D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“You’ve got the best seat in the house,” Eugene said warmly.

Mark and Courtney stepped into what looked like a small living room. To the right was a sitting area with comfortable couches and chairs. To the left was a small kitchen that had a full spread of sandwiches and drinks as if set for a party. They both knew this wasn’t the main event. They walked through, headed for the far side, which ended at a glass wall. A glass door opened out to a sitting area where there were a dozen stadium-type seats. Mark and Courtney had only heard about places like this. Neither expected to actually enter one. They both walked past the stadium seats to a safety railing. Spread before them was the vast indoor arena that was Madison Square Garden. Courtney had been there before, for Knicks games. Mark had been there for the circus. Neither had ever been inside one of the luxury suites. The view was perfect, but dizzying. They were up very high.

The Garden was packed. A full house. An elevated stage was erected in the dead center of the arena, where the tip-off of a basketball game would take place. It was surrounded by a solid pack of eager people. There wasn’t a square inch of space available.

Mark nudged Courtney and pointed to a series of large red flags that hung from every level. They ringed the huge arena, creating a circle of bright, fluttering red.

“I think I’m going to faint,” Mark whispered.

Each of the red flags had a single, large symbol. The star symbol. A single, huge white star was painted on the floor of the black stage.

“It’s okay,” Courtney whispered back, her voice quivering. “This is what we wanted, right? We need to know what this is about.”

Four huge photos covered each side of the square scoreboard that hung over the center of the arena. They were different close-ups of the man from the television commercial. He looked like a kindly old grandfather, with perfect hair and a warm smile. To Mark and Courtney, it seemed he was staring right at them.

“He personally wanted you to be here,” Eugene said, motioning to the photos. He had suddenly appeared behind Mark and Courtney.

“Who did?” Mark asked.

Eugene looked surprised. “Why, Naymeer of course.”

“Nay-who?” Courtney asked.

Eugene chuckled as if Courtney had made a joke. She hadn’t.

“Why would he want us to be here?” Mark asked.

“I believe he’s been wanting to meet you since you paid a visit to his home last night. You left in such a hurry, he never got the chance to chat. Enjoy!”

Eugene backed away, leaving Mark and Courtney alone. Mark sat down in a front-row seat. Hard. His legs wouldn’t hold him anymore. Courtney held on to the railing, because she feared she might go over the edge.

“No” was all Mark could get out.

“Yes,” Courtney countered. “It’s the guy from the window of the Sherwood house. With the dog.”

“Then the guys who grabbed us from your parents’ house-,” Mark continued.

“Yeah,” Courtney interrupted again. “They were the ones shooting at us.”

“That means the man who’s running this whole show-”

“Lives on top of the flume.”

The lights in the arena went dark. The crowd didn’t cheer the way they would at a concert. Instead they grew quiet. Eerily quiet. Grand music swelled. A single spotlight hit the stage, illuminating the star.

The show was about to begin.

(CONTINUED)

The star on the floor began tosparkle, sending out pinpoints of light that danced over the thousands of mesmerized faces. People raised their hands with their palms open, swaying to the music.

Mark and Courtney sat close to each other. Watching. Wide eyed.

The music continued, building in energy. The people moved rhythmically, their eyes closed to allow themselves to be swept away by the sound.

A booming voice echoed throughout the arena. It was a man’s voice with a hint of a British accent. The voice was calm, but spoke with the authority that came from total confidence.

“Convergence,” the voice began. “All that ever was. All that will be.”

Mark held Courtney tighter. “Is this it?” he whispered. “Is this the Convergence?

Courtney stared straight ahead.

“Embrace it,” the voice continued. “It is for you. The chosen. The visionaries. The elite.”

The crowd let out a gasp of excitement, as if loving the words.

The voice boomed, “When the Convergence arrives, do not have doubts. Do not listen to the skeptics, for they are the lost. The future is yours. Let us enter into it with joy…together!”

The sparkling lights stopped abruptly. Several spotlights hit the center of the stage to reveal a man standing in the center of the star. The crowd erupted with rapturous gasps of joy. He was the same elderly man with the perfect gray hair that Mark and Courtney saw on the television commercial. His pictures hung from the scoreboard. He wore a long, deep red robe. On the back of the robe was a golden star. He stood with his hands out and a warm, fatherly smile on his face. Though he was older, he stood straight and tall-his age was not about to slow him down.

“Naymeer?” Courtney whispered.

Mark shrugged. “I guess.”

The man stepped off the star and circled the stage so everybody could get a good look at him. People from below reached up, trying to touch his gown. He never got close enough to the edge for that to happen. Mark noticed that there were several security types on the floor, holding the crowd back from touching the man. They all wore the same red shirts as the guys who had kidnapped them. And shot at them. On either end of the arena near the ceiling, two huge video screens flashed to life, each showing a live close-up of the man named Naymeer.

The crowd gasped, as if seeing him this way was more than they could handle. Mark looked around to see that each and every person was transfixed. Some were actually in tears. There were people of all ages and races. Some wore western-style business suits, others wore traditional wardrobe from other cultures. They saw colorful wraps that could have come from African nations. Some women wore saris and several men wore turbans. They also saw what looked like military uniforms from different countries.

As unique as the people seemed, they all had one thing in common-they were transfixed by the man who stalked the stage. Many reached toward him, even from the highest level, as if getting just a few inches closer was a good thing.

“He’s loving this,” Courtney whispered.

The man circled the stage twice while the music pulsed. Naymeer raised his hand and the music stopped on cue. The people instantly became silent.

“Whoa,” Courtney remarked. “They’re like trained dogs.”

“My friends,” Naymeer began. His voice was the same amplified voice they had heard before. “The journey that began for me so long ago is about to end, and a new journey will begin… for all of us. I am so very pleased that you have chosen to join me.”

As he spoke, he circled the stage. He seemed to be making direct eye contact with each and every person there.

“I was given a gift,” he continued. “A gift that means nothing if I cannot share it with you. I have seen the future. I have seen the past. I have seen in each and every one of you the spark of inspiration that will guide our way. You have answered the call. You are the elite. You are the strong. You are the enlightened. You…are…Ravinia!”

The crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer that lasted for five minutes. The whole while, Naymeer stalked the stage, looking into the people’s eyes, soaking up their adoration.

“This could go on for days,” Courtney quipped.

Mark said, “This is some kind of cult of the elite. He’s telling them that they are the chosen.”