Driver, T. C. (14 page)

“David, you're a deacon in your church back home Right?” Booth nodded disturbed to be asked. “The truth is David, I'm Holiness, now.” I said.

“HOLINESS?” he shouted back.

“Yes. I'm Holiness, now, David. And I have a giant that works for God with me.” I cried.

“You’re an idiot!” Booth proclaimed. You'll have more holes in you than you can count when Captain Coe gets back. He'll feed you to the damn giants. The worldwide publicity that Sarah got at that air show almost got Joe fired. Complete control of the news is part of the Elder's power structure. A few honest reporters can cost these people big money. That is until they disappear. Raw power, Cornelius! Real worldwide power! Don't you know who you're dealing with? The health field alone is full of bodies of bright young men with cures for disease. The Elders use disease. They profit from war and misery. They sell and kill by the thousands. How in the name of God did you ever survive? Word from Damage Assessment is that a drone from this very ship took you out, Cornelius!”

I sat down slowly and said “I thought it might be something like that. Who are these Elders again, David? Please tell me.”

“Anything the Lord loves, does or has, the Dark Angel will try to copy, steal or destroy, Cornelius. Don't be fooled. The Lord has twenty-four Elders in his throne room and four beasts. Guess what? Our twenty-four elders are not of God. Ours are imitation and fake. They are the other half of a deck of cards. Wake up!”

“The Dark Angel” I asked.

Officer Booth began to calm down and he spoke softly. “I am glad you're working for the Lord now, Ole’ Corny, even if you are crazy. You have been a good friend. Yes, you and I both work for the Lord, but this ship does not. It's all about the golden mean, the number 26 and the circle of fifths.”

“The number 26, the golden what” I stammered.

“Yes and billiard balls stacked up on pool tables.” said Officer Booth. I said nothing. I just shook my head and thought to myself.
The circle of fifths the number 26?
“Read your Bible, Cornelius. Get a math book. I can't explain all of this. It's all above your head. Take that deck of cards on your table. Stack the pairs into pairs that add up to 13, divide the kings, which have a value of 13, into two stacks, one red, and one black. Now, how many stacks are there? Oh, I haven't got time for this nonsense. This is all way above your pay grade, Corney!” Booth handed me some flight plans approved through the tower with extra fuel.

“No! I'm staying, David!” I answered. “I don't want to run! Thanks anyway. I think Sarah, Jediah, my Giant and Lord Jesus will all help me. I'm not worried about ole' Joe Coe. Joe will find me pretty hard to kill. I'm an old cockroach, just like him!”

“Cockroach, I believe! But, pretty? Give me a break!” Booth laughed, enjoying immensely my high stress level. Booth slammed the door hard as he departed.

“ASSHOLE,” I swore under my breath. “Never let them see you sweat!” I said out loud. I stayed on board ship, but marked off of flight status. I did not fly 44s or 48s and worked B time in purchasing and C time in the ship's brig instead. I was helping out and waiting for the 'shoe to drop'. Would it be a 'welcome' or a 'hellcome'? I wanted to look Joe and Sarah in the eye. Have my peace with them. I didn't fly, because I would not give Captain Joe Coe the pleasure of killing me by remote control in one of his fancy planes.

Life on ship was easy and slow during this time. I moved some money around and sent the information to Patty back home. She was the only one I could trust. Even though she had thrown me out, Patty was the best thing I had in this life; my anchor.
 
Even if these bastards do 'take me out', at least I'll know Patty and my son Shawn will be well taken care of. I also started making notes for this book
  
during this time. It was a journal. The gospel Cafe on ship was closed for over a month for remodeling, so I didn't have my big, corner booth. I stayed to myself, mostly and tried not to talk to people on ship about being Holiness. I didn't seem to be very good at all this God stuff. When I did try to tell people how great it was being Holiness, they ran from me like the plague. Some of these same people went to other worship services or they had a church back home.

