Bridgeworlds: Rise of the Magi
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Authors: Randy Blackwell
The Rise
of the
Magi
Randy Blackwell
Greenville, SC
Rise of the Magi
by Randy Blackwell
Cover Art by Jin Kim
Copyright ©2013 Randy Blackwell
All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. This book may not be copied or reprinted for commercial gain or profit.
ISBN 978-0-9894559-6-1
For Worldwide Distribution
Printed in the U.S.A.
Lamplight Media
Greenville, SC 29687
To Vanessa, my heart, thank you for showing me Christ's love.
In loving memory of
Ricky Blackwell (195 7-1995)
and dedicated to Rusty Blackwell—
my uncles who encouraged, provoked,
and grew my imagination
with literature and comic books.
In honor of Randy Blackwell Sr.
for teaching me what a real life hero is.
Table of Contents
Part 1
1
The Sword and the Shepherd
Dr. Omar Metzger stood up stiffly next to his sister’s bed, holding her hand and anxiously checking his watch. He ground a fist into his matted eyes and stifled a yawn. He combed his bony fingers through his shoulder-length black hair, making the grey wiry stuff around his temples stand straight out. He’d rushed Misaki to the hospital early that evening.
Omar’s cell phone rang.
Tyree.
An ever-faithful assistant.
“Hello?”
Tyree cleared his throat. “Um, yes, sir. It’s Tyree. I was just ...um… I was wondering where you were. I came to the house to check Misaki’s vitals and give her daily vitamins and both of you were gone. Is everything ok? Did she wake from her coma?”
Omar sighed. “Unfortunately, no, Tyree. But she did have seizures last night.”
“But why take her to a hospital? You have some of the best technology here.”
“I do, but I don’t have an MRI machine at this time. I needed the doctors here to make sure there is no brain damage, so I'm waiting for test results. Anything else, Tyree?”
“No sir, thank you.”
Misaki had been comatose since childhood. For the last several years Omar had kept her at his home, cared for by a nurse and his personal assistant Tyree. Last night seizures had racked her. While Omar could deal with them, he didn’t have the proper equipment to evaluate possible brain damage so he had brought her to the hospital. He straightened his lab coat and cleaned his spectacles, hoping these elements made him look like a doctor. But he had never felt so helpless.
Omar sat down and talked to her softly as he always did, close to her ear, even though her brain activity had tested completely unresponsive for years.
“Misaki-
chan,
I’ve spoken to the doctor.” He had kept up the affectionate childhood habit of adding the Japanese suffix implying kinship. “He’ll give you the best treatment possible. We’re waiting for the—”
Omar stood as Dr. Blake entered the room. He was in his 40s with a medium build, red hair, and blue eyes. Omar looked at him eagerly. “Is she okay?”
The doctor accepted Omar's cold, limp hand. “I’m not sure. There’s no damage but…well, you’re a doctor. Take a look.”
"Brain activity?" Omar almost dropped the charts. "
Extreme
brain activity? This is good, right?”
The doctor pointed to a spot on the chart. “Look here. Her brain activity is that of someone who’s in distress.”
Omar realized that he was right and clutched his sister's hand. Her fingers jerked, exhibiting the typical spasms they went through.
Misaki was trying to speak. Omar’s eyes widened in surprise. He spoke in Japanese, hoping it would reassure her. “Misaki
-chan
, can you hear me? Don’t worry! Everything is okay.”
“No!” Misaki choked. “Come quick! Bring the gambler.”
Omar grabbed the doctor’s collar with his free hand and pushed him out the door. “Get your team in here
now!”
He barely heard the doctor shout for assistance.
Misaki spoke again, ever so faintly, but this time in Hebrew. “Omar, she must get the sword to the carpenter.”
Tears flooded down Omar’s cheeks. “What sword, Misaki-chan? Who’s the carpenter?”
Her breath fluttered like a butterfly's wing against his ear. “Matthan.”
Doctors and nurses flooded the room. Misaki's body arched with violent convulsions. Omar retreated.
Misaki's heartbeat on the monitor escalated into wild beeps. Omar's world stopped as Misaki suddenly flat-lined. People in scrubs scrambled everywhere. Omar snatched a defibrillator off a nurse's crash cart.
Before anyone could protest, Omar prepped Misaki's chest and yelled, “Clear!”
Someone called for security, but Dr. Blake waved a hand to calm the chaos. "He has the medical training to do this better than anyone else in the room! Leave him alone!"
