The Star Group (13 page)

“I want to talk to Mentor,” Shena muttered.

Teri watched her with worried eyes. “He's not a god. He can't make everything all right.”

Shena stared at her. “You don't know that. Why don't you give him a chance?”

“I don't mind talking to Mentor,” Jimmy said. “As long as he doesn't tell me I have to put my gold back in the ground.”

“Sal?” I asked.

He shrugged. “He's a smart guy. Talking to him can't hurt.”

“Teri?” I asked.

Her eyes were still on Shena. She sighed.

“I don't know,” she said. “We might be playing with fire. Maybe we should talk to an expert on this type of phenomenon?”

I snorted. “Where are we going to find an expert? In the Yellow Pages?”

“There are psychic researchers,” Gale said flatly. She was not pouring tons of love my direction and I didn’t care. I was sure that I was right. Mentor would speak and everything would be made clear.

“Fine,” I said sarcastically. “Call one up at UCLA or USC. Have him get his car and drive out here today to wire our brains up to an EEG.”

“Daniel—” Gale began.

“Mentor is on our side,” I interrupted. “Talking to him cannot hurt us, it can only help. Let's do it, let's do it now.”

There was an awkward silence, more shrugs, lowered heads. The vote was not as clean cut as I wanted, but it appeared I had the majority on my side. After using the bathroom and grabbing some lemonade, we settled in a circle around our yantra. Like the previous night, we started the session by taking long slow breaths through our nostrils. I was pretty uptight at the beginning. I didn't think I would be able to settle down.

Yet somewhere in the midst of the breathing, I lost track of my surroundings. Peace and expansion settled over me, and my mind went into observer mode rather than active-thinker. I didn't know if I was reaching up to same level as the previous night or if the night was merely coming back to me. I think it was a little of both. Images of a vast colorful plane flooded my awareness, clearer than ever before. I saw huge vessels moving through the starry sky, and beings of light that seemed independent of gravity. Several of the latter converged on the ground beside a cluster of glowing flowers that could have been a hundred feet tall. They formed a conference of some kind, and I knew they were exchanging ideas about planet Earth and how much help it needed.

There were six of them.

I realized I was observing the Star Group.

Our final meeting before incarnation on Earth.

Then my mind seemed to fragment. I was still observing them, but I also became aware of the background of the meeting. Not the physical background, but the historical events that had led up to it. Over thousands of years many beings from this world had chosen to come to Earth. But at this time, because it was the end of a vast cycle of evolution, more were planning to come at once, not just this group of six.

Yet these six were not all from this world. One of them was an alien to Ortee; its light was distinctively different from that of the others. Especially around the heart, where it did not glow with the wonderful green radiance of the others. As I came closer, I realized that even though this alien was of fourth density vibration, it did have a form of sorts.

It looked vaguely reptilian.

Understanding swept over me. This being was from a race that had long ago warred with Ortee and its people. It was from another portion of the galaxy, beyond which there seemed to be a metaphysical barrier of some kind. Yet it wanted to incarnate on Earth with the others to contribute to the Star Group. It communicated positive intentions, and there was no mistaking the power of the entity. As I observed, I realized that even without the green radiance it was brighter than the other beings.

I wondered who it was.

Which one of us it was.

I thought it might be myself.

Right then the random idea of an eighteen-year old guy named Daniel Stevens brought me partway out of my deep state. I became aware of my body and that I was sitting on the porch of a mountain cabin with my friends. They were silent; they didn't seem to be breathing deeply. Words popped out of my mouth, words I hadn't anticipated.

“
This is Mentor. You may ask your questions.
”

There was a long silence.

None of them had questioned Mentor before.

Jimmy stirred. “Can I keep my gold?” he asked.

“
Is it your gold? Do you own anything in this world?
”

Jimmy seemed to fidget. “I suppose not. But what I want to know is if I can use this power to find other treasures?”

“
Why do you want other treasures?
”

Jimmy paused. “I figure if I can accumulate tons of money I could do a lot of good for people who are less fortunate than myself.”

