Mackenzie of Kintail

By Jocelyne Forget

Based on a true story, this novel relates the transition of a Montreal agent
provided with a remarkable gift who is offered the opportunity to join forces
with his British counterparts. He is soon drawn into a mesmerizing ladys
quest that leads him to brush elbows with a most valuable relic of epic
proportion that still awes people worldwide to this day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781466977501

Book preview

Copyright 2013, 2014 Jocelyne Forget.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters and institutions are the product of the author’s imagination. All situations

and/or characters are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely fortuitous. In cases where the writer uses actual events, names and details are changed so the real identity of the subject is not revealed. Furthermore, anachronisms will be found throughout the book but are voluntary in order for this story to be brought to life.

Nota bene: So that this manuscript shall bear the essence of the medieval era, transcripts are written in their original languages: Gaelic, French and Latin to be translated in English.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-7751-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-7750-1 (e)

Trafford rev. 02/19/2014

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Contents

Introduction

Chapter First

Chapter Second

Chapter Third

Chapter Fourth

Chapter Fifth

Chapter Sixth

Chapter Seventh

Chapter Eighth

Chapter Ninth

Chapter Tenth

Chapter Eleventh

Chapter Twelfth

Note from the Author

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Passion can only be revealed with action, for words are nothing, unless action is taken.

The author

There are vast periods in life that space and time forgot. Not ignored but unrevealed since no clue can be found for it to be explained. Destiny provides on our path, people and events for us to discover their full range. With diligence and wisdom, they are outspoken by those meant to be their illustrators. Those dark periods are kept by trespassers and might be exploited for selfish, unkind reasons or might be in adversity, the only reason why life itself could be worthy of. There are no coincidences. All that we endure and all those who surround us and learn from, bear a meaning. This is what I believe in and this is the epic that transformed the entire purpose of my own existence.

As I sit in my backyard and watch the sun go down into a diminishing array of nuances while the smoke of my cigar blends in the brisk lower Laurentian air, I cannot recall a single day when he wasn’t part of my thoughts. Call it adoration, fantasy or fixation, I only know that without him I couldn’t have survived my teenage years and thus would not have taken the time to write about this character.

It all began on a late July afternoon when I was about twelve years old. Bored out of my wits, taking a stroll on my bike up and down on Lonergan Street, I unexpectedly heard an odd sound, a lament of some sort. My mother was doing some chores so I did not feel compelled to tell her of my whereabouts, afraid she would ask my help. The sound took me up to the college where my father used to study. Awkwardly, four bagpipers wearing their gears of plaid tartans and sporrans were giving a performance. After a few melodies where I stood amazingly stupefied by the languorous feeling that embodied my soul, I knew Mother would get worried from not seeing me around the house so I raced back wishing that someday, I would hear the rest of the melody in their homeland. From that day on, the complaint of the bagpipe never left me and I started dreaming about a character that grew as I did. He was my soul mate, my twin brother, the one I never had. The one I could talk to when things were at their worse. Gorgeous dark haired and blue eyed, he could face situations that were much too complicated for me to handle. My imaginary friend was there as a silent bystander until one evening in my early thirties, I found a concrete connection that related me to him. There are no coincidences…

Chapter First

June 24TH—End of High school—Mont Royal, Montreal, Quebec, Canada.

"Who wants another beer? A promising scientist asks holding a joint in his mouth.

I do! Say a few of them listening to the festivities engendered by the Saint-Jean Baptiste celebration as well as their school graduation. He then turns to a friend who’s had a little too much of the defended stuff.

