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For All Time and Eternity: Sword of Adrestia
For All Time and Eternity: Sword of Adrestia
For All Time and Eternity: Sword of Adrestia
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For All Time and Eternity: Sword of Adrestia

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As the waters of the great flood rise up and the Ark with Noah and his family sail off into history, Manny Guzman and Sherei, struggle to climb higher up the mountain. Despite being a teenager, Manny had certain skills needed as he had been sent back in time to protect Noah and thwart Lucifer’s plan to prevent the Ark from sailing. As he would learn later, that wasn’t the only reason he found himself battling the devil’s general, Amalekiel. His adversary attempts to drown him along with the rest of humanity but Manny is returned to the 21st Century where life started. Knowing he might be sent on another mission in time, he finds himself fighting on two fronts while struggling to find his new place in his world. Amalekiel continues attempting to discredit, dishonor, or preferably, see that he dies but why him in particular? Manny’s friend, Jacob Kreutzer and his Judo teacher-mentor, Roger Elam, can not help notice the young man has changed quite literally overnight, more than just physically. As he begins to settle into some sense of normal, Manny is sent to the time of Abraham to again stop Lucifer’s plan to change history. It is then he begins to learn that these missions into the past are more than to stop Lucifer as the devil through Amalekiel tackles a bigger challenge. Peter Emanuel Guzman, Jehovah’s warrior, must cease to exist.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 18, 2019
ISBN9780463853610
For All Time and Eternity: Sword of Adrestia
Author

Sean Patrick O'Mordha

Sean O'Mordha grew up riding horses through the mountains of SE Wyoming. Fresh out of high school and attending the University of Nebraska - Lincoln, he landed the job of cub reporter for a major newspaper there. During the next two years, he studied journalism and archaeology and came under the tutelage of writer, Rod Serling. That career path was interrupted upon receiving an all-expense, paid trip to Vietnam courtesy of Uncle Sam. Returning home, life took a decidedly different direction as he a Law Enforcement Officer, completing a career as a Federal officer and special prosecutor in his native Wyoming twenty-two years later. During this time he actively wrote for National and International police journals. Upon retirement, he continued writing non-fiction and short fiction until encouraged to write a novel. He has published a number of novels and many short stories. The father of three, he retired to southern Arizona to be near grandchildren when not traveling to the locations of the next novel under construction. He also is involved with operations at Celtic Publications of Arizona.

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    For All Time and Eternity - Sean Patrick O'Mordha

    by

    Sean Patrick O'Mordha

    Smashwords edition

    * * * * *

    Vail, Arizona, USA.

    https://celtic-publications.com/

    Copyright Sean Patrick O’Mordha 2019

    ISBN: 9780463853610

    As a work of fiction, the names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental except those taken from ancient texts.

    License Note

    This eBook is lecensed for your personal enjoyent only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional opy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for ou use only, the please retrn to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    In memory of

    Rabbi Moshe Twersky

    1960 - 2014

    Novels by Sean Patrick O'Mordha

    available from

    smashwords.com

    Incident at Beaver Creek

    A Pirate's Legacy: For Glory, Truth, and Treasure

    Death by TOP SECRET

    A Pirate's Legacy 2: The Urchin Pirate

    For All Time and Eternity: Waters of the Deep

    A Pirate's Legacy 3: CIC-- The Canary Island Commandos

    Man With No Name

    A Pirate's Legacy 4: The Lions of El Bayadh

    Tales for a Sleepless Night

    A Pirate's Legacy 5: Return of the Brethren

    Herakleides: Prelude to War

    A Pirates Legacy: Return of the Brethren

    A Boy, His Mule, and Dog

    The Fence Line

    Gate of Kaibyaku

    With Sincere Gratitude

    An author can not create in a vacuum. Writing takes encouragement and professional help to achieve a respectable end product. In this endeavor I have received help from several editors and program developers. In addition, I relied on the hard work of many archaeologists uncovering the secrets of the ancient world in the Middle East. Their work and the numerous commentaries on the ancient world and Hebrew scriptures coalesced with the help of my teachers and mentors during a research project spanning eleven-years, 1991 to 2002.

    To each of you — A Big Thank You

    Chapter 1

    The rain came in black sheets creating ever-widening and faster rivulets of water cascading down the mountain with enough force to carry increasingly larger rocks. Once solid earth turned to traction-less slime causing nearly every foot forward to slid back. Sandals became surfboards. Reaching back to the handle of his sword slung down his back, Manny popped the short, secondary blade free, slipped it along his ankles to cut the bindings thus losing a treasured gift. Toes digging into the oozing mass provided some traction.

