Ray & Gen & The Box of Hope™

The Journey Begins
By Chris Gurnick
Chapter Two

     As Gen and Ray slept, across the United States, in the basement of an old house in San Francisco’s Chinatown, a balding, older man with a receding hairline and gold eyes spoke quietly to Madam Rita, of Rita’s Phenomenal Psychic Shop. The man came to speak to Rita about a very strange situation that he needed help with. Rita, who hadn’t had a paying client for five weeks, was very happy to oblige this man, who called himself Mr. Jones. He gave Rita the creeps, but since rent was due the following week, she could put up with a little weirdness.
     When the man reached across the table and took Rita’s hand, she fell into an immediate trance. Mr. Jones began questioning her. As her eyes rolled to the back of her head, he gripped her other hand and asked, “Where are the chosen ones? I need to know.”
     Rita, quivering with fear, even entranced, spoke, “I do not know what you are talking about.”           
     “Yes, you do!” he screamed. “Tell me before I have to hurt you. I am losing my patience!”       
     Groggily, with nervous spittle running down the corner of her mouth, Rita again answered pleadingly, “Please don’t hurt me! I do not know…” As she tried to finish speaking, Mr. Jones’ gold eyes quickly turned a menacing red. He sent a spark of electricity through Rita’s hands. It traveled through her body and out the top of her head.
     As her body quivered in absolute pain, and unimaginable terror, she quietly answered, “They    are   in   a    very     warm    and    very    dry     place.”
     He shook her violently, “Where! I demand that you tell me! Where?”
      “I…I…Tur……key……………..”  With that answer, he released his grip on her. She fell backwards over her chair onto the floor. Shaking with epileptic-like tremors, she passed out. In this comatose state, she felt no pain, only a welcoming darkness and numbness.   
     Mr. Jones took a taxi to John Wayne International Airport, and began his flight to Turkey. The taxicab driver would remember Mr. Jones for the rest of his life, because Mr. Jones somehow was able to unlock his door from the outside of the cab. Ahmed always kept the doors locked before he accepted or let any passenger into his cab. When they’d reached the airport and it was time to get out, Jones unlocked the doors again; this was very frightening to the Indian cabbie because, the only locks were on the cabby’s left armrest.
       Ahmed sat in his cab for five minutes at the curb until he could stop himself from shaking with fear. Only when the airport security guard knocked on his window, did Ahmed realize that he had been sitting in a no-parking zone.   
     On his flight to Istanbul, Mr. Jones, had the window seat. He sat beside an older woman from San Francisco named, Debby. The sixty-three year old housewife and her husband Frank were traveling to Turkey for their first time. They were very excited about the trip and all they’d be doing and seeing there. Frank sat in the only available First Class seat; Debby got the seat in row 18, next to Mr. Jones.
     She wanted to start a conversation with him and ask him where he was traveling.  She looked briefly into his eyes and at first thought to herself, “how lovely, gold eyes. I’ve never seen that before.” Still smiling and about ready to speak, Debby shivered as she saw Mr. Jones’ eyes change to glow a reddish black color. She gasped as he answered the question she had not yet asked, “Turkey, somewhere in Turkey.” This frightened her to such an extent, that Debby wet herself and ran to clean up in the lavatory. She requested another seat, as far away from Mr. Jones as possible.
     Mr. Jones never seemed to notice or care what affect his physical appearance, especially his eyes, had on people. All he cared about, and the only thing he could think about, which had been his life-long obsession, was to find The Box of Hope. First however, he had to find the kids, the kids that would help him, and guide him to The Box. It was rumored that the brother and sister were ready, and that they were prepared for his “instruction and special training”, that would prepare them and The Society for the coveted place in history that had been eluding them for thousands of years. The tides were turning, and it was about time! He couldn’t take this anymore! He had been groomed his entire life to find the brother and the sister and together as a triad, to find The Box, and use it for the good of The Society, and the way they saw it, humanity.
     After a long nap, and a few small meals, Mr. Jones remote viewed the Turkish countryside from the confines of his seat in row 18. The Boeing 737 began its initial descent. Mr. Jones sat with his eyes closed and chanted quietly in an altered state. His right hand quivered and fervently drew strange-looking figures on a piece of paper. The plane started to shake violently, and the captain spoke over the intercom, “Please do not panic, we are experiencing problems because of a storm. We’ve lost radio and navigational communication, and flown into a vicious low-pressure cell.” As the captain spoke, the plane hit a pocket of air, and started a steep nosedive. “Please remain calm; we are doing everything in our power to keep you safe. As soon as I know more, I’ll get right back to you. Captain out.”
     While Mr. Jones scanned Turkey for the brother and sister’s location the plane continued its erratic, uncontrolled, downward dive. While the pilots desperately worked to regain control of the aircraft-the attendants tried to calm the screaming, puking, panicking passengers.