The Secretives

Chapter 1

To Save Her

Twenty eight year old Dillon Castro sat down on a large wooden patio deck at the Phi Phi Islands Villa Resort in Thailand. His open pale white umbrella above his table blows forcefully in the breeze along many others out on deck in front of a Five-Star white sand tropical beachfront resort that have a very noticeable view of the ocean background. You could see the clear blue sky water rippling for miles from afar.

Down on the beach named the Loh Dalum Bay, it’s a lover’s paradise as many are seen walking along and holding hands, affectionately kissing, or laid out together down on the sand. There were groups of friends hanging out over by the Tiki bar drinking and laughing. Families play out in the water while their kids make their own sand castle having a contest among other kids.

There was an array of sailboats out in the clear blue water and beyond the Loh Dalum Bay; there was a spectacular view of enclosed high limestone cliffs. Dillon felt at ease there. There is a certain welcoming spirit surrounding the island, but Dillon quickly comes out of his paradise splendor, beginning to laugh while looking down on the shore of the beach noticing his mentor and friend, Hiroshi.

Hiroshi was a seventy-two year old Japanese medicine man from Hong Kong. Despite his old age, he still had a character about him that made his age irrelevant and his mortality young and vibrant. Hiroshi’s business was herbal medicine, as he owned a shop in the Sheung Wan area of Hong Kong for thirty-five years. His name meant generous and prosperous as he was a man in which gave its meaning justice. Yet more intriguingly about Hiroshi is that he was more than meets the eye, he was a healer, gifted physic, and a teacher of martial arts.

Now in an environment unfamiliar to him, Hiroshi stood up in front of an elder lady who was sun bathing out in the sun wearing her flamboyant yellow red polka dot one piece bathing suit while Hiroshi tries courting her with his foreign charm.

Dillon sees him eye her earlier as they were eating their Thailand meal that consist of fresh steamed Jasmine rice, spice shrimp soup, creamy chicken green curry adjoined with papaya salad and a dish of Pad Thai, followed also by a the tropical dessert of mangos. Dillon greatly loved the sweet succulent mangos of the Island and always ordered some with every meal.

But, after eating into his last bite, Hiroshi took a mango and excused himself from the table. Now, Dillon has spotted him down at the beach seeing the mango in a elderly woman’s hand as she looks from her lounge chair up in confusion at Hiroshi whole smiled with glee down at her.

Dillon quickly smiles too taking a sip of his Thai iced tea delighting in the fact him and his friend were having a good time on a beautiful island. He had dreamed of the moment of a nice vacation, just the two of them. Thinking back, he never guess how much Hiroshi would come to mean to him on that day he walked into his shop.

It was ten years ago in Hong Kong. A snobbish middle-aged Japanese woman walked inside Hiroshi’s medicine shop as he stood up already helping a male customer from behind his counter. Hiroshi immediately drew his attention to the woman coming in already sensing from her body language that she was going to be trouble.

Seconds from walking in behind her was a skinny, lanky, black hair young American teenage boy, who appeared lost and alone. He came inside looking around ignoring everyone else.

Hiroshi noticed the boy but only for a moment as his eyes quickly redirected him back to the woman who had made her way right up to him in front of the counter stating her business to Hiroshi in Japanese. Hiroshi’s other male customer looks confused at her as she was intruding on him and Hiroshi. The customer gets upset and speaks back in Japanese to the woman gesturing at to wait her turn. The woman quickly turns at the man and starts yelling at him as he retort nasty and loud Japanese words back to her. Hiroshi tries to get the two of them to settle speaking too in Japanese while waving his hands up at them with no success of calmness.

The young American boy stood nearby watching the show with a look of confusion on his face seeing a verbal altercation that he could not understand. But having been gone from the States for a few weeks he still notice that people were just as common and weird even in a Japanese shop out of the country.

Subsequently during the bickering taking place inside the shop, the kid heard a noise down the hall in the back turning his head in the direction of the noise that sounded like another altercation going on out back. He walked pass the loud adults that were not paying him any attention going toward the back seeing a beam of light glare down on the floor. A door was open. Behind the door outside the American boy begins to hear a young girl crying for help.

He soon walks out past the door seeing three much older Japanese men in their late teens to early twenties harassing a young Japanese girl who looked the same age as the American boy. The Japanese girl was simply trying to get back into the store past the three Japanese men harassing her when suddenly one of the them sees the American boy and yelled at him in Japanese making hand gestures toward the store as if wanting him to go back inside. The American boy did not move looking at the girl who appeared scared back at him.

