The Twelve (19 page)

Vietnamese Melody

May 2012

T
HE FLIGHT TO NEW YORK WAS QUICK AND PAINLESS. MAX'S MIND
was racing for the full five hours. All thoughts of normal business had vanished.

He had now encountered ten of the people on his list of twelve. Every name seemed to represent a different geographic area, a different religion.

Chill and Rachel had pointed out that there were twelve apostles and suggested that perhaps that was the reason Max had been given twelve names. Perhaps these were the twelve new apostles, waiting for the return of Jesus.

Max felt such conjecture fanciful, but he now knew that he had to pursue this mystery with all his energy—and all his focus.

***

Max always stayed at the Yale Club when he visited New York. It was conveniently located near Grand Central Station and was a relative bargain compared to the Grand Hyatt and the other midtown hotels. Max's company was celebrating its thirtieth anniversary, and he had rented out the Yale Library on the fourth floor, where he was serving French champagne and desserts to celebrate the accomplishment.

Not many independent film companies had survived for so many years, and it was good business to celebrate the event. MAXimum's foreign rights manager was especially eager to invite the foreign agents who were so important to the international network.

Their Vietnamese agent had requested to bring a guest, and Max assumed the guest would be a girlfriend or wife. So he had approved the request.

The party was a huge success, with more than two hundred guests. Toward the end of the event a short Asian man with a tall, slender, Asian girl as his companion introduced himself.

“I am Do Van from Vietnam,” he said. “This is my niece, Melody Jones. Melody lives here in New York and is studying to be a ballerina. I am so grateful that you invited us to this wonderful event.”

But Max found it impossible to concentrate on what the man was saying, as the now-familiar sensation assaulted his senses.

Melody was the eleventh name from the list of Twelve.

In the space of less than a week, he had met the owners of three of the final four names. Yet with the festivities still winding down, he didn't want to show his excitement, so he replied calmly.

“No, it is I who am grateful that you have joined us,” he said, shaking Do Van's hand. “I am quite pleased with the wonderful work you've been doing with our rights in Vietnam.”

Turning to Melody, he continued.

“You are simply beautiful,” he said. “Thank you for accompanying your uncle and favoring us with your presence.” He wanted to say much more but did not.

Melody was wearing an orange dress and moved with the grace of the dancer she was. She was confident and assured and clearly comfortable with social situations such as this one.

He wasn't certain how to reveal to Melody that she was one of the Twelve. Yet he knew he had to find a way.

“Would you be willing to join me for dinner tomorrow night
?
” he said, addressing both of them.

“Thank you, but that isn't necessary,” Do Van responded.

“It would be my pleasure,” Max insisted. “You do such excellent work on behalf of the company, I won't take no for an answer.”

Do Van accepted, but Melody explained that she had arranged to meet her boyfriend and wouldn't be able to make it.

“Nonsense,” Max said quickly. “I'd be thrilled if he could join us, too.”

She agreed, and they arranged to meet.

***

The next day Max found himself uncharacteristically anxious, uncertain as to whether or not Melody would show up as she had promised. After years of starting and stopping, with revelations followed by long periods of nothing, the mystery of the Twelve was moving forward at a headlong pace.

And Melody was a pivotal part of finding the answer that had eluded him for so long—ever since that moment, years ago, when the names had first slipped through his fingers. He couldn't allow anything of that sort to happen again.

However, when he arrived at the restaurant, he was thrilled that Melody was there with her uncle and her boyfriend, Matthew Jordan. It seemed that Matthew had been an award-winning competitive surfer and had done a lot of hallucinogenic drugs in his day.

During dinner Max chatted with Do Van and found him both refined and intelligent. Yet it was all he could do to keep his mind on any given topic.

Then Max turned to Melody and asked her about her life. She told him that her grandmother and her mother—who was only seventeen at the time—had been boat people who had escaped from Vietnam in 1971, as the Vietnam War was coming to an end. They were brutalized by pirates and raped.

After great suffering they had arrived in New York and were able to rebuild their lives, though it took Melody's mother many years to deal with the trauma she had experienced. She had worked at many jobs and finally found her calling, working in set design for various theaters around town.

She met a choreographer, Anton Jones, and after a year of courtship, they had married. Melody was their youngest child and the only one who had sought to pursue a life associated with dance and the theater.

