The Lightbearers

By Nora Garcia

The Lightbearers is about an ancient Egyptian King and Queen who have been reincarnating for over 3300 years and is based on the lives of Akhenaten and Nefertiti about whom I created a fantasy. As Lightbearers, their mission is to be guardians of the human race and I have ascribed to them the powers of astral projection, telepathy and psycho-kinesis. In ancient Egypt they were mentored by a being from a more advanced civilization. They must try and influence anyone whose path they cross to become Lightbearers as well and hopefully raise the collective consciousness of the planet. The story opens in the 21st century when they discover a terrible secret for which they are assassinated and must return to resolve the conflict. They can determine when they return and the gender in which they return but they cannot predetermine their identities so they have to pick a time, a place and a signal by which they can identify each other and reunite. They decide to meet 20 years later on the UCLA campus where he will sit under a tree near the computer science building singing and strumming "Imagine" by John Lennon. The reunion takes place but not without a hitch and their journey continues.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nora Garcia
• Release date: Jan 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310367656

Nora Garcia

Born, raised and educated in New York City, Nora now makes her home in Southern California where, recently divorced, she enjoys a successful career in the media business. When Nora first began researching The Lightbearers, she went to the New York Public Library and immediately headed for the Egyptian section. While walking down the empty aisles a book suddenly fell off the shelf and landed at her feet. It turned out to be Akhenaten’s biography; Nora was immediately captivated with his story and hence the creation of a fantasy about Akhenatena and Nefertiti.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The only visible sign of life in the room was the clock on the wall as it pulsed on and off—endlessly. The silent clock was behind the table where Jean Crystal, serene in her beauty, had lain lifeless for hours. Her soft, strawberry-blond curls lay disheveled against the striking, purple silk robe which clad her lean, muscular body and provided the only color in an otherwise cold and sterile environment. Still the hours passed marched on. The narcotic used to knock her out was so potent, she had remained unconscious for close to ten hours. An hour later—all of a sudden and without warning, her eyelids began to flutter.The closer to consciousness she came from her narcosis, the more apparent her efforts.

Straight away she realized the intensity of the light directly above her made it impossible for her to open her eyes, preventing her from focusing on anything that might provide a clue as to her whereabouts. All she could surmise was that she was on her back lying on some kind of table, but where? Her mind was still reeling from the effects of the drugs she’d been given. She wondered if she were in a hospital. That seemed to be the only plausible explanation at that point. But why? She just couldn’t remember. She tried to make her mind race from one thought to another, hoping all the while something would click, but she couldn’t. And George, where’s George?

Trying to fight the lights was not only futile, it was also exhausting, and she was wasting precious time and energy. She had other means.

She decided to keep her eyes closed and rely on her powers, powers that were very different in nature from the average human being. She concentrated, first to see if she could feel for anything broken or injured. She was hesitant about moving until she knew for sure there was nothing wrong physically.

Concentrate, she kept telling herself, concentrate. She started with her toes and very slowly began to work her way up through her body: ankles .. . . calves . . . knees . . . farther up . . . her intestinal organs and stomach . . . and still nothing. She continued focusing on her ribs, spinal cord, heart, out to her arms and hands, then back in and straight up to the top of her cranium. Everything seemed to be fine, except she was beginning to feel more apprehensive about her situation. She didn’t think she was in a hospital, yet something was very wrong. She was still lightheaded, but not enough to prevent her from realizing she was in trouble.

Alright, she thought to herself, it’s time to get up. She started to move, and in the same instant that she began to rise, waves of searing pain shot throughout her entire body like a spray of bullets. The pain was so forceful, her torso was lifted off the table. Every inch of her body writhed in pain, forcing a half-garbled, half-shrieking sound from the core of her being, a sound so unfamiliar and powerful it frightened her, and she began to hyperventilate. She was terrified; her body began to convulse and the more her body moved, the more pain it experienced. She couldn’t understand what was happening to her; she was not accustomed to being so out of control. She had to draw upon every ounce of energy she could find from within the deepest recesses of her mind in order to regain control of her body.