    Handing Sherei the knife he yelled over the cacophony of rain and rumbling thunder, Cut your sandals loose. She couldn’t hear but understood.

    Struggling upward, they finally reached the saddle overlooking the Ark on one side of the mountain and camp on the other. Collapsing near exhaustion, they felt the ground tremble. Squinting to pierce the curtain of rain, Manny spotted a whitish line on the dark gray horizon moving toward them, growing larger. Sherei saw it, too, embracing arms about his chest, pulling as close as possible. She felt his body shiver as much as hers. The water was coming.

    A great, grayish wall flecked with white moved steadily toward them until crashing upon the remains of their camp below and swallowing it whole. Now slamming the mountain, it split, going around until washing about the Ark from two sides. The great boat lift from its braces, wobble like a drunk exiting a tavern, and began to move.

    We need to go higher, Manny yelled over the continuous sizzle of sheet lightning and thunder.

    Taking the girl’s hand, they struggled for the summit. Although rockier, the ground was no less slippery. As his hand touched the highest point he felt water licking at his feet.

    Pulling Sherei alongside he looked into her huge, brown eyes and said, I love you. I will love you forever. They kissed, a final exchange before extinction.

    Turning to gaze out across the frothing water they watched the Ark drift into the darkness and into history. Moments later a wave ripped them from the mountain.

    Spitting out water, Manny cried out, Sherei! Sherei!, but the powerful force of the water had torn them apart. Spinning around he continued searching for her, choking on water, calling out her name. The continuous roar of thunder and water overpowered his cries. She had disappeared.

    Seized by the feeling of being alone, that terrible, empty feeling like the time pinned beneath the debris in the old hotel, he was on the verge of yielding until Noah’s words filled his panicked mind.

    You have the power to save yourself and Sherei.

    Reaching over his shoulder, he pulled the sword from its sheath accompanied by the reassuring crack of thunder from a blackened sky, different from all the other. Something touched his ankle, not something hard like wood or rock, but pliable and soft. Fingers locked onto his ankle.

    Sherei?

    The hand pulled him beneath the roiling water. He jerked the foot free. That couldn’t be Sherei, the grip was too strong. The fingers reached around his ankle again and pulled. He kicked free.

    Amalekiel! he choked, popping back to the surface.

    Two hands gripped his leg. Taking a deep breath as they pulled down, he determined to die on his own without any help from his enemy. Drawing the free leg up, he shot it down. The heel struck something hard. Manny envisioned it the man’s head. Almost immediately he popped back to the surface to gasped another lung-full of air, but the rain came harder now, he inhaled too much water and began choking. He felt the searching fingers against his ankle once again. This time he pulled both knees up. Shooting feet down he made contact again – solid contact. He pulled up and struck again. Nothing. Free for the moment – only a moment – he knew what to do.

    Raising the sword with both hands over his head he pointed it toward heaven and smiled. It was coming, the corkscrew shaft with its maw of fiery light. Eyes squeezed shut, Manny eagerly awaited the searing sensation to seize his chest and radiate throughout his body that would propel him into that twisting, wrenching, weightless torment he first experienced. Nothing happened. His body continued to feel tossed about on the waves.

    What happened? Slowly, reluctantly he opened his eyes afraid to discover that he had somehow missed the only ticket to survival. It wasn’t water that tossed his body about. He was adrift in the fog, thick, gray, entwining like super thin, silvery-gray curtains. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he surrendered to the slow tumble, a nauseating experienced the first time. He wouldn’t complain this time.

    He moved his legs to step forward. As before, there was nothing to take hold of and propel him in any direction. Exhausted, he wondered where it would take him. Was Sherei in here?

    Sherei. Can you hear me? He twist to look around. It was all the same in every direction. Nothing except the shimmering, billowing, translucent curtains.

    A flash of light. Another flash. He saw something other than the curtains. Sweat began beading his forehead. A fuzzy, indistinct image materialized, shimmered, and as quickly, faded. Another image. Unable to identify them, frustration mounted. Drawing in a long breathe, Manny fought the feeling down and relaxed. After a time the images began to focus better and remain long enough to become recognizable. Faces – smiling faces – Sherei, Noah, Aran, Ruel passing in slow motion, each filling his heart with warmth.