“My grandmother feels it was a real miracle they were not murdered at sea,” Melody said. “She told me many times that there's a story that our family was destined to ‘create heaven on earth,' and says that is why they were spared.

“Whenever I misbehave, she tells me that I was born to fulfill a destiny and that I must behave better, or the miracle of their escape will have been in vain.” She smiled at the memory.

Do Van remained silent and listened to her story. He simply nodded his head in agreement—and with some sense of sorrow.

He excused himself so that he could make a phone call and Max—thoroughly taken with Melody's story and family prophecy—decided to reveal the story of the Twelve.

After he had recounted the details of his near-death experience, he named the twelve names, ending with “Running Bear.” He expected Melody to be skeptical, but to his relief she listened intently and was very curious.

The entire time, Matthew just sat at her side, looking from Melody to Max and back again, listening intently.

“Please write down all twelve names,” she asked Max. “Let me see if I can find a connection.”

Though her request surprised him, Max wrote the names on a napkin, and Melody studied them for a long while. Finally, after several minutes, she looked up.

“I'm afraid I recognize none of these names,” she said. “I can't see any connection—there's nothing I can do to help you.”

Then Matthew asked to look at the list.

“This last name—Running Bear,” he said after a moment. “Have you met him yet
?
”

“No,” Max admitted. “That's now the last name on the list. Why do you ask
?
Do you know such a person
?
”

“No,” Matthew replied, much to Max's disappointment. “But my dad, Toby, is part Native American. This must be a Native American name. If anyone knows a Running Bear it would be my dad.

“He lives in San Clemente, not far from where you said you live. Let me borrow your cell phone for a minute, and I'll check this out.”

Max handed Matthew the phone, and within minutes Toby was on the line.

He confirmed that he knew a tour guide in Sedona, Arizona, who went by the name Running Bear.

Max could hardly believe his ears. He and Toby talked and agreed to meet the following weekend in Sedona, where they would try to find Running Bear.

Max's hands trembled with excitement as he hung up, and the reality of it all set in. He realized that, within days, he might finally meet the last of the Twelve.

But what then
?

Red Rocks

June 2012

T
OBY JORDAN WAS A SURFING LEGEND.

He had won many tournaments in his youth but was even better known for surfing photography. This had led him to surf films and later a career as an artist creating montages that used actual surfboards as well as paint and other materials in the creation of unique sculptures.

In addition, Toby had founded a business for designing surfboards and selling surfing accessories. Because of his artistic temperament, he was friends with many major artists whose works he featured.

Toby's two sons had also been champion surfers, and his eldest son, Matthew, was known for acrobatic jumps and similar exploits that other surfers hadn't even imagined.

Toby had fought drinking problems as a youth. He always blamed it on his Native American heritage that he had no resistance to alcohol, and so, as a young adult, he decided never to drink alcohol again. Combined with his commitment to surfing, this contributed to a healthy lifestyle, and he added extensive hiking to his repertoire, thus opening himself up to an entire new world for his photography.

One of his favorite areas for hiking and photography was Sedona, Arizona, a small city in the high, southwestern desert, famed for its stunning red rock formations. He made a pilgrimage there at least once a year, so it didn't take much coaxing to get him to agree to make a quick trip with Max.

They made the drive in a single day, and along the way Max shared the story of the Twelve. Toby, in turn, filled Max in on everything he knew about Running Bear, who he said was the best tour guide in Sedona. Running Bear knew all the secret caves and sacred Indian sites.

“He was named Joel Sheets at birth,” Toby explained. “I got to know him more than twenty years ago when I first began to photograph Sedona's beauty. When I shared my own heritage with him, that's when he told me his Indian name. Not many people even know him as Running Bear, so it really surprised me when Matthew called.

“I'm not sure you would have been able to find him any other way, not even with Google.”

“Of course, when all of this began, Google didn't exist,” Max noted. “In fact, the Internet itself didn't yet exist.

“It's been a remarkable journey,” he continued, “although the people to whom the names belong seem always to have found me. Some of the Twelve believe that we're all connected by some profound destiny, and I tend to agree. I just hope Running Bear has some insights for us—it would be terrible to find that this was just a colossal coincidence, without any real purpose or meaning behind it.”

