Oliver Jones the Code of the Guardians

By Jedil Perry

Oliver Jones, is a young teenage boy with a rare ability he must master. He one day finds a mysterious drawing and journal; and immediately starts to see beings coexisting alongside humans, that are invisible to everyone else but him. 

The next day, Oliver's twin brother Jessie gets hit by a car and is in a deep coma. Oliver along wit

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lidej Publishing
• Release date: Feb 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9780979851742

Book preview

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Oliver Jones The Code of the Guardians

The Oliver Jones Sci-fi Trilogy, Book 1

Published by Lidej Publishing

11620 Wilshire Blvd, 9th Floor

Los Angeles, Ca 90025

Copyright © in 2013 by Jedil Perry

Illustration Copyright © 2007 by Jedil Perry and Jan-Marke Manligas

All rights reserved , no part of this publication may

Be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or

Transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,

Mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or

By any information storage and retrieval system, or

Otherwise, without written permission of publisher,

For information regarding permission, write to.

Lidej Publishing

11620 Wilshire Blvd, 9th Floor

Los Angeles, Ca 90025

ISBN – 10: 0-9798517-1-8

ISBN – 13: 978-0-9798517-1-1

Printed in the U.S.A

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank God for blessing me with my talent.

I lovingly acknowledge my daughter, the most precious person in my life: Zhavea Perry aka ZHAVEA pop recording artist. (WWW.ZHAVEA.COM) Your patients and support has made writing this book possible.

I would like to give a special thanks to Deb Temper of (Six Penny Graphics) for her great job of designing.

I would also like to thank Jan-Marke for working with me this last few years on giving faces to the characters with your incredible illustrations and graphic design.

Contents

Chapter 1

Images

Chapter 2

Ms. Carter

Chapter 3

What is Oliver Jones Seeing?

Chapter 4

The Journal and the Accident

Chapter 5

Myths

Chapter 6

The Mirror

Chapter 7

Madam Jocelyn’s Spell

Chapter 8

The Boy in the Mirror

Chapter 9

The Other Side of the Mirror

Chapter 10

The Guardians

Chapter 11

I am not Benjamin

Chapter 12

Introducing Oliver Jones

Chapter 13

The Similian of Mt. Regency

Chapter 14

The Haunted Corridor

Chapter 15

The Trip through the Tunnel

Chapter 16

Search for the Gongolian Forest

Chapter 17

Waking the Gongolian Forest

Chapter 18

Getting Past the Presidium

Chapter 19

The Vonshulu

Chapter 20

The Four Faces of the Wind

Chapter 21

Attack of the Zamboolees

Chapter 22

The Golden Fountain

Chapter 23

Waking the Tormentels

Chapter 24

The House in Ereemia

Chapter 25

Nightmare at Count Demason’s Castle

Chapter 26

Epockeyer

Chapter 27

Remembering Epockeyer

Chapter 28

The Albinos

Chapter 29

Unveiling of the Hydrospectrocraft

Chapter 30

Lost in the Wondrous Woods

Chapter 31

A Road called Ereemia

Chapter 32

Rise of the Demolisher

Chapter 33

Out of Caprier

Chapter 34

Inside the Similian’s Cave

Chapter 35

Malanaphier

Chapter 36

Showdown with Count Demason

Chapter 37

The House of Darussalam

Chapter 38

Dinner is Served

Chapter 39

The Woolashes Underneath the Floor

Chapter 40

The Trap

Chapter 41

Devan’s Door

Chapter 42

Experiencing A Celestial Phenomenon

Chapter 43

Déjà vu

Chapter 44

The Pyramid

Chapter 45

Return to Lafayette

CHAPTER ONE

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Images

There is nothing unusual about the old Victorian house at 435 Redwood Drive, where Oliver Jones and his family live. However, fifteen years ago, something strange happened there, something the citizens of Lafayette to this day have not been able to piece together. A story that began thousands of years ago.

Lately, Oliver alone has begun seeing abnormal things, which has left him questioning his sanity. He had kept it a secret from everyone. Even so, Oliver was not prepared for the extraordinary events that were about to occur, which would leave the citizens of the small town of Lafayette completely mystified. And for Oliver would unlock a powerful secret of his life hidden far, far away.

It all came to a head when Oliver and his twin brother Jessie were collecting some books from the garage to take to the school library. Oliver noticed something fall from one of the books. He picked it up and saw that it was an envelope addressed to him. Full of curiosity, Oliver tore the envelope open and pulled out a sheet of paper emblazoned with a bizarre drawing.

Both boys gazed hard at a drawing consisting of a large circle around an eagle, colored in gold marker, along with a woman and a boy standing hand-in-hand in the background. Outside the circle were humanoid forms with large wings on their backs. The words written on the back were faded, but the boys could make out one phrase, Oliver, look for Adelfa, and at the end, one word, Canackers.

