Outview (21 page)

She was quiet. “You shall see it as a
vision. It will come because we have met. I am so very sorry for what you are
going to see, Niño. And then we will meet again because we must.”

I took my clothes from the dryer and said
goodbye. It would have been easy to forget about her because my brain was on
complete overload, but the pain in her eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen
before, even in all my Outviews. I needed to understand karma better, needed a
book.

I dialed Sam’s cell from the payphone
outside the Laundromat.

“Sam, it’s Nate.”

“I didn’t recognize the number.”

“I’m at a payphone. Listen, I’m mixed up in
something. I don’t want to talk too much about it over the phone, but maybe
tomorrow afternoon, if you have some time, I could come over?”

“Sure, anytime, but what’s this about?”

“My dad didn’t die the way you think. And
there are some people who want that fact to remain a secret. And they may be
after me.”

“Are you serious? Are you saying what I
think you are?”

“Yes. And I can’t go to the FBI because
it’s people within the government.”

“You really are in a mess, aren’t you? How
did you learn all this?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

“If you’re right about all this, then what
you need is a good lawyer. And my sister’s one of the best. She’s a top
criminal defense attorney and sues the government all the time. I couldn’t tell
you how many corruption cases she’s been involved in. We can trust her. If you
want, I’ll call her and see if she can be on the phone with us tomorrow. What
time do you want to come over?”

“Oh Sam, that would be fantastic. I’ll be
back by three.” Once again Sam, unlike Mom, believed me right away.

“Good. I’ll set it up.”

Walking back to the Station, I was
relieved. An experienced lawyer would know how to navigate this. But they’d
want proof, and I wasn’t sure how to provide that. There must be a way. Maybe
the things from my dad’s desk held some answers.

Kyle was waiting in the parking lot at the
Station when I got back. Linh was home safe with Bà. Heading to Amber’s,
we talked about karma.

“In
Buddhist teachings”--
it was
one of his topics
--“for every
event that occurs, there will follow a reciprocal event. It can happen in this
lifetime or in another.”

“So, if I did
something bad in my last life, I may have already paid my karmic debt in
that
lifetime?”

“That’s how I
understand it. Like if you steal something from me today, you should try to
clear that within this life so you don’t make your next incarnation more
difficult. And if you do many good deeds, then it can make things easier for
this life and others that follow.”

“Seems like a fair
system.”

“It is one way to
explain all the inequalities in the world.”

“So all the rich
people were really charitable or poor last time around, and this is their
reward?”

“I don’t think it’s nearly
that
simple.”

“Now you sound like Spencer.”

“I’d like to hear how he explains it.”

We backtracked several times and
crisscrossed up side streets to make sure we weren’t being followed.

30

Amber was sitting on her wide front porch
reading
The Seat of the Soul
by Gary Zukav. She hugged us both, then
handed me a phone and gave Kyle two, one for Linh. “Prepaid. Untraceable. We
have to be able to communicate.” She wouldn’t let me pay her back. “I’ve
programmed in all our numbers.”

“Amber, this is great. I’ve been going
through cell phone withdrawal.” I laughed. Kyle pointed out that the NSA could
still pickup key words so we agreed not to use names, even Lightyear or
anything specific.

After Kyle left, Amber cooked a fancy
dinner with help from the housekeeper. Luckily her sister phoned, which gave me
a break from Amber’s nonstop questions about Spencer, Rose and my “powers.”
Kyle called to say everything was fine. No sign of anyone. I convinced Amber we
needed to give all the New Age talk a rest. “It’s too much sometimes. I just
want to feel normal.”

“Let’s talk about football,” she said.

“I didn’t know you liked football.”

“I got it from my dad. He’s a Raiders fan,
so I like the Chargers.”

“That must be hard being a Chargers fan.”

“Shut up. Who do you like?”

“The only California team that matters, the
49ers, of course.” She knew more obscure stats about players than I did. We
were still talking football when the housekeeper stopped in the living room to
say she was leaving.

Around 7:30 Amber went into the kitchen for
drinks. I started sweating, like someone had cranked the temperature up to a
hundred. She returned with two sodas just as I realized this was the same
warning heat I felt before the mountain lion showed up. Looking at Amber, I
held my finger to my lips and went quietly to the window.

“Come on,” I whispered.

“What? Is someone out there?”

“I don’t see anyone, but Lightyear agents
are definitely here.” I slung my pack on and headed toward the back.

“Where are we going?” Amber asked.

“We have to leave,” I said firmly.

She hesitated.

“Now!” I grabbed her hand, and shot across
the backyard into the trees. Behind a scrub oak, I looked back at the house; there
was still no sign of movement, but my temperature had not cooled. “Do you know
where these woods come out?” I asked her.

“It connects to Lithia Park,” she said.

“Let’s go.” We tore through the trees and
twenty minutes later entered the southwest side of the park. I called Kyle and
asked him to pick us up where he taught me to meditate.

By the time we got to the Japanese Garden, Kyle
was parked in his aunt’s car. I climbed in the front. “What happened?” he
asked, pulling away.

“Someone came to Amber’s.”

“Who? How did they find you?” he asked.

“We didn’t actually see anyone,” Amber
said.

Kyle looked at me.

“They were there. You guys should know by
now that I’m not just paranoid,” I said.

“You
are
paranoid, but even paranoid
people have enemies,” Kyle said.

“Why your aunt’s car?” I asked.

“I thought it was a good idea because they
know mine.”

Amber reluctantly agreed to sleep at a
friend’s house, and a few minutes later Kyle and I were alone.

“If they came for you at Amber’s, then
they’ll find you anytime now, and then what?”

“I don’t know, but right now I need a place
to stay tonight by myself. I don’t want my friends in any more danger than they
already are.”

