The Fourth Dimension

By Dan Hayes

2 Kings 6: 16-17 For most people, what they know of reality is what can be seen through the physical eye, but for few, reality is the unseen. Five years has passed since Pastor Frank Denney been dubbed a hero in the city of Chicago. Now with keys to the city, a prominent position as adviser to the mayor, and the most popular pastor around, Frank seems to have it all. But as good as Frank's life is, soon he is plagued by a series of unexplained events that take precedence over all he values. Desperate for answers, Frank relies upon the expertise of his assistant, and as a result, he is forced to accept something far beyond anything he had ever imagined. While struggling to embrace his newfound spiritual journey, he continued to be troubled by the depleting condition of his city. Filled with violence, utter chaos and despair, Frank, like many others, endeavor to find peace and stability in the place he calls home. Thus, as he ventures deeper into this world of the unimaginable, he quickly becomes aware that the answers he seeks may lie within this strange and bizarre place. From the continuing saga of the thrilling and supernatural novel Embracing the Sky, Dan Hayes takes his readers even further into the world of the unseen. Filled with mystery and suspense, The Fourth Dimension will open your eyes to the spiritual reality surrounding us all and perhaps cause you to believe as the veil to the supernatural world is peeled back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641913386

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Dedication

To the original T.O.C. (Troopers of Christ): Abbey Ramos, who has since gone on to be with the Lord, Anthony Ashford, Johnny McDaniels, Dan Hayes.

And He said to them, Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every living creature... (Mark 16:15a)

Chapter 1

The meteorologist reported a stormy night for all of Chicago and surrounding areas. Frequent lightning, heavy rains, wind gusts up to sixty miles per hour—possible power outage. The skies were shaping up perfectly for such an event, hosting monstrous, configurative clouds that ushered in additional darkness to the already shady atmosphere, while a cool summer breeze drifted hurriedly from the far western part of the globe. Many residents, aware of the impending storm, buckled down in respect to it, making proper adjustments, even emergency preparation just in case things got a bit out of hand. Hoping for the best, most psychologically planned for the worst. After moments of continual powerful storms this season, it was commonplace to expect the fierceness of what Mother Nature had to offer. Last year’s winter blast as well as a freak summer tornado in the rural portion of the city that caused substantial damage still laid heavily on nearly every resident’s mind. Some had been traumatized by the events, having never actually witnessed a tornado before, and especially right there in their backyard. Others were just simply fascinated.

And so, it went for Pastor Frank Denney. Though a man of faith, he still relied on the common sense the good Lord gave him to exercise in ordinary and even rare weather-related conditions. Precaution was considered natural now. However, the appropriate planning will come to fruition during the storm, not before. Complete readiness in any situation has never been his forte.

His intuitive response was that this will be ideal sleeping weather once the full extent of it roll in, or it just may be exciting enough to lay back on the couch, drapes pulled apart, enjoying the electrifying show it will exhibit right outside his living room window. Of course, he knew he had to stay up and observe no matter how intense it may rouse. Precious moments such as these is what he craved. His only regret this time around is that Margaret will not be with him to enjoy it.

Not that he was rushing her to return; she deserved all the time away she wanted. Only for this event he wanted her near. She’d been gone for four days now, more than enough time for them both to feel the pinch of the separation. The women’s conference she attended was scheduled to end tonight. In the morning, she would be on her way back home. By that time, the show will be all over.

A thunder roared off in the distance, declaring the disturbances’ soon arrival. Upon hearing it, Frank got himself ready. He took a quick shower, slipped into more comfortable clothing—boxer shorts and a T-shirt—ran downstairs as the rumbles got closer, microwaved a cup of tea, turned the lights down low in the living room, and departed the long white silky drapes. He felt like a child again anxiously ready to settle down before his favorite movie or TV show lit up the screen.

The thick overcast clouds escorted a dark ambiance over the suburban community that seem to set time forward several hours. Though the actual time was only five-thirty-five, the stormy climate cast a deceptive and intimidating aura in the evening. Only a small amount of daylight remained, struggling to exist among the atmospheric threat. Yet, despite its foreboding development, Frank’s anticipation of what to come was coupled with sheer exhilaration.