Concentrate . . . concentrate, she repeated in her mind over and over again, concentrate. She had to focus on something to relax her body in order to free herself from this otherwise inescapable and invisible grip squeezing the life from her. The task was formidable indeed, almost impossible, but she had no choice; she had to find a way to change the focus of her concentration.

Concentrate . . . harder, she thought. Think about George, concentrate, yes—she faltered. Concentrate, dammit! Yes, that’s it.

Little by little, in her mind’s eye, she began to envision his smiling, loving face and the deep pools of warmth she always found in his eyes. She was still acutely aware of the pain penetrating every fiber of her being. Keep concentrating, she told herself, struggling to keep her focus on his face. Don’t lose him; yes, there he is, the love of my life. All these eons he’s been my faithful companion, my love, my life. We are truly as one, she thought.

Amazingly, by maintaining her focus on George, she could feel the pain beginning to subside, and slowly her body began to relax. For as long as she could remember, her thoughts of George produced a sense of tranquility. Yet the feelings were a contradiction in terms of her grand passion for him, a passion whose fires never quelled. After finding this man, she discovered there could never be another. To her, he was a rare and special breed of man, enlightened with two great passions in his life, his woman and the truth. Her thoughts were so strong now, one could almost hear their soft whispers while she maintained her focus on George. We will always be together, George and I. Keeping our pledge to each other is easier than breathing.

Jean remained engulfed by the pain, her body still slightly convulsing. Concentrate . . . concentrate! She decided to recall something George did that endeared him to her. Going back in time, her thoughts brought her to a beautiful summer’s evening some months before. It was a balmy night and they were on their way home from a night of listening to Bach and Beethoven. She and George were riding on a bicycle, Jean in front of George on the frame. As they rode with the sun setting behind them, she loved having George’s face pressed next to her and the softness of the warm summer breeze gently blowing through her hair, lifting it away from her bare shoulders. They rode on in silence. She could hear his strong, even breathing and feel his heart pounding against his chest as he pedaled on at a slow, even pace.

At each traffic light he would stop and wrap his arms around Jean, sitting quietly until the light changed. The pain in her body continued to subside as she recalled that evening. After making love that night, George serenaded her to sleep. He sang so softly, it was almost a whisper. Jean could feel the level of pain diminishing further.

By this time Jean’s body had completely relaxed. She was in control again. The pain had subsided, but traces of its intensity were still reverberating throughout her entire being, serving as a reminder.

Jean was now able to induce herself into a deep state of meditation. She had to find the source of the pain in order to free her body from the invisible prison in which she found herself incarcerated. Fully aware that for now her body was of no use to her, she decided it was time to resort to her other abilities.

Jean began to take deep breaths again, inhaling . . . slowly, exhaling . . . slowly. That’s it—again. Over and over she repeated this process. As she did so, she could feel herself being submerged into a deep meditative state. As she continued her focus, Jean found herself still amazed, after so many years, at the ease in which she could achieve her deep levels of meditation. Deeper and deeper she fell. Jean could now feel the pattern of her brainwaves changing into an alpha state. She knew within a moment or two she’d be able to begin projecting herself from her body. A tingling sensation began to rush throughout her entire being and the more intense the sensation, the closer she came to leaving. Then the rush began. She emerged from her body, subtly at first. She could feel the lightness all about her, the sensation buoyant in nature. She hovered over her body for a few seconds to be certain her mind was in full control, or the invisible cord that kept her connected to her body would pull her back. She looked down at her body; her breathing was barely perceptible.

She hovered a little higher until she was about two feet above her body. Her projection was clearly visible now, a gossamer quality, but nonetheless, distinctly visible to the naked eye. Very slowly, she began to drift away from her body and away from the pain. Movement was now completely effortless.