So, what’s it gonna be for you Josh? His answer takes a while to be heard. I’ve had enough beer, thanks. He replies turning to the echo of the voice, stoned as one could be, his upper body reeling. He takes the joint from his friend’s mouth and inhales a puff. That’s not what I meant… are you going to work or will you end up in a Cegep? Josh turns obviously incapable of focusing on the simple question. Do I have to give you an answer tonight? While a few of them laugh at the reply, he moans as he takes a cigarette from the pack squished in his back pocket. I won’t work in a bank that’s for sure. The future scientist sheds a flame from his lighter pulling his hand above. Josh tips over a little too low and almost falls down. I don’t think you’re in a state to go back home. Do you want to call your mother? Josh tries to evaluate the question as if it was a mathematical problem but seeing the cell, he picks it up slowly and tries to be as poised as one can be. Allo m’man, oui tout va bien, je suis encore à Montréal avec des amis… non… je vais dormir chez Steve . . . (Hi mom, yes everything is fine, I’m still in Montreal with friends… no… I’m sleeping over at Steve’s house). Josh looks up, approving with his mother’s answer. On se voit demain soir pour le souper… moi aussi je t’aime, bonne nuit (We’ll see each other tomorrow night for supper… I love you too, good night). Handling the cell in slow motion, an urgent business had to be taken care of; he needed to relieve himself from the ingurgitated alcohol. Adventuring a little further than the first row of trees, he begins his business; avoiding making a mess on his own running shoes. The noise is dimmed by the remote area but the background of music and thousands of people cheering is still present. When he zips his pants back up, an intense sound makes his head tilt. Like a warning, a sort of buzzing plunges all his concentration on getting rid of it. He takes a few more steps deeper in the woods to get out of that ringing tone as if changing place would do something about it. Near the ground a faint light appears a concentration of pale, hazy grey smoke. He looks at it, trying his best to focus and approaches a step forward. The light between the trees is barely making out a silhouette. Oh Gees! He tells rushing down. A boy is there, in the last moments of his life, fighting to survive. Blood is over part of his face and traces of fighting are present. Josh bends to hear the heart rate but with all this noise, it is impossible to tell. He rushes the body out from the woods, his own heart pounding like a mad man and brings it gently to the ground. Steve! Find the police! He yells pulling out his own jean jacket. At the sight of the endangered youngster, Steve rushes out to seek a man in uniform while Josh does mouth-to-mouth. No pulse is detected and he begins heart resuscitation procedures. The companions from school come close and soon, a group circles around. Get away! He needs air! He orders them pounding the boy’s heart. Nobody listens and Steve comes back with a policeman. Soon, three more officers arrive establishing a perimeter of security, sending off the too nosy crowd. An ambulance gets called to the nearest road available and two officers clear the rescuer from the body, taking over the heart resuscitation and mouth-to-mouth procedure. Approaching his back against a tree, the teen’s legs give in and he heavily falls on the grass. Where did you find him? Asks a man dressed in uniform. In the woods behind me. Replies Josh barely realizing what just happened. Circle it all around and post two guards until Landers sends a team to investigate. Don’t let this one out of your sight. He’s the one who found him. He mentions to his partner pointing at Josh. From a distance, the teen looks at all the efforts from the medical personnel to bring the boy back to life but the pale grey light over the boy’s face evaporates and a minute later, a pure white light in the shape of a diamond, rises from his sternum over his body and starts flying away. Another man walks out from a pitch black vehicle hooked with a flashing red light. A policeman approaches him pointing to Josh still looking up and far away. The blond man in his late twenties with a scar above his left eyebrow looks at Josh staring at whatever is lifting up from the body and frowns. He then approaches and bends to his height. Hi, I’m agent Lorne Landers, what’s your name? Josh turns his head, his eyes filled with a smoked gaze, but never answers so the agent invites him to sit in the car. Resuscitation manoeuvres are stopped and the frail body is now being transferred to a stretcher pulled inside the ambulance that just drove in. The white light was already far away in the deep of the night. Far from the crowd and the sound of the ambulance leaving the site, Josh starts vomiting while the policeman opens the back door of the police car for him to sit.

Unit 1214 responding to emergency call on Mount Royal, this is Landers.

Yes unit 1214 responds the dispatcher. Male body of about twelve found by a teen of… (He turns to Josh) How old are you? The teen lifts his head. Sixteen. He responds weakly.

Male body of about twelve found by a teen of sixteen in a wood on the northern part of the Mount Royal. The victim is on his way to Sacré-Cœur hospital. It looks like the boy who disappeared two days ago in Hochelaga-Maisonneuve.