    A nightmare! A little boy playing in an abandoned building slips. A wall panel topples onto him. He can’t move. The heavy weight presses down, pinning him tightly to the floor. He kicks. There’s no one to see him. He screams. There’s no one to hear him.

    Don’t play in that place, a woman’s voice admonishes. No one knows he’s in the building.

    Mommy, I can’t move, the little boy screams. Help me, mommy. I can’t breathe!

    He struggles to move. Buried alive! The fog returns spilling over the tiny body, flooding Manny’s mind with oppressive tangles lifting him upward; floating, twisting, forcing him into a spin. His stomach sickens.

    Please, God, not again! Help me!

    A light. A pinpoint far in the nebulous distance. His mind grabs for it as he chokes down the urge to vomit. Concentrating on that light suppresses the sickness. As it draws nearer, the fog dissolves into a brilliant, blinding white. A voice calls out.

    Manny. Manny.

    It’s so far away. He tries to open his eyes. He can’t. He tries to move his arms. Neither budge. He can’t feel anything. He can’t move. Only that voice. A familiar voice.

    Yes. Yes! That voice! Oh, yes! Praise be His Holy name. The boy mouthed the name.

    ~ ~ ~ ~

    Manny, can you hear me? Manny? The voice sound as if in an enormous, empty tank.

    The boy’s body drift in a slow circle like a goose coming in for a landing, and then becoming cognizant of contact with the ground. Touchdown. The only sensation a weird tingling numbness like the time his foot went to sleep.

    Manny, take it easy. You’ll be alright. Paramedics are on their way.

    A ripple vibrate along his spine as more awareness seeped back into the body. A blurry light entered his eyes, flickering like one of those strobes at the YMCA’s Friday night dances.

    Oh, thank God! He’s opened his eyes, the caverned voice exclaimed. Manny sensed lying on his back with both arms extended overhead. Don’t move. It’ll be okay. Just lie still. He recognized the voice. It never sound so near panic.

    Confusion fade, realizing he he held something with both hands. The sword. He began to remember – the water, holding the sword toward the heavens, that spiraling shaft of light.

    You shouldn’t move.

    Rolling over, Manny tried rising to his knees. The strobe lights modulate into a soft, steady glow and, yes, the sword. He could see it now, a bit fuzzy, but clearing. Hands touch his shoulders.

    Take it easy Manny. Don’t try to move so much.

    He’d returned to the world, his world, the original one under the Japanese pergola overlooking the lake.

    Whew! That was some trip, he heard his voice say although sounding distant, but moving closer.

    What happened?

    He couldn’t tell the truth. Lightning. Must have been. I’m fine, Roger.

    The paramedics are here.

    Lay down son. I wanna check you out.

    I’m okay, he said, resting on knees and shaking a long mane of hair. He felt as if run over by a sumo wrestler.

    I'll be the judge of that. Now, lay down.

    I’m okay, he replied, defiantly sticking out an arm to push the football lineman-sized paramedic away.

    Let him check you out, Roger said.

    Stubbornly remaining on his knees, he allowed the paramedic to complete a quick physical. Pulse normal, heart rate normal, temperature normal, eyes equal and responsive, coordination normal – finally. No burn marks, lacerations, or contusions. Nothing wrong. Right?

    What are you, a doc?

    A guy that knows his body. Thanks for coming.

    Hey, Mic. Got another call. Man down, 12th and Highlands. Possible coronary.

    Stop fussing over me and go help someone who needs you! Manny’s voice had a confident, commanding tone Roger Elam never heard before.

    Alright. You seem okay except for that attitude problem, the Black man responded while repacking gear.

    The tone of that voice gave the distinct impression that if the paramedic didn’t have another emergency he’d find something wrong with him – one way or another. As they thump back to their unit, Manny slowly retrieved the sword lying at his knees, returning it to its scabbard slung from the shoulder. Moving to the wood bench beneath the canopy, he cradled his head with both hands. It still retained a residual whirling sensation.

    What happened? Roger asked while sitting next to him, placing an arm around his shoulders.

    Manny turned his head to look at his mentor.

    How’d you find me?

    When I heard the news on the radio I raced down here. When they didn’t find you in the apartment I checked with Mr. Kreutzer, then remembered you often came here to think things out.

    Yeah. Well, I need to get home. I want to talk to my dad.

    I’m sorry, Manny.

    About what?

    Your dad.