Suddenly, hundreds of tiny, bright, transparent images shot out of the drawing.

Wow! Jessie, look, Oliver reacted with a blend of shock and excitement. What are they?

Huh? Jessie shot a look at Oliver whose face was beaming, his eyes dancing. What is it? What are you looking at?

Can’t you see them, Jess?

The images zoomed around the garage; the whole place was instantly filled with blinding white light. The next minute, they shot out the open garage door.

Oliver ran out after them. Then in a flash the images shot up into the air and disappeared.

Later on that night when Oliver had gone to bed, he had tossed and turned for hours thinking of the strange event that had taken place that day. He was highly disturbed by the images he’d seen, but more so by the fact that Jessie hadn’t seen any of it. Finally, Oliver had settled down and gone to sleep.

The night had been silent and peaceful over the small coastal town of Lafayette. Suddenly, sounds erupted into the night that were silent to human ears. A fan of mighty, dark-winged creatures burst through the atmosphere creating booming sounds and thunderous claps. These dark creatures, whose seven-foot forms were propelled by immense wings, quickly descended. Eyes blazing red, they halted over 435 Redwood Drive and snarled, their mouths full of fangs down at a hooded figure that was swiftly approaching the house. The hooded figure looked up at the massive dark creatures and snarled back. Turning away, the hooded figure entered the house through the closed front door.

The dark creatures flying above the house were about to enter it through the roof but halted when a powerful voice pounded the air.

CANACKERS, STOP! LET THE ONE WHO HAS ENTERED THE HOUSE FIND THE BOOK. RETURN TO TOPICKER AT ONCE.

The dark creatures were about to obey, when blue-white light enveloped the skies. A single flash revealed massive, white creatures surrounding the dark beings. A bitter battle erupted in the sky and, not long after, the dark creatures all fell to the ground, dead, and were absorbed into the soil.

The hooded figure, which had entered the house a few minutes earlier, was now standing inside the bedroom that Oliver Jones and his brother, Jessie, shared. The figure approached the sleeping Oliver. Then slowly and gently it slipped its hand with three long fingers underneath Oliver’s pillow, searching carefully, pausing when Oliver turned over in bed. The hand pulled back, and the figure quickly vacated the house through the closed window.

Oliver woke up with a start from the sound of a noise. His eyes shot around the room, which was dimly lit by the pale moonlight streaming softly in through the large window. He switched on the bedside lamp and reached for his glasses. He put them on and once again his eyes surveyed the room. Oliver looked over at Jessie, sleeping in the bed across the room, and assumed his snoring was what had aroused him.

Oliver was unable to fall back asleep. He reached into the large hole in his pillow where he kept his most treasured items and pulled out the drawing. He stared at it, still puzzled by what he had witnessed earlier that day. Then, he felt as if he had missed something. Oliver fetched a flashlight from under his bed, turned off the lamp and then, slowly and quietly he crept down the stairs and out the front door to his dad’s car sitting in the driveway, taking care not to wake the rest of the family. If his dad or Nana were to catch him outside at such an hour, he would have quite a bit of explaining to do.

Oliver reached the car, dimly lit by light that was coming from the street lamp at the bottom of the driveway. He opened the trunk and searched through the box filled with books that he and Jessie had cleaned out of the garage. He finally pulled out the thin old hardcover book that had contained the envelope addressed to him. The print on its scuffed brown cover was faded. Turning to the first page, Oliver saw that what he had thought was a book was instead a journal glued between the book’s covers. On the first page, the word Journal was written in thick gold ink, in perfect penmanship. The page felt odd against his thumb. The material was a cross between fabric and straw. The writing lines were thin golden threads stretched across the page.

Oliver wondered what was written inside the journal that made whoever put it there want to conceal it. Curious, he was about to thumb through the journal when he sensed the presence of someone standing behind him.

Oliver snapped the journal shut and turned sharply. A slight chill trickled down his back when he saw no one. A strange sound was present in the air. It was a swishing noise that was similar to fallen dried leaves being rustled by strong winds. Next came a quiet hissing noise, and for a brief moment, Oliver heard a voice whispering his name. Fear gripped him. He slammed the trunk shut and ran toward the front door. For a split second, he glanced back, his hand on the doorknob fumbling to turn the handle. The noise was almost upon him. He darted inside, pushed the door shut, and hurriedly locked the door.

Is something out there? he wondered. Oliver’s heart hammered. He pressed a wide, blazing eye to the peephole in the door. He saw nothing. After a short time, the sound trailed off and faded into silence.

