ketchum's
car
for cover when we saw the look on the bear's face
and
compared it to Ketchum's. They were both so
wide-eyed we thought the laughter we were holding in
would
make us burst.
But Prometheus wasn't finished with his little
demonstration. When he came within a few feet of
Ketchum he vanished right before his eyes, leaving
the
bear suspended in mid-air, some ten feet above the
cowering G-man.
"Alright!" Ketchum said. "Uncle! I'm
convinced! I'll believe anything you say from now on,
just
get that Gol-danged bear outta' here. The thing
gives
me the willies."
With that, Prometheus reappeared and put the
bear
down. We all watched it scurry down the gravel
road
and out of sight.
Ketchum eyed us keenly. "What's the big
fella's part in all this?"
"Let's go inside," I said. "You might want
to sit
down while we clue you in on some facts of
this
case. The rest of the story will make
what
you've heard and seen so far seem mundane."
"Somehow," Ketchum said, wide eyed with
wonder, "I don't doubt it one bit. Let's go back
inside. I need to be a sittin' down for the rest
of
this boogeyman tale.