The Mystical Guatemalan Robes: The Pilot and the Priest

By Michael David Polansky

A ruthless, sixteenth-century pedophile monk is granted immortality by a mysterious robed sect secluded in the highlands of Guatemala. He carves a tortuous, secretive path forward in time until he is discovered by a troubled airline pilot suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Pilot and priest engage in a holy war only to discover that b

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael David Polansky
• Release date: Feb 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989291519

Michael David Polansky

Captain Polansky lives near Phoenix, Arizona with his wife of fifty-four years. He has a BA degree in Combined Sciences from Youngstown StateUniversity and a BS degree in Chemical Engineering from Oregon State University. He worked as a pilot and manager for a major US airline for twenty-eight years. He also retired from the Oregon National Guard as a Lieutenant Colonel after having served in both the Air Force and the Army. He has trained pilots in Hong Kong, Singapore, Taiwan, China, South Korea, the UK and, of course, the US.

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PROLOGUE

The meeting between a sixteenth-century pedophile priest and a twentieth-century international airline pilot flies in the face of mortality. The conflict between pilot and priest is even more unnatural. The outcome of the battle between a troubled pilot and an ancient, invincible priest portends grave implications for the future of humanity.

The Pilot

Captain John Pulitzer had been a pilot for AireWest Airlines for fourteen years. He loved his wife and two daughters and regretted having to be absent from their lives for long periods of time.

As he watched the evening news, the correspondent was detailing the crash of a commercial flight that had killed everyone onboard when the airplane ran out of fuel. He knew that pilots were killing more people than mechanical failures, and soon the FAA would demand that aircrews be trained in cockpit management procedures.

Pulitzer had been an infantry officer in Vietnam. He had managed men in difficult situations. He knew that his company would call upon him to develop a program for pilots to become better managers in the cockpit.

He thought about the barriers he might encounter on the road to establishing what he thought would be his greatest contribution to the airline industry—training pilots in Crew Resource Management.

The captain could not have anticipated the ruthless shadow in his future that would threaten his life, his family, and his legacy.

The Priest

Fray Narvaez was a ruthless, pedophile priest in the sixteenth century, who fled his monastery in fear for his life. His crimes and his hate for humanity would pave a tortuous path forward, hundreds of years into the future.

Narvaez’s confrontation with a Vietnam veteran from the twentieth century was unexpected and unwelcome.

An anxious aviator and an immortal pedophile priest set the stage for a battle where mind and body play key roles in the struggle for survival.

CHAPTER 1

The Priest

The monastery in northern Spain rose from stone and hardship in the sixteenth century, during the Reconquista that shaped religion. Life was harsh between the walls that isolated a benevolent clergy from the temptations lurking in the nearby villages. Fray Bartolome Dominguez had administered the facility for twenty-one years, and genuinely believed that hard work and faith could overcome all the challenges facing the purity of priesthood.

Today, however, Fray Dominguez faced a challenge that shook the foundation of his beliefs. Outside of this monument to Christ, an agitated mass of local villagers was planning to kill one of his own priests. They were so distraught that Fray Dominguez had no doubt that everyone in the facility would be at risk if the offending cleric continued to avoid justice. For the first time in his career, he did not have a solution for a severe problem. He prayed incessantly for divine guidance.

The noise outside increased and it became apparent that the conflict needed resolution soon. Fray Dominguez was suspicious about Fray Narvaez’s request for a transfer to the New World. Accusations began to surface concerning Fray Narvaez’s behavior in the villages surrounding the monastery.

Fray Dominguez was surprised at the detailed information Fray Narvaez had concerning an expedition to the west led by a man named Cortes. When questioned, Fray Narvaez stated, I have always had a spiritual form of communication with those who share my beliefs. At times, my dreams take the form of guidance from a higher order. I am blessed.

When Fray Dominguez checked the information Fray Narvaez had given him concerning the expedition to the west, he was impressed by its timeliness and accuracy. Fray Narvaez had access to information that could only arise in unnatural terms. He was himself unnatural.