What was that? breathed Oliver. Clutching the journal, he quietly made his way back up to bed. Oliver crawled into bed, switched on the flashlight and opened up the journal. He quickly switched off the flashlight. He could hear footsteps coming down the hall outside his bedroom. He slipped down below the covers with a drumming heart.

A moment later the housekeeper Ms. Goodridge stuck her head in through the doorway and in a quiet voice said, Oliver, Jessie. Did either of you boys just go outside? I thought I heard the front door open and close.

Oliver pretended to be asleep and Ms. Goodridge headed downstairs to check the front door. Not wanting Ms. Goodridge to see him up and figure out it was he who had gone outside, Oliver decided to wait until morning to examine the journal.

The Jones house was a household of four. Jessie Jones, Oliver’s fraternal twin brother, was a prankster; he pulled pranks at home, at school, even on the neighbors, and most of the time, it was Oliver who bailed him out.

Jessie was the image of his dad. He had dark hair and chestnut-colored eyes. Jessie had adopted an emo style—his long untidy hair fell over one of his eyes. Then there was Ms. Goodridge, an overweight white-haired woman in her sixties who had been taking care of Oliver and Jessie from the time they were born. Ms. Goodridge loved the boys dearly, and even though she was not a blood relative, the housekeeper was loved and treated like family. When they were younger, both Oliver and Jessie nicknamed Ms. Goodridge, Nana. The name stuck, and to this day they still called her Nana. Ms. Goodridge took care of the entire Jones household, including Mr. Jones, who had been lost in his own world ever since his wife Melissa disappeared without a trace, December 21st, 2012, fifteen years earlier, the very night she gave birth to Oliver and Jessie.

Mr. Jones had returned home from an important board meeting, only to find his wife missing and his newly born baby boys mysteriously wrapped in her clothing, tucked into the bushes near the river that ran behind the house. The river came out into the ocean, some three and a half miles away, which circled the small island of Medistol, a country believed to be one of the first inhabited places of the southern hemisphere. There was no sign of Melissa. There were, however, visible signs of footprints the size of a woman’s feet leading away from the babies and down toward the river. No one could understand why she had wrapped the babies in her clothing. The police concluded that Melissa had gone out near the river for some unknown reason. Then while out there she had gone into labor and given birth to the babies without anyone to help her. She wrapped the babies in her clothing to keep them warm. Then, in a state of confusion, she walked toward the river in the dark and fell into the rushing water, drowned, and was washed out to sea. Mr. Jones could not accept his wife was dead. He visited an odd neighborhood woman, who was said to be gifted with psychic abilities. She informed him that his wife did not drown and she was neither dead nor alive but was in a place surrounded by water, which left the poor man in an even more confused state. Madam Jocelyn, although some people considered her a fake, will turn out to play an important role in Oliver’s live.

She is a nut, Charles, said Mother Jones, who was Mr. Jones’s mum.

Mother Jones lived alone in a great big two-story house a few blocks away. She, however, was at the Jones’s house every day, because she couldn’t bear to be alone. Oliver was a thinly built boy with fair skin, blond hair, and shiny green eyes shadowed by dark brown lashes. His small, straight nose was the perfect size for his face, and his square-cut jaw line encased a mouth with narrow lips. The most distinguishing thing about Oliver, however, was the birthmark in the palm of his right hand—a perfect white circle. At times the birthmark would turn red and a throbbing pain come from the area.

Oliver had always felt out of place. He did not have much in common with the kids he knew at school. He had a high I.Q, which separated him even more from the so-called cool kids. Dork some of them called him, despite his good looks.

Oliver had always felt drawn to the mother he’d never met. He had often gazed upon her portrait hanging on the wall at the top of the stairs. He’d imagined the sound of her voice and the feel of her arms wrapped around him.

After Oliver’s long, restless night, morning finally came. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand and put them on. When he was dressed, he tucked the journal into his pants waist below his shirt, shoved the drawing into the pocket of his khaki trousers, and went down the stairs into the kitchen to find his dad, Jessie, and Ms. Goodridge already having breakfast. Ms. Goodridge was standing at the kitchen counter sipping coffee from a mug and was unsuccessfully trying to speak to Mr. Jones, who was sitting at the table with his head buried in the morning paper. Mr. Jones was still in his pajamas and wearing a shabby robe that was more than twenty years old. Mr. Jones looked completely and totally sloppy, a sight Oliver had become accustomed to seeing when his dad did not have to go to work.