Toby nodded his agreement.

“If anyone will have the answer to your mystery, it will be Running Bear,” he said confidently. “He's a bit of a shaman, as well as a guide, and he's knowledgeable about ancient Hopi beliefs and customs.”

He paused, then continued.

“Running Bear uses hallucinogens in his rituals and is an expert on sweat lodges as well.”

***

Toby and Max arrived late and checked into the Best Western motel. Despite his excitement, Max quickly fell into slumber, and when he awoke he was surprised to find that he had had a good night's sleep.

Running Bear joined them for breakfast at a nearby diner. He was in his seventies, tall, with long, braided hair that was speckled with gray and wore a red vest with beautiful, turquoise jewelry.

He had a magnificent presence.

Max discovered that he was a direct descendant of a line of powerful Lakota and Hopi Indian shamans, and as a tour guide to the sacred sites of Sedona, he passed along a true love of the earth and the heritage of his native peoples.

Without hesitation, Max told Running Bear all the details of the twelve names. Running Bear listened carefully and simply smiled. When Max was done, he spoke, and his voice was deep.

“We have been expecting you.”

“How can that possibly be
?
” asked Max incredulously. “It's been forty-seven years since I first saw your name, and the entire time I've not known where I was going, or why. How could you have known
?
”

“It was not you specifically,” Running Bear explained, “but Native Americans have known about the twelve names for centuries.

“The great transformation is upon us, and the knowledge has been passed down from generation to generation that in these times the true humans—those with strong, integrated spirits—would reappear, and the ancient spirit guides of our people would lead us to a world of peace and harmony.” Despite the weight of his words, Running Bear spoke calmly.

When he replied, Max was less calm.

“But what do I have to do with this legend
?
” he asked, confusion in his voice. “I have no Native American blood. My grandparents are Hungarian on my father's side and Russian on my mother's side.”

“I do not know your specific role, but if nothing else you have served to reunite the Twelve. Each name represents one of the modern tribes of color, reincarnated now for the end-times of this Earth as we know it.”

Seeing concern etched on Max's face, he continued.

“Our ancient peoples realized that in the end-times, it would be necessary that we Native Americans return as people of all colors. There could not be a world of red against white, black against yellow. There can only be one world in the new times, and only those who are ethical and aligned with true spirit shall appear on Earth to heal the wounds caused so long ago by the greed and violence of so many.

“My brothers knew then that our defeats were only of a single time and not permanent. That is why we created the ghost dances and other rituals—we always knew that the real people could never die and would return in other bodies representing the twelve colors and the twelve tribes of humanity.”

As his words sank in, Max found himself accepting what Running Bear was saying . . . yet there were still so many questions to be answered.

“Based on my own experiences, I think you must be right,” he said, staring out the window across the dusty, desert landscape. “I think somehow your ancient legend is indeed true.”

He turned to look at his host again.

“But even so, what does it all mean
?
”

“The answer can only come from the Great Spirit,” Running Bear replied. “We must organize a sweat lodge for sunrise tomorrow morning.”

He rose from the table and pointed to the mountains on his left.

“Do you see those red rocks, far beyond the road
?
”

Max saw them, and nodded.

“There is a path that leads three miles into the deepest crevices of the red rocks. Few people know of this crevice. There is an ancient cave next to the crevice. In this cave I will prepare the sweat lodge. Toby has been to this sacred site with me before. He will guide you in the morning, and I will have everything prepared.

“I will go this evening and make offerings to the Great Spirit and my ancestors, while preparing the fire and the rocks.”

***

The sun wasn't yet up when Toby and Max reached the crevice and the cave. Running Bear was already there when they entered the clearing, magnificently dressed in ceremonial costume that included a sacred eagle feather. He was reciting ancient Hopi chants and was in a meditative state that did not break upon their arrival.

The fire already had the cave tremendously hot, and Max and Toby began sweating as they sat outside the cave. They sat silently and observed Running Bear. After ten minutes of chanting, he stopped and turned to them.

“It was a good night. The spirits are rejoicing. They are eager to guide us.

“Come,” he said. “You must smoke some of this tobacco, and then we will enter the cave and start our prayers.” He handed them a pipe, and Max suspected there was some type of hallucinogenic mixed in with the tobacco, but he did not ask.