Jean was now able to discern her physical whereabouts. The room appeared to be a laboratory. The light above her body on the table consisted of three high-intensity lamps, the kind used in hospital operating rooms. She glanced around the lab and was immediately impressed with its sterile condition. The floors were covered with white, rubber tiles. The walls and ceiling were also white and covered with a perforated paneling that sealed and soundproofed the room. There were no windows. The starkness of the room was countered only by the computers and what appeared, to her, to be medical equipment along all four walls. It was unfamiliar to her. All Jean could surmise was that they were computers; the rest was a mystery. The buttons, dials, and keyboards were all encoded and defied understanding on her part. Figuring out a way to escape from her white-walled prison was going to require tremendous resourcefulness. She had to summon every ounce of energy and power she could muster.

The doors had no knobs, so she assumed they were electronically controlled. She also assumed they were connected to a security system, making the room immune to the outside world. Leaving the room in her physical body was going to be nearly impossible. With thoughts of contacting George telepathically, she realized it would also be impossible for someone to enter the room surreptitiously.

Someone had taken great care to secure this laboratory and everything in it. Still she had no idea from where or how the pain was being transmitted to her body.

There were no wires and no visible beams directed to the table. She discovered the light above was nothing more than a very powerful lamp. She floated around the room looking over every piece of equipment, every gauge, every dial and keyboard for a clue. She found nothing. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and she floated back to her body. The table upon which she lay was draped with a white sheet that hung about two inches above the floor. Jean floated through the sheet, and there she discovered the source of her incredibly intense pain.

She discovered a laser, obviously motion sensitive. The laser beams were emitted from a small rectangular box, no more than six-inches deep, two-inches wide, and six-inches long. The instrument was lodged just below Jean’s waist and directed to her spinal cord and cranium. Her entire nervous system was subjected to its focused, excruciating reach. Jean realized that aside from breathing and involuntary muscle movements, any other motion of her body activated the laser. As long as the laser was operating, Jean’s body was of no use to her.

Jean was beginning to understand. She had to contact George and let him know where she was, and fast. Lost in her thoughts, she was suddenly jolted by a voice that seemed to come from nowhere.

That’s really quite good, Jean.

What? Startled, she floated out from under the table and found no one in the room. Where is . . .?

Over here. The television monitor is being lowered in front of your body, the one reposing on the table, that is.

Jean recognized the voice, and her suspicions were now confirmed. She watched the ominous monitor slowly being lowered from the ceiling. The cameras had been hidden from her view and he saw everything. The monitor was now in place and the evil face of Dr. Natas now loomed menacingly over her physical body.

"I’ve been sitting here observing you closely for some time now, Jean. You are very good, but I would strongly recommend that you return to your body unless, of course, you care to witness yourself being fried by my laser.

Jean had no choice; she had to return. Her body might still be of use to her if she could just figure out how to disable the laser. She floated back to her body, hovered for a moment, and then gently began to descend into her physical being. Her breathing was more noticeable and her chest began to heave visibly again. A moment or two would pass before she was able to return from her state of self-hypnosis. Gradually, she could feel the integration of her body and soul take place once again. Jean discovered she could now open her eyes. Dr. Natas had turned down the lights above her and decreased the intensity of the laser enough for her to speak without pain. In spite of the reduction of the laser power and lights, Jean was still a prisoner in her own body and the slightest resistance would cause the pain to roar through her being again.

That was quite a performance you just gave. You must teach me how to do that; the technique could prove to be very useful to me. I must warn you though, if you try it again without my permission, you will find yourself making a fatal mistake. I can assure you of that.

Jean couldn’t help but smile sarcastically at Dr. Natas’s remark.

And what do you find so amusing? Surely you don’t consider death a laughing matter, or do you? he asked.

Death, after the pain I’ve just endured, would be a welcome relief. She lied, as death to her meant only one thing, a transformation of form and nothing more. Maybe the time was right for change. She didn’t think there was much more she could do in this body. At this point reincarnating will probably be more effective.

Your heroism bores me.