One of the nurses protested, “This is completely unprofessional and unethical,” and left the room with a look of disgust on her face.
Omar had already sent one charge through Misaki’s body.
I can't lose her. Nothing matters if I lose Misaki.
He yelled again, “Clear!”
But her heart wouldn’t restart. The nurse who had left came back in with another doctor who wrestled the defibrillator from Omar’s hands and gave Dr. Blake a disapproving look before leaving the room. Omar began frantically pounding on his sister's chest, trying to start her heart manually. He stopped, trembling, and whispered, “Please…please don’t die! I love you. Don’t leave me alone.”
A security guard dragged Omar back. Misaki sat up, total terror in her eyes, and shrieked. Omar shoved free of the security guard and lunged back to the bedside. Misaki’s heartbeat escalated again but gradually slowed to a normal rate and she sank back down.
“She’s stabilized,” he sighed.
Dr. Blake dismissed the frustrated security guard and trauma team. Omar barely heard the grumbles about "special treatment" as the room emptied, His fame within the scientific community would smooth any ruffled feathers eventually.
After reviewing all the monitors, the doctor smiled. “Yes, she’s stabilized, Doctor Metzger.”
“I want her moved to my lab. My instruments exceed any monitoring technology this hospital has.”
“I think it best—”
“I know what you’re going to say. I have a presentation tomorrow that may change the course of science forever, but if this happens again, I want her close to me. I will have her in my lab within the hour. Do you understand?”
Others had stood against Dr. Metzger in the past only to have their careers ruined. The doctor had to bite his tongue hard. He would be in enough trouble with the hospital when the report of these events got up the chain. “Yes, Doctor Metzger, I understand.”
Omar went to his lab to set up for Misaki’s arrival. The moment her bed was wheeled in, he hooked her up to a series of monitors to keep track of every possible vital sign and all brain activity.
"Notify me of any change," he ordered Tyree. He headed toward his office, intending to try to organize his chaotic thoughts.
Tyree was not the type you would expect to find in a lab. Tall, young, and muscular, he had proven to be a most trustworthy and faithful lab assistant.
As Omar turned to leave, Tyree stopped him. “Doctor, I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”
Omar sighed. “It’s disturbing. I think she’s slipped back into her coma again.”
“I won't leave her alone for a moment. But what do you think her words meant?”
Omar rubbed his chin. “I think that they point to something I’ve suspected all along. I believe that Misaki is living in an entirely different reality, and she’s in trouble. That’s my theory, anyhow.”
Tyree nodded. “Please, don't let this interfere with your preparations for your meeting. You only have about five hours left.”
Omar smiled wearily and made his way to his office. But before he could concentrate on the final preparations for the meeting, Omar had to consider Misaki's bizarre behavior. For one thing, his sister had spoken in
Hebrew.
Omar and Misaki's adoptive parents had given them every educational opportunity but he was certain Misaki hadn’t learned Hebrew.
To Omar it was all the proof he needed that his theory was correct. He believed that the deeply comatose sometimes crossed the gateway between dimensions. Omar had to put these thoughts aside to get some work done. He couldn’t process it all right now, but he reminded himself that Misaki was the reason he had to give this work every ounce of his strength.
Stubble stung Omar's face when he awoke with his nose pressed into one of his own published books. It was still early morning, but he went back to work as if he had wasted the whole night.
Omar scrutinized his speech for the board again. General Klaus’ sneering face flashed into his mind and his confidence wavered.
"Five years researching on government grants. What have you got to show for it? What does this teleportation machine of yours actually do, Doctor Metzger?"
Omar took a deep breath.
The board might cancel the project today and cut off my funding.
My demonstration should reveal the dimensional portal I’ve stumbled across, and might save this project, but admittedly, it is a big gamble.
He thought back to his first portal, created five long years ago.
Where did things go when I put them into it?
He doubted the board would believe the shocking results of his experimentation, but he had to try and persuade them. After all, the board had chosen him for his broad view of science, and the whole world knew his skill as an inventor. But all of his past inventions paled in comparison to his recent findings.
Omar shivered.
The government tends to pull funding on research that fails to meet its original goals.
The military, especially, prefers regulations over common sense.
Regulations dictated that the project be shut down if an invention was not completed in the allotted time, since time was money.
All of my findings could end up government property and I’d be branded a failure.
