The Prophet Read online

  “Yes. Hi.” He smiled and shook the man’s hand. “My dad works for the World Space Program, so I totally get it.”

  “Ah!” Oryan’s eyes lit up behind his glasses.

  Jazzmon waved from her seat with a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

  Thank God, thought Hazen. She’s not the woman in my nightmare.

  He tried to sort out her accent. “Danish?”

  “Yes. I’m from Copenhagen.”

  Renny still leaned over him. “So how do you guys know Lhamo?”

  Yes, thought Hazen. Time for answers.

  Oryan looked at Jazzmon in confusion before facing them again. “We don’t know Lhamo. Sonyeah’s the one who told us to come.”

  “Sonyeah?” Now Renny looked confused. “I don’t know who that is.”

  “She’s from our Kota community back home. Now she lives here to be near the community in Utah where she trains. Sonyeah’s-”

  A burst of music over the speaker system made them jump and look to the stage. A spotlight from the stage ceiling kicked on and changed colors as the light spread into abstract shapes over the pool. Music swept like a breeze over the amphitheater, and people either hushed or cheered as the show began.

  Oryan leaned to say in Hazen’s ear, “Guess we’ll talk later.”

  Hazen made a face of agreement and politely clapped with the crowd.

  A body rose out of the water where the spotlight swirled. The muscular man wore a skintight costume the color of the water, and he tilted his head at odd angles. Wherever he looked around the stage, other costumed gymnasts and dancers appeared. Three women spun down from the ceiling’s underbelly on bright yellow drapes, and the crowd gasped in admiration. One man suddenly dropped from the ceiling in a dive, splashing into the pool below. Then another mirrored the dive from the other side. Back on the stage, three nymph-looking women pulled out a tall, wide prop designed to look like trees. Different parts lit up in different hues of green as their fake leaves appeared to blow in a nonexistent wind. More gymnasts appeared. More dancers. A pair of fire-throwers rose from the floor as the music intensified.

  Hazen found himself transfixed like everyone else as he watched the show.

  A trapezist made a daring flip.

  Oryan leaned over. “That’s Sonyeah.”

  “Who is? The trapezist?”

  “Yep.”

  Hazen looked at him, but Oryan just raised his eyebrows above his glasses and clapped with the crowd.

  Not for the first time, this all seemed utterly surreal.

  When the show ended, everyone rose to leave. Hazen assumed they’d climb back up the steps, but Jazzmon led them in the opposite direction, down the stairs. Oryan seemed to think this was right, so Hazen shrugged at Renny and followed them as they went against the flow of show-goers.

  When they reached the bottom level, Jazzmon continued to the far part of the amphitheater that butted up against the main casino building. The Dane led them to a door labeled ‘Authorized Personnel Only,’ pulled out a keycard from her shorts’ pocket, and swiped the panel above the doorhandle. A light on the panel clicked green, and Jazzmon opened the door. Oryan entered behind her, Renny gave Hazen a shrug and followed, and with a deep breath Hazen went after her.

  With the door closed behind him, Hazen blinked to adjust to the dark, cement hallway. The sublevel of the casino was without glitz, and he followed the others through a windowless hall, past several doors leading into tech rooms. Soon enough they turned left into a well-lit hall. Gymnasts and other performers walked from room to room, chatting and laughing as they entered different dressing rooms. Hazen’s group walked past a wide doorway showing a props room, where the crew was already busy preparing for the next show. Finally, Jazzmon knocked at a door, waited for permission to enter, and led them into a small dressing room.

  Hazen entered to see a lit makeup table and chair, a side sofa with piles of clothes tossed across the back, a side bathroom, and a wide closet of costumes.

  Sonyeah, the trapezist Oryan had pointed out, sat at the makeup table. She was unwrapping a brace from her ankle. The bottom leg of her leotard was pulled up to reveal a muscular calf. Wrinkles through her face paint suggested she was older than Hazen would’ve guessed, but she was obviously fit. Still in full costume, she wore long, white eyelashes and a green wig curled and sparkling with jewels.