The neighbor’s huge colonial home across the street will impede some of the action that will showcase in the valley skies, but Frank would be able to see enough of it to trigger a rise from the papillae tissues on the surface of his brown skin. The sofa was positioned right in front of the window, just right to view segments of flashes. The parting of the drapes will allow him to watch the trees in front of the house give way to the increasing westerly wind, while the wind’s eerie whistling that will emerge on the scene, add depth to the developing action. He will only need popcorn to complete the setup as his living room window is magically transformed into a makeshift theatrical center, equipped with the best surround sound and high-definition on nature’s market.

*     *     *

Perched on a tree limb right outside Frank’s window, Kalier curiously watched the mortal man’s typical reaction. It is a response he had seen in others during the many periods in history when the earth was lavished with this enriched substance that often brought about rejuvenation.

Kalier’s presence did not impede the man’s view of the storm the least bit since Kalier was invisible, a nonphysical, transparent entity unrelated to this world’s elements. In fact, he had been stationed in that spot as long as the man loitered in the living room. When the man was upstairs, so was Kalier. In the kitchen making tea, there was Kalier squatting on the counter, watching, protecting. Kalier could even go as far back as the birth of the mortal as he once stood bedside inquisitively studying the woman agonize in pain as she naturally brought forth the one he’d be assigned to safeguard until his appointment with death—ten pounds, seven ounces, eighteen inches long. That breathtaking moment seemed as recent as yesterday.

The warrior also watched the man in high anticipation. What he knew was about to unfold minutes from now brought both joy and concern. Joy because another mortal had been divinely chosen, realizing what this conversion could mean for the sake of the city. Concerned because although he knew his Commander in chief was perfect in his selection, the sudden revelation regarding the change was so explosive and frightening that it always delivers an overwhelming jolt to the recipients. So shocking that Kalier had witnessed on most occasions near-death experiences.

*     *     *

Another streak of lightning ripped across the skies, forcing back what remained of daylight while ushering in an absolute display of a true storm. This was a sure indication to Frank that what he anticipated was finally here. Or more accurately, she was here.

Had he gotten the report of a storm on the horizon earlier enough, he may have had the presence of mind to toss the sump pump in the backyard swimming pool. Right now, however, he noticed the wind taking care of that as he rushed to the back door to make sure all was well. Water rocked back and forth inside the fifty-foot structure as small tsunami-like waves overtook the banks, pushing the water toward the steps that led to the patio door.

It appeared the storm drainage on the street too may have been overwhelmed by the relentless deluge, perhaps unable to receive the rapid flow adequately due to debris clogging the drain, as he also believed was the case concerning the drain on the side of the house. Water quickly backed up alongside the house as Frank noticed a small pond buildup underneath the hedges. This also was concerning. His community had had this problem in the past when the streets became flooded, pushing substantial amounts of water into adjacent yards, causing minor flooding in some basements. Since then, the maintenance crew kept the streets and every yard clear of leaves and sticks fallen from trees along with help from residents to ensure this crisis never happens again. Until now, all had been satisfactory.

Thankfully, though, as Frank observed, the outdoor furniture that normally dressed the backyard was put away, or it will be soaked by now. It was in the garage ready to become a part of the many other items that will be given away to those in need once the church’s annual yard outreach starts up again. Margaret’s constant complaining of needing new stuff back there to accommodate her new take on life eventually paid off after Frank had heard enough. In his mind, the furniture was still in decent shape—nothing was broken, and nothing was losing its luster. But Margaret’s take on it was that it had been back there for over five years, and five years in her opinion qualifies it as dated. Enough said. Once again, the queen had spoken.

Gazing out at the patio, absorbed in the many memories of his wife and now-deceased child that were created back there, his thoughts trailed off to when Elizabeth and Frank’s parents stole away to Florida for a vacation. According to the trio, a day before the horrific accident, it was the best Disney trip ever. Everything was just perfect, no hassles, no unexpected expenses, just an overall beautiful time. But the accident did happen, setting a monumental stain forever fixed in his mind and forever unsettling in his heart.