Running Bear went through a series of chants in both Hopi and English. He turned to the four corners of the chamber and asked each direction for a blessing. He asked both Toby and Max to repeat the English phrases, and they did.

“Please purify our entreaties and our bodies and reveal to us our destinies,” he said, invoking the Great Spirit. He then asked both the Mother Spirit and the Father Spirit for guidance.

The heat was intense. At times Max felt as if he would pass out, and he was sweating as he had never sweated before. But his desire to uncover his destiny overrode all, and he remained still—transfixed, hanging onto Running Bear's every word and gesture.

Finally, the chanting and supplications ended, and there was silence. Nothing of an otherworldly nature occurred, and Max wondered if Running Bear's ritual had been effective.

The shaman had a dazed look on his face as if he were possessed. He did not move. It didn't even appear as if he was breathing, and Max dared not move.

Toby, having experienced rituals with Running Bear before, nodded to reassure him that there was no need to worry.

After what seemed like twenty minutes or more of silence and utter stillness, Running Bear started speaking in a low, calm voice. His words were in ancient Hopi that Max could not understand.

He then stood and exited the sweat lodge. Toby and Max followed.

Outside, the sun was now shining. It was midmorning, and the red rocks reflected the light in a brilliant tapestry of red and yellow, orange and green. There were bottles of water, which Running Bear had placed there, and they all drank deeply, while appreciating the still, cool morning air.

Running Bear finished an entire bottle of water, came close to Max and looked him directly in the eye as he spoke.

“Your quest begins today. Great Spirit has told me what you must do, what you volunteered to do many centuries ago when you agreed to be incarnated on this Earth.”

While he didn't understand, Max was gripped with excitement. At last, he was certain, he would learn the purpose of his near-death experience and understand his connection to the Twelve.

“And what is this quest
?
” he asked, trying—and failing somewhat—to remain calm. “What have I agreed to do
?
”

“You are the human whose duty it is to bring the Twelve together,” Running Bear revealed. “They must unite outside of Izapa, Mexico, and they must gather there on August 11 at sunrise in this, the year of prophecy.

“This gives you only two months to gather the Twelve,” he warned. “Great Spirit has revealed to me that on that sacred day, the mission of the Twelve will be revealed, but only if all twelve are present.”

Doubt began to creep over Max.

“But some of the Twelve I have not spoken to for more than twenty years,” he said. “What if not all will come
?
”

Running Bear shook his head.

“I know only what Great Spirit has told me. I do not know how you will achieve this goal. As one of the Twelve, I will be at the mountain in Izapa, and I will do all I can to help you reunite us, but Great Spirit has told me that this is your mission, and your mission alone.”

Max gulped, and doubts flooded his mind.

What if this was all illusion
?
He had told Running Bear about Juan and Juan's connection to Izapa through his father. Perhaps Running Bear had simply picked up on that and created a story he knew Max wanted to hear
?

After all there were still no concrete details explaining why the Twelve were the Twelve or why Izapa was where they needed to go. He needed more information.

“How can you be sure that we must meet at Izapa, and only at that time, and only on that day
?
”

“That is what Great Spirit has revealed.”

“And you know what we will accomplish
?
” Max pressed.

Running Bear shook his head patiently.

“Great Spirit revealed nothing more,” he said. But Max found it unbearable to accept.

“But you, as a shaman, don't you have any ideas of your own, about why this place and time,” Max persisted, “and what may occur
?
”

“As an individual I have my own thoughts, but they are of no importance,” Running Bear said calmly, as if to a child. “Only what Great Spirit reveals is worth discussing.” With that, he turned to go down the path, through the red rocks, and back to the road.

With Toby in tow, Max caught up with him and, with desperation clear in his voice, continued to plead.

“But you must have some clue,” he said. “Please, give me something that is logical, or at least possible to help explain this request from Great Spirit.”

Running Bear spoke as they walked.

“August 11 is a sacred day in the long count Mayan calendar. I am sure Juan's father, the daykeeper, will be able to give you more details than I, but based on all that I know, I can only tell you that this will be a sacred meeting, and that if you fail to bring the Twelve together at this time, there will be much suffering.”