He had always wondered about Fray Narvaez and the behavior that alienated him from the other residents of the monastery. His faith was not in question, but the intensity with which he approached it was certainly suspect. His devotion approached a fanaticism that much of the time seemed unbalanced and extreme. He was not surprised that Fray Narvaez was accused of heinous behavior.

Pedro, come into my office, quickly. Have Fray Narvaez gather all his belongings in preparation for the journey to Barcelona. When he is ready, have him come to my office. Tell him we have little time. Have Juan ready our best wagon for the journey and tell him to take it to the supply gate at the northwest corner and wait for further instructions. Quickly.

Fray Dominguez stared out of the small window in his worn office and sighed, My beloved Father, I hope I am doing the right thing.

Fray Narvaez’s demeaner frightened Pedro. He approached the priest’s quarters with unusual caution and knocked softly on the door. From within, a steady voice sounded, Come in.

As Pedro entered Fray Narvaez’s room, his eyes captured a barrage of sunlight from a small window framed in stone. Fray Narvaez was kneeling in prayer under the beams of light that seemed to dance dramatically along the stone walls. The light illuminated his face, accentuating lines carved by anxiety. When his head turned, something cold touched Pedro’s heart and made his entire body shudder. The eyes that looked up at him were not the eyes of a cleric, but those of a madman.

Fray Dominguez would like you to gather your things for the journey to Barcelona. When you are ready, he would like to see you in his office. We must hurry, Fray Narvaez!

Pedro was happy Fray Narvaez was leaving. He shivered at the sight he had just seen and hoped he would never see it again.

Since Fray Narvaez had already packed, he finished his prayers and hurried to Fray Dominguez’s office. The noise outside was menacing and made his heartbeat quicken. As he came to a small opening in the hall, he paused and looked out at a horrifying sight. A large stake was placed vertically in the ground, just outside the bridge near the entrance to the building. Around it, kindling stood in an all too ceremonious fashion. They were going to burn him at the stake! He stiffened with an uncontrollable rage.

He paused. He would face his enemies and show them the power of his faith. He looked at the gate guard and said, Open the gate.

The guard looked at the priest and shouted, Father, they are too many. They will kill us!

Once again, Fray Narvaez said, with finality, Open the gate!

The guard was shaking so violently that he fumbled with the crossbar holding the gate closed. When he finally raised the bar above the locks, the door exploded inward, spewing angry villagers into the entryway.

In the dim light just ahead, a hooded figure, more demon than cleric, towered above the angry mass and instinctively brought them to a stop.

Fray Narvaez’s face was shrouded in the dim light of the entryway and his eyes glowed like fiery orbs from the underworld. Their message was power, defiance, and death.

Fray Narvaez moved forward in a threatening manner, startling his enemies to the point of retreat. He pursued them and was able to grab a man at the tail end of the retreat. The man screamed, causing the fleeing villagers to stop and turn. They watched as the priest raised the man above his head and promptly broke his back. The cracking sound was loud enough to send Fray Narvaez’s enemies on their way.

The gate guard was unconscious, so Fray Narvaez began securing the gate.

Fray Dominguez, having watched from a distance, turned and hurried to his office.

Fray Narvaez casually walked to the office of Fray Dominguez and knocked on the door, then entered with a look of defiance on his face.

Sit down, Fray Narvaez. I am just finishing the papers you will need for your journey, said Fray Dominguez, without looking up.

Am I going to Barcelona as we discussed? Fray Narvaez spoke in an empty tone.

I’m sure you know that you can’t stay here. I will simply tell your accusers that you left and your whereabouts are unknown. If they do not believe me, all of us who remain behind will surely perish. Before you go, your God and I must know if these accusations are true. Did you molest these children?

Fray Narvaez caught Fray Dominguez’s eyes for just a moment, then raised his sight as if appealing to a higher order. The priest gazed defiantly at his superior. I have struggled with interpreting my role in God’s kingdom.

