Joshua Graham - Terminus

“May I ask a small favor?” he said.

“I’m not in a position to object.”

“Would you call me Nick? Nikolai is so…I don’t know nineteenth-century.”

“Nineteenth—okay, whatever you say.”

Any fear had given way to an odd euphoria. She was staring down at the earth! Not in an astronaut’s space suit but just as she was, wearing nothing but her hotel robe, the belt of which had floated up.

“How’s this possible?” she said.

“Welcome to my realm.” Nick was gazing down at the giant blue marble that was Hope’s home. “I don’t mean that as in my realm where I’m the owner or master, but the realm in which I’m indigenous.”

“So, you’re an alien?”

He shook his head and grinned. “I’ve brought you to the spiritual realm.”

“Not to sound skeptical, but you see that big globe down there, with the continents—North America, Africa, and all? That looks pretty physical to me.”

“Of course. The physical and spiritual realms aren’t mutually exclusive. They coexist, layered and woven together like a basket’s distinct ribbons. But here’s the part most humans don’t realize. Your realm, the physical, is merely a likeness, a dim reflection of reality—which is, of course, the spiritual realm.”

She thought of The Chronicles of Narnia , which her father used to read to her when she was a child.

“Like the Shadowlands.”

“Precisely.”

Just then, something massive overshadowed the moon’s reflected light. Hope turned around just in time to see the large pair of solar panels and a communications dish mounted to the center of a huge NASA-emblazoned satellite—coming straight at them.

“Nick!” She threw herself into his arms again.

“It’s okay, just relax.”

She braced for the impending impact.

“Do something!” she yelled.

“Why?”

She pounded his chest. “Hello? We’re going to die!”

“Get a grip, will you? Now watch. Wait for it…”

Hope turned around and looked on in horror as it careened straight at them.

“We’re going to die, we’re going to—Oh..My—!”

She was about to shut her eyes, but it was too late. She saw the whole thing happen, even as the satellite reached them.

She felt nothing.

In the course of a second—maybe less—the entire satellite passed through them. Or rather, they passed through it . Everything happened so fast Hope could barely make out what she saw inside the spacecraft the moment before it continued past them and cruised into the distance.

“What in the world?”

Nick winked at her. “Of the world, not in the world.”

“You said I wasn’t dead, but I just passed right through solid matter. Oh my God, I’m a ghost—what have you done with my body?”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said. “Most mortals do, so I can’t say I blame you. What was it C.S. Lewis said? ‘You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.’”

“Then what happened to it?”

“You’re still in it.” She loved the way his eyes fixed on hers. “Think of this as another dimension—though even that would be a gross oversimplification.”

“Humor me.”

“Here in the spiritual realm or layer, we’re free from the limitations of physical time and space. Hawking, Einstein, Sagan, all their mumbo-jumbo about quantum physics? At best, their theories are like a six-year-old’s explanation of how semiconductors work.”

“Well, they’re all a heck of a lot smarter than me.”

“Not necessarily.” He took her by both hands and they started moving toward the planet. Slowly, thank God. Since there was no wind nor any sense of motion as Hope knew it, it was astonishing but not really frightening that they were hovering over the Great Wall of China in seconds.

She touched her neck and frowned.

“What is it?” Nick said, floating closer.

“Looking down at the Great Wall reminds me of my father. Before he died, he gave me a jade pendant with a dragon and phoenix carved into it. He told me all kinds of stories about it, and after he died that pendant was the only thing I had from him besides my memories.”

“When did you lose it?”

“Last night, when I…” Hope lifted her eyes to meet Nick’s. “When you saved me.” She put on a brave face and changed the subject. “Anyway, you were telling me about the physical and spiritual realms?”

“I can tell you a lot more, but I think it’s best if I show you.” He pointed down.

“Okay, I guess. The laws of physics don’t apply, so I can’t get hurt, right?”

“Had you been in the physical layer just a few moments ago, you’d be abstract art, splattered over the hull of that satellite by now.” He took her hands and aimed headlong towards the surface of what looked like California.

“Nick?”

He turned and looked her in the eye: Trust me .

“Is any of this real?”

They were flying straight down as he replied.

“All of it.”

LITO PICKED UP AN OLD PHOTO from his desk: Papi and him as a boy of eight on a fishing boat in Ensenada. He was holding a large halibut by the tail, Papi standing proudly next to him—proud because it was Lito’s fourth catch of the day and the only fish he’d kept. “Toss the little fish back and go for the big ones” was a lesson Lito had finally learned.

Had Alfonso been a little fish?

What had he done with the Suarezes? And had he ever so much as hinted to Maria about the secret? Perhaps the best thing to do was to get it out in the open, tell her himself lest she hear it elsewhere—she must have wondered all these years.

Lito set the picture down and sighed. Papi would know what to do. At least, not the old man who was drunk every hour of his final days but the handsome man everyone used to come to for advice, money, and—

A light rap on the door.

“Come in!”

In came Manuel, a tall and lanky twenty-year-old high school dropout with the remarkable ability to blend into any setting—the kid was practically invisible. He was second in line to Alfonso but nowhere near as close to the family.

Following Manuel in was Eduardo, an older man who used to shadow Papi and was now Lito’s advisor, since Papi had died. When he smiled he was like an abuelo , a grandpa, but when he scowled no one dared mistake him as anything but a vicious assassin, hence the very best protection, as well as counsel.

Back in the day, anyway.

Oh, Eduardo could still catch you by surprise and break your neck. But he just wasn’t as quick as he used to be. For now, Lito chose him because he was the only person he could trust—or rather, the person he mistrusted the least.

“Manuel has some information,” Eduardo said, making himself comfortable in the red leather chair at the back of the office. He lit up a cigar, just as he always had when Papi occupied this office. Lito hated the smoke, but the smell brought back the days when he read Superman comics while the two of them talked “business” here.

“What kind of information?”

Manuel looked over at Eduardo, who nodded.

Still standing, Manuel said, “It’s about Alfonso.” His eyes shifted to Eduardo, then back to Lito.

“Go on ,” Lito said.

Eduardo got up and slapped the back of Manuel’s head. Hard.

“Estupido ! Just tell him what you told me.”

Rubbing the back of his head and glaring back at the old man, Manuel took the spoke up.

“I’m only telling you what I heard, okay? I don’t really know anything and I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

“You will if you don’t stop wasting my time like this.”