The Adam Enigma (32 page)

April 21, 2016
Seattle, Washington

R
amsey stared at the buildings as the Lincoln Town Car passed through the heart of downtown Seattle. Rain on the side windows distorted the images, elongating some, flattening others. He was suddenly shy. The initial excitement had finally worn off and apprehension crept upon him as a feeling of imminent destiny gathered deep within him. He swallowed, his throat dry. He seriously considered having the driver stop the car so he could get out.

Only yesterday Carlotta had burst into Myriam's cabin and breathlessly announced to him, “If you want to meet Adam, you need to go to Seattle immediately.”

The moment was indelibly etched in Ramsey's mind. Myriam's hand had gone to her throat. Hiram stopped talking. Paige and Maggie had shrunk against the kitchen sink as if knowing instinctively they were not a part of the invitation. In that invitation laid the answers to all his questions, questions building over the last twelve years since his misadventure in Peru.

“Of course,” he remembered saying, his voice rational and calm, though his heart pounded so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

“Come with me,” she said. Ramsey had gotten up and left without a word to the others. No one said anything. Maggie stared at him for a moment then rushed over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her
experience at the shrine had changed her. He didn't have to ask; it was written on her face. Maggie had one of those rare experiences that transforms a person instantly. The brash cockiness that had long masked her fear of the future had vanished, and it its place was confidence that comes from accepting fear and using its chaotic energy to find solutions. Paige smiled at him—and then he was gone, through the door.

The driver guided the limo into an underground garage. The lettering above the entrance read “Columbia Center.” He stopped before a bank of elevators. A young man with jet-black dreadlocks waited. “We're here, sir,” the driver said.

By the time Ramsey got out of the car, his luggage was on a small cart being wheeled toward an elevator.

The young man put out his hand. “I'm Alex. Adam's nephew.” He was tall and broad shouldered. His grip was firm. “Please follow me.”

They entered the car. The young man hummed to himself as it shot up sixty stories. Ramsey started to ask a question and Alex interrupted. “It's better if I don't say anything, Mr. Ramsey. Uncle Adam would prefer I don't prejudice you in any way.”

He ushered Ramsey into an office. Through the rain-streaked glass Ramsey saw Seattle shrouded in mist. Alex opened the door to an inner office and held it for Ramsey, then closed it behind him, leaving him alone in a room with no windows and only the one door.

Along one side was a leather couch and in it sat someone or something. Ramsey immediately experienced a change in visual perception. It was unclear to him if it was a person or an object. Then he heard the unmistakable voice of the apparition he'd encountered his first time at the Milagro Shrine. It asked, “Who do you think I am?” The voice was slow and melodic, almost as if it came from another room or from speakers hidden in the ceiling. Ramsey was unsure if it was somebody actually talking to him.

He focused on the shadow where it occupied the right hand portion of the couch. He said in a low tone, “We met under the cottonwood tree almost four weeks ago.” The words acted like a magician saying “abracadabra.” The shadow lost its indistinct quality and firmed up into
a man wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt. Graying red hair framed a rugged face with high cheekbones and questing blue eyes. The man was naturally big-boned and muscular. “You're Adam,” Ramsey said.

“If you say I am. You've come here for answers. Here's what I say to you. Stop resisting what you have been fighting all your life. Become a master of two worlds like Jesus did, but in your own way.”

The door opened and Alex stepped into the room. “The driver will take you to your hotel, now,” he said and gestured for Ramsey to leave. Ramsey turned back to the couch. The shadow had regained its amorphous shape. He started to laugh. “Of course.”

He walked out of the room. The door closed softly behind him, only it wasn't the sound of closing but of a door opening in his mind and in his life. He knew what he had to do. He would go back to Rio Chama's Milagro Shrine, and sitting under the cottonwood tree, he would go to the other side, and comeback changed. He would merge with his higher-self again and again, emerging each time ever closer to becoming numinous, transparent to the other side in his own unique way. He would become the archetype of transformation, spreading a new kind of sacred place throughout the world.

June 21, 2016
Blue Island, Illinois

A
t the dedication of the Blue Island Sacred Shrine, Ramsey strode up the steps to the stage to acknowledge his part in the founding of the new Leonardo Shrine. On one side of the dais were Ron Grange and Janet Furlong, the only other white people on the platform. Maggie and several of her crew stood beside them.

Reverend Small shook his hand. “Now that you see all this, what are your feelings?”

“Feelings?” Ramsey pursed his lips, looked around at the crowd. He took the microphone from the man and walked back and forth across the narrow stage. “Feelings . . . fear, love, hatred, hope, despair, anger. They come and go like shadow puppets. They grab you and hold you, trap you. . . . I've been trapped many times. Feelings, are not reliable, not reliable at all, not to be trusted.”

The crowd looked confused.

At the front of the onlookers Paige projected the sign of a cross with her two forefingers and Ramsey knew he had to be more careful about what he told people in the future.

She's good to have around
, he told himself. He was glad he had decided to stay with her.
She's the anchor I need in this world
.