I found while working in the brig, that these twenty-eight inmates were much more willing to listen to me about being Holiness. I started to focus my 'God work' on the brig men. These sailors were being held mostly for alcohol or drugs. I started talking and visiting with them. Most would listen to my story of becoming Holiness. God's work was becoming a joy!

Then one evening, the Great Ark started out to sea, leaving out of Spaceport Harbor and heading south around Australia. Joe Coe would not be coming to his ship. His ship was going to him. I knew my confrontation with Joe was drawing near. I might end up in this very brig myself, I thought. That night at my cabin, I prayed: “Lord, that your servant might see the truth!” Before the word truth finished on my lips, I was violently taken up.
 
My mouth was wide open screaming with fright in the spirit. I tried to speak, but was held dumb as my soul soared higher and higher, over and above this world.

“Tell him I'm human, Lord! Please! Tell him I'm human!
 
I’m just a man!” I begged “Please slow down! Have mercy!” I saw a glimpse of myself, in my bunk, back on the Ark. And all of my childhood terrors came rushing back into my mind. I was gone, I was here, and yet, I was........an inner peace then settled over me.

“Hello, giant!” I said in spirit. My Giant is too big to see when he gets this close. He becomes very confusing. He is not conformed to this world. The Giant's long arm took me from house to house. We paused just a moment at each home.
Look! Behold!
I would hear. Then his great mass would move and I would follow like a slingshot or bungee cord. Seeing was as looking through toilet paper tubes. Very clear in a small still spot, very confusing with movement. This giant was better than all of the games on Patel's palace eighth floor. My mind was not smart enough to capture it all. The flood of pictures coming at me was like being forced to drink a pitcher of water every ten seconds. Water spilled everywhere, no matter how hard I tried. Each home we entered, I saw, heard, felt and experienced people watching TV or computer screens. Not one did we find in prayer. After very many homes, I was back on my bunk in my cabin, frozen, unable to move. In my spirit, I said “Thank-you, Giant” and praised the Lord. But I was truly sick at heart and ashamed of myself. Could it have been the same giant back in my childhood? I had learned early in life never to speak of the terror. Only Grandma understood completely, she warned me, she told me straight, of the frightful wanderings of the trips. The 'going where you are not' is what I called it. Often, as a child, I would wake up unable to move. A giant force or soft massive weight was holding me down. Speaking of this 'going where you are not' would always bring you pain, misery and loneliness. People close to you would get angry; even your own mother. No one would suffer you to talk of such a shameful curse. Grandmother Juanita was right, shut-up Cornelius. Our family has problems like this. I remember one young friend. She was 'like me', except very bold. She would 'pull me out' into her stupid dreams, which I would suffer through for a while and then excuse my leave. One regular dream this girl had back in childhood was flying horses skimming across the tree tops and then landing in a small clearing by a cabin on a hill. We two would be riding two of the flying horses with my horse always being a little bit behind. Never side by side. She always had to be out front. “Please, would you just go dream by yourself” I would say. She was boring awake or asleep.

Now, once again, just as in childhood, I lay in bed paralyzed. I knew the drill. By slowly moving a small finger or toe ever so slightly, feeling would begin to flood back into my body, until I would, 'in time', be back in control again. The main thing is not to panic or get scared; or to try too hard. Even as I got dressed that morning, my heart and mind were troubled. Sure, I was glad to see my giant again, and very glad to be Holiness, but I was still terrified of my old childhood ways. I thought I had finally beaten those things; grown out of them. What would become of me? Should I war and fight against my own giant? Was it him way back in childhood? I was now somewhat confused. Why not ask him, I thought? He is your giant after all. With that simple, positive thought, I felt much relieved and was ready for my next duty cycle on the Great Ark.

