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Chapter One

It was a beautiful Saturday in Ft Lauderdale, perfect for the Little League baseball game. It was the same as every Saturday-some kids looking engrossed in their game, others staring off into the distance as the winning catch of the game whizzed right past them, parents yelling at kids, parents yelling at coaches, and parents yelling at parents. The joy I always had at the games was watching my son - he was one of those staring off into the distance- and watching the parents get mad at their kids, parents and coaches. When one parent turned to me with rather vile statements over an 8 year old who missed the catch I just smiled and told him, Dude, it's just a little league game-relax, enjoy, it's just a game. Those were the wrong words for me to say. Poor man almost had a heart attack yelling at me. I just laughed at him and walked away. I guess he was envisioning his own dreams of grandeur, actually I think his son was too as the second potential out whizzed right past him.
I walked to the side of the field, under the trees. South Florida could get hot in the spring, and the spot under the trees was always the coolest. I could keep an eye on my space case in the middle of the field, and stay cool and out of the little league madness. As I sat there I wondered why I brought my kid here, oh yeah, to mix with others and expand his memories of childhood. My boy hates sports. He has been in some of the sports - soccer, baseball, karate - hating them all. But in the long run, it was just a nice way to pass the weekend, for me, for him, for my daughter - who was at her fathers in central Florida for the weekend.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man. He wasn't there just a few moments ago when I scanned the area. I was always scanning the area, making sure all was okay. I just started school again. My field of study was Intelligence Analysis, and it opened my eyes to many things in the world. Things I never wanted to think of, never dreamed to think of, things that well, made me scan the area wherever I was. This man was about six foot, bald, heavy, muscular, and he had on dark glasses that were aimed in my direction. Slowly this man got up and started walking my way. Paranoia was not in my nature, but I didn't feel too good. I scanned the area and saw the location of the sheriff. He was close. I kept my cool. I stood up to leave.
"Theodora". He knew my name. How did he know my name?
"Theodora, we need to talk". So, he knew my name and he wanted to talk. Stalker? I have dated many men in the area - actually half of Miami. I am unfortunately a love them and leave them cause they bore me when they open their mouths kind of woman. I didn't recognize him. I held my ground.
"You are Theodora, correct?"
"And you are" I questioned back at him.
"You can call me Joe. You are Theodora, correct?" Twice he asked, and I never answered.
"And your business is? "
"I don't have business. I have a proposition. Your son is number 10. He would play well if he paid attention. He is a cute kid. A smart kid"
"Hmm, you know my son? And his number?"
"We have been watching you".
"We?"
"Theodora, let's talk for a while. The game has 15 more minutes. Some of your work has come under interest. Your work is highly regarded, you're an intelligent woman who thinks outside the box. We would like to talk with you about things which may interest you and benefit us."
"How did you find me, how do you know who my son is, how do you know who I am?"
"You have come under interest because of your work. It has reached higher levels and been sent to us. We have watched you for a while to make sure you're the type of person we can trust, we can bring in. We would like to talk."
"We? What work?"
"The work you do at the college. The papers you write. They have become a subject of interest and so have you." I have to admit, this did stir a woohoo inside myself. I always thought my work was good and in some deeper part of me, I want to make a difference in the world, a difference on world events. I wanted to be noticed, but then again, a job offer shouldn't come in the middle of a Saturday afternoon at a little league baseball game by a bald guy I had never seen before, and who was truly freaking me out.
"The game is over. I have to go. Have a good day" was the only way I could think of to keep my cool and reserve and walk away. I truly had to process this. This was out of the norm for me. And I walked away.
My son was bouncing with joy. He had caught a ball, he had made an out and mommy missed it. But, mommy's lie and I told him I saw every move and I was so proud of him. He was bouncing with joy. I took him for the after the game hotdog and soda. We sat in the park. I scanned but the strange bald man was gone. Disappeared. He wasn't watching me. But I did notice the two guys on the bench on the other side of the field. They had dark sunglasses on, and they were aimed in my direction. I looked straight at them, lowered my sunglasses to the middle of my nose, put on my cocky half smile and gave them the middle finger. I saw one guy crack a smirk. Yah, they were watching me. But why?