The three men then walk over towards the boy, as surprisingly he boy doesn’t move. Unexpectedly one of the three young Japanese boys hit the American boy in his face. He falls down to the ground while the others start beating on him, and kicking him down on the ground.

The girl manages to escape back inside while the boy lies on the ground outnumbered getting attacked. Blood starts to emerge with pain increasing times ten and the American boy starts to get angrier as he soon felt his muscles throughout his whole body start to tighten as if his body was inflating. Veins became noticeably popping out and his eyes become stern. With one arm the boy grabs one of the Japanese guy’s legs coming right for his face and thrust him up in the air as if he were easily grabbed a stick and flung it.

The Japanese guy flew up in the air forty-five feet away from everyone else crashing into a heap of trash right by a dumpster. By this time, the two others could not move out of total shock unable to flinch. The American boy gets up while another Japanese man becomes angry and bold going toward him, charging for him. It is to no avail. The boy quickly blocks his attack and drives a hard fist into his chest catapulting him backwards so swiftly he crashes back hard into a side building wall across from Hiroshi shop as the second Japanese man plummets to the ground knocked out cold.

The boy then turned around to get the last Japanese guy but surprisingly saw no one in sight with a quick glimpse of the other guy running around the corner quickly escaping. The American boy breathes heavy enraged while slowly starting to collect himself a little, seeming exhausted. He turns around toward the shop, and sees the owner looking out at him in shock with the young Japanese girl behind him also looking out at the American boy stunned. The young boy looks at them both about to faint as Hiroshi quickly rushes for him as he collapses down into his arms while Hiroshi holds his unconscious body.

Chapter 2

Going Back Home

Half an hour later, the boy wakes up in a bed that is not his. He looked up seeing the Japanese girl by his bedside looking down at him.

My name is Kazuko, she stated. She was a pretty girl with long black hair and long banes. He could tell she was aiding him as he watched her pour him herbal tea in a cup on the bed stand that was next to the bed he was laying in.

Hiroshi unexpectedly walks inside the room realizing the American boy is awake. Hiroshi began to express a pleasing smile at him walking over closer. The boy looked confused a bit but started to remember who he was.

Strong herb, Hiroshi says. Please, drink,

The boy exhales nervously taking the cup off the bed table and sips the tea. Hiroshi pulled up a chair near the wall and pushed it up toward the bed sitting down while looking at the boy.

My name is Hiroshi, this is my niece Kazuko, he told him.

The boy looks at him and the girl who smiles at him as if indebted for his act of heroism to her.

Dillon, the boy responds.

Nice to meet you Dillon, Kazuko said.

We never met the Incredible Hulk before, Hiroshi jokes. You Americans made us believe it was only a TV show, Hiroshi laughs with his niece also while Dillon looks not amused. Hiroshi sees the lack of humor on Dillon’s face asking, How long have you been this way?

Is this stuff supposed to cure me? Dillon asked back.

It is an herbal fix of mine, Hiroshi explained.

Your English is pretty good,

I’m a medicine man. My medicine does not care who it helps. Any walks of life can benefit from it therefore for me it is good to know many languages, Hiroshi explained.

So what are going to do? Dillon asked.

No worries about that, Hiroshi assured him. Since you saved my niece, I tell no one nothing. Besides, even if I did, they would think me crazy. I’m already that, but I don’t want to come off too literal, Hiroshi jokes again laughing.

Dillon looks at him weird. He was a funny man he thought to himself finally smirking a bit back at him. Hiroshi suddenly looks at Dillon in pity. He placed his left hand on his chest and inhale deeply exhaling out. Dillon looked confused at him not knowing what he was doing.

Your heart is so discouraged, he told Dillon as Dillon looked up surprise to hear him say that. You seek answers your mother want give which is only because she is very ugly. And I don’t mean physically ugly. I mean she has an ugly spirit. She has done something. Something that has shamed her and it has lessened her worth. It holds her like a dark shadowy demon. To you or me we see nothing but she keeps you away from her because she believes you see how ugly she is all over her, Hiroshi prophesized.

Who are you? Dillon asks as Hiroshi picks his left hand up and holds it in his own pausing for a minute with his eyes closed. Dillon feels uneasy looking at him but then Hiroshi opens his eyes.

My name is Hiroshi, and as I said, I’m a medicine man. But I’m also a man who read into people’s tribulation. People come to me in order to see the light at the end of their tunnels. I’m a psychic as you call it back home, only I really am, Hiroshi joked again. But your ability, I sense it is hereditary. Your father? he asked.

I wouldn’t know since I never met him, Dillon told him.