    What about dad?

    Don’t you know? The fire.

    What fire?

    A witness saw some guys running down the fire escape moments before your apartment burst into flames. The police are looking for them. Your place is destroyed. Your dad . . . I’m sorry, Manny. Your dad’s dead.

    During one of his first Judo matches an opponent slammed him hard on the mat knocking the wind from his lungs. For what seemed an eternity he felt seized by the frightening sensation he’d suffocate like the times caught in enclosed places. Roger’s announcement just replicated the feeling.

    Oh, The reply sounded flat, emotionless.

    Why don’t you come home with me?

    Staring into space, Noah’s words entered his mind.Know that having no living parents, I adopt you into the House of Noah with all the rights and privileges of a son.

    And the dream.

    He slips quietly through the front door of his apartment. His father is seated in front of the TV as usual, a mix of empty and partially consumed beer cans on the small table next to his elbow. The TV suddenly goes blank. His father has activated the remote’s off switch, and then raises the left arm. Usually snapping fingers means Manny is to present himself front and center immediately; however, this time two fingers slowly gestured for him to come to him. The boy lays his judo gi on the cluttered dinette and walks around to face his father.

    The man is slouched in the broken down lounger his expression pitifully blank. As Manny stares down at the woeful lump, he sees the man’s left hand rise. The first blows always come that way, but not this time. It moves in slow motion, palm open. The man is crying as he reaches to caress his son’s face. Anger would have him ruthlessly slap the hand away. This time there is no anger. He bends forward, feeling his father's strong, pudgy fingers gently caress his cheek. He drops to his knees as the man leans forward and buries his face on the boy's shoulder.

    It’s over. The frustration, the fear, the hate, the anger. It all evaporates. Manny understands. He is seeking forgiveness for all the hurt. The boy’s heart turns to his father and in return seeks forgiveness for the terrible thoughts and feelings secretly harbored within his own breast. A powerful sense of love fills his breast.

    His father sought forgiveness for the physical and emotional pain he’d subjected upon his son. Manny sought forgiveness for the hate and resentment scaring his mind. Forgiveness sought. Forgiveness found.

    Manny? Manny? Roger said gently. Elsa and I would like you to stay with us. Did you hear?

    Huh? Oh. I’m sorry Roger. Yeah, sure. That’ll be good, but I’d just like to be alone for a while. I'll grab a bus to your place later, okay?

    Sure, Roger said somewhat reluctant. I understand. Just call my cell phone if you need a ride. Okay?

    Yeah. Roger? You’re a good friend. Thanks.

    Chapter 2

    Seated alone on the wood bench beneath the wisteria-covered padgoda, he tried putting everything that happened into some sort of perspective. Had it been real? Had he been struck by lightning and dreamed the whole thing? He thought about Noah and the others. The feeling of hollowness one experiences when close friends separate filled his breast, swelling to a tearing emptiness when thinking of Sherei.

    "It must have been an illusion. Something like that could never happen except in the movies." His thoughts became linear – the fight with his father, coming here before dawn to kill himself, the spiraling shaft of lightning heading straight for him. It must have missed a direct hit or I’d be a burnt, stale toast. He shook his head swirling in a mass of conflicting confusion.

    Shoving hands against the bench preparing to push himself up he became aware of them – his feet – staring at them a long, long time in disbelief. He had come last night barefoot and they were still naked but beside the right foot set a pair of sandals! Reaching down he picked them up.

    "Is it possible?" he questioned, rotating the thin, leather-soled sandals with severed straps. Yes! These are the ones Noah’s wife, Naamah, made. It hadn’t been a dream after all!

    Yes! His shout echoed loudly, sending birds flying and drawing the attention of several park visitors as his lips spread into a huge smile. His heart surged with euphoria. It really happened! he loudly proclaimed, oblivious to disapproving glares.

    Now Noah’s words come to him with meaning. Know that having no living parents, I adopt you into the House of Noah with all the rights and privileges of a son.

    At the time, he thought that meant having no natural family in that time. Then the dream about his dad had been real too. They had become reconciled. Tears of joy well up and cascade down both cheeks as he cried – tears of joy, tears of loss.

    For some reason, Manny experienced a fantastic odyssey, and then restored to the world of his birth. All he desired to complete this overwhelming moment was Sherei. Unashamed, he lowered to kneel on the damp grass, praying thanks for the experience with Noah and family, his rescue from the flood, and thanks for the knowledge that he and his father were whole with one another. The young man then poured out his soul for the safety of his espoused Sherei and to hold her again soon.