I can only guess what your response means. Fray Narvaez, are you guilty or innocent of the charges?

The silence that followed grasped Fray Dominguez’s stomach and twisted it harshly. My God, what have you done?

The noises from below clearly indicated that the angry crowd was about to make a forced entry. Your salvation, Fray Narvaez, will be in the New World. Juan is waiting for you with a wagon near the supply entrance. He will take you to Barcelona, where you will board a ship headed to Cuba. In Cuba, you will report to Governor Diego Velasquez, and he will introduce you to Hernando Cortes. It is Cortes who is planning an expedition to the west, in search of gold and converts. It will be a difficult and hazardous journey that should encourage your salvation. Your truculent nature will serve you well there. Go now.

As Fray Narvaez was about to speak, Fray Dominguez raised his hand in defiance. "Say no more. May God have mercy on your soul, and mine as well, for what I have done here today. I have done this in the hope that you will repent.

Fray Narvaez, quickly, before you go, I have one more question. Why did you kill the man in the entryway? He was trying to flee.

Fray Narvaez looked again at his superior. If I had not, he would have returned and killed us all. If humanity has taught me anything, it is that life in the absence of faith is an expendable commodity . . . Fray Dominguez, I know that all this chaos has not been good for our order, but my conversations with God have given me courage to assess my actions. It is God who wishes my presence in the New World.

Fray Dominguez raised his eyebrows. You have conversations with God?

Fray Narvaez opened his eyes wide. Yes! He talks with me through thought, and when I respond, He answers. It is a strange experience, having a conversation using only your mind, but I can assure you that it is He who has plotted the course I must follow.

Fray Dominguez’s face held an expression of pure anxiety. Is it God who directed your actions against these children? I think not. Be aware that your answer could have fatal consequences.

Fray Narvaez stared at the floor, contemplating his fate. When he raised his head, demonic eyes focused upon Fray Dominguez like the darkest of nights.

Trembling, Fray Dominguez pleaded, Promise me that you will reflect on your faith and the misery you have caused. If you do not, you will become a tragic figure in a dark world. Go, quickly, to the northwest gate. Juan is waiting for you.

Fray Narvaez stood motionless before approaching Fray Dominguez with a look of repentance that was short lived. He grabbed his superior and raised him above his head. The cracking of his own spine would be the last sound Fray Dominguez would ever hear.

Fray Narvaez sat erect in the wagon as it approached a hill a few miles from the monastery. He looked back to see the black smoke rising from his previous home. God had chosen to send him to the west. Fray Dominguez and the residents of his former home were paying the ultimate price for their beliefs.

The wagon bounced back and forth on a road that was not suited to long journeys. Juan was beginning to tire as night approached. He could feel the cleric staring at him. He hoped the two of them would reach their first stop before darkness. He had only seen the place once before, a year ago on a journey in search of medicinal herbs.

Night descended quickly as the two men moved, without speaking, through an eerie darkness. Juan was sure their first stop was near when he noticed a large fire in the brush to their right. Further inspection revealed six men in robes, equally spaced around the fire. They were almost military in their positions and posture. Juan shivered at the sight while Fray Narvaez appraised the group with a steely gaze.

Juan turned around to gauge Fray Narvaez’s reaction to the sight and observed the cleric in a rigid gaze. Juan was about to ask Fray Narvaez if he knew anything about the men, when the cleric said, They are beings from the New World.

The figures around the fire seemed oblivious to the cleric’s presence. They stood rigidly in complete silence.

Juan gasped as one of the robed figures suddenly flew at him with incomprehensible speed and suspended itself only inches from his face. He screamed, They are demons, Fray Narvaez!

As quickly as the figure appeared, it was gone, swallowed by the darkness. The other five figures remained standing rigidly around the fire. Juan struggled with his breathing and inquired, Who are they? What do they want?