Tyree suddenly burst into his office. “Dr. Metzger,” he gasped. "Where have you been? The board is already here, and they’re meeting without you!”
Omar looked at his watch, but there was still an hour until the meeting was scheduled to start.
General Klaus!
“Please tell me that they are at least in the conference room I scheduled.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Okay, good. Go get Sheba and I’ll meet you there.” Omar sprinted off. Sheba was a Belgian Malinois.
I need that sheepdog to retrieve an item from the portal. I’m glad that Tyree had agreed that using an animal made more sense than sending a robot because it told us the other side was safe for living creatures.
Sheba is an essential part of today's presentation.
Omar raced for his life,
Maybe for Misaki's life,
down the hallway of the government research center. Omar rounded a corner and slammed into another scientist that he didn’t recognize. He scooped up scattered papers from the white tile floor and shoved them at the bewildered young stranger, resuming his race without even an apology.
Out of breath, Dr. Metzger slipped into the meeting room, only to find all five board members already in serious discussion. The floor-to-ceiling curtain lining the west wall was still in place, Omar noted with relief.
General Klaus sat at the head of the long black granite table along with other members seated in red-cushioned swivel chairs. The four-star general was out of room for more ribbon bars and devices on his uniform. His salt-and-pepper hair rose in a crew cut above ice-blue eyes. To Omar he resembled a wide-mouthed bass with extremely white teeth. His tanned and leathery frame was slender. His voice had that used-car-salesman tone, mesmerizing, but with an irritating edge.
“It’s nice of you to join us, Dr. Metzger,” the general sneered. “Unfortunately, we had to come to a decision without you.”
Omar knew he had to win the general's game of political chess. Klaus had no doubt sent out a memo to all the members except him, notifying them of a time change for the meeting. Omar’s reaction at this moment would be crucial. All of the board members knew him to be calm, passive, and levelheaded—a true scientist. These were mostly people he'd worked with over the years so he already knew their opinions about his research. To gain their attention and to break Klaus’ hold over them, he’d have to do something completely out of character and do it right now.
With the adrenaline from his frantic run still pumping through his body, Omar’s heart raced with the added fuel of his mental resolve. He smashed his clipboard on the table right in front of the general, making everyone dodge flying pieces. Omar hauled the general’s swivel chair out from behind the table and swung it sharply towards him. He pushed his face within an inch of the General's. The room rippled with tension and shock, but this was to his advantage, since none of the others liked General Klaus anyway.
“The idea that you might succeed in cutting off my funding must thrill you, General. I think you should remember, though, that I am not one of your minions! All that brass may mean you get your way in the Pentagon, but today, you will shut your mouth and listen to
me.”
The general’s face turned purple. Omar wondered how close he was to becoming a victim of General Klaus’ combat reflexes, but risked a glance around to survey the reaction of the other four members—Jack Raven, Richard Mayes, Sasha Romanov, and General John Elder. Omar was pleased to see Elder hiding a smirk, and that all eyes were all fixed on him, waiting to see what he did next.
“I am saddened that all of you would let this man goad you into making a decision without even hearing from me. You began this project with me because you had faith in my scientific ideas. You knew my reputation, and that I could confirm your faith, and I know you'll agree that I've at least earned the right to be heard.”
General Klaus looked around the room and shut his big-bass mouth with a snap. He no longer held sway over the chessboard.
Tyree entered the room with Sheba at his side. He handed Dr. Metzger the leash and a remote control from his pocket. Omar opened the curtain on the far wall with the remote. Behind it lay a section of brick wall a little taller than a man. A tunnel opened in the wall and extended back about five feet. To one side hung an LCD screen.
“Where did you get this?" "How does it work?" "Does it really teleport people?” Questions from the board members rattled out like machine-gun fire.
Omar raised his hand. “This piece of tunnel was found in Germany in 1965. Researchers discovered that it gives off a small amount of radiation at the center. It’s nothing harmful to you and me out here, because it’s somehow contained. The Germans had it in a museum for some time because it was taken out of an historic building. Though the opening appears to have no end, the wall that it’s a part of can be moved without disturbing the tunnel itself. A colleague of mine was able to procure it for this project. I’ve discovered that objects sent down this tunnel are teleported to some other place.” General Elder, who’d been walking around the tunnel with his eyes glued to the structure, asked, “What is that faded writing on the top of it? It looks like an ancient Greek inscription.”
