Age of Mystics (Saga of Mystics Book 1)

Age of Mystics
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 Chris Walters

Design by Cathy Walters

THE DAY BEFORE DISASTER

“…
on that day, no one will know. They will go about their business, their lives, their activities, unaware that life as they know it will no longer exist…”

-Dr. Neil Amarand, United Nations speech on global catastrophe

Adam Cross looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful clear blue dome over the city. It was also hot, but that is the way that things go in Colorado Springs in July. It was nothing like the sand, though, and for that he was grateful. Every day was pretty much the same, a horribly hot day followed by the afternoon showers that usually brought tornadoes to the plains. When he had been stationed at Fort Carson, on the south side of town, Adam had found the lightning shows of the everyday thunderstorms one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. But, on this afternoon, there was not a cloud in the sky. That meant that the temperature was sure to rise above one hundred degrees. As Adam walked toward the door of Pep’s restaurant, he was grateful to be working inside today. The smooth hum of the air conditioner was something Adam had come to relish while deployed.

This was a new job. Adam had only been out of the army for about three months, having finished fifteen years. He had been a good medic, but after all he had seen in Iraq and Afghanistan and Syria, he had decided not to pursue that career field in his civilian life. Even the blood on a steak could start up his memories of the injured men and women he had worked on in country. Immediately after his release from duty, he had begun training in the corporate restaurant manager training program for the national casual dining chain, Pep’s. Even though he was the newest manager, only out of training for 4 weeks, he was probably the most well-liked manager in the restaurant. Adam liked the people also, he liked the staff and he liked the customers. He did not like the work very much. While very good under pressure, he did not like being placed in what he considered unnecessary pressure. Restaurant companies have a way of heightening pressure on their managers that Adam found unproductive. He figured he would stay about two years, then find something else more to his liking.

Holding the door for some patrons as he was headed into the restaurant, he waved hello to some regulars he saw at a table nearby. He was already known by customers in the short time he had been there. It made him feel at home.

“Hi, Adam.” The cute hostess, Sara, stepped in front of him. Adam had not been able to figure out how to tell her that he was too old for her, and she had been bringing the flirt on strong pretty much the whole time he had been there. Sara wore tighter and tighter work shirts every time she worked with him, and gave all the telltale signs of being interested. Has he been a different kind of man, he would have ended up taking advantage of the girl, but Adam Cross had no interest in using others.

“Hi, Sara, how are you today?” Pretending to see another guest nearby, Adam stepped deftly around the young lady. As he walked by, he couldn’t see the look of disappointment that covered her face, but he had seen it before and knew it was there. Adam walked into the back, stopping to greet all of the cooks on the line, and headed into the office to check the notes for the day. His cell phone dinged with a text, and he pulled it out to look at the message.

“Ward: Hey Doc, was thinking of coming by 2mrw cool?”

Adam smiled. Calvin Ward was a man for whom he had a great deal of respect. They had served together, including one difficult deployment in Iraq. He was also showing his age in his inability to properly text. SFC Ward had left the army a few years before and settled with his family on the north side of Colorado Springs.

“Me: snds gr8 cu then” Adam always tried to match Ward’s text in style, mostly because it was a hoot to see the older man try to be cool.

“Ward: time?”

“Me: btwn 2 – 4”

“Ward: done”

Adam put his phone back in his pocket and settled in for a ten-hour shift. It was going to be a long, busy night. But, it was going to be air conditioned, and that made it okay.

Jenny Martinez opened up her yoga studio and let in her usual practitioners, the collection of Moms, students and the elderly that had time to go to a yoga class on a weekday. Only twenty-seven years old, Jenny was probably the best known yoga instructor in all of southern Colorado. Her signs appeared everywhere in town, and the new television spots had begun to appear on all of the local stations. She was becoming a celebrity in her own right, and had even planned a yoga retreat for the fall to Thailand. She taught every day, appeared on a local TV morning show, and was in the process of writing a book. Things were going her way.

Jenny believed in intention. She believed in setting her goals, and moving toward them with purpose. This is also what she taught to every person who came to practice yoga in her studio. Earlier that day, she had met with a Denver-based publisher who wanted her to put this particular teaching down in print. She owned her studio in downtown Colorado Springs, she was becoming a household name, she had set up retreats for various places around the world and now she was to be a published author. Things were going her way in all areas but one. Even though she was an attractive Latino woman, she could not find a date to save her life. She wanted to be loved, but had no room on her calendar to make time for a mate. She also was not running into a lot of eligible men. Women were abundant in her classes, but the only men she saw regularly were either married or aged into their seventies.

