Bridge of the Gods Page 2

  After we eat, there is little conversation as Gwen helps my mom clear the plates, and I am left alone with her grandmother.

  “Now Luthor, have you thought about what you’re going to do after high school?” She asks me when we are alone.

  “Um, I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “Really?” Morgan seems surprised by my answer.

  “Um, yeah.” I can feel my palms getting sweaty, and my leg twitching.

  “Have you ever had dreams about your future?”

  “Well, I have had dreams, but I never really understand what they mean. I have been experiencing a new dream lately too.”

  “That’s good, right? Everyone should know what they want to do. Some people even have their fate already set out for them.” She claims.

  I’m not sure what she means by that, but I take it as a sign that she is at least interested in what I am going to do with my life.

  My mother brings in my cake and everyone begins singing Happy Birthday. After they finish my mom hands me my gift, and begins serving the cake as I start to open it. I hesitate, looking around at the people that are sitting here with me. Something does not feel right.

  “Open your present, Honey.” Mom encourages me.

  “Then you can open ours.” Gwen claims excitedly.

  “But you already gave me something earlier today.” Her grandmother just looks at her as if she has no clue about the other gift Gwen gave me at lunch.

  As I begin to open the gift from my mother, I stop to look at her. The look in her eyes is mixed with love, hurt, and pain. My heart begins to break, knowing that what she is feeling is because of someone missing… my father. I pull my attention back to the box. It looks normal to me, long and thin, until I lift the lid. Inside I find a sword. It isn’t just any sword, but the most beautiful sword I have ever laid eyes on. The hilt is detailed with gold, and the tip embossed with a large medallion. Its blade looks as if it has been freshly polished, and has to be about three feet long with markings that I don’t understand.

  Taking it out of the box, I examine it more, catching the detail in the markings that make their way down the blade. Each one is a different swirl pattern, making me think of an ancient language from a long time ago. The weight is tolerable, but I know it is made more for display, not for using.

  My thoughts are interrupted by my mother’s next words.

  “It was your fathers.” I can see the sadness in her eyes as she speaks of him. “It was a part of him for as long as I can remember. He loved and cherished that sword as much as his family.” I can see the tears that she is fighting back brimming the edge of her lashes.

  I don’t say anything back to her, I just nod and continue examining the sword.

  After a few minutes, Gwen speaks up, breaking the silence that has settled in the room. “Now open this one.”

  Her grandmother hands me their gift. I open it up a little more reluctantly, not sure what to expect. Inside I find a ring, gold in color with a medallion that matches the one on the sword. I don’t know what to say.

  “This, as well, was your fathers. He was wearing it the day he died. His last wish was that you would receive these things when the time came for you to understand.” Morgan’s words bring the room to a standstill.

  “How do you know my father?” I beckon.

  “All in good time, Luthor.” What? Her answer doesn’t even make sense. This whole night hasn’t been making any sense.

  “We have one more gift for you. It’s a letter from your father. You don’t have to open it now if you don’t want to.” I just nod as she hands it to me. I place it with the rest of my things.

  My sister is silent the whole time, never saying a word. When everyone begins to get up from the table to leave, she makes her way to her room. I want to follow her, but I know I need to say good-bye to my guests first.

  After they leave, and Mom starts to clean the kitchen, I know I can go check on my sister now. I tap on her door hoping she isn’t asleep already.

  “Yeah?” She calls.

  “It’s me, can I come in?”

  “Fine.”

  I find her curled up on her bed in a fetal position, clutching the one true love she has always had, her stuffed bunny, Hopper. Sitting down next to her, I place my hand on her leg, hoping to reassure her about whatever is wrong.

  “Are you okay?" I ask.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t believe you for a second.”

  “It’s just hard, you know.”

  There is a moment of silence before I answer her. “Yeah, I know.” I sit a minute trying to think of something to do or say that will help, but there is nothing. That’s when I decide to risk it all.

  “Do you want to read the letter with me?” I look at her, waiting for an answer.

  She then begins to sit up next to me and nods her head ‘yes’.

  I open it and read aloud what it says.

  “Son, the only gift I can give you is this...” I look at her in wonder and keep reading.

  “It isn’t much, but I hope these things mean as much to you as they do to me. I want you to know how much I love you and your sister. It pains me to write this now, not knowing if you will ever get it or not. I do need to ask you one favor; Son, whatever happens don’t blame anyone but me. There is one more thing I need to tell you.” I pause for a minute, looking at my sister, I silently question what our father has to tell me.

  “You’re not who you think you are,” I continue on, “You, my son, are a Traveler; a special breed of the human race, tasked to help those that come before you.”

  With those words, the end of the letter brings a new beginning to my life.

  Was my vision yesterday real? Is that part of what a Travelers goes through? Who is he?

  These are the questions I ask myself as I walk to meet with Gwen the next day. Day two of my 18th year. How will I make it today? God only knows.

  “How are you feeling today?” Gwen asks.