You sure? I sense you have,

Dillon gets up off the bed and started to walking out as Hiroshi gets up from his chair looking at Dillon.

I can help you, Hiroshi said stopping Dillon in his tracks.

How? he asked.

You’re emotionally damaged and you’re, as you American’s also call it, one hulk smash away from someone knowing and trying to exploit if not kill you. I feel your ability is great for strength but it does not come bulletproof. You still can bleed, still can hurt, and still can die, Hiroshi said remarking on something Dillon’s has been wondering about himself as well.

You need training in order to manage it and control it, Hiroshi further tells him. I could take any Japanese boy or even my little niece here and hand her the power you hold in your hands at will and they would be worse than the digital games young kids play with. Not you. You don’t accept it, you don’t embrace it, you hide. You always hide. However, as now, and many times before you realize it’s still with you, he tells him. Dillon turns his back on Hiroshi knowing deep down he was right and truthfully he was tired of emotionally struggling to conquer this gift on his own. He did need help and guidance.

Until you can let go of this shame you think it is, you will never embrace it. And you must, it’s who you are Dillon, Hiroshi said with Dillon’s back turn to him knowing he was a kid strained emotionally dealing with the gift he possessed.

Dillon turns back around to him with frustration written all over his face saying, I want to be free of it! It’s as if someone gave me this package but no instructions and I suck at managing the damn thing! You saw how I fainted earlier. It’s like I’m a hero then I become a wimp,

Hiroshi laughed once again saying, That’s not true. Your fainting spells are not a reflection of that. It just means you haven’t gotten a hold of what you are dealing with in order to avoid fainting. Does it happen often?

More or less, Dillon admits. Afterwards I can’t remember what happen until days or weeks later. Sometimes months and sometimes not at all,

Why did you come to my shop?

Dillon looked over at Kazuko and said, To save her,

Hiroshi looks at Kazuko who looks back at him.

What do you mean? Kazuko asked Dillon.

Kazuko let your uncle handle this, Hiroshi told her looking back at Dillon, What do you mean? he also asked as Dillon and Kazuko at the same time looked at him strange for asking the same reasonable question Kazuko just did.

I’m here with my mother, Dillon explains. But I felt like I was drawn in here, in your shop that is. As you said Hiroshi, it’s always with me, Dillon told him.

Then let me help you Dillon, he told him as Dillon looked at him wondering why he would be so willing to help him. You saved Kazuko and I genuinely want to help you. Together we’ll figure out the lost instructions, Hiroshi grabs Dillon’s shoulder as Dillon stared they stared at each other. Okay?

I can’t believe she turned me down, Hiroshi said coming back to sit down at the table while Dillon was reminiscing coming out of his daze looking up at Hiroshi sitting down and taking a sip of his Thai iced tea. She eats like a hog, drinks like a lush, and smokes like an exhaust pipe. I will outlive her for sure. You take her,

Next one ole timer, Dillon says patting his good friend on the back. Hey listen, I thought we might spend a few days in Bangkok. What do you think? Dillon asked.

You have a job waiting for you back home in Jacksonville Florida, Hiroshi said.

Back home? Dillon asked in shock. If I can still call it that, since I been living in Japan with you for the past ten years.

You agreed to give it a chance on your last visit since you lucked up and even got that great job offer. Foreign Communication Director is quite a title too. Hiroshi boasted.

It doesn’t start in the next couple of weeks, we have time,

Besides the job, you need to go back home Dillon. You have unfinished business you can no longer avoid. I know there’s something you must come face to face with and it’s time you do,

What if I don’t want it now Hiroshi, Dillon asked. To know about my strength, to know where it comes from, to who I am suppose to be and what I need to do?

You are ready, Hiroshi admitted. You were not ready nor could handle the answers before when you choose to come and stay with me. But now that you are of skilled much wiser, and stronger mentally and physically you can face it and confront it now knowing that it will not defeat you. You are in control of your destiny and it’s time you take control and cease it. And I didn’t train a wimp either. Hiroshi said as Dillon smiled back.

You will handle it and deal with it. You are a fighter, a warrior. You were born to take on anything. He said trying to assure a sad looking Dillon.

Dillon looked at Hiroshi knowing the time would come where he would have to face his truth. His mind was clearer but there was a sense of something coming that created fear in him. What if he could not handle it? How bad was going to be? His friend as always knew the right thing to do and so Dillon inhaled the tropical air taking the last moments of what was his long overdue vacation with Hiroshi, and knew tomorrow he would set flight for America.