A mere silence takes place from the station. Recorded unit 1214, have a safe evening. Answers the dispatcher before the line cuts.

The agent hangs the microphone, bends his head and raises it right back to look in his mirror. Josh’s head is posed against the back seat. His eyes are closed and he is trying his best to calm the pounding within his thorax. All windows are raised instantly and the air conditioning is turned on. Landers turn to the teen What’s your name? His eyes still closed, he answers. Jocelyn, but everyone calls me Josh.

Here’s how it is Jocelyn. We’re going to need a deposition on the circumstances of your find at the station but you’re not eighteen and that causes an issue. Should I call your parents to obtain their consent? I mean… you’re a little off-set right now. Josh lifts his head from the seat. I don’t have to follow you unless you read me my rights. Landers make a smiling mimic; lifts an eyebrow and turns over furiously. Listen to me smart ass; I’ve got a better option. You sit your little touche on the comfy seat while I go and tell your pusher that I’m taking you to the station and you will have a nice evening in our luxury hotel. I’m gonna call your parents and tell them the exact truth, that you found a boy kidnapped two days ago and you and your little brain will make every freaking effort possible to recollect all the details of your find. Maybe a few coffees will help. Then, you will sign the deposition and if we figure that you’re not a suspect, I will then drive you home. Is that understood? Josh turns his face over the window; Steve is there as well as his others friends, waiting. Is that understood? The man with no compassion repeats louder. Yes. He answers realizing that there was no other option. The tall agent gets out from the car but before he shuts it, he tells the one sitting in the back of a last recommendation. Oh… and don’t get sick in my car otherwise I’ll make you eat it.

Josh gives a glimpse at the man of high stature approaching the group of friends who hid all beer bottles and untouched joints. After a minute chat with his police colleagues, he hops back in the dark car and drives away to the police station. The red light is once more turned on but not the siren. In the back seat, the teen somehow recollects all the intensity of the last hour but like a nightmare, tries to shake it out from his head. His hands are not handcuffed but the grid surrounding the back portion of the car is enough for him to feel recluse and isolated. Landers stops the vehicle in the police station’s parking lot and opens the back door. If you try to escape, I’ll shoot both your knees away. He exclaims with no remorse whatsoever.

Josh swallows heavily knowing this was no joke. Like a sheep, he follows the man about twice his size. Arriving at the entrance of the down town Montreal office, the agent takes his magnetised card and slits it in the identification device. Josh follows without a sound but tired from all the booze and cannabis ingurgitated, he feels more and more like throwing up. The place is condensed, unclean, filled with officers in uniform and he plans to find a waste basket in a rush. The hospital called. Begins the greeting officer while Landers completes the formulary at the reception desk. And? The child was declared DOA (dead on arrival). They are going to call the parents in a few hours. Is that the one who found him? Josh approaches a small paper basket and starts throwing up. The sound makes the receptionist look but Landers doesn’t pay any attention to it. Yeah… where’s Taylor? The officer takes back the formulary. Gee, let me guess, it’s two-thirty in the morning. He might be sleeping. But Landers is in no mood for jokes. Call him and tell him it’s important. We need to talk. Landers brings the teen to a faraway room and closes the door. Sit. He orders without a smile. Shaking like a leaf, Josh does as he is told on a sturdy seat bolted to the floor. How he wished he had water to rinse his mouth with. Posters on how to obey the law surround dozen of disappeared people. Two desks filled with documents face one another before large and ugly brown filing cabinets. I need to call your parents. What’s your number? Landers tells approaching a fuming coffee. Listen… please… my mother has a heart condition. She thinks I’m over at a friend’s house for the night. Couldn’t we do that without her knowing about it? The teen pleads. I’ll talk to my boss about it. Now tell me your full name. The agent inquires bringing over a deposition form. Jocelyn Laurent Forge. He answers after grimacing to the bitter taste of the beverage. Fill in the first section and then, write in your own words what happened tonight. The twelve year officer sips his coffee, takes out a prior report from his desk to seek the following procedure, and places it into the upper pack over the right corner of his own desk. After a few minutes, Josh hands the paper over. Lorne looks at it and reads it. He nods in a negative strand and places back the paper over his desk. You forgot to mention that you were stoned out of your mind, drank beer like a pig and…"

I only had two! The teen replies with arrogance but the agent replies hastily. That’s a lie! Maybe two beers but how many joints did you have?