  Three men also stood in the cramped room, and their appearance actually struck Hazen as more odd. Each wore black robes of the Buddhist style from shoulders to ankles. Their arms were bare, and their exposed feet wore slip-on shoes. They were in their sixties, Hazen guessed, with heads and faces completely shaved. One of the men was tall with arms still muscular for his age, and aside from his attire he looked like an average, American, working class grandfather-type. The monk in the middle was shorter, his eyes and skin color suggesting Chinese lineage. The third man was also Asian but far pudgier, and his face looked kind as he smiled at the newcomers.

  Monks? thought Hazen. Really? In Vegas…

  Beside him, Renny grinned at his obvious surprise. Then she stepped forward to hug each man in warm greeting. “Seth, hi! Lhamo! Mino, you’ve lost weight!”

  Jazzmon and Oryan said quick greetings to Sonyeah, who looked relieved to see them but focused on taking off bits of her costume.

  Hazen just stood there.

  Lhamo, the middle monk, smiled at him and said in perfect English, “Greetings from Heaven, Hazen.” He bowed.

  Hazen returned the bow, hoping he was doing it right. He stood erect again and said uncertainly, “Hello.”

  “I’m Seth.” The tall American’s voice was deep and sounded Southern. With a crooked grin wrinkling the side of his face, he motioned to their third companion. “This is Mino. He’s taken a vow of silence and so won’t be explaining much.”

  The pudgy Mino smiled with a bow.

  Lhamo faced the newcomers. “I assume you’d all like answers. And fast?”

  Oryan looked respectful, his hands folded in front of him. “Yes, please.”

  Lhamo nodded. “First, I hope you can keep what we’re about to say to yourselves. From what we know of your lives thus far, I’m sure you realize most people wouldn’t understand or accept what we’re about to discuss.”

  Hazen nodded, and he saw the others doing the same. He shuffled on his feet.

  Please, have answers, he thought with a healthy level of desperation.

  Lhamo nodded again. “I’d first like to clarify anything you might’ve heard about the Kota. We’re not a cult, for starters.” He sighed. “That’s a popular assumption. Our people do try to keep to the tenants of our ancient faith. We’ve given ourselves the new label of ‘Kota’ to distinguish ourselves from the many denominations we feel have lost focus. The whole point behind the Kota is that we try to show the love of Heaven to mankind in any way we can.”

  Hazen glanced at Renny, remembering her Kota mission trip to Africa.

  Seth jumped in. “We of course approach everything with our spiritual beliefs at the base of our understanding. That’s caused many to think our interpretations of current events make us crazy fanatics.”

  “Yeah…” Hazen had read a few articles on the Kota during their flight to Vegas. “People say you think we’ve entered the end times.”

  Seth rolled his eyes. “Global pollution, famine, earthquakes, religious persecution, hedonism, wars… Okay, all the signs are there, but they’ve been around for centuries. How people interpret the biblical prophecies has led to confusion and turmoil-”

  “They don’t need a religious history lesson.” Sonyeah, her wig now off to expose twisted, pinned up blond locks, stood from her seat. She walked to the sofa, grabbed a handful of clothes, and turned to the side bathroom. “Tell them why we need them, Seth.” She pulled the door closed for privacy.

  Hazen heard the sound of water running and assumed she was washing off her face paint.

&n
bsp; Seth got back on track. “We don’t think we’re dealing with the end times. But clearly you vision-seers are seeing what you see for a reason, and we Kota are trying to figure out that reason. Because we don’t want the world to think we’re nuts, we’ve tried to keep all this as much under wraps as possible until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  Lhamo nodded. “Years ago, when Sonyeah first proved to us her dreams were real, we realized something significant was happening. After much study, we’ve reached the conclusion that vision-seers are shown the future much like the ancient prophets must’ve been shown the future. They recorded what they understood from their visions, although what they saw probably didn’t make sense to them. The distant-future visions you see probably don’t make sense to you, either. But we believe your visions are as important as the ancient prophets’. We believe we need to work with you to record them.”

  Seth nodded. “And that means you four must work together so we can collect a complete picture of the future.”

  Hazen took a breath.