Chapter 2

         Oh the joys of parenting, after a busy day and a rather mysterious day - off to the grocery store for me and the little ones. I really thank Publix for the shopping carts that have steering wheels- how very creative and wonderful. Tell the boy child he is driving, and he is occupied for the shopping trip. Have to tell the girl child to hold on, cause little bro drives like a maniac. I know I look and sound stupid pushing my cart through the vegetable isle and making car sounds, but oh well-I am a mom.
         As I am testing the firmness of eggplant, a little old lady stops to admire my children. She looks like a typical bag lady - old, wrinkled, could use a bath, clothes are dirty, hair is all a mess. When she looks up at me, she has crystal blue eyes-eyes that hold all the secrets of the ages in them.
         "Hello again my child", she says to me, and wanders off to another aisle in Publix.
         "Meema", Ana cries (she can't say mama), "hungry". That means Mama, I am hungry and if you don't feed me, I am going to cry. Off to the bakery aisle for the awesome free cookie. Publix people know me well, they know my kids, they know where I work and when we appear at the bakery counter for the free cookie-Michael and Ana get two cookies each so they are happy silent cooking eating children. Through mouthfuls of cookie Michael informs me he wants ravioli for dinner. So we head off to the ravioli isle. Lo and behold, there is the bag lady again.
         "Hello child", she says to me in a rather beautiful voice. "Do you remember me?" I defensively stand between her and my children and kindly iterate she must have me mistaken for someone else. She laughs.
         "Think child, think back. He is beautiful this time. You he and the girl child have always been together. In the time of Arthur. You were with him when Arthur walked the earth. He has returned to you. You three belong together. A special combination. Protect him well child, raise him well, and keep him in the Ways. He has returned for his purpose is great. Remember this child. Remember the way. Remember Arthur, remember the time, and remember what you were told. The Elders have always watched, the Elders know. Remember. The Lady of the Lake, remember Avalon, remember it all. You knew he was coming, you saw it. You knew the girl child was coming to, he knew the girl child was coming. You stood with Merlin. You knew. Remember. It is so good to see you again."
         "Thank you?" was all I could get out of my mouth.
         "Goodbye child", and poof, like she had disappeared, she was gone. I walked that whole store, from the front, looking down aisle after aisle, but she was gone, like she was never there.
         "Theodora, are you okay?", only a Publix store manager would dare know my name! I so love Publix.
         "There was a little old lady in the ravioli aisle, she dropped 10.00. She had blue eyes, white hair, kind of looked like a bag lady - did you see her?"
         "I haven't seen anyone in the store like that".
         "Thanks". And I checked out.
         On my drive home, I thought of how my day has been weird, first the ballpark, then Publix. Strange thing about Publix, the little lady had it right. I have always been fascinated by the Lady of the Lake, King Arthur and Avalon. I dreamed of my son for years before he came to me. Dreams which drove me insane. I would always see this little boy knocking at the door, smiling at me and telling me, Mommy I am coming back. I dreamed of Merlin, the Magician, giving me the power of fire, and running from a man on a black horse with my son and my daughter - years before they were born. That was the strange thing about the lady in Publix, out of the blue she spoke of things that only I knew, that I dreamed and then she disappeared. Everyone was confronting me and disappearing today. All I wanted to do was get home, cook dinner, and soak in a hot bath and forget the day. It has been way too weird.
         
Chapter 3
Sundays are my favourite day. Church, park, cooking, sharing good times. My neighbour is from Canada. Canadians are really cool people. They are awesome cooks too. On Sundays I always have dinner with my neighbour. First off, let me explain where I live. I live in a converted old peoples home. Its now apartments. Not much happening in my apartment complex. I like it like that. Oh, yah, one of the terrorists who took a plane down on 9/11 used to taxi my other neighbour around before she died. Makes me wonder how she died, and why she died. I didn’t live there at that time though, but for the old people who did, 12 years later, that is still the excitement in my apartment complex.