So! We were celebrating our graduation and I wasn’t driving a car. What does this has to do with you? You’re not my father! Lorne’s eyes enlarge and he approaches his face to a few centimeters. Thank God for that. I wouldn’t like my son to be a junkie.

I’m not!! You asked me to come here and sign a freaking deposition so I did. The rest of my life doesn’t concern you the least bit! But the policeman gets more arrogant. Details are missing on your deposition. Why didn’t you write that you saw a light coming out from the boy’s body? Josh’s eyes crease under the assumption. How could you have known? Landers’ objection gets insisting. You told me. The teen reacts as if thrown into a lion’s den. No, I did not.

You did without using words. You kept staring above his body. That can only mean one thing. Landers confirms with certitude. Josh shuts his mouth and leans against the back of his seat while the agent pursues the allegation. The wood was deep dark. The lights were barely entering it. I checked it myself. Was there a light over his body that made you approach him? Josh stays silent. Was there? The policeman insists and still, the teen doesn’t answer. At the same moment, a tall white-haired man in his late thirties enters. Unshaved and a misplaced shirt hanging from the side of his pants, he fixes his tie and gives a glimpse to the witness. There better be a very good reason for me coming to the station at this time agent Landers. He was British, Josh figures after only a few words. The tall man, pale of features, sturdy and unexpressive look gave some hints about his origins. So? Taylor says in Lander’s direction after reading the deposition. Ask him a few questions, you’ll see. Taken aback, stranded and compelled to a strained environment, Josh uneasily feels the pressure of the interrogatory. My name is Taylor; I’m the Lieutenant of the missing child division. From the report given here, I see that you have found a child that disappeared two days ago. I would like to know how you found him. Try to recall everything; don’t spare any details even if they seem unimportant.

Eyes pivoting from the officer to those of the Lieutenant; Josh’s breathing is so deep that the silver cross at his neck rises and falls with every breath. Tears of sweat race down the middle of his back. We finished our secondary last Friday and this was just an excuse to have another party. Beer makes me sick that’s why I only had two and opted for some joints. I called my mother telling her I was to sleep over a friend’s house so she wouldn’t see me like that.

What about your father? Taylor asks. He died last fall.

I’m sorry. Please go on. Josh stops a few seconds but clearly wants to get over this. I… I needed to relieve myself so I went to the woods. When I was done, I saw at a certain distance a pale light, greyish, floating above the ground. Still standing beside Taylor, Lorne seems to be more interested in that part of the conversation. What shape was it? Taylor asks and Josh opens his hands. It seemed like a stride of smoke, nothing clear, not even a shape of some sort. I figured that I smoked too much and this was a hallucination but when I approached and touched it, my foot felt something and my hand went from the smoke to the wetness of a cloth. At first, it made me jump but then I realized it was a body. I took it out in my arms and then told my friend Steve to seek a police officer and started doing resuscitation manoeuvres.

Where did you learn those? Taylor asks questing for every detail. One of my sisters is part of an emergency group and she showed me how to do it. Landers cuts in Why did you do it? Josh turns over, colours returning to his face. He was alive at that point. With a creased forehead, Taylor listens while Josh swallows and continues to reveal a little more. After a while though, I saw a white light, bright like a star hanging over his body. That’s when I knew he wasn’t with us anymore. Suddenly, Josh turns to the blond officer. You saw it too; otherwise you wouldn’t have brought me here. But you were not stoned, how can that happen?

Without a reply from Landers, Taylor continues the conversation.

Let me ask you something Jocelyn, was this the first time you saw a light leave a body?

Yes. He answers totally drained.