Fray Narvaez offered, They are not demons; just beings from the west who have extraordinary power. I have seen them in my dreams. Their appearance is very unsettling. I am concerned for our safety.

The fervor and intensity of Fray Narvaez’s dreams had been tapped by an ancient civilization, masquerading as God and settled deep in the jungles of Guatemala—a civilization that had destroyed the Mayan culture to preserve the secrecy of their existence.

Let’s keep moving. I do not want to anger them, even though they are trying to communicate with us.

Juan asked, How do you know they are trying to communicate with us?

Fray Narvaez cast an angry stare at Juan. I can hear their thoughts and they can hear mine. It reminds me of my conversations with God. Let’s go!

A confused Juan started the wagon and in minutes they approached a clearing where they would spend the night. Out of the corner of his eye, Juan sensed rapid movement that seemed unnatural and menacing. His instincts were trying to put the night in perspective.

Juan lay awake all night expecting the worst, while Fray Narvaez contemplated the possibilities these new beings might offer.

CHAPTER 2

The Pilot

The training center at AireWest reflected the frugality that had made it the world’s largest airline. Their growth in the early ’70s had been spectacular, but no one could have foreseen the expansion that came about as the result of two large Boeing aircraft orders and the acquisition of two moderately large airlines, all within a two-year period.

This growth was a tribute to seventy-five-year-old James Phillips, who founded the company thirty years ago with a fifty-thousand-dollar loan. He was a natural leader who quickly gained the trust of his employees as well as his bankers.

AireWest scoffed at the traditional approaches to airline management, quite literally flying in the face of conventional wisdom. Mr. Phillips would quickly kill unprofitable routes and add new ones all in the same breath, a process for which his competitors had no stomach.

This rapid growth gave rise to serious problems in training pilots, who would operate in an environment pushed to the limits of human efficiency. They would land, unload their passengers, fuel the airplane, take on new passengers, and take off again, all in less than thirty minutes—less than 50 percent of the time required by their competitors.

John Pulitzer, having worked for AireWest for fifteen years, contemplated the training required for this kind of a hit-and-run operation with the current pilot shortage. The company had traditionally hired ex-military pilots with experience, but the current stock of new hires contained pilots with frighteningly limited amounts of flying time on the books.

John ruminated over the fact that airplanes had become so dependable that most airline accidents were being caused by pilots. Pilot behavior, not mechanical failure, was crashing airplanes and killing thousands across the globe. The FAA was pushing each airline to develop a program that addressed human factors training. The innovative programs would reside under the title, Crew Resource Management training (CRM).

John knew that AireWest would call upon him to develop this new training program because of his background prior to employment by the company. As an Army infantry officer in Vietnam, his training had included the same subjects that would be included in the new Crew Resource Management Program. His experience in Vietnam had validated the notion that men could be trained to work together efficiently.

John honestly believed he was standing at the edge of a new frontier in training pilots. If he could develop a training program that addressed pilot behavior in the cockpit, his legacy would emerge and pave a path to a rewarding career. However, as much as he tried to concentrate on the work at hand, his mind kept turning to an event that was filling him with grief. His friend of forty years, Gary Carter, had died suddenly five days ago.

It wasn’t Gary’s death that was chiding John’s conscience. It was the fact that no one had called him until after the burial. John found the situation distressing, and it was fostering a growing emptiness in his soul. His face drooped with anxiety as he thought about his lifelong friend lying in a casket. Should he have confronted the alcoholism that he knew would eventually take Gary’s life? It was Gary who had convinced him to join the youth club in his hometown so many years ago. John knew he did not have time now to reminisce through past experiences, but one episode always rose to the surface when thinking about his friend.

Sharon was a small town in Western Pennsylvania, thriving from the steel it produced. The steel mills bellowed smoke and seemed oblivious to the future of an industry in decline. Religion was everywhere in various denominations and exerted a force that became integral to the trucks and trains shipping steel to a hungry economy. The churches bellowed damnation—a perfect match for the mills.