What are you going to do with me? You know you can’t hold me here forever. Besides, my husband will be looking for me; he’ll have the police all over you, Natas.

Dr. Natas’s booming laughter filled the room.

Oh my dear Jean, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. It seems your husband has met with an untimely death. I believe it was faulty brakes; an ill-fated car accident, I daresay. Most unfortunate for your husband, and I suppose for you as well.

George, my George, she thought. She didn’t understand, why hadn’t he come to her?

Jean, you don’t seem to be terribly bothered by the news I’ve just imparted to you; in fact, you appear to be more perplexed than upset.

What are you going to do with me?

"My, my, you certainly are a tough cookie, aren’t you?

Well now, it seems you are no longer simply a thorn in my side; no you’ve become much worse than the bane of my existence. That information you uncovered about my robots must remain classified, otherwise my ability to run my business will be hampered. Do you see my dilemma, Ms. Crystal? In other words, what this boils down to is very simple, it’s either you or I. Now as I’m not about to relinquish my power or wealth for some foolish and worthless sentimentality, you leave me no choice in this matter. So you see, it’s really a question of how, Jean, not what. And because your dear departed husband met his fate in an apparent car accident, I’m afraid the appearance of coincidence might seem implausible if you met yours in the same way. Your death has to be different, but not too bizarre; after all, we don’t want to arouse any suspicions, do we?" Dr. Natas’s expression changed and he became pensive. The intensity of his being manifested an intensely dark aura in the room that suddenly felt cold and desolate.

Ah ha, I think I have the solution. I know exactly how we will bring about your demise. Yes, I can see the newspaper report now. ‘Bereaved widow takes her own life shortly after hearing the news of the death of her beloved husband.’ Now that’s what I call true love.

Again he stared at her, and again there was no reaction. He found her calmness disconcerting, even arrogant.

Jean, I am very concerned about the apparent lack of emotion over your husband’s death. I was hoping to see some hysterics, something, anything, but you’re just lying there, cool as a cucumber. You don’t even appear to be upset over your own imminent demise. Tell me, is this an example of calm acceptance or is it . . . ah, I think I understand. You’re the type who prefers to grieve privately. In that case, I will turn the monitor off. The cameras, however, will continue to operate. I wouldn’t want you hobnobbing about without my knowledge. Oh yes, and one other thing, if you attempt to leave your body again—that sounds so very odd to me, I have to get used to that; anyway, as I was saying, if you leave your body again, the pain you will experience . . . well, even I shudder to think of the ferocity of it. Have I made myself clear?

Yes, quite clear.

Fine, we’ll have another visit later, after I have completed my arrangements for you to meet your maker. You know, in light of everything I’ve just told you, I’m beginning to find your bravado rather curious; in fact, right now I am extremely perplexed. One last thing, out of the goodness of my heart, your facial muscles will remain free, in case you wish to cry.

Jean looked coldly at his sneering face and without hiding her sarcasm, replied, How generous of you, doctor. Dr. Natas’s resounding laughter filled the room, and after a few seconds, the monitor went black.

Jean watched the monitor until it disappeared into the ceiling. She lay there quietly for a moment as she prepared to reenter a meditative state. She had to contact George—and quickly. He was probably looking for her, and the only way for them to communicate now was telepathically. She was not certain as to her precise whereabouts and wanted to leave no room for error. Deeper and deeper into her trance she fell. As soon as she reached the alpha level, she could begin to emit brainwave thought patterns for George to pick up. She repeated the same message over and over again. George, please help me. I need you. I’m in a laboratory of some sort, in one of Dr. Natas’s buildings, probably in the desert . . . George where you? Please come, I need your help. Jean waited. Half an hour passed, then forty-five minutes, and still nothing. Where is he? She was growing impatient, or perhaps masking her fear with it. An hour passed. She was growing weary. Her mind was still groggy from the effects of the drugs she’d been given. Jean was about to rest for a moment when she suddenly sensed a presence in the room. She had to communicate with George quickly, as she didn’t want Dr. Natas to know that George had arrived and was there in the room with her.