In your life, did you ever have other significant findings, things you could not explain, déjà vu experiences? Things you dared not tell anyone else because they were too strange? Taylor asks more insistently. Josh crosses his hands over, shaking from his legs. I don’t want to answer this. Landers gets more explicit with his questions. Did you ever dream of someone who’s been dead? Josh looks away and after a pause looks back at the two men. Three years ago… there was this girl who disappeared in Laval. Her face was everywhere, in the news bulletin and posted on retail stores boards all over the area. One evening after doing the groceries, I took one poster home and that night, right after praying, I dreamed of her playing on a wharf with five other kids. My body was above them, they were laughing and the sun was setting. The next morning I called the number appearing at the bottom of the poster and told the police lady that answered, about my dream. She asked me to give my name and telephone number just in case they needed to contact me again. I asked her why and she said that I was the fifth person to call mentioning a river but the first to mention a wharf. She asked a few more details and I told her that the river or rather a canal was long, narrow and right near the wharf, bushes of wild lilies were pushing one against the other. All the kids had bright coloured clothes except for the missing child who was wearing a simple white dress. She looked sad while the others were having fun and then she turned to me and whispered: remember.

Josh pauses once more while Taylor and Landers look at one another. His hands are shaking and, thisty, he takes a sip of the cold coffee. Emotions are too palpable to make him hate the taste or even worry about the headache starting to build up in his cranium. After shutting his eyes for a second, he continues telling his story. The next day, I happened to watch the news. The police found her body on the river bed close to a wharf. Wild lilies were growing on the berge just like I saw in my dream. So I stopped watching the news for a while. I guess I wasn’t ready for that. Taylor draws back his body in the comfort of his chair. Did you feel you were part of the solution? The teen turns to Taylor’s deep voice without pride.

I felt that this was certainly the weirdest thing that ever happened to me and wondered why of all people on earth, she chose me to tell the rest of the world where she was exactly. I mean other people saw the river but nobody saw the wharf. Isn’t that weird?

Whenever the Lieutenant talked, the sound of his voice echoed as if it were coming from a mountain. Who did you pray to? Do you have a guide? Asks Taylor still questing for comprehension. Josh is listening, but uncertain to clearly get the meaning of the conversation. What has this got to do with anything? I simply touched the picture and slept. I don’t know what a guide is and I didn’t pray to anyone in particular.

Taylor sits back, brings his hands together but then, takes the deposition and places it in the basket to be recorded just the way it was written, without all the said details about the vision. Agent Landers, please bring him home. Shocked, Landers adds a loud What? Without reserve. Just bring him home Landers. End of discussion.

Obviously very annoyed with his superior’s opinion, the agent asks the teen to step outside. As soon as the door is shut, Landers explodes.

Why are you doing this? You know he’s got abilitilies. Don’t you agree?

The kid is under legal age. We need someone older and I have another candidate in mind. Taylor places the report over a dozen others on the corner of his desk.

You mean that freak that does voodoo stuff? You’ve got to be joking! Lorne answers in full mecontentement but Taylor has only one reply: Don’t make me sanction you Landers.

We’re not in U.K. here. We are in Canada where we can speak our mind. Throws Landers pushing his luck but the white-haired British is not the least impressed. A little respect would not harm very much, would it? Pivoting his body toward the door, Landers’ reply is nothing but polite. Respect will come when it shall go both ways SIR. The door is then dreadfully shut.

Outside the station, Josh barely lifts his eyes, following the agent who will drive him back home. When they get to the police car, he walks to the far end to the back seat. Come and sit in the front. Landers offers. Won’t you get into trouble? As he gets behind the wheel, the agent replies angrily I don’t give a shit tonight. The hangover is coming on strong so Josh lets his body caress the seat and rests his head upon the rigidity of the cheap synthetic fabric. Without further delay, Landers turns the ignition key and takes off to where Josh tells him to. Why were you so mad? Josh asks taking breaths of fresh air. Because that Brit works too much using the protocol; he has no feelings whatsoever and will never use his inner sight. Josh smiles making his juvenile mustache rise. What’s so funny? Landers ask peeking at his passenger. We barely met and already you’re taking my defense. Still having his jaw contracted Lorne answers with conviction. Believe me; I can recognize a gifted person when I see one.