John and Gary, aged ten and eleven, waiting to check in to the community youth club, jabbed each other playfully and laughed in anticipation of swimming in the pool. In front of John and his friend, a child accompanied by a large priest looked back at the frivolity with an uncertain expression. John made eye contact with the youth and immediately noticed anxiety in the boy’s eyes. He would never forget the episode. The priest looked down at the young boy and smiled warmly.

The priest and the young boy showed their membership cards and transited the turnstile en route to the locker room.

John and his friend Gary approached the check-in window with their membership cards in hand, only to find the clerk eyeing the priest and the young boy intently. When he turned his gaze to John, he smiled broadly and winked.

As John transited the turnstile, he asked Gary, Why did he wink at us?

You mean you don’t know?

Know what?

The priest likes younger boys.

Aren’t priests supposed to like everyone?

Yes, but this priest likes the boy better than anyone. He does things to the boy that he shouldn’t. He treats the boy like a girl.

Like a girl? I don’t understand.

You know. The way men and women make babies.

The images inside of John Pulitzer’s head were starting to spin out of control. He asked the older youth, How do you know this?

My mom told me. She said I should be careful of men who might want to touch me.

John’s eyes opened wide. Does the boy like having the priest touch him?

Of course not!

Well, shouldn’t we help the boy?

How can we help him?

We should tell someone.

My mom says everybody already knows about the boy.

Everybody knows?!

Everybody!

Later that day, John was staring at the ceiling in his bedroom when his mother walked past the door. John, you had better get some sleep, you’ve got an early start tomorrow.

Mom, do priests always do good things?

I suppose you could say that, why? Are you thinking about becoming a priest?

No, I want to be a soldier.

Being in the Army is a tough job. You will need your rest. Get to sleep.

Yes, Mom.

It would be hours before John Pulitzer drifted into a deep sleep. Nightmares came in waves that were fueled by images of the priest and boy together. He awakened abruptly several times during the night, shaking.

The day and its revelations would be a significant event in a life that would be driven by ambition and regret. It would fuel a holy war. The episode, as detailed by a friend, was an unexpected introduction to sexuality, religion, and human indulgence on a level that John could not fully comprehend. He should have helped the boy in the past, just as he should have helped his friend in the present.

John thought, Avoiding conflict comes at a price. He knew his mind was jumping about with no direction. He was scheduled to make a presentation today for the chief pilot, and he needed to focus on the moment.

A knock on the door of his office stabilized his meandering thoughts, resetting reality. Come in, he replied in a sullen monotone.

You look stressed out! blurted Terry Withome, a longtime friend and fellow instructor.

No surprise there. I haven’t been sleeping well. In all honesty, you don’t look so great yourself. Another night romancing the ladies in the Scheduling Department?

I’ll tell you all about last night on the way to the safety meeting.

Oh no. I lost track of time! I’m glad you stopped here first. I’ve been preparing for this get-together for two weeks. It would be a shame to miss it.

Together they walked down a long hall while Terry described his date with a secretary who worked in Scheduling. John was not listening, but smiled politely at proper intervals.

They entered the conference room where the Vice President of Training, Mark Rubin, was talking to AireWest’s Chief Pilot, Steve Ferris.

The meeting began when Mark Rubin brought everyone up to date on the safety concerns expressed by senior-level management. Everyone was aware of the potential for an accident at AireWest, given the number of new pilot hires on the property.

When the VP of Training was through, the Human Resources manager gave a synopsis of the company’s current hiring practices. He quickly moved to defend his department and the demands placed upon it by the company’s minority hiring program, droning on for thirty minutes, pathetically trying to vindicate his hiring policies.

VP Mark Rubin glanced nervously at Chief Pilot Steve Ferris and rose when Human Resources finished. I have asked one of our experienced instructors, Captain John Pulitzer, to summarize the training problems related to our current growth, and focus our efforts here at the training center on dealing with that growth. John.