“I’ve got my aunt’s keys to the theater on
this ring.”

“The Shakespeare Theater? Isn’t that a
little unusual.”

“And you’re not!”

“I guess it’s one of the last places they
would look.”

The Oregon Shakespeare Festival is huge in
Ashland. They do 750 performances across three theaters, with an annual
attendance of about 400,000. The Elizabethan theater has a traditional open roof
and is modeled after London’s original Fortune Theatre and the famous Globe of
1599.

“Look at the stars,” Kyle said. “It’ll be
just like camping. Too bad your sleeping bag is in
my
car. But you can
find something in wardrobe and sleep backstage anyway. Just be out by six in
the morning. I’ll call your phone to wake you.”

Once Kyle was gone I questioned my actions.
What the hell was I doing? People were after me! They knew I was at Amber’s.
How long would it take them to pick me up? The federal government was massive,
and there were departments no one knew about. The motives and manipulations of
the darkest parts were frightening. And, as Spencer put it, the people wielding
the power from those places might be the closest thing to evil. “The universe
is beautiful, peaceful and loving. But there are people who are something else
entirely,” he had said. And those were the ones hunting me.

31

The backstage area was actually a
three-story building over a maze of dressing rooms, storage areas, and steps to
the towers. The place smelled like plywood, make-up, roses, and sweat. I found
the wardrobe area and a pile of blankets, then discovered a side room filled
with all types of props and four mattresses. I tipped one flat and lay down,
apparently going out instantly because when I checked my phone it was 3:28 a.m.,
almost six hours of sleep, with just one Outview--Amparo and me on a fishing
boat, of course ending in my death. She failed to save me, but it didn’t seem
to warrant her pain and desperation for forgiveness. I wandered around looking
for a Coke machine or even water and found myself back in the amphitheater
under dazzling stars.

I stared up into the universe and tried to
raise my guides, meditating and begging. I desperately wanted someone to talk
to me in clear and simple terms. Spencer had said humans are on about the
slowest vibration, that guides and more evolved entities have to slow their
vibration extremely just to get to a human level of understanding. Because of
the substantial reduction in the original vibration, much of their actual
message is lost in translation. He also had explained that information from
guides is so far beyond our comprehension that when we begin opening up to our
soul and the universe, we become easily confused and overwhelmed. I knew just
what he meant. But my guides must be protecting me somehow because I was still
alive and free.

Then I heard her voice. “It reminds me of
another time long ago . . . ”

“Amparo, what are you doing here?” I was
startled. “How did you know?”

“I’m just waiting, hoping . . . ”

“Until you get my forgiveness?”

She nodded.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I saw you,
Amparo. You and I were on a big fishing boat somewhere in the North Pacific. It
seemed to be in the 1960s, so either you’re not really alive right now or it
was a simultaneous incarnation.”

“Yes, my soul is living five lives in
present time.”

“Okay, so there was a tragic accident, but
you tried to help me. I mean, you struggled and even though you didn’t save me
. . . You couldn’t hold on any longer; our hands slipped apart. I was looking
right into your eyes as that piece of equipment crushed me. It wasn’t your
fault, but I forgive you.”

“No, Niño, there is more.”

“Fine, we’ve had other lifetimes, you told
me that. It doesn’t matter to me what happened. I’m only concerned with this
life and staying alive.”

“You are mistaken. There is much that
concerns you that has little or nothing to do with this incarnation.”

“Please, let’s leave it in the past.”

“It cannot remain there, Niño. It
will not stay in the past until there is understanding and forgiveness.” Her
eyes carried the injuries of centuries.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Take my hand and look back between us. See
what is there, and then do what your heart wants.”

“I forgive you.”

“You may decide to kill me.”

“You’ve got to be joking!” But I could tell
she was not.

“There were three great betrayals. They
were all my doing. You have never retaliated in any way, although you had
opportunities.”

“I guess you were never a slave.” She
didn’t know what I meant.

“Please.” She gave me her dry, wrinkled
hand, I closed my eyes and the Outviews took over, catapulting across time into
ancient dwellings of my soul.

The first encounter occurred more than two
thousand years ago. We were peasant oarsmen on a Roman merchant ship somewhere
in the Mediterranean. Amparo stole a small amount of food and was caught.
Rather than take the punishment, “she” claimed to be working at my direction.
In the hours that followed, another accuser, Amparo’s friend, stepped forward
and charged that I was responsible for earlier thefts. That man also reported
me for attempting to recruit him in my “gang of thieves.” I was thrown
overboard. After treading water for half a day, I drowned.

I had done nothing to deserve that awful
fate. The peasant I was had never wronged Amparo, didn’t even know “him.” Furious,
I wanted to scream and tell her what she had done. Amparo didn’t know of the
peasant’s family--his sisters, nieces, and nephews who loved him and always
waited for his return, wondering what happened. I wanted her to know all about
the life she took. But still, I could forgive her.

Another meeting of our souls occurred
during the late thirteenth century in northern Italy. Amparo was my mother, and
I, not yet eighteen, was a married woman, Helna, with a two-year-old child. It
was during an early and particularly brutal era of the Catholic Church’s
Inquisition. It was the pope’s way of putting down competing religions by
forcing the heretics to convert or face prison, torture, and death. This would
continue in various forms for six hundred years. My mother was charged with
heresy and kept in prison for several years without trial. And trial was not
how we understand it today but a public humiliation where only a full
confession would offer any kind of reduced punishment, meaning avoiding death.
But since that required implicating others, it was its own kind of cruelty.
Amparo (my mother) falsely accused me to avoid more torture. I never saw my
husband or son again. And that was worse than the different tortures the Church
inflicted upon me before my death in prison.