“
A noble idea. Why else do you covet wealth?
”

Jimmy chuckled. “I suppose I wouldn't mind a big house in Beverly Hills. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“
I ask these questions to clarify your motives in your own mind. I will let you decide what is the wrong and right use of wealth. On the other hand, to use your ability solely to gather wealth is not wisdom. The only true wealth is awareness. It is all you will take with you when you leave this world. Certainly, you will not be able to carry any bags of gold with you.
”

Jimmy sounded uneasy. “I don't think there's anything wrong with a little money.”

“
That is true. It is a question of where your attention is. Where is your attention, Jimmy?
”

A long pause. “I don't know.”

“
Reflect on that.
”

“I will.” Jimmy added, “Thank you.”

“I have a question,” Sal said. “Is it all right if I go back to playing football?”

“Why do you want to go back to football?” Teri muttered.

“Because I love football,” Sal said with feeling, talking to his girlfriend now instead of Mentor. “When I got hurt I had to bury my life dream to be a big star. Just because I didn't whine a lot about it doesn't mean it didn't bother me.”

“I know it bothered you,” Teri said. “But who wants to spend the rest of his life getting hit by other grown men? Football is a barbaric sport. Don't you agree, Mentor?”

“Don't try to put words in his mouth,” Sal warned.

“I am simply asking him a question,” Teri said.

“
What is the question? Should Sal play football? Is football a positive way to spend one's life? I believe you are all old enough to answer these questions for yourselves. A better question, Sal, would be to ask yourself exactly how you want to use your newfound gift.
”

“I understand what you’re implying,” Sal said. “Football may seem a trivial pastime to you out there on your space planet. But here on Earth it's a big thing, and I love playing it. It's my first and last big love.”

“I thought I fitted in there somewhere,” Teri said. “I guess not.”

“Teri,” Sal complained. “You're twisting what I meant.”

“Let's not fight with Mentor,” Jimmy butted in. “I'll find plenty of treasure and buy a professional football team. Sal can play or coach, it doesn't matter to me.”

“I have a question for Mentor,” Shena said.

“
Yes?
”

“Can you heal my face?”

“
No.
”

Shena took a breath. “Can Teri heal my face?”

“
Not at this time.
”

Shena wept. “Why not?”

“
There is a time in life for everything. You live through many lives so that you may gain many types of experience. This wound you carry is a catalyst forcing you to turn inward. All suffering, in your density, is a catalyst. Do not resist it, rather, learn from it. You have a great deal, Shena, that you can learn during this period of awakening. Your will is strong, your third center. There is a great fire in you. You must learn to harness this strength and control it for the benefit of mankind. But the first thing you must discover is that you are not your body. Your body changes; the real you is beyond change. Look within and discover this truth and your suffering will cease once and for all.
”

Shena sobbed. “But I don't want to be ugly.”

“Shena,” Jimmy interrupted.

Shena jumped up. I heard her. My eyes popped open.

Shena stood over Jimmy. Fire in her eyes, not her third center.

“You did this to me!” she swore, her fingers pointed like claws to scratch his eyes out if she wanted. “You did it to me on purpose!”

Jimmy slowly got up. The session was over and I knew clearly right then that that was a tragedy. Everyone looked nervous. Jimmy tried to touch Shena, but she pushed him away.

“Calm down,” he told her. “Now I can buy you the best plastic surgeons in the world.”

Shena went ballistic. “You think you can buy me a face? What you destroyed cannot be fixed! What you did cannot be forgiven!” She swiped at the bag of gold and sent the dust flying across the porch. “You keep your goddamn money! You spent it on your next girlfriend! You use your new power for yourself! I don’t give a damn. You are all damned!”

With that Shena ran from the porch and into the house.

We let her go; we thought it best.