  This does make sense, he thought. After all the things I’ve seen, I don’t have reason to doubt any of this. I’ve had the sense all along that those stranger visions of the future are important. If we’re like prophets…

  “What’s interesting,” said Lhamo, “is that you’ve each only received glimpses of this future, nothing you can interpret like with your normal visions. Even Sonyeah and her vision partner never understood their fragments.” He raised an eyebrow at Hazen. “And you’ve trained yourself to avoid visions of the future. I understand, since they must be disturbing. It’s admirable you’ve focused on saving people from the more immediate nightmares you’ve seen.” He smiled. “But, it’s important you accept the distant-future visions now and change focus.”

  Jazzman had her arms crossed in thought. “Sonyeah told us her normal dreams stopped once you trained her to focus on the distant-future visions. Are you saying you want to do that with us?”

  This was the first Hazen had heard this, and he exchanged a look with Renny.

  Lhamo tried to explain. “There’s a pattern to how your visions work. Jazzmon and Hazen see nightmares of what will inevitably happen, but they also see what can be avoided. Meanwhile, Renny and Oryan see what will happen only when Jazzmon or Hazen can change the outcome. And, Renny and Oryan dream of Jazzmon and Hazen because – we think – it’s their responsibility to take care of their more troubled vision partners.”

  Hazen’s group exchanged nods like this made sense.

  “We think,” Lhamo continued, “that with all of you together, you can now help each other make sense of the distant-future visions. From what we’ve learned of them so far, we think they might be more important than continuing your work of saving everyday people. That sounds harsh, I know, but there’s a bigger picture to consider.”

  Jazzmon frowned. “Well, nothing in my normal nightmares has ever been as bad as what I’ve seen in the distant-future nightmares. You might be right that they’re more important.”

  Hazen thought on this.

  Yeah, he thought. It’s a tough call, though…

  “So,” Hazen asked, “if we join you Kota and let you train us to access the distant-future visions, we’ll stop getting our normal visions? You’re sure.”

  Lhamo glanced at the closed bathroom door. “Yes, we’re pretty sure. Sonyeah and Vin, her vision partner, were the first pair we worked with – the only other vision partners we’d discovered until you four. Vin saw nightmares like Hazen and Jazzmon. Sonyeah had dreams like Renny and Oryan. When we started training them to focus on their distant-future visions, Sonyeah’s normal dreams stopped pretty quickly. Vin…” Lhamo looked at Seth. “Well, Vin said his usual nightmares continued. Since Sonyeah could no longer tell him if his nightmares were alterable, Vin would go off for days at a time to check…or so he said.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Oryan.

  Seth shook his head with an angry scowl. “Vin lied. He wasn’t checking on his nightmares. He was going off to kill people himself.”

  “Oh!” Renny put a hand to her mouth.

  Lhamo nodded at this reaction. “The man snapped. He questioned everything we taught him. I think whatever he saw in the distant future was too much for him. And maybe he really did keep seeing unavoidable, terrible nightmares. Seeing such darkness might’ve been too much for him.”

  Hazen met eyes with Jazzmon.

  Great, thought Hazen. Will we turn into psychopaths because we’ve seen too much?

  Lhamo’s frown deepened. “Whatever he sees, Vin chose to create darkness of his own. And he doesn’t want us to stop him.”

  Renny was scowling. “Where’s Vin now?”

  “No idea.” Seth frowned and, like Lhamo, glanced at the closed bathroom door. “Sonyeah hasn’t dreamed of him since he left our Utah community over a year ago. That might be partly our fault, since we trained her to focus on her distant-future visions. Those visions might’ve overridden Sonyeah’s ability to detect Vin’s alterable nightmares. We don’t really know.”

  Lhamo shook his head. “This is uncharted territory in the modern era. And we weren’t prepared for Vin to become…what he became.”

  They were silent a moment, and Hazen realized the water in the bathroom had stopped.

  I wonder how much Sonyeah heard, he thought. Poor woman. I already feel so connected to Renny. I can’t imagine someone you share so much with turning into a monster. It must be awful to feel that alone all over again.