Mr. Jones had a look of great pain and bitterness on his face. It was a face to be pitied. He had sad droopy eyes, sunken cheeks, and the skin around his jaw sagged unnaturally. At one time he had been incredibly handsome. But years of being depressed and not caring for his appearance since his wife’s disappearance had caused his looks to diminish. No single particular aspect of Oliver’s physical appearance would make anyone guess Mr. Jones was his biological father or Melissa his mother. He did not look like anyone in the family. This was something that the neighbors had gossiped about. There was even a rumor going around that Oliver had secretly been adopted and brought home the very night Jessie was born. Mr. Jones did not care about the rumors. He was stuck in his own world of being a father and a provider and wanted nothing more.

Mr. Jones did not like to talk about the day Oliver and Jessie were born. The subject always caused his eyes to go wet and his mood to become grumpy. For years, he had avoided telling Oliver and Jessie that their mother had left them at the riverbank the day they were born and had vanished without a trace.

Your mother died in a plane crash, he’d say. He felt this was the best way he could explain why she did not have a grave.

Tell them the truth, Charles, Mother Jones had often said. It’s just a matter of time before they find out.

At last, when Oliver and Jessie were seven, Mr. Jones had sat them down and laid the truth out in an awkward, pitiful manner, his voice barely audible.

Oliver sat down at his place and then glanced across the table at Jessie, who was stuffing his face with blueberry muffins. Jessie jammed half a muffin into his mouth and greedily reached for another.

Save some of it for someone else, said Ms. Goodridge. She walked over and slapped Jessie’s hand away.

Morning, Nana, said Oliver groggily.

Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?

Um, somewhat, Oliver grumbled.

Well, who could sleep with all that noise? Ms. Goodridge fretted, setting a bowl of warm oatmeal in front of Oliver. Then, she eased herself down at the end of the table. I heard some peculiar noises last night. I was sure I heard the front door opening, but the thing is, when I went to check, I saw nothing. Ms. Goodridge eyed Jessie suspiciously.

What—it wasn’t me, bawled Jessie, swelling with anger. He was annoyed with Ms. Goodridge for always suspecting him, and shot a nasty look at Oliver, who was staring at his plate in an attempt to avoid Ms. Goodridge’s eyes.

Oliver, did you go outside last night? Ms. Goodridge asked.

Oliver’s heart gave a thump.

Huh, um, muttered Oliver, whose thoughts had briefly drifted back to the strange happenings of last night and the day before.

Oliver, I am speaking to you.

Um… no, Nana… I did not, Oliver lied. He noisily gulped down a glass of orange juice. Then, deserting his untouched oatmeal, Oliver leaped up from his chair and tore from the kitchen before Ms. Goodridge could continue with her questioning.

Oliver, hold up! hollered Jessie so loudly that Mr. Jones jumped, finally looking up from his paper, in time to see the tail end of Jessie, who was hurrying out after Oliver.

Where are you boys off to? shouted Mr. Jones.

But they slipped out into the garage, pretending not to hear. Mr. Jones pushed up his glasses and sank back into his paper.

Heading down to the bluff, Ollie? said Jessie.

Yeah.

I’ll come too. I’m sure some of the dudes have already gotten down there. Jessie took hold of his bike. So, why did you go outside last night— Jessie paused as he heard the sound of the door opening. He turned to see Ms. Goodridge standing in the doorway. Her round cheeks were drawn in so tightly that her lips puckered. Swiftly, Ms. Goodridge stepped out into the garage, grabbed Jessie by the arm, and pulled him back into the house. Oliver laughed and rode his bike down the driveway. He was sure Jessie had pulled another one of his pranks.

CHAPTER TWO

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Ms. Carter

Oliver set off down Redwood Drive. In no time, he came to a highly neglected property, with a heavy tangle of shrubs growing down the sloping estate to the edge of a bank that rose up four feet from the road.

Oliver gripped the brakes and skidded to a stop—a large puddle of muddy water was in the street. He could see muddy water that was coming from the property running down the bank into the street below.

What the heck?" said Oliver, and then his eyes shot up the hill to a yellowish house peeking out from between the large trees and bushes growing around it. It belonged to an old hermit, Ms. Carter.

Ms. Carter was a strange presence. No one knew who she was. Oliver had heard that she had quietly moved in sixteen years ago, and from what he knew, no one in the small town of Lafayette had ever seen her. Folks had only surmised her name, written in bold letters, on the wooden sign nailed to the top of her mailbox.

Oliver presumed Carter was estranged from family and friends. Except for Jezz the grocery boy who delivered her groceries every Friday, he had never seen anyone else going up the hill to her house. He one time heard the grocery boy telling some kids that he was instructed to place the bags down outside her front door, where she would always leave the exact cash owed. Then, frightened, he would race his car back down the long steep driveway.

Oliver and Jessie had been so curious to know what Ms. Carter looked like that they had hidden in the bushes at the bottom of her property for almost an entire day, hoping to get a glimpse when she collected her mail. They had watched the mailman stuffing Ms. Carter’s box. They had even checked to see what mail she was receiving. There was nothing but a load of junk mail—not a letter or even a bill that would show that someone actually lived at that address. Neither boy had seen anyone come down to collect any of it, but to their astonishment, when they checked the box again, it was completely empty.