While it was a storm that caused the death of his daughter, he had not acknowledged them as the enemy. Not anymore, that is. Instead, he welcomed them now as if they were a part of Elizabeth. Somewhere in each raindrop, in every turn of the wind, Elizabeth Denney was there, pouring down her presence upon the earth, whistling a word in the breeze, changing the environment, and concurring with the rules of the Beaufort scale that states that winds under sixty-four miles per hour were not classified as a violent storm. But it was considered a storm. And Frank had dub this one too as Lizzie’s storm. Not quite major, but noticeable. This was her chance to contribute to the world she was taken away from so early in life. This was her chance to dance upon society—to let the world know that she was here and that she has something to give. And this storm was just like her: nonviolent, but arresting, flamboyant whereas it captures the attention and hold you awestricken while it does its thing of beauty, flaunting a tale of a little girl who once apprehended the heart of her father, forever transforming the man’s perspective on what it means to be alive.

Interrupting his thoughts, a roar of thunder sounded, shaking the foundation of his home immediately after a bolt of lightning darted across the sky. Adrenaline surging now, he rushed back to the living room and planted himself on the sofa beside the still hot cup of tea.

Harder rain, carried about on wings of a more powerful gust of wind, smashed against the window pane, making its presence and strength known, shifting the tempo. It was getting serious now. So serious that Frank considered that perhaps the baton had been taken away from sweet, innocent Elizabeth and given over to someone much more aggressive. This version will do its thing for a while before she returns, Frank measured. She will return. She always does. The ferocious, presumably distressed, portion would eventually calm down, and Elizabeth Denney will arrest him one last time before finally dissipating, bidding farewell until next time. And when that time do return, you can rest assure Frank Denney will be there waiting.

*     *     *

From the tree, Kalier watched the mortal who leaned back on his living room couch with legs stretched across the ottoman in front of him, take a sip from his cup of lemon-based chamomile tea. Even from where he stood, Kalier could sense the aromatic perennial plant flow upward into Frank Denney’s nostrils, as the bitter taste of the hot creamy liquid slid smoothly down his throat. The drink was crafted to help him sleep more comfortably tonight. Since his wife had been away, he needed the aide of herbal medicine to help bring his anxious mind to a place of rest.

Being home alone opened new holes in his head that activities with Margaret would have kept away. Nothing serious though, just thoughts of going to the church’s office and doing things that didn’t need to be done; getting out of the house and making something happen just because he felt bored. He was told to rest and spend time with the Lord. Not to even think about doing anything unnecessary. And get some sleep. All pastors of a large congregation such as Everlasting Gospel needed their sleep when able. It will help keep the mind sober and prepared when duty calls.

Those were the instructions Margaret left him. And she warned him to oblige or face the consequences of his noncompliance. And yet for the most part, he did comply. Only tonight it may take a little bit more to assist him in getting there. In fact, Kalier knew that there was nothing in Frank’s power to create, or what he could purchase over-the-counter, or prescription wise that will help induce sleep tonight. Especially after what he would be witnessing with his own eyes, only minutes from now.

Chapter 2

The stormy weather outside set a more inviting stage for Pastor John Curtis to concentrate. It helped to enhance the presence of God even more as the Father did His work exuberantly upon the earth. It was as though He was right there in the studies with John as each lightning bolt passed over, and each roar of thunder seem to throw the earth off its axels just a hair. As indeed, he acknowledged, God was there, manifesting Himself in nature, the physical world, moving and shaking things there, confirming the earth’s frail and unstable condition. God’s work in the supernatural world is also what John had in mind. That mystical realm where unnatural events continuously occur.

But tonight was not the only time his mind had engaged in such a moment of this particular reflection. It had been constant ever since the hospital visit in the young man’s room five years back. What occurred back then set a course of unprecedented phenomenon in the assistant pastor’s life. What a wonder, he recalled. To behold such a world for the first time was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The detailed description of the creature was too involved to have been just a flash of his imagination, and for that matter a random act of creation itself: dragon head, body built like a hideous muscle machine, amour made from substance unknown to our innovative and industrial world, the hatred stored up inside the creature’s pores, and the audacity he harbored to plot mass murder on God’s people. It was a mock design stemmed from an act of total defiance against God, then ultimately judged by Him. All this had found a permanent place in John Curtis’s life. A condition at times he had wished never existed, up until his understanding of why it does exist.

Certainly, however, the initial vision was not to be talked about with just anyone. Not even the people you trust. Things of that nature is better kept to yourself or you risk the chance of being labeled a workaholic or just plain delusional. At least that was his experience. At one point, John thought he had won Frank over of what he saw. It took tremendous work, but he believed finally he had convinced his best friend and work associate that he was not crazy. Frank had apologized for the way he behaved originally by not trusting his words. And this trust factor enriched the two relationships beyond what they were used to.