Chapter 3

The Birth

It was 1982 in Washington D.C in the last hot days of summer. James Pickett, a middle age, mid height Caucasian white guy rides along down Irving Street in his black 1975 convertible MG Midget sports car.

James was a guy with a fondness to sports cars and cigars, not to mention a good scotch. The wind rushed through his hair as he struggled to fish a cigar box from the glove compartment while Journey’s number one song,

Don’t Stop Believing was playing on the radio. James had been enjoying the day by the pool with his girlfriend Gabby and stepson Ian when he got the call at home. Gabby had handed him the phone with a kind of smile that told him she knew he had to go. She even helped him get ready and rushed him out the door. Ian was a seven-year-old son from a previous marriage and a sweet kid. Though sad to see James leave, he saw him off and handed him his keys by the door. James had kissed him on his forehead and walked to the car.

James couldn’t wait to get there and felt his anticipation growing ever more intense as he sang along to Journey’s song on the radio. His own vocals were horrific, he knew, but there was no one there to cringe. He pulled into the Lexington Memorial Hospital parking lot near the ER entrance. Twisting in his seat, he grabbed a bouquet of roses he had picked up on the way. He felt himself getting nervous as he wrestled the cigar box from the glove department. Fumbling two smokes from the box, he tucked them in a jacket pocket, grabbing his keys and headed into the hospital.

Inside the ER, things were busy, loud, and crowded. Doctors and nurses rushed about. Visitors wandered in search of friends or relatives, and gurneys rocketed down the halls.

Seeking direction, James spotted a gold plaque on the wall, which told him how to reach Labor and Delivery. He headed down the hall following the little arrow signs that pointed in the direction to Labor and Delivery, taking him down to an elevator which lead up to the Labor and Delivery area.

He pushed the button and primped checking his looks in the elevator’s gleaming metal doors. He was interrupted when the elevator door slid open, disgorging an older married couple. Stepping inside James pressed the button for his floor and headed up. His palms were sweaty with excitement wiping them on his pants.

Seconds later the elevator doors slides open while he enters another hall thinking this is it, the day of days. Looking ahead, he saw his friend emerge slowly through the double doors, looking despondent. Though he gazed in James’ direction, there was no indication he is seen or recognized him. In the space of a second those two things, despondency and the apparent lack of recognition transformed James’ joy into sheer dread of what might come next, now they met.

The look on James’ friend face changed everything. In a second joy turned into sheer dread of whatever would come once he got close enough to his friend to find out. James made it up to him stopping him in his tracks looking at the tears in his eyes and the misery pounding away equal to his heartbeat James felt holding his friend. James looked at him.

Charles, where are you going? What’s happened?

Charles didn’t answer him. He was grief stricken, unable to speak words looking up at James.

He’s gone, James, Charles said barely able to say the words out of his own mouth.

Gone? What are you talking about? James asked him. What do you mean, Charles? Charles then gave James a look and from there a gloomy heartbreaking look crept across James face as his fresh roses fell to the white glossy wax hospital floor. Charles stumbled over to the wall sliding down in total distress unable to take in what was happening. James stood there looking at him. It was the worst news he never saw coming. The day of days would begin without new life of a son his best friend hoped to have today.

He walked over standing up beside Charles with his hand down on his shoulders bending down toward him knowing no words could make it any less worst. He looked up to Charles as he stood by him over the years throughout everything they have been through. Charles hurt was never his own, James was right there assuring him he wouldn’t have to carry any burden alone. Today was no different, today would be the worst out of all the rest. James stayed by his grieving friend down against the wall with his hands on his shoulder beginning to pray for him and Lillian.

Chapter 4

An Alliance Twenty-Eight Years Strong

Twenty-eight years later, Charles Dillon Castro sat in his office, a two-story circular shape upper rotunda-like structure with a lower library and beautiful wood paneling of bookcases throughout the room.

The lower level accumulated Charles desk, chairs, and sofas. As well as an outside entrance door with a window that beautifully curved along the row of shelves and books that gave a unique but catchy look to the eye. The upper level was more of ease of access to more books that aligned along a circular back wall leaving a beautiful marble walkway floor beneath.

Charles sat at his desk looking over documents. He was now in his mid fifties and has grown into even more of a handsome man in his old age. In his adventurer days where fate was daunting but he stood daring, didn’t fade his look but instead made him more of the same compassionate, heroic brute.

Inadvertently chosen at the tender age of seventeen into a clandestine group to be the first ever-youngest CIA recruit, Charles had seen, heard, and done it all throughout his years. Unexpectedly, stepping inside his office was his long loyal and best secondary man, James Pickett. James came in about to speak but his attention get turned to Charles’s