Oliver knew the mystery of the mailbox was one of the reasons the neighborhood children were convinced Ms. Carter was a witch. It also had something to do with a rumor around town that Ms. Carter had killed her children and then hidden them in her well. The eerie noises and bad smell often coming from her property did not help. Someone had even made up a nursery rhyme. Whenever the young children of Lafayette passed her house, they would shout it out before scurrying away:

Old Ms. Carter who lives on Redwood Drive

She had many children who never came outside.

She hit them in the head and buried them in her well

Then ran her garden hose to wash away the smell.

Oliver’s attention and thoughts remained up the hill. He wondered if Ms. Carter had moved away quietly one night a while back when she was sure no one would see her.

Just then, Jessie rode up.

What’s all of this? Jessie stopped his bike and stared at the muddy disaster.

Oliver turned to look at his brother and burst out in a roar of laughter. Jessie’s long hair was cut off unevenly all over his head. Man, look at your hair. What the heck happened?

Nana, said Jessie. She did this.

Why?

She found one of her scalped wigs I left in the trash. I cut the hair off and was going to dye it black to play a trick on her and Dad, pretending I had gotten the haircut they have been bugging me to get. Then, I was going to pull the wig off the next day and pretend that my hair had magically grown back overnight. But the whole thing fell apart.

Man, Nana must have been boiling mad.

Can you believe Dad held me down while she butchered my head? said Jessie sourly.

Well, you should have gotten that haircut, said Oliver.

It’s child abuse, that’s what it is, grumbled Jessie.

Man, you’re going to be the biggest geek, come Monday, said Oliver.

Yeah, well, I’ll give a beating to anyone who has anything to say, Jessie said, and made punching gestures in the air. So what’s with all the mud in the street?

It’s the old bag. Someone has to go up and let Ms. Carter know what’s happening down here, said Oliver.

Ms. Carter. Are you kidding, dude? No one’s gonna go up to speak to that old witch. Not unless they have a death wish.

What’s going on around here?

Oliver and Jessie turned to see their next-door neighbor Mr. Willis had approached in his car and was driving slowly through the puddle.

There’s a leak coming from Ms. Carter’s property, answered Oliver.

Well, go up and tell her. This can’t be allowed to get any worse, Mr. Willis commanded.

Why don’t you go, Mr. Willis—I dare you, you old goat, hollered Jessie as Mr. Willis drove off.

Hey, Oliver, said Jessie, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Let’s collect some sticks and set a fire at the top of Ms. Carter’s driveway and then holler fire and run back down. That’ll bring the old mummy running out of her tomb.

No, said Oliver. Jess, you need to stop pulling these pranks. Don’t you remember what happened last week? You’re lucky the police were not called.

Jessie and some other boys had gotten caught terrorizing kids with firecrackers he had brought on the school campus. Principal Walker suspended them for a week with a final warning to Jessie. Any more of your pranks and you’re out! he had barked, the muscles in his face twitching and his hands shaking in anger while pointing Jessie to the door.

Come on, Oliver, it’ll be fun. Then we can finally see her, said Jessie, his eyes gleaming with excitement. But then again, what if there is no Ms. Carter? No one knows for sure, do they? What if no one even lives in that house? No one human at least, said Jessie darkly, while staring wide eyed at Oliver in an attempt to spook him.

Stop it, Jess. Oliver glanced back up the hill and his eyes grew distant. He wondered if Jessie was right. What if no one actually lived in that house? This would make the mail disappearing and the grocery boy delivering the groceries even spookier. Where was Jezz the grocery boy, anyways? No one had seen him lately.

Jezz’s college dorm mate had reported Jezz missing a week ago. He claimed that Jezz had not been home in a few days. He added that Jezz’s boss had called and left a message firing Jezz for not showing up to work. The police however, felt Jezz must have taken a trip without telling anyone; some of his clothing and personal belongings were missing.

Oliver then recalled Mr. Willis’s wife saying that late one night recently, she had happened to be looking out the window, and had seen someone move down the street and go up Ms. Carter’s driveway.

I’m sure it was her, chattered Mrs. Willis. You should have seen how she was covered up in black from head to toes. She gave me an awful chill, especially when she glanced my way. I pulled back behind the blinds, but I’m sure she saw me. What an eerie woman. The way she moved, she seemed to glide instead of walk. It was totally unnatural, if you ask me.

Oliver had not put much faith in that story. After all, the source was not the most reliable. Ms. Willis was the nosiest, most rumor starting and gossiping woman in town.