The sun is rising into an array of warm colours and even if his head wanted to explode, Josh felt compelled to talk to this stranger met only a few hours ago. It was as if he always knew him. They both start reminiscing about some school flashback making Landers the most profitable student of his time by being thrown out nine times from his French class for courting a girl.

So what happened? The teen mocks.

I married her of course. Landers responds with a happy grin. They both start laughing uncontrollably until Josh asks the inevitable. You have a gift?

Lorne continues driving while the sun rays rise up on the Mille-Iles River, making the eyes of the passenger seek a grayish tint that needs sleep. Can you talk to the dead? Josh asks with precision. No. Apart from my numerous functions as an agent de la paix, I’m a channeler. Intrigued, Josh inquires about the word heard for the first time. My talent makes me find people like you. Your abilities make your body vibrate and even though I cannot see the aura, I can feel that you are special.

Are there other people like me around?

Not as many as I wish there were. After a few more directions, they finally arrive in front of the small bungalow with red bricks. This is it. Thank you for driving me back. Making the least noise possible, the teen gets out of the police car. Landers on his side, opens his door as well. If I can make Taylor change his mind, would you like to work with me? Surprised, Josh candidly replies. If you don’t shoot me in the knees, I wouldn’t mind that.

Landers looks back at the teen smiling before walking very slowly to the quiet house where a lilac is slowly shedding faded flowers.

The following year, a week before Christmas, the weather outside the Montreal office is about to turn to the first snowstorm of the year. Freezing rain is knocking on the windows and the young teen walks in a deserted room, all the way down the corridor and locks the door back. He moves a couple of chairs and silently pushes the table a few feet away. Curtains are drawned to leave the minimum light in. With hastiness, he lies on the floor, head pointing to the north and brings out from his coat, the picture of a disappeared child that he places at his right. Not listening to Taylor who wanted him to learn all the trends before entering the world of astral meditation, the immature adolescent believes to be ready and opens doors to his mind that will forever stay unfastened. He breathes out, each time leaving a longer span between each breath. With certainty about his action, he touches the picture from the tip of his fingers and then completely places the palm down over it. A few minutes later, his eyes start to twitch as if having a dream. The teen’s celestial body elevates, leaving the physical one down on the floor, a sensation of lightness makes him able to wander around in the room. He looks at his mortal frame with a sense of wonder but isn’t scared. A silver wire is attached from the forehead of the one on the floor to the belly of his other self wandering about in the room. He sees the picture beside the body on the floor and feels the urge to look for the disappeared child. Flying high as a kite, a sense of lightness overwhelms him totally. The office is then seen from the top; neither the snow or the cold wind touch him. Somebody knocks on the door and vaguely he hears his name. It’s Taylor but now that he’s up in the air, travelling so fast, he wants to finish his quest. The knocking repeats itself and Josh concentrates harder not to pay attention to it. The boy of eleven has been missing for four days now and no one saw him after getting bread for his mother at the corner store. No stanger was seen offering him a ride, no missing clothes, discarded item or letter intending an escape were found. Sniffing dogs were at loss with this case and time was running fast against the police squad.

Taylor finally gets the key to the room and is furious to see Josh into that position with the picture of Joey beside him. Closing the door as quietly as possible and moving the curtains a little to bring light into the room, he knows exactly what the teen is doing even though he expressedly warned him to wait a while and acquire more experience. To let him know of his presence, he bends down and touches his left hand.

Josh, its Taylor. I know you’re far but please come back. It’s too dangerous, you’re not ready yet. Instead of waking, the teen seems to be plunging deeper into his transcendental journey and his lips open a bit. Taylor wants to help him the best he can and decides to bring him back through another method. Josh, I’m right beside you. What do you see?

The teenager frowns, his hands becoming freezing cold and words are hard to leave his mouth. Dust, dust, I don’t see anything but I can smell dust and humidity… water is dripping. His heart beat begins to escalade and Taylor approaches, enveloping the teen’s hand into both of his. Where is he?

He’s in a basement or something similar to it.

Is he alive?

Yeah… barely.

Tell me more.

It’s so dark. I can’t see anything.