But time has a way of putting distance between something that appeared to be set in stone, and consequently revealing that which was always there in the first place. It was a revert to ordinary, analytical thinking that caused Frank to recant his belief. Not that he didn’t believe. John’s perception of Frank is that Frank didn’t want to believe. To do so would force him to make some drastic decisions that may draw him even farther away from his comfort zone and challenge him to face the world daily with the realization of the supernatural world forever in his midst. He wasn’t ready for that, but it was crucial that he got ready. As John knew all too well, in graphic details, his city was in a continuous violent and desperate shamble, and Frank needed to see behind the veil to the real world that we wrestle against to motivate him to lead. Sure, Frank was different than he was five years before, but there were still some things he needed to come to grip with, especially as a pastor of one of the most prominent churches in Chicago, not to mention the country.

Thus, regarding that, John prayed earnestly as he so often did in his studies, Lord, open up his eyes.

*     *     *

The lamplight next to Frank flickered, threatening to give way if the right power surge hit the house. It was turned down low in order he may get a better view of activities outside. He had made a mental note of locating a flashlight if it became necessary. Two were in the garage lying openly on the workshop table amidst the mess of tools and woodchips, and he knew of another one stuffed inside one of the kitchen drawer next to the pantry. From what Margaret had declared, that one will always be loaded with fresh batteries, just in case. Her fear of the paranormal birthed that cautionary spirit in her. The fear of the mind playing tricks on her, creating strange voices inside her head that she once contributed to being inside her home. However way they may come next time, she would not be without a light source.

Speaking of Margaret, Frank found himself reflecting on an outing the two of them ventured on just before she went off to the women’s conference. They had lunch in Kemper Park where they strolled through the lush square hand in hand, admiring sparse activities going on around the area, and stopping occasionally to sit and feed the birds. Margaret had brought along a bag of bird seeds that would last until they were at the threshold of exiting the park. She wanted to make sure as many birds as possible get a taste of the kernels instead of some greedy flock taking over and demanding all that she had. She didn’t like them being so fussy. If they wanted good service from her, then they’d have to be thoughtful of others, she’d tell them. She had grown accustomed to the outdoor life again. Instead of being stuffed inside her home for fear of too much sunlight triggering migraines, not to mention depression keeping her locked down, she was now able to enjoy nature and connect with the outside world. Nothing could stop her now that she’d been set free. Talk about making up for lost time, she was determined to go all out and not allow frivolous, or anything for that matter, stand in her way of life’s enjoyments. No, Margaret Denney had finally recaptured her life, and now all the glory was given to God.

This is what captivated Frank’s mind right before the vision—right before he was struck with a mental picture that would be downplayed often before eventually igniting a dramatic change in his life, a change that will send him on a journey unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

He quickly sat up from the couch, his eyes batting profusely while attempting to flush away the trick that came with the flash of light, the light that lit up the tree in front of his window like a heap of fire. The cup of tea tilted when the end table shook against the sudden move. What was that? he asked himself. What had he seen?

Another flash of light. This one revealed more. Not just a silhouette, but a full apparition. A man. A man in the tree, and he was crouched down looking through his window. Dressed in white. A big man. And not an average looking man either.

Alarmed, Frank jumped to his feet, nearly falling as he stumbled over the ottoman. He quickly reached over and turned off the lamp, not taking his eyes off the Peeping Tom for one second. The changed ambience inside the room allowed him to view his subject on the screen in more vibrant detail, noticing right away that though the rain descended by the bucketful, the strange man peering his home received not one drop of water upon his body. In fact, as Frank observed closer, the man seemed to be separate from the water altogether. An invisible sphere of some sort encased his body, protecting him from the showery element. This scenario enhanced the fear Frank underwent as well as amplified confusion. He heard his heart thumping as the muscle organ pressed against his chest. He felt he was moments away from passing out. Seconds even. A powerful light subdued the figure, causing him to appear on fire. But a closer examination revealed he was not on fire but was in fact glowing.