Without saying a word, Oliver lay his bike down, and, to Jessie’s surprise, began heading up the hill.

Oliver, where are you going? hollered Jessie. If you knock on the old witch’s door and she’s in there, I betcha she’ll turn you into one of her large disgusting moles.

Oliver continued up the long driveway, trying his best to ignore Jessie. When he reached the top, he stopped and, with a hanging jaw, stared across at the house. The bushes growing around it had hidden the unbelievable sight from the street below. A good part of the large house, in a state of disrepair, had slipped below ground, giving it a lopsided appearance.

Wow! said Oliver. There’s no way anyone could be living in there.

Oliver wondered if the cave-in had been caused by a mudslide from all the rain in January.

I’ll bet that could have something to do with all the water coming down into the street, muttered Oliver. Then a frightening thought came to Oliver. What if Ms. Carter has been lying hurt inside her house all this time—or worse—dead?

He thought about going to fetch help, but then he decided to knock on the door first, to see if anyone would answer.

The front door stood slightly slanted, but it was above ground. Oliver walked toward it, trying not to slip down into the space between the ground and the house. Leaning forward, he knocked vigorously on the door; stepping back a few feet, he waited for his knock to be answered.

A mixture of fear and excitement seized Oliver at the sound of a noise coming from the other side of the door. Finally, he was going to see Ms. Carter. Finally, after all the years of wondering. He was then afraid of seeing the door opening and finding himself face-to-face with something frightful. Was Ms. Carter the witch everyone thought she was, or was she instead a lonely old woman afraid of the outside world?

Then, all his hopes came to a screeching halt when a slot big enough for someone to peek through opened, and one very light gray eye with a small piercing black pupil stared out. Then a woman’s voice called out, Who is it? Her tones were old, raspy, and rough.

Oliver swallowed with a gulp. From the sound of her voice, Oliver guessed Ms. Carter was older than he had imagined. He pictured a wrinkled up old woman over one hundred years old. Relieved he did not have to confront possibly one of the worst faces in existence, Oliver was, nevertheless, disappointed; he had not gotten to see Ms. Carter. He took a moment and then said shakily, It’s Oliver Jones from down the street, Ms. Carter.

What do you want? she snapped.

Um, there is a lot of mud and water in the street down below, his said, his voice cracking.

And how is that any of my concern? barked Ms. Carter.

Oliver went quiet for a moment. He knew he ought to choose his words carefully, fearing that the rumor might have been true that Ms. Carter had killed her children. Hacked them to death were the exact words used. He was thinking that if Ms. Carter was fast, she could very easily pull open the door and come out swinging.

So he stepped back—far enough, he hoped, to get away if he had to. He spoke loudly to bridge the wider distance between them.

I meant to say that the water is coming from your property. You should call a plumber.

There was a heart-throbbing silence. Ms. Carter continued to peek out the slot with one eye. She recalled one night recently, when she had opened her door and, in the shadow of the night, made her way over to the Jones’s house, where she picked up a white envelope, lying on the door mat, addressed to Oliver Jones. Her piercing gray eyes burned red with anger. She had recognized the scribbled writing. Fifteen minutes later, she had slipped back into her house, hoping she had avoided her neighbors’ prying eyes.

You are Oliver Jones, the golden-haired boy, the one that is expected to save all, said Ms. Carter.

Huh, muttered Oliver.

There was another moment of silence. Oliver was thinking Ms. Carter was crazy strange. He turned and was about to run back down the hill, but his curiosity stopped him.

What do you mean, Ms. Carter? he asked.

It’s time for you to be gone, boy, bellowed Ms. Carter.

All right, I’m going, he hollered and turned to leave.

Hold it, shouted Ms. Carter. Listen, boy; it’s about to begin.

For an instant, Oliver found himself looking back at the eyes staring out the slot. He had a strong feeling that something awful was about to happen. He turned and bolted down the long pavement.

By the time he got half way down the hill, the atmosphere outside had strangely gone from bright and sunny to gloomy within seconds. His eyes fell on a group of children between the ages of eight and twelve standing across the street with Jessie and then darted up to angry clouds shifting speedily across the skies.

Oliver’s heart leaped when sudden clashes of thunder erupted, and vicious strikes of lightning bolts rippled across the sky; deep noises rumbled the heavens. He noticed something strange pouring out of the clouds. For a long minute, he sat there transfixed, not able to tell what it was. He swiped his glasses; it came lower—then he saw it was a black substance. It began raining down but landing only on top of the children and Jessie.

The children screamed and Jessie cursed when the foreign substance stuck to their hair, clothing, and skin; the children tried to run away, but found it impossible to move.

Jessie, Oliver shouted. What is it?