  “I’m not really sure.” I’m not lying, but not telling the truth either. The truth is, I am kind of freaking out on the inside.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “I think you guys have helped enough for now.” I clip.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” She asks, not with anger but definite hostility.

  “Nothing, it’s just that...I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in, ya know?”

  “Yeah I know. Listen, will it help if I tell you more about what I know?” She has that look of pure annoyance on her face.

  “Maybe.”

  “I don’t want you to get even more freaked out or anything, but you know how I’m always reading those old books about different types of history?”

  She crinkles her nose like she is about to sneeze or something.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, those aren’t actual books, at least they are but not the kind you think they are. They are journals.” That last part kind of stretches out into nowhere land as she says it.

  I really don’t have anything to say to that. I just stare at her blankly until she finally says something again that makes it even worse.

  “They were your father’s journals.”

  “My father’s?"

  “Yeah, they were entrusted to my father’s care just before your father died.”

  “So you have known all these years, and you haven’t said anything” The anger I feel inside does not match the calm tone I am speaking in.

  “I couldn’t, I had to wait until your eighteenth birthday otherwise things would have gone horribly wrong.”

  “What? What are you talking about? What kind of things?”

  There is a rise of tension in her shoulders as she speaks. “People will need you Luthor, but until you were eighteen you would not have been ready.”

  “People, what kind of people?” My anger quickly turns to confusion.

  “People from the past, Luthor. Your past, your father’s past, your grand
father’s past. The power of time passes on and with every generation, the power gets stronger.” She says with great concern.

  “So, if I ever have a son…” I let the question hang in the air.

  “He will gain your powers and the power of every McAlester before you.” Gwen clarifies.

  This is starting to sound like some horrible sci-fi movie. I feel like that at any second some portal is going to open, and a random stranger is going to pop out crying ‘SAVE ME!’

  We finish our walk to school as I try to process the information that has been given to me so far. What I wonder about the most is whether or not I will continue to have these visions, and why they hurt when I get them. There is only one way I know to get the answer to that. My first class of the day is with Mr. Zephyr; Science. That is where it all started yesterday, and I have a feeling that today may not be any different.

  Today will be the day I get my answers.

  My Zephyr walks in wearing his usual authoritative expression. “Good morning class. We will pick up where we left off yesterday with lightning. Turn to page three hundred and twenty-seven. Aretha, will you begin reading?”

  “Scientists have tried to study where lightning comes from.” As she speaks I can faintly hear something in my head.

  As the sound grows louder, I can finally make it out; it is for sure laughter. I look around the room, but everyone seems to be looking at their books. Then I peer up at Mr. Zephyr and he has this expression of amusement on his face. I don’t really understand it, so I try to shrug it off.

  As Aretha continues to read I keep thinking of the day before and try to piece the things together that I already know. I am the son of a Traveler. There is someone recreating images of themselves to watch over people. I can hear voices inside my head and see images that other people can’t. But why?

  “Mr. McAlester. Mr. McAlester?” I snap out of it, not realizing Mr. Zephyr is calling my name.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Zephyr. What did you say?”

  “My question is; what types of lightning are there.” Everyone is staring at me again, and I can feel my cheeks starting to turn red.

  “I’m not…” He is looking straight at me, waiting for an answer.

  Think of me Luthor and I will help you.

  I think about the man that stood in front of me yesterday and told me that all I have to do is ask for help. I picture his chiseled face, his armor, and his statuesque features. From there it seems like the information just flows through me.

  “Um, I believe there is ribbon, staccato, bead, forked…” I trail off, not sure if I should continue.

  “That’s correct. Now there are more forms of lightning, but we will get to that tomorrow. For now let’s…”

  His voice seems to vanish as I go back into my thinking trance. I’m beginning to think I may be able to control this. I don’t have any pain this time, which is a good thing. I must have been spacing out for a long time, because I suddenly hear the bell ring. I look up, and half the class is already walking out the door, except Gwen. She is standing there looking at me with this questioning expression. All I can do is shrug my shoulders.

  After I gather my things, we meet in the hallway like always to walk to our next class. I can tell by Gwen’s expression of concern that she knows I am distracted, but not sure if she should ask why. Finally, I break the ice.

  “So, I’ve been thinking.” I start.

  “About what?”

  “Everything. I mean me being a Traveler.” I say in a whisper hoping no one can hear. “There is something I haven’t told you though.”

  “What is it?” She curiously asks.

  “Not a what, but who, and I have no idea.” I pause before rushing out with, “I’ve been hearing voices.” She looks at me but says nothing so I decide to continue, “That’s not all. I had a vision in science class yesterday.”

  I start to describe what I saw to her and I try to fill in every detail I can. She doesn’t really say anything while I talk, but I can tell she is taking everything in. The bell rings again, and I know we’d better get to class.

  Ms. Winters, our gym teacher, is not someone who takes tardiness lightly. She is a beautiful woman, but you know that she means business. She is average height, with long blonde hair that she usually has tied up in a bun. Her eyes are the color of sapphires, and occasionally you can catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her shoulder. No one knows what it is, and when asked, she always says it is a birthmark.