Are there any windows?

No. There’s a smell of diesel, it’s awful. It’s making me dizzy… I’m so cold.

Taylor opens all the cabinets to find some cloth to warm him and finally puts his own coat over him. Josh’s face becomes paler and he turns his head to the side ready to vomit. Taylor doesn’t like it and gets closer to him. Listen, carefully listen to my voice and come back to it. Josh breathes out, turns his head to both sides and rushes his hands from under the coat and places them in front of him as if walking in the dark.

There are voices, a banging noise. I can hear a siren. No a horn. It’s moving! The place is moving! There’s a rumble, the rumble of a motor. His hands and feet are attached with a thick rope. He’s bleeding trying to get out of it and he’s crying. Josh’s head fumbles to the side as he gets in the foetal position. He starts wimping and cries: Mom, mom, come and get me out of here!

Scratching his wrists as trying to get rid of a rope, he begins screaming so loud that workers in the corridor begin to wonder what is going on behind the closed door. Mom, they’re leaving! They’re taking me away!

Tears flow from his eyes as he turns his face up and a sudden trembling within all his body makes Taylor realize he has gone too far.

Jocelyn, hear my voice and my voice only. Leave Joey where he is, come back in your own body. I will help you find the way home. Wherever you are; just concentrate on the wish to come back. Taylor places his hand on the teen’s stomach, closes his eyes and tries to make the connection. Can you feel this? Can you feel the palm of my hand on your body?

But Josh still shivers and doesn’t answer so Taylor reaches for the telephone and dial’s Lorne’s cell number. I found him but he won’t wake up! Come to the interrogation room at the end of the corridor right this instant please.

The telephone is barely hanged at the other end that the blond agent rushes from his office down to the said room swarming in after pushing his way thru co-workers. The door is left open and a few officers begin to peak in wondering what the commotion is all about. What happened? Questions Lorne rushing in the room.

He decided to find Joey alone. I believe he went too far and plunged into his body.

Lorne shakes his head disapproving. Josh, this is Lorne. He indicates pressuring his left hand over the third plexus. Leave whatever you are doing now and come back home. Taylor bites his lips, looking at the scene while Lorne proposes another option. You want me to slap him in the face?

It’s way too dangerous. Taylor answers, starting to sweat.

Jocelyn, you have to come back home, your mother needs you. Desperately says Lorne as a last resort. Still no answer is heard from Josh and his body seems more rigid. His pulse rate begins to drop and his lips are turning blue. Co-workers from the office are pushing themselves at the door to see what is going on. Lorne is becoming more nervous by the second and Taylor cannot imagine such a tragic turn of event for the newest member of his group.

How about putting his hand in a bucket of water? Taylor proposes starting to pace back and forth.

No I got a better idea. Lorne warms his hands together and drops to his knees right beside the teen’s shoulder. Everyone stops talking as the intensity of the event rises. Gently pulling up his nape from one hand and placing his right index unto the third eye of the teenager, the agent whispers a few words at Josh’s ear that make his entire body fumble loose like a puppet. A minute later, the teen opens his eyes, looks around and starts to scream but Lorne grabs both his arms and then rushes against his body. Taylor sighs and turns his eyes up to thank the Lord.

It’s o.k., you’re back. Assures the agent still hanging tight to him.

Joey is at the old port inside a boat. Josh hushes breathing with difficulty.

Jocelyn, you’re tired.

No, listen to me! I’ve seen him. He’s at the lowest level of a ship. He’s freezing cold. The boat’s name is Hillsemere. A policeman at the door walks in. I’ll go and verify if you allow me to Mister Taylor. The white-haired Lieutenant turns to the voice. Tell the Sergeant to send all available units to the port and block all issues right now. No ships are to leave or come in the harbour until we find the kid and if there’s a boat named Hillsemere, tell him to start by that one.

Yes sir. The policeman answers before rushing away.

Too stressed by the experience, Josh’s boby shakes from head to toe and he starts to vomit into the garbage bin. Taylor rubs his back and soon gives him some water to rinse his mouth. Do you feel better?

The teen shakes