Anyhow, all my neighbors are old. Old men can be the worst when it comes to younger women. I have had offers, I have had comments. I have told them if they keep dreaming about me, I will have to charge them. It is just not fair for them to have all the fun int heir dreams and me not get something for it. So, Sunday nights I have dinner with my neighbour. She is old. She is Canadian. She is awesome. Patricia is her name, and swinging mama is her game. COPD, heart problems, high blood pressure, overweight, constant uterine infection – and she is complaining cause the old retired priest that just moved in will not sleep with her. I constantly tell her, Patricia he is a PRIEST. For Gods sake, a Priest. Well, she says, he is still a man. That’s Patricia. I generally cook for her. She works – at her age- and I always cook her Sunday dinner. Tonight I am making her shrimp scampi. She lives across the hall from me so I cook at my house and walk 10 feet to her door and another five to her table. We talk about everything under the sun, men, sex, the Priest, men, sex, the Priest.
“Theodora, I wish my daughter was like you. You are a strong woman. You work, you raise your kids, you go to school, your smart. You are a good woman. My daughter, she is trash. A drug addict, a whore, not a good girl like you”.
“She will change”. I tell her.
“When I die. She is marrying an old man. He is a drunk and lazy.”
“You need to marry the Priest.” I tell her. “Patricia, strange things happened to me these past few days.” And I tell her about the man at the park and the woman in the grocery store.
She sits back and she gets her I’m thinking this over look on her face.
“Who do you think this man is?”
“I don’t know, but there were two other men that were watching me. Can the work I do in school, the papers I write make that much of an impact? Can people be reading them?”
“Your school is special. You chose it because of its certifications from the National Security agency. Your teachers, you say they work for the government”.
“Do you think they would pass my school papers on? These are my thoughts, my ideas. These are my school assignments Patricia. I am not writing papers for the government. I am writing on my school assignments.”
I guess it would be good to inform the reader, you, that I am in school earning my second degree in intelligence analysis.
“Wouldn’t it be interesting if they were from the government and your words made a difference? That you could change something in the world that you could work in this field. You love your school work. You always talk about it and you are so good at it. You think different. You see different. What if they are from the government, what if they are watching you. What will you do?”
“Patricia, I just don’t know. Lets eat. What did you make for dessert?”
Chapter 4
Another work week begins. Monday morning, bright early. I am an HR Manager. I work for one of the most prominent companies in the world. I deal with business issues and peoples problems every day. I have a type A Vice President. A kiss butt office manager. A staff that are some of the brightest in the world, and some of the whiniest. HR is a cool field, mainly because I am in everyone’s business, and I am the business.
My office manager is the wife of the old Chief of Police of Miami Dade County. Yes, I said it, she is the bomb. She is the typical Chief of Polices wife. Her father owns half of Miami Dade County. They should have named the city after him. Her husband is respected throughout the country. I call her Boss. She calls me Goddess Boss, cause I am just awesome like that.
Every morning we have coffee and boss talk. In her office. 8:00 am. This Monday was a little different. She was drinking coffee. She was giving me a look I diodnt like
“How was your weekend GD (short for Goddess Boss).”
“Strange, and yours Boss?”
“Strange”. Ok. SO we both had strange weekends. Her next words took me by surprise and knocked the breath out of me. “We had a phone call”.
“By we I am assuming you and whats his name?” (I was not be fascisious, she called her husband whats his name).
“Yes, me and whats his name. We had a phone call. Close the door.”
I got up and closed the door. Door closing in the boss’s office meant the news on the other side of the door (a) could not be hear by passer byers and (b) was not going to be good.
“Me and whats his name had a phone call this weekend abot you. Mainly it was whats his name, but whats his name doesn’t know you, so he gavem ethe phone and I had to answer some interesting questions about your character. I would have lied if whats his name was not there, but whats his name was standing right over me, so I told the truth.”
“What did they ask you?”
“What you were like as a person, as an employee, what I knew about you. Now, you need to tell me the truth – whats going on? Are you looking for work elsewhere?”