She had been in a relationship with a woman for about six months just three years before, and being a lesbian would probably give her more options. The problem was that she had discovered that she wasn’t a lesbian. Her girlfriend from back then, Karen, was a beautiful woman and a lovely person. Jenny loved hanging out with her, and still considered her a great friend, but Jenny was not particularly attracted to women. The saying is that love chooses, but preference is not a choice. She was happy for the experience, because she probably always would have wondered, but they had both figured out that Jenny was interested in men pretty quickly and the relationship just didn’t work out. Karen and her girlfriend, Kelly, came in for classes a few times a week, but it didn’t look like they were coming in today. Her desk help, Peri, did show up finally and manned the desk as Jenny walked into the yoga room, turned the lights down and the heat up and began her class.

“Take a deep breath and center yourself.” Jenny began, “Picture the tiny light that is the purpose at the center of your being. As each deep breath goes in, focus on that light. As each deep breath goes out, picture that light growing into your body, into your chest, your arms, your legs. Picture it filling up every part of your body.” Maybe in a few years she would find love, for now she was pursuing her business with passion and intention.

The two men stood across from one another, completely encircled by the watching crowd. Ted Craven felt the sweat pouring down his back, under the thick black gi he wore any time he represented the martial art he had studied for his whole life. Across from him was his brother-in-law and oldest friend, Calvin Ward. They had history and a great fondness for one another. This sparring match was one of the most fun events he had participated in for quite some time. It was a demonstration to market the opening of Cal’s new dojo and they had quite a turnout.

That he would support Cal in this was both unsurprising and extremely gratifying. They had joined the dojo at the same time, around eight years old, in West Los Angeles. They had joined the army together, just out of high school, at the ripe old age of eighteen. They had married the two sisters they had met when both were stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. They had served in combat together, both in Iraq and in Afghanistan. And they had both settled in the north side of Colorado Springs, Cal after leaving the service, and Ted after being stationed for his final post before retirement. This was his thirtieth year in the army, and his last. On top of that, Ted would do anything for Cal. Cal had saved his life.

Cal grinned at him and attacked. To the outsider, standing and watching this display, it must have been amazing to watch the speed and precision with which each man attacked, blocked, parried and countered. But these two knew each other so well, that they could almost dictate the next move of the other. Considered great practitioners of the martial arts in their own rights, together they were a force to watch. After an impressive sparring match that ended in a stalemate, as was the case any time these two squared off, the two performed an intricate kata – a martial dance – in unison. In their art, it was a manner in which they could meditate through movement. Both men had practiced this art for forty years.

As they finished, the crowd erupted in applause and kids came running up to ask them questions. He looked over at his wife, Kayla and his sister-in-law, Kate, to see them forming a line to take sign-ups for the new dojo. This could not have gone better. Most people would not have noticed it, but when he looked at his best friend, he saw a shadow cross his face. As the crowd died down, he walked over to check up on him.

“What’s up?” Ted said as he closed in on him. They knew each other too well for deception, so it never crossed Cal’s mind to not tell his friend what was on his mind. However, he just shook his head.

“I’m not sure. I felt something odd while we were doing the kata, the memories and flashbacks never really end, do they?” Ted shook his head no; he knew just what Cal was talking about. “What are you going to do? It will fade in time, I guess.”

Ted took a long look at Cal. It was not wise to discard anything Cal said. Calvin Ward was uncommonly intelligent, had been a deductive prodigy as a child, and was a true whiz at predictive analysis. Though his statements were sometimes taken by others as psychic, Ted knew that when Cal spoke about matters, there was something he was analyzing, something real, something one could count on. It had saved their lives in firefights more than once. However, he had never seen Cal not know how to describe what he was perceiving. “Can you describe it?”

Cal looked up into his eyes and just shrugged. “Not really. It was just a feeling like something wasn’t right.”

“With the demonstration, or the dojo, or what?”

“With the world,” the tall man offered, “I can’t explain it. It was just a feeling.”

Ted was not perfectly comfortable with this explanation. Even in this intense heat, it sent a shiver down his spine. He knew Cal would tell him what was up when he figured it out. In the forty years Ted had known him, Calvin Ward always figured it out.