John strode to the podium, organized his notes, and began. "Gentlemen, we are currently training one hundred and fifty pilots per month. That is up over 100 percent from one year ago. The average newly hired pilot currently has 1100 hours of flying time, down from 1700 hours one year ago. We have more than doubled our pilot instructor force in the last eight months. Not only are our pilots inexperienced, but several of the instructors teaching them our procedures are new as well.

AireWest is growing faster than at any point in its history. The need for pilots to fly a constantly expanding schedule is critical. Pressure from all levels of company management for the training center to produce pilots at any cost has been relentless.

John noticed the body language displayed by VP Mark Rubin and turned a dark shade of defensive.

He continued, The consequences of acquiescing to the demands of an aggressive business plan at the expense of quality training and checking would be tragic. History is littered with crash sites that resulted from this kind of thinking. Everyone in this building must ensure that we don’t lower our standards in the face of a growing demand for pilots.

John started sweating unexplainably but forged ahead. Even with our heightened level of vigilance and supervision, we can expect pilots with marginal or even unsatisfactory flying skills to slip through our system. Given the fact that most accidents in modern aviation are caused by pilots . . .  John stopped mid-sentence and didn’t know why. His face glistened in the harsh lights of the conference room. He was disengaged from the moment.

He looked toward the back of the conference room where a large priest and a small boy stood motionless. The priest was smiling but the small boy’s eyes were filled with fear.

Everyone at the meeting, having grasped the significance of John’s pause, turned their heads toward the back of the room, only to find an empty space in front of the entry door.

John quickly recognized his dilemma as the priest and the small boy stared at him with the emptiness of his own anxiety.

He turned his gaze back to his confused audience and smiled. I’m sorry. I lost my train of thought for a moment. I was about to address our need for a Crew Resource Management Program. Our pilots must learn to communicate more effectively in solving problems as a crew. The FAA plans on requiring such training for all airlines. I recommend that given our rapid growth, AireWest undertake the task immediately.

John did not know what impact his gap of silence would have on his peers and superiors but hoped it wouldn’t interfere with his plans to oversee the Crew Resource Management Program. Doubt was beginning to erode his confidence.

He summarized his position on what was needed at the training center to avert the threats presented by unfettered growth.

He could sense the disappointment in the body language of VP Mark Rubin and Chief Pilot Steve Ferris. They were talking quietly while covertly glancing in his direction.

The chief pilot put an index finger on his chin and asked, In your opinion, John, how many incompetent pilots are we producing each month?

John had the appropriate data ready. Our checks and balances currently fail once in every two hundred and fifty events. We could be producing between five and ten incompetent pilots each month.

John was wary of the effect this information would have on his peers. Many felt his numbers were too high, and many felt they were not high enough. His contemporaries looked worried, which was a good sign. The maneuvering for visibility in the training center was relentless and sometimes vicious.

As the meeting broke up, Steve Ferris approached Mark Rubin with his usual smile. John certainly seems committed to the creation of a Crew Resource Management Program. What was the pause in the middle of his presentation about? Does he do that often?

I’ve never seen him do that before this presentation. His best friend passed away recently. He appeared seriously shaken by it. He told me about it this morning.

Let’s hope it was an isolated event, because I want him to create and supervise our resource management program for the pilots.

The VP nodded his approval. I think Pulitzer would be perfect for the position.

John met his friend Terry outside the conference room. Terry asked with concern, Are you okay? Should I be worried about you?

My past is trying to catch up with me. I just need to run faster.

You look like you need a drink!

Sorry. I promised Molly and the kids I would take them to McDonald’s tonight. Easier on my liver.

In the car headed toward home, John could feel another source of anxiety surging in his head. He felt that his family was failing, and he did not know what to do about it.

It was ironic that AireWest would call upon him to develop a human factors course for pilots that emphasized the importance of communication when, in fact, he couldn’t communicate with his own family about things that mattered.

He knew about pilot syndrome and how being absent for extended periods of time could isolate a person from their family. Showing up for short