CHAPTER 2

Dr. Natas continued to watch Jean. So that’s how she found out about the robots. He didn’t want to let on at how truly astonished he was by what he had just witnessed. She seemed to be going into another trance. Surely she would not be foolish enough to risk the pain of the laser again. He recalled how her body writhed with pain the first time, and she knew it would be even worse the second time. Maybe he should have given her a small sample, but he didn’t think it would be necessary. No, something deep inside told him she was up to something, but he had no clue as to what. Quietly, he continued his surveillance, and while his curious fascination with her was growing, he found his fear of her also mounting.

She had to be eliminated, and the task had to be handled delicately. The longer she lived, the greater the possibility of all his plans being destroyed. He had no intention of letting that happen; he didn’t care what or who it cost. He’d worked too hard to reach this pinnacle of success to let anything or anyone stand in his way. He picked up the phone and buzzed his secretary Elaine.

Come in here, please.

Elaine Porter had been with Dr. Natas for eleven years, since 2009. She was a tall, willowy, long-legged blond. Her blue eyes, the color of the tropical Atlantic, were set off by her high cheekbones. She had a thin, aquiline nose and a lower lip which puffed out slightly fuller than the top. By most standards, she was considered a beautiful woman; however, Adam Natas hadn’t noticed, or perhaps he did, but was too preoccupied to acknowledge her beauty.

When Elaine first began working for Adam Natas, she had high hopes of seducing the prominent doctor. He had achieved a level of financial success most people only dream about. Adam Natas was also a very attractive man. Elaine found his dark Mediterranean features very appealing. The years had also been kind to him; the older he got, the handsomer he became in an imposing and distinguished sort of way.

From the very beginning, Dr. Natas made it quite clear to Elaine that he had no interest in her whatsoever. All he wanted from her was her loyalty and for her to do her job, and to do it well. Adam had no patience at all for incompetence.

At first, Elaine interpreted his distance and aloofness as an affront, but with the passage of time she began to wonder if he had any interest in women at all. When he felt the physical need for a woman, he hired one and paid top dollar for his companions. Adam had relatively little or no social life; he dismissed that activity as wasteful and participated only as it related to his business. He lived for two things and two things only: his money and his empire. Elaine grew to pity him; it was probably the reason she stayed on with him for so many years. Adam, an intensely private man, never revealed anything about his personal life to anyone. With nothing to go on, Elaine convinced herself that his heart must have been traumatized by a very sad experience. Elaine believed the scars had completely closed up his heart to vulnerability and that deep down somewhere he really did care about people. She convinced herself that the reason he worked so hard was for the benefit of humanity. What Elaine failed to recognize was that Adam’s egotism had placed him at odds with people and that he felt infinitely more at ease with his computers, simply because that was the only level upon which he could relate.

After a few years, Elaine had given up the hope of a romance ever blossoming between them. She’d finally

accepted the notion of Adam noticing her as a woman being an impossibility. Very shortly thereafter she met Sam Porter, a police lieutenant with the Los Angeles Police Department, and a year later they were married. Two years later they had a son, William Anderson Samuel Porter.

Elaine also felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Adam. He had offered their six-year-old son the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to achieve greatness. Their son was enrolled in Adam Natas’s experimental school, a school completely computerized and run by robots, Adam’s robots. Adam had assured them their son would have the finest education possible. The opportunity was much more than she and Sam could ever hope for as providing William with a decent college education would have been next to impossible by the time he became of age. Over the years, the cost of an education had skyrocketed, causing a college education to become prohibitively expensive to many. Although Sam and Elaine were by no means poor, they still had to be mindful of how they spent every cent they earned.

Sam Porter did not share his wife’s enthusiasm regarding Dr. Natas’s computerized and robotized school. Sam had a number of doubts and reservations with which he was still wrestling. He couldn’t quite put his finger on