Early that morning, I checked out an old-fashioned style audio/visual cart from the ship's library and rolled it down to the brig. I set it up where all the men could see the screen. The first week was always the hardest on these sailor inmates and then they would settle down. I had figured this was from the drugs and booze, but I was wrong. The men cheered and shouted as I set up. Inmates were not allowed TV or computer games in the ship's brig. The next three day cycle I worked in the ship's purchasing office. On the fourth day, my day off, I went back again to visit the brig. My TV set was still playing. I started talking to inmates about their relationships with God, prayer and Holiness. Sure enough, these inmates were just as cold and hard to talk to about God as the rest of the ship was, maybe even worse. None wanted to listen about being Holiness. I then packed up the TV cart and pushed it out towards the library. I had to lift it over each bulkhead in this part of the ship, this was quite a task. I was a hero when setting up. Now the inmates were very agitated and angry; just like 'first week inmates'. They cursed me as I rolled out. While pushing the equipment, I thought about an old man from our church during my childhood. Back then I had believed that old Mr. Snyder was being mean to his children. He would not let them have a TV in his house. Had he been truly mean? Or was he simply Holiness and knew all this way back then? That junk; silly worthless input, can block out God?

The ship stopped outside Sydney, Australia, waiting before approaching the harbor. There was no bean-shoot looking skyline of construction cranes here. Then the harbor pilots brought us through the channel. These old traditions die slow. It took hours to make our way to the cargo dock. The Ark took on and off many cargo containers, some of which we picked up at Spaceport Harbor. We were scheduled to be in Sydney for fourteen days. After seven days, Ralph from Spaceport called me on my ship phone. He sent his new video to my phone and said a DVD would not be coming out in another month.
 
This was something about 'The Gathering'. I just said thanks.

“Cornelius, I've got a treat for you! An empty seat on a press junket to the outback!” Ralph said.

I could go for free! They had red wine! “Sign me up, old boy!”

I signed right up for the fancy press junket. We took off in the latest generation 'Osprey'. Vertical take-offs and landings from a high-class, downtown hotel rooftop.

This hotel was, of course, owned by the Patels. Twelve of us VIPs were on board, plus a guide named E. B.

This junket was all about the famous Peach Tree Preserve. Inside the plane was as of a cocktail party. We could not see the pilots. Everyone on board kept saying 'Madame Secretary, Madame Secretary'. Two women were high officials in the old Washington. Our fellow passengers glowed with excitement to meet them. Washington was empty. The American Navy had been sold for less than scrap price, but the Godless ones sucking her dry, toasted her bloody death in style, grace and snobbery. This plane could go much faster than a helicopter, but could still land
  
straight up and down. On this long trip across the Outback this craft was needed.
 
Even a fast chopper would still take too long; we covered a lot of territory. Our guide, E.B. Cane made fun of my old flying stunt as I boarded. He wore a collar as of a priest. (In jest) He acted very much gay. A gold chain around his neck held a locket with the earth inside on a clear ball of glass.

E.B. spoke on a large mega-horn. His sick, orally fixated, slobber reminded me of both Barnie Franks and Paul Lynn. “The Peach Tree Preserve started small and has been growing every year now with matching government funds. All land is in the flight path of returning shuttles.”

I soon tuned out E.B.’s irritating Paul Lynn-like voice and didn't socialize much, except at the bar with two musicians named Mike and Greg. They were brothers and knew Bo and Don Dave and Mitch Johnston. Mitch was one of the early designers of the Osprey crafts. They also knew the whole Coe family. They had all grown up next door to the 'sissy' older brother and Sarah during Joe's first marriage. E.B. was an 'ass', so I didn't listen to half of his guide stuff. These brothers made for some interesting conversation. Each time E.B. spoke, everyone but us looked out the large windows to the outback below.

“I see them. I can see them” squealed two female New York Times reporters as Katie of TV news ran over to their window with her slave camera man in hot pursuit. Our Osprey craft flew low and slow now as E. B. Cane beat on his microphone for attention.