Dunno, Jessie hollered. Whatever it is, it’s gross. And it’s all over me.

Oliver’s heart jumped again when deep, terrifying roaring filled the heavens; he saw a dark, denser section of cloud descend. Stopping in the air, it separated. Oliver could make out dark, shadowy figures.

Jessie, look, Oliver hollered, and was pointing up at the images.

Jessie tried to look but the black substance was preventing him from lifting his head.

OLIVE, HELP ME Jessie panicked when he realized he could not move as well. The children were screaming and crying, overcome with fear.

Oliver dashed down the rest of the hill to try and go help Jessie and the children. Before he could reach the bottom something large swiftly went by overhead. Oliver stopping in his tracks. He watched incredulously as whatever it was swiftly spun to a stop in midair directly over Jessie and the children. He was horrified to see a massive black winged creature. It had its back towards Oliver. The creature thrust its wings back heavily, turned swiftly and looked in Oliver’s direction. Then it let out a deep powerful roar.

Oliver had dashed far behind some thick bushes at the end of Ms. Carter’s driveway before the creature could see him, breathing rapidly, his heart hammering away in his chest. My God, what’s happening? Oliver trembled. It was a while before he got up the nerve to take a look. A quick peek, he told himself.

He quietly dragged himself toward the edge of the bushes, hesitated a second, and then carefully brought his face up to the edge, peeking out with one eye. He gasped and quickly pulled back behind the bushes, white faced and breathing hard. What he saw was so terrifying that for a few seconds he sat there, paralyzed with fear. There were now six large, frightful, beastly creatures like the other one flying around, circling the air above the children.

What are they? Oliver desperately tried to quiet his heavy breathing, fearing that the creatures would hear him. Fearing for the other children, especially his brother, he finally got up the nerve to take a second look. He peeked with one eye from behind the bushes.

Oliver’s could see large creatures that had humanoid forms, their skin pulled so tightly against their bones that it gave them the look of unwrapped mummies. Their fiery eyes blazed threateningly from deep dark sockets, and they snarled a terrifying display of large wolf-like teeth. At the end of hands that had no fingers and feet that had no toes grew three long half-curled black claws. On their backs sprouted a pair of mighty, thundering black wings.

The creatures roared, and the black substance spraying out of their mouths showered down on top of the Jessie and the children once more—immediately, the children and Jessie, covered in the black substance, collapsed onto the ground.

Jess, Oliver cried softly, tears streaming from his eyes. He feared the creatures had killed his brother and the children. He longed to go to them but knew there was no way without the creatures seeing him.

The creatures shot down, and their feet clacked loudly when they landed on the street. Their wings pulled back with a powerful whoosh. They began walking toward the children and Jessie, their clawed feet scraping across the paved road.

At that moment, the sky lit up, and Oliver’s eye shot upwards to sounds whizzing by overhead. He saw a blur of white images moving at high speed shoot up into the dark clouds, forcing them to dissipate. A bright white glow had now enveloped the atmosphere. Then white beings descended swiftly, stopping in the air above the children. Oliver once again saw something shocking, but this time, the sight was not frightening. Before him were strikingly beautiful white beings that looked like the ones he had seen in the drawing the day before. They were seven feet tall and wearing skintight silvery-white jumpsuits, with massive wings, and long fine hair that resembled strands of golden thread slowly swimming upwards.

From their wings came shreds of silvery white dust, which sprinkled down, covering the children and dissolving the black substance.

The white beings made high-pitched shrieks and immediately began attacking the other, malevolent creatures.

Light coming from the attackers’ right palms rolled up into fire bolts and, traveling at a high velocity, headed for the black creatures, who swiftly tried dodging them, but the bolts slammed into them, sending some of them crashing into the pavement, gouging deep dents, while others blasted through the rooftop and windows of houses. Trees were uprooted by the fiery blots, which also split apart electrical poles sending them crashing to the ground, their wires lay across the street blazing. A spark from a wire, caught the dry vegetation near the edge of the road on fire. It quickly spread into a blazing bushfire that would soon threaten homes.

Quickly, the black creatures picked themselves up and roared wrathfully. Their thick, rough skin bulged from their flexing muscles. Within seconds, they swiftly shot up into the air and retaliated viciously against the white creatures, using large fiery spears. The beings in white had golden eyes, which glowed brilliantly. They speedily swirled their long hair around, breaking apart the fiery spears with booming explosions.

The benevolent and malevolent beings continued to battle viciously and shot around through the air, at high speed. The booming kept on. Fire and light cloaked the sky.

To Oliver, it seemed like the world were ending.

When it was over, all six vile creatures lay dead. They dissolved into the ground. The beings in white shot up, disappearing out of sight.