    Lighter of heart, he stood to seemingly float along the by-ways, carrying the sandals until coming to the Corner Deli. Fire trucks still blocked the street in front of his apartment building diagonally across from the deli. Standing on the corner he looked to the window that had been his room. Black soot stained the smog-discolored bricks along each side, stretching upward to the story above.

    "They must have been terrified," he thought of the people living there until remembering they recently vacated, and then wondered why the fire hadn’t burned more than just his apartment. The building was old, the timbers dry, on the verge of dry-rot. A veritable Roman candle waiting for a match.

    "Who would do such a thing? Why? Was dad the target? No! Not him. I must have been the target. But who? The attack had been planned. The rusted fire escape cables had been greased to allow silent egress. It was their haste to escape that gave them away. Roger said someone heard them, hopefully someone saw them. The police will find them and put them in jail. Despite dad’s weaknesses, he loved me. He didn’t deserve to die. Why should they be allowed to live? An eye for an eye. Yet, this was too well planned. Someone put them up to it. That’s the one I want." Unexpectedly, a name whispered in his mind. He reached back to touch the hilt of the sword, the fire of hate flaring within his breast.

    "I will find you, Amalekiel and you will not escape this time."

    Watching the firemen gather up their hoses and equipment, the acrid smell of chard wood became tempered by the sweet aroma of fresh bagels and coffee. Spitting into the gutter, Manny shoved hands into his pockets and turned to face the door of Mr. Kreutzer’s corner deli. Entering activated the tiny bell that announced the arrival and departure of customers for over sixty years.

    ~ ~ ~ ~

    The deli’s elderly owner became Manny’s friend and mentor some eleven years earlier. Caught panhandling for something to eat, the old man’s brusque, forbidding manner frightened the pint-sized waif. Tembling as the old man escorted him into the deli, he received a fat pastrami sandwich with a glass of milk and lecture.

    This is not a handout.

    A devout Jew, Jacob Kreutzer would have given this child, like so many others, the shirt off his back. Thus began a close relationship as he provided the youth shelter and taught the value of work for one’s needs, and a moral life using simple, clear stories.

    With a thick head of white hair and mustache, Jacob always dressed for work in a white shirt with a black bow tie, white trousers, white apron, and a white, boat-shaped, soda jerk hat with blue piping. Now, at eighty-four, the five-foot-eleven frame had lost much of its breadth and vigor over the later years but still cut a distinguished figure. Seated alone at one of the small, round tables off to the side, his elbows pressed down on the red and white checkered tablecloth. Head leaned against interlocked fingers most likely praying as he did that frequently. Manny stood surprised – no, shocked – at how thin and frail he looked. Living and growing up with the man who became a surrogate grandfather, the daily weathering of age had gone unnoticed.

    An aquiline nose separated vigilant, perceptive, dark brown eyes as it hooked over the snow-white mustache. Gaunt cheeks attested to diminishing stature, wrinkles to advanced age. Looking up, those lines of age were especially deep giving the appearance of not being in good health. Spotting Manny standing just inside the doors, he leaped to his feet, scooping the boy into his arms for a bear hug rivaling Noah’s.

    Praise God! You’re safe.

    Blessed be His Holy name, Manny added.

    Jacob released his grip to stand back, mouth agape. What did you say?

    I said ...

    I know what you said. When did you learn to speak that kind of Hebrew? And your skin. You are so dark. Yesterday . . .

    That was the first the young man noticed normally moderately tanned skin had become a deep, reddish amber and that he had just spoken the language used in Noah's world.

    It’s kind of a long story.

    Well, young man, I don’t have many years left, so start telling.

    I’d like to go upstairs and change into something dryer.

    Turning to a bantam Hispanic kid who had come under the old man’s care like Manny, Jacob asked, Would you please care for our customers, Pequeño? Then to Manny, So talk.

    The Corner Deli had long been a haven, so much so that he had his own room and several changes of clothes. Most of that came from the fruits of his labors and having been taught how to extend earnings by watching for just the right sale and frequent visits to thrift shops. Coming under the protective wings of Roger and Jacob was more than a ghetto kid could ask for. Perhaps, that’s why there always seemed someone eager to take that away. So, as Manny began stripping off his soaked Judo gi, the elderly deli owner patiently settled into a straight-back chair tucked in one corner.