  Lhamo folded his hands in front of his robes. “In any case, now we need you four to pick up where they left off. Sonyeah still has dreams, but they’re only pieces. Without Vin, it’s hard for her to confirm what she’s seeing. And since we don’t know how much Vin was lying, we don’t know if we can trust anything he recorded.”

  Seth nodded. “We have to start over. If this is as important for the future as we suspect, we have to be right. And that means working with you four to piece this future together. Who knows what this could mean? Saving the world, maybe.”

  Oryan pushed a hand through his hair. “I need a drink.” Then he remembered he was talking to monks. “Oh, sorry. I…”

  Seth grinned. “I could use a tall beer myself.”

  Lhamo smiled and turned to the closed bathroom door. “Sonyeah, we’re going to head up to the casino. Come join us when you’re ready, okay?”

  “Sure,” came the sullen answer.

  Lhamo exchanged a look with Seth, and Hazen guessed they were concerned about the woman.

  These are good men, thought Hazen. Monks… I never imagined I’d sign up with monks.

  Following Lhamo, everyone stepped into the hall.

  Renny walked beside Hazen and smiled. “Here we go, huh?”

  He nodded. “Here we go.”

  Hazen lost track of time as he sat with his new friends around a high-top table in the casino’s bar. The unending sounds of gambling were giving him a headache, but he enjoyed these people’s company. As Jazzmon and Renny talked about…whatever, the silent Mino spotted a group of frat boys and pointed them out to his fellow monks. The frat guys were pointing at the drinking monks and laughing in surprise. Mino waved with a big smile. The guys waved back and gave thumbs up before moving on.

  “Monks in a bar!” One frat guy laughed to his friends. “Vegas has everything, man!”

  Oryan took another swig of his beer. “I can’t believe this either. I’m drinking in a bar in Vegas…”

  “With monks,” finished Hazen with a drunken lisp.

  Seth grinned. “With monks who are purposefully getting you drunk.” The tall monk leaned his elbows on the high-top table, looking oddly casual considering his attire.

  “Purposefully…” Hazen set down the martini Lhamo had insisted he drink. He’d tried to argue that he didn’t drink because inebriation triggered nightmares of the distant future, but now he understood. “You’re trying to get me dru
nk so I envision the future?”

  He’d said this a little loud considering the crowds. Then again, this was Vegas.

  Seth took another drink. “Well, we need to kick-start this, Hazen. Your mind in particular needs to reopen to the deeper visions. You’ve been skimming along the surface of what you can see for years – not that your work hasn’t been admirable. But this is bigger than saving an occasional tattoo artist.”

  Hazen turned to Renny, who was suddenly very interested in the ceiling. “Have you told them everything about me?”

  Renny grinned at him, took another drink of her rum and Coke, and resumed talking with Jazzmon. “If each of us sees slightly different things in this future, how can we be sure of the message behind what we’re being told? I mean, if we’re going to write these visions as prophecies, how do we make them accurate?”

  “Well,” said Jazzmon, “There’ve been prophecies before. I mean, Judaism, Christianity, Islam – they all have recorded prophecies. Can’t we do whatever they did before and…I don’t know.”

  Oryan was good at being in a few conversations at once, even halfway squiffed. He turned to the women. “What, like a scientific method for how to decipher visions? I don’t think there’s an exact science to this. The ancient prophets were mystics. It’s not like there are records detailing their process.”

  Hazen looked at Lhamo. “But we’re going to write our visions exactly like we see them?”

  Lhamo paused in thought. “We’re not sure what would be best, honestly. With Sonyeah and Vin, they only got as far as recording what they saw and trying to sort out the puzzle pieces. That’s when we realized Vin was lying.”

  “But as for how to best write the prophecies…” Seth smiled at Renny. “That might be an area where your gifts will be useful.”

  Her eyes widened. “No pressure.”

  Lhamo smiled at her. “Once you four piece together your visions of the future, we’ll leave it to you to decide the best way to write the prophecies – you, after all, are the prophets. We Kota are only here to facilitate you in any way we can, and we don’t want to interfere. But the wording of the prophecies will be especially important since we’ll need to translate them into the language used at our temple.”