Chapter 3

Of several privileges allotted to the likes of one such as Frank Denney residing in any of the affluent communities around the Windy City, is that law enforcement is inclined to respond to calls a lot sooner there than if dispatched to urban communities. In the mind of many upperclassmen, welfare recipients should get no first-rate departmental services since there is hardly any financial support deducted from them. Taxpayers are believed to be more valuable than those that depend on taxpayers to sustain their drug-induced, inconsiderate, and violent lifestyle. These moochers, many are discriminatively labeled, are considered expendable and therefore subject to the slightest service the city should offer. Their struggles through tough economic times has no effect on many that dwell securely within the walls of a protected community such as Midvale Estates. Midvale resident’s only concerns are those things pertaining to their well-beings, and therefore they consider the less fortunate as ones who should not be pitied upon nor treated according to unfair fairness act. These were the positions of most as they bask in the luxury of their untold wealth and special privileges.

Also to Frank’s advantage, the community security unit who manned the gate to Midvale arrived on the scene even before Chicago’s finest, complying with protocol that states a quick response is authorized for all residential guests. What is not as quick and courteous, however, and impossible to manage is the attitude of the security officers themselves as the nature of the storm seem to dissuade them from wanting to answer any calls regardless of who the residents may be.

With raincoat drenched from the heavy downpour, and the rawhide material of the hat being protected by a plastic mesh, Security Officer Tony Knots stood in Frank’s doorway battling a slight shiver, and even more noticeable, mixed emotions. It was easy to believe a prowler may have been lurking on his property—it happens periodically, but perched on a tree—in this storm? Now that was stretching it a bit. And stretching it even more was the prowler’s description; huge man dressed in white with a slight glow about him? Now that was enough to cause Officer Knots to peak over Frank’s shoulder to see if anything of intoxicating worth was stationed nearby. But all he saw was a half-empty cup with the string from a tea pouch lapping over the side, resting on the end table. But still, pastor or no pastor, he thought, this guy was delusional.

Sounds crazy, huh?

I’m not here to judge, Mr. Denney. We’ll get to the bottom of this.

Knots took his report and shared it with the two responding police officers once they arrived on the scene. Frank watched the exchange of words from his foyer while the officers stood under the overhang just at the threshold of the doorway. Frank studied the men carefully, waiting for that look once the descriptive part of his Peeping Tom was out. When they finished collecting information from the security guard who drove away in the Midvale security patrol car, the police officers stepped inside Frank’s home. Frank could tell by the look of skepticism on the men’s faces that they were not buying all the story provided by the guard. Thus, Frank braced himself for the embarrassing moment that may brand him a religious lunatic.

The officers introduced themselves then got right down to business.

Now, let’s start from the beginning, began the tallest of the officers. You were sitting—

Right there on the sofa—Frank pointed to the couch—I’m somewhat of a storm fanatic, if it’s not too severe. I like watching some of the action from my window. It gives me a sense of relaxation, you know. In my line of work, I need all the help I can get. I’m sitting there watching the wind take the tree there when suddenly I saw a man squatting on one of the limbs, looking right at me.

Both men looked baffled. And the tree you are referring to is that small shrub right there, correct?

It’s not a shrub, Officers. Maybe a bit small for someone to climb upon I know, but that is exactly where I saw him. He didn’t seem to mind that I noticed him, either. In fact, we had a staring contest going on before he just…—lump in throat—disappeared.

Disappeared? Not jump off or run off?

Look, Officers, I know what you’re thinking. I thought twice about making this call, but the fact is my wife will be coming home soon from a conference, and I don’t want this man hanging around here when she returns. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, even if it means looking like a total nut in front of you, highly trained professionals. You guys are professionals, right?

Of course, we are. At least that’s what they tell us.

Please keep that in mind because no matter how weird this sound, I want him caught so she would not have to be concerned with it.

And your description of this guy is…?

Frank cast a stiff smile at the men. You fellows want to hear it from me, don’t you? Okay, like I told security: white gown, long dark hair, big. Frank stretched out his hands to give an example that fell well short of the actual size. Maybe eight or nine feet tall.

That’s tall, sir. Especially for a tree like that. When they got no different reaction from Frank, they dutifully added that to their notes and then waited for more. Okay.

And yea, he had a glow around him. There, I said it. Now you have my permission to toss that around the locker room or however you guys mock stories like this nowadays.

A soft, sarcastic smile crossed the lead officer’s face.