  “We can talk later.” By later, Gwen means lunch.

  The rest of the classes come and go with no problems. When lunch finally gets here I am more than happy about it; I’m starving. I meet Gwen in line, and our conversation resumes from earlier.

  “I think that you may want to read your father’s journals. There may be answers for you in there.” Gwen says.

  To tell you the truth, I am afraid of what I might find if I read them. For all I know, they could be filled with horrible stories about how he had a life outside of his family. There could also be stories of his adventures that I was never a part of. I guess it is more of a jealousy issue than it is a fear issue.

  “I’ll bring them tomorrow, and you can read them when you’re ready.”

  “Okay.” I’m not sure what else she wants to me say so I don’t say much of anything.

  Lunch isn’t exactly what you could call a five-course meal. Today’s menu consists of some grassy slop that is supposed to resemble green beans. There is also some type of meat patty; I’m guessing Salisbury steak. There is the usual fruits and veggies available for the health nuts, and the staple every school should have, tater tots. That is what I usually go for. One would think I’d be sick of eating the same thing every day, but no. We grab our food and sit down at the table farthest away so no one can hear our conversation.

  “How are you feeling; any better?”

  “Confused.” I confess.

  “Well maybe when you read your Dad’s journals it will help.”

  “When I’m ready…" My words trail off with a thought. Can I handle what is in them? “How many are there?” I ask.

  “How many what? Oooh books, right. Um so far, there are six.”

  “Does my mom know about the journals?” I am really hoping I know the answer to this.

  “No,” Gwen confirms exactly what I’m thinking.

  Since my father died, I have watched her every day, and it really does hurt to see how sad she is without him. “We can’t tell her.”

  I make Gwen swear on everything she believes in that we are to keep this secret from my mom. The bell rings, signaling lunch is over already.

  In History, we are still learning about Greek Mythology. I have a feeling that one of the journals that Gwen is reading has something to do with it. She can talk about it like it is something that people see every day. So, now I guess I should pay a little closer attention in class. I’m hoping that it will help me better understand some of the things my father wrote about.

  “Good Afternoon class.”

  “Good Afternoon, Mr. Posedo.” The class rings out.

  “Where did we leave off yesterday? Oh yes, the Titans. Now class, I want to concentrate today on how the Titans were defeated, and how the rule of the Gods began. Turn to page two hundred and forty-five, and we will begin.”

  When I open my book, a burst of energy rushes through me. When closing my book, it is gone. When I open the book, it is there again. I’m not really sure what it is, but I like it. I feel invincible, like I can do anything. I look up, the classroom has gone away and in its place is a beautiful palace.

  If you have ever read Jack and the Beanstalk, you can kind of imagine what I mean. Big, fluffy clouds and on top of them nestled so brilliantly is a palace made of gold and marble. There is a set of large golden doors with some type of writing on them.

  There is no door knocker, so I try to push the doors open. It isn’t easy as it feels like the doors weigh more than a hundred elephants. It takes me a few
minutes, but I manage to get at least one of them open slightly. What I see when I open it would make anyone’s jaw drop. The further I go into the palace, the more energy I feel rushing through me.

  Right in front of me is the largest fountain I have ever seen. The marble sparkles with such illumination I can see my reflection. As I look at the water, which, by the way, is the cleanest I have ever seen too, I can see coins in the bottom.

  “They certainly don’t look like American coins to me.” I state my findings out loud.

  “They are called drachmas.” A loud voice echoes from behind me.

  I turn around slowly to find the one man I was sure I’d see again, Mr. No Name, with his flowing milk colored toga. The only difference this time is that he is about fifty feet tall. I don’t really want to say that I crapped my pants, but wouldn’t you if you were face to face with something like that?

  “Drachmas?” I blurt.

  “Yes. We use them to pay homage to other Gods, as well as currency for safe passage when needed.” He is so intimidating, but so chill.

  “Who are you, and where am I?”

  “You have not figured it out yet?” He asks like I should already know.

  “I’m sorry; I'm a little slow.” I deadpan.

  “To be honest Luthor, you are nowhere and everywhere. This is a place where you decide to go. Your mind can do interesting things to you if you do not know how to control it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Read the books, Luthor. They will be able to answer all your questions.” He sounds so sure of himself. “Your father wasn’t ready either.” With that statement, I feel like the whole world has been ripped out from under my feet.

  When I open my eyes, I am back in the classroom again with Mr. Posedo writing something on the board. I try to shake off the feeling of distance in my head. I look over at Gwen, but she is too busy writing something down. I close my eyes once more hoping the feeling of the room spinning will stop. But much to my reluctance, Mr. Posedo’s voice makes me open them again.

  “Here is this week’s assignment. I will assign a Greek God to each of you, and you are to write me a five-hundred-word essay on how they contributed to the fall of the Titans.”