Just like my boss, wondering if I am going to fly the coup. She really is the most wonderful person, more like a mother than a boss. I could never lie to her. I could tease her, it really crossed my mind at this point. I could bargain for a raise. But I couldn’t do that to her.
“Boss, did they tell you who they were?” and then I spilled hte beans about the strange weekend. She listened, quietly. She nodded here and there. She looked worried. She asked a few questions then she quietly said, “Do not go back to school. Stop now. I am proud of you that you are going back to school, but the field you have chosen to study has nothing to do with your job. You are doing it on a whim, and I don’t like it. After the phone call, I don’t like it. After what you told me, I don’t like it. You are being recruited. This is a dangerous business, the field you are studying, and you are good at it. I have read your papers. You are good at what you do. Stop now. Go to school for HR. But not this. You can’t get a job in the field. Your background prevents it”
Then came the knock at the door. Our VP had a problem – we went over budget in the technical area by-oh my goodness-$1500.00 and her budget was all out of whack. Her budgets out of whack? My life is out of whack. I didn’t tell Boss about the lady in the grocery store. That would have totally freaked her out.
Chapter 5
Another work week done. No more strange occurrences. Did I mention I live in a haunted building? No I didn’t. My building is haunted. Mayhap by the ghost of the 9/11 terrorist. I burn sage on a daily basis. Doesn’t help. My ghosts still play tricks on me. My keys move, my lights turn on and off, the fans turn on and off. The cabinet doors open when I know I closed them. My bed moves like someone is sitting in it. My cats freak out. My kids scream about the man in the black hat and I havbe shadow people. Not only am I being stalked by real strange people in my real life, but my ghosts stalk me too.
Chapter 6
Do you know what it is like to not know if you are being watched? To wonder if the people you meet are really just friendly strangers or people trying to get close to you? My assignment for the week in my class was to write a report on something interesting to me in the intelligence field. I am always the last person to submit my work. I read other peoples work first. I don’t want to duplicate their work. I find al’Qeada and the Taliban fascinating. If I were a terrorist, I would mess the world up totally. But that’s just my devious brain. I would have 9/11 along with bridges and overpasses blowing up, traffic lights bombed, electrical grids down, water mains shut off. I would flood the internet with bots, I would do so much damage all in one day. The government should really be glad I am on their side.
But there was a girl who worked for Transportation Security Administration in my class and she posted this really interesting article. I actually read it. There was a name in the article which I never heard of before. So I googled it. The name referenced horses which I never heard of before (my daughter is big into horses). So I googled them. They were a specific, rare breed of horse only bred in Afghanistan and Iraq. Interesting methinks, so I googled that. Rare horses bred in Afghanistan and Iraq. Never google that, well actually, you can google it now. My final google brought me to five hits. In one of these hits I hit the jackpot. The horses and the name of the man I never heard of all in one google hit. I clicked on it. It was a clearing house. The clearing house was a list of websites, terrorist websites, deep on the web. Websites about when they were going to bomb, where they were going to bomb, how they were going to bomb. Pictures of people being tortured, videos of people being executed. I forgot the world, I forgot my assignment. I got lost in the world of terrorism and this clearinghouse. Nothing has ever amazed me more than terrorists. Theirs brains fascinate me, their loyalty and beliefs fascinate me. This website held me captive. Ten hours later I decided that was my assignment. I posted the link to the website as my assignment, with a note – if you want to see for reality what it is all about, here is your window of opportunity. I watched that website until they took it down. Who took it down, I don’t know, but it was there. I saw it. I lived it. I got lost in their world. For a brief moment, I truly understood. And I have never forgotten that moment of clarity. And that was when it truly started.


Chapter 7
I hate it when my phone rings on Sunday morning, especially after a long night at the club. But the phone was ringing. It was 7:30 a.m. I just got home at 4:30a.m.
“This had better be good”, was my polite way of answering the phone.
“Let’s go fishing”, said the man.
“Who is this?”
“Joe. Open the front door. I don’t like old people.”