Oliver was surprised that with all the noise going on, the neighbors hadn’t come running out of their homes. He eased out from behind the bushes. To his amazement, the fires had gone out and all of the burnt vegetation returned to their normal state. The homes, cracked ground, trees, electrical poles and wires began restoring. All appearance of wreckage had disappeared in an instant.

Oliver looked around at the children and Jessie raising themselves off the ground.

Is everyone all right? hollered Oliver, rushing over to Jessie and the children. Ignoring Oliver the children continued with their playing. One boy however gave Oliver an odd glance.

Yeah, why wouldn’t we be? Jessie asked, with a puzzled face. Well, did you see Ms. Carter? What did she look like?

No one was more confused than Oliver. Why was Jessie acting as though nothing had taken place? He glanced back at the children. Why did none of them look as though they had witnessed something remarkable? Could he have been the only one to have seen the creatures?

So c’mon, Oliver, tell me. Did Ms. Carter look scary? Jessie bugged him.

She never opened her door, Jess, said Oliver quietly. He was at the point of telling Jessie about what he’d seen when the sound of screeching tires filled the air and a car came tearing around the corner, heading right for them.

Look out! Oliver shouted. He pushed Jessie, and they both went flying onto the sidewalk in time to avoid the out-of-control car.

Meanwhile, down the street and up the hill, Ms. Carter muttered, Soon, Oliver, very soon, you will know how it feels to be a trapped rat with no way out.

CHAPTER THREE

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What is Oliver Jones Seeing?

For Oliver there had never been a day like this one. He stood there quietly, completely muddled. He wondered if Ms. Carter had anything to do with what he had seen. Was she a witch? The fact was, neither Jessie nor the other children seemed to remember any of it. Had Ms. Carter done something to him? But then a thought of something he and Jessie once overheard their dad telling their Aunt Mindy entered his mind—his and Jessie’s mum had been having delusions when she was pregnant with them.

But then, another thought slipped quietly into Oliver’s head. What if he had had a vivid vision of things to come? The end of the world—the fight between heavenly creatures and servants of the beast. Had he foreseen the future? Had he seen the beginning of Armageddon? Had his mum possessed a gift of prophesy and passed it down to him? The idea of seeing into the future was not something he felt he would embrace, but it was more comforting than thinking he was having hallucinations and might be branded a nut.

Oliver’s eyes took in the car stopped against the curb across the street. The door swung open, and then a man tumbled out onto the road. He struggled to get up, lurching to keep his balance.

Oliver recognized the man. It was Mr. Henderson, the neighborhood drunk.

Why don’t you stupid kids ever stay out of the street? he bellowed and was pointing as if he were speaking to someone directly in front of him.

Hey, idiot, we’re over here, hollered Jessie, flushed with anger, thinking Mr. Henderson was a stupid drunk.

Mr. Henderson turned and advanced on Jessie with a pointed finger. His ugly face distorted with anger.

It woulda served you Jones brats right if I’d run the both a-you down, you stupid rodents. Pests, that’s what all you kids are, scurrying around with yeh grubby hands and diseases, coughing and spreading yeh germs. Stay off the street, he shouted into Jessie’s face, giving Jessie a spit bath.

Then, he hiccupped, and the smell of rum coming from his breath reminded Jessie of their Uncle Frank, who also had a drinking problem and spent a great deal of his time down at the same neighborhood pub that Mr. Henderson frequented.

You smelly old drunk. Jessie grimaced, wiping the spit from his face.

You shouldn’t be drinking and driving, Mr. Henderson. You’ll kill someone, said Oliver.

Ah, who’s been drinking? Some of us aren’t that lucky, slurred Mr. Henderson and he stumbled toward his car.

Well, you haven’t been sipping on milkshakes, shouted Oliver.

Ah, put a sock in it, kid, Mr. Henderson grunted, and, with a struggle, he managed to climb back into his car and began fumbling around with his keys.

Jessie kept his angry eyes fixed on Mr. Henderson. He knew it was pointless to call the cops. In the past, they had not done anything about Mr. Henderson’s drunk driving when folks complained.

We’ll arrest him if we see him out there driving drunk, they would say. But all in all, the sheriff of Lafayette’s small, understaffed police station felt that they had better things to do than to go chasing after some wino, especially since Mr. Henderson did not drive very often.

Look at that old drunk. He almost ran us down, and now he’s back behind the wheel, complained Jessie.

But Oliver’s attention was drawn to an odd-looking, tall man with powdery white skin and hair and eyes to match. He was standing in the center of the road looking across at him. The man had climbed out of the back seat of Mr. Henderson’s car. Strangely, though, Oliver was quite certain that only a moment ago Mr. Henderson was the only one inside the car.

An instant later, Oliver found himself staring into the man’s large eyes, which had changed to gold.