“Yep. I have a nice big chunk of land to do anything we want in the Carmel Valley. The house is nice there, but the acreage would be fine for shooting. We don’t need to do targets beyond a hundred yards anyway.”
“Yes!” Jean pumped her fist, but stopped when Rachel eyed her with distinctive displeasure. “Hey… you were training in Las Vegas. You need to practice your skills too, Mom. I thought you were okay with the training.”
“I am… but I don’t have to like it. Diego doesn’t have a nine year old girl in training.”
“Diego’s fiction… just like Dad says,” Jean reminded her. “We’re real, and we have to be up to the mark.”
Rachel pointed at her smirking daughter with retribution in her eyes. “Listen, you mimic. Don’t keep feeding me Nick’s clichés or your adventurous life in training will end so fast it will make your eyeballs spin out of your disrespectful head.”
“I’m getting into the idea of our tour,” Jean replied. “If Dad needs our help… we have to be ready. He loves us. No one else does except for Gus and Deke. I don’t count Dan and Carol. They like us, but they’re too old to help, so it’s just you and me, Mom.”
Rachel’s mouth moved as if forming a retort, but gave it up, and slumped back into her chair. “Damn it! I’m like the third wheel on this motorcycle express into shit city. Ah… what the hell… I’m going to the seventh level of hell anyway for my parenting flaws, so what makes the difference.”
“That’s the spirit,” Nick replied. “We’ll be fine, and no, you’re not going to hell.”
“Yeah… thanks for the reassurance from an atheist,” Rachel replied. “I don’t think you’re the example for gateways into the hereafter, my love.”
Nick quieted for a moment, gathering his thoughts so he wouldn’t seem like he had no clue what Rachel was talking about. “Look… I’m no priest. I don’t go to church. I can’t prove that God or the hereafter exists, but I’ve seen it. I don’t believe in Dante’s Inferno, or the modern day heaven or hell tripe. I know there’s something past this life.”
When Nick simply sipped his shot, while looking out at the view, Rachel and Jean became increasingly agitated.
“You can’t leave us hanging at that point, you teaser,” Rachel stated.
“Mom’s right. You shouldn’t have said anything if you didn’t plan to share,” Jean added. “I want to know what you believe. I know right from wrong, and that sometimes a wrong does make a right. At nine, I think that qualifies me for intricate thought.”
Nick smiled. “Actually, that you used intricate in a sentence makes you eligible for an explanation. Whether I can produce one that’s understandable may not be possible. I’ll give it a shot though if you two are interested. It ain’t Moses coming down off the Mount with the Ten Commandments, so if you’re expecting that, you both will be sorely disappointed.”
“Believe me, Nick,” Rachel said, trading knowing glances with Jean. “We don’t have any expectations of Godlike revelations from you, but damn, you’ve got my attention. What the hell did you experience? Did you have it when that Saif Kader guy creased your head?”
“Nope. I didn’t get any visions at all from that time unconscious. I got blown out of a Humvee by a roadside bomb in the second Gulf War. I don’t remember anything other than shapes like you see on old time photo negatives, gesturing at me with a bright light behind them. I focused everything in my being not to do what they wanted. I didn’t see my Father, Mother, or any relatives’ faces. I knew I didn’t want to go there. I woke on an operating table with doctors and nurses surrounding me. They seemed surprised. One of the nurses said ‘he was dead’. I wasn’t, so here I am, telling you all this crap you won’t believe anyway.”
“I…I believe you, Dad. You’ve never lied to me… ever.”
“So no tunnel vortex, or demons trying to rip your black soul down to hell, huh?”
“Nope. None of that – only an overwhelming urge to move toward the shapes and light. They wanted to help me cross over, I guess. Cross over to what, I don’t know. I believe we make our own hell or heaven on the other side.”
Rachel hugged Jean. “I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Nine
New Connection
“Uh oh.” Jean looked back at Nick and Gus. News crews were already in front of the school.
Nick had worked diligently tracing Flo the reporter’s financial records during the early morning hours. After putting together a short concise listing of proof, he bounced his signal around, and sent it to Channel Ten’s website. He didn’t see her out there, but he did see Sandy Colinga, and she didn’t look happy.
“Go right in, Danger. Don’t engage the dummies. If one of them blocks your way, I’m going to break something on them.”
Jean giggled. “Okay, Dad.”