But when we looked in the house she was gone.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I BECAME LOST IN THE WOODS SHOUTING Shena's name. The mess at the end of the session had disturbed me greatly. I felt responsible for the situation and was trying to salvage my conscience by searching the woods aimlessly. At least I recognized the fruitlessness of my hunt. I had no idea which direction the cabin was or if I was covering ground I had already covered. My voice was getting hoarse. If Shena was listening she probably wasn't going to answer me anyway.

I checked my watch.

I had been looking for her for three hours.

The sun was getting low in the sky. To be lost in the woods in the dark – what a scary thought. No, I take that back. I did not know what scary was. I did not that for every ray of beauty in the universe there an equal element of horror. Mentor had said something about the need for balance in all things. All the good that had happened to me in the last week, all the joy and exaltation, was about to be canceled out in one fell stroke.

I stumbled across the stream where I had earlier in the day found Sal tossing miniature boulders into the water. The sun was falling low, but it was still hot. Going down on my knees, I pressed my lips to the stream surface and sucked hungrily. But then I noticed a strange color in the water. That red kind of fluid that has a bad habit of showing up in a crisis.

The stream ran with blood.

I found Jimmy a hundred yards upstream, around a bend. He lay facedown in the water, the back of his skull split wide open. The wound was caused by multiple blows – the gore was splattered, not crisp. I had never seen a friend's brains before, never even stopped to imagine what they looked like. But as I turned away and vomited, I couldn't help thinking that all I had known and loved of Jimmy had been stored in that messy gray matter. Now, exposed to the air, scattered on the current, it was as if Jimmy had never been. Smash his brains, obliterate his existence. I choked on my vomit as I choked on my grief.

“Oh God,” I wept.

I didn't know how long I stood there puking out my guts. It might have been ten minutes or an hour, I only knew that when I looked up, the sun had darkened in the sky. Everywhere I looked was black, even when I stared up into the blue sky and wept to Mentor and screamed why. The stars would never look the same to me from then on. I knew I would see only the void between them, never the pinpoints of light, the rays of hope. At the sight of Jimmy's mutilated body, I felt as if the very purpose of humanity had vanished.

I didn't know what to do. To leave him seemed a sin, yet I knew I could not carry him back to the cabin. I had a sense of where I was now, and I was at least two miles from Crystal Lake. Trying not to look at his head, I flipped him over and dragged him by his feet out of the water. His pale washed face caught my eye, and I was relieved to see his expression appeared to be peaceful. The terror that had been inflicted on the back of his head did not register on his face. He could have been sleeping, I told myself. Yeah, right, sleeping with the worms. I couldn't imagine that we would have to bury him eventually, like any other corpse. He was my friend, he was supposed to be my friend all my life.

“Oh Jimmy,” I moaned. “What did we do to you?”

Pulling off my shirt, I covered his head.

My walk back to the cabin was a funeral procession. I felt as if I carried his soul over my broken heart. That it swore at me from the spiritual dimension. The idea that he was once more happy on Ortee refused to stay in my mind. Right then, I felt Ortee had been the instrument of his death.

But I wondered who had killed him.

So many blows. So sadistic.

[ ran into Gale at the halfway point.

“Oh no,” she gasped when she saw my face. Falling into her arms, I felt sobs as heavy as thunder shake my body. I could not stop crying, I could not stop remembering. Not only his gory skull but all the good times as well. The brilliant memories were as painful as a river of red. It would have been far better, I thought, just to pretend I had never loved him. Love to me right then felt like the most insidious poison. Mentor was right about one thing: everything in the universe changed. Everything that could be loved would one day die. How useless a feeling, that it had been cursed by God from the beginning.

Gale shook me by my shoulders.

I forgot, she did not know.

“What happened?” she begged.

I tried to breathe. “Jimmy…he's dead. His head... his head is split open.”

Gale shook her head. “No. Daniel? No.”

I nodded miserably. “It's true. He's dead.”

She collapsed in my arms and wept. “But it's not possible. He was just with us. He was just alive.”

I couldn't comfort her. “We have to tell the others.”

Gale pulled back. “No. Not yet.”

I was comprehending so little. “Why not? They have to be told.”