    I’m not sure how to begin.

    From the beginning is always a good place. And speak English. I have a hard time following the old tongue.

    Despite making the switch, an accent remained, something that would follow him through life. The story began with the beating his dad inflicted. When? Last night? That seemed terribly long ago. Desiring to shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, continuing to talk as they walked down the hall to the back bathroom. As Manny disappeared behind the frosted glass door, Jacob settled on the closed toilet seat expecting a long wait, surprised when the water turned off after fifteen minutes. Toweled off, the boy stepped out with it wrapped about his waist again.

    I tried to warn Noah about the lions as he closed the great door of the Ark, but the wind and thunder were too loud.

    That is too bad he didn’t hear you. Tradition says that one of the lions mauled him on the thigh as it left the Ark.

    Yeah? Manny replied, while using another towel to dry hair longer than when taken by the mysterious light. You believe me?

    What you have said is . . . well, impossible, but you have never lied to me, Manny. And this story is too complicated to have just been made up. Too many details. Things I have never mentioned to you. Besides, there are other things. Your hair was not that long yesterday. Your body is nearly black. Such things do not happen overnight. And your Hebrew. It was coming along, but you had a terrible accent. A person does not learn to speak it as well as you do now and certainly not the old Arabic Hebrew. I don’t know anyone who could have taught you that. Maybe in Israel. Not in this city and certainly not in one night. Still . . .

    Well, that’s about it, then, Manny continued, stopping briefly to look in the mirror and stroke his face. Darn! Looks like I’ll need a razor. I was kinda hoping to be like Japheth.

    The old man’s eyes glaze over a moment thinking back to when he taught his son to handle a razor. I have new one.

    Electric?

    "Gevalt, no! Those things make too much noise and don’t last. I have had my razor for nearly twenty years. A new blade will last your young beard many months. A package will last you years," he teased.

    Manny’s fingers stroke his face again. Maybe I’ll let it grow out. Jacob chuckled. What?

    Wait until you get a little older and it thickens. For now, I will teach you the proper way to shave. Returning to the bedroom room, he asked, What about the young lady . . . Sherei?

    I don’t know. Manny slumped upon the edge of the bed as a terrible depression descended on him. After the flood separated us, I raised the sword skyward, and zap! I got hit by that lightning stuff and woke up back here. I know she’s alive. I asked God, blessed be His Holy name, to protect her. He’ll do that. Someday we’ll be together again whether in this world, his voice trailed off to a bare whisper, or the next. His voice returned, but much softer. We are espoused.

    So what did this special person look like?

    A warm sensation filled his breast while describing her in minute detail right down to the small, reddish scar on her shoulder.

    What did it look like?

    Curved, a little like a half moon and purple. It was cut on the edge of a chair when her uncle pushed her down. It is just below the left shoulder on the bicep.

    You love this girl very much.

    Yeah.

    What will you do now?

    I don’t know. So much has happened so fast. I’ll have to make arrangements for my . . . The boy’s eyes suddenly watered as a hot tear cascade down his cheek.

    Jacob move with surprising speed to sit on the bed and wrap a consoling hug about his shoulders. "You do not worry about that. I will take are of that for your father’s funeral.

    He wasn’t a religious man. Maybe a simple graveside service.

    He was a child of Hashem, our Creator, and deserves the respect of a proper burial. Perhaps he was not all a father should be, but we will honor him. I will take care of it.

    Manny’s face screwed as he fought not to cry. Thank you.

    Jacob pulled him close.

    Roger asked me to stay with his family for a while.

    That would be good. You need to get away from this place and its bad memories.

    But there are good memories here, too, Manny replied, then burying his head on Jacob’s chest, grief overpowered the struggle to not cry. Long fingers stroked the boy’s hair as he silently wept with the boy.

    ~ ~ ~ ~

    Returning to the deli, they found two, plain-clothes detectives waiting and for the next half hour, they questioned Manny closely about the events leading up to his father’s death. Concentrating on answering in English, he told them about the argument with his father and leaving, about the oiled, fire escape pulley, about going to the park, about his intention to kill himself. The part about killing himself shocked the old man. Manny said nothing about what happened concerning the adventure. He knew mentioning anything about Noah and the flood would have sealed a trip to the loony farm before a dropped bagel hit the floor.

    "I was praying and then saw this greenish light spiral out of the sky. The next thing I know, Roger, he’s my Martial Arts teacher, is bending over me

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