Chapter 16

Omicronian scenery dashed past the observation windows of the mass transport vessel. The new pilgrims’ eyes drank in the unique landscapes. It appeared to be tropical, almost New Caribbean-like, except there was a dry desert feel to the air. How could the plants look so tropical when the ground and the air seemed so dry? Molly stared with blind eyes toward the simple architecture of the city, and then the countryside patches of homes and crops. The magnificence of it all was lost on her.

She had just faced her biggest fear, and yet it had been her greatest hope, finding Michael. The audacity of that man flaunting her nephew right under her nose. Molly released clenched fists. Blood rushed back into her whitened knuckles as a tingly sensation replaced numbness. She shook off the feeling both in her hands and in her mind.

Solid up! This is why you’re here. She released her lower lip from its assailant, her upper teeth. The metallic flavor of blood augmented the bitter taste already dominating her palate.

Molly closed her eyes and drew in a slow, steadying breath. Fluid down, Mol. Her sister’s voice resonated in her mind. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her bruised lip. This new presence that matched Kita’s settled into her aching bones. Solace accompanied its existence, and Molly allowed it to find a place in her heart.

This was good. Michael’s link would guide her. Soon as this nausea goes away.

An unwanted sigh escaped with the breath Molly released from her lungs. Could she keep her emotions in check? This undercover stuff was harder than she imagined when her own flesh and blood was involved. She set her back teeth firmly together and opened her eyes. The scene outside the windows stayed out of focus. She concentrated on her task at hand, tonight—this farce of a feast, tomorrow—Gordon. At some point, she needed to find Pastor Oliver. Where could he be?

A bolt of fear shot through her. She sat up straighter. Was her own fertility intact? Item number three on tomorrow’s agenda, get a PASS.

Sparkles danced across the surface of a long driveway as the vessels passed over the crushed purple-pink material. The Lupus’ home, nestled against a wooded curtain of evergreen forestry, stretched beyond their visual range. Davidette’s long slow whistle said it all. Nervous giggles rippled through the vehicle.

“Holy Moses!” Daniel spoke slowly, “I fully expected a castle.”

Molly nodded. The sprawling adobe home sat at the apex of the driveway. It was not a castle. It didn’t have turrets or stone, but it was huge and multi-storied. She counted three above ground. Wonder how many levels there are below ground? Perhaps on Omicron, this was indeed a castle, sans the moat and drawbridge. Attendants stood at the ready on the rounded steps leading to the entrance.

Mr. and Mrs. Lupus exited their vehicle followed closely by Michael. A warm smile brightened his face as he turned toward Mrs. Lupus. His mouth moved, and she bent to say something to him. He nodded, ran past the attendants, and into the house. Molly caught her breath as he disappeared into the shadows. The warm exchange lingered in Molly’s senses.

The pilgrims continued to exit their vessels and stood next to the transport until everyone was ready to walk into the home. Molly’s eyes returned to the entrance and the shadow through which Michael had slipped.

Mr. Abraham smiled and waved the pilgrims forward. Like one organism, they shuffled toward tonight’s hosts. Mr. Lupus gestured with open arms and welcomed the newcomers to his home. With wide strides, he led the procession. The attendants stood statue still until the last human passed through the entry doors. Molly glanced back as she stepped over the threshold. The attendants were gone. She pursed her lips and followed her group to the feast.

Castle or not, the banquet hall was as majestic as any castle imagined. The food table stretched the length of one expansive wall. Attendants stood every three feet behind the food, ready to place any chosen selection on a plate. The meats were varied from roast to goodness-only-knew-what-it-was, vegetables, and cheesy pastas covered a third of the table, breads filled another quarter, fruit pastries and individual cakes covered the last quarter of the spread. Fruit drinks, teas, coffee, and water were brought to the tables after everyone was seated.

Molly’s mouth watered from the aroma. Her fork stopped mid-way to her mouth when Michael ran in to join the Lupuses at the head table. The meat in Molly’s mouth would not grind down small enough to swallow. Delicately, she spit the mass into her cloth napkin and tucked it back into her lap.

“You all right?” Pam leaned over to whisper.

Molly nodded. “Not sure what that was.” They exchanged an understanding smile, giggled, and mirrored each other’s shrug. Pam turned back to her own plate and lifted another forkful.

Molly’s heart doubled its pace and her throat tightened. She pressed her lips together as she watched Michael interact with the couple he knew as his parents. She allowed her senses to reach out and mingle with his essence.

He looked up, his eyes met directly with hers. A warm smile lit up his face.

Whoa! Did Michael sense her touch? He turned to Lily and said something. She nodded and motioned toward his plate. He lowered his head and ate vigorously. His eyes peeked up at Molly as often as she dared to glance at him.

A crazy fantasy played out in her mind. She’d jump up and run over to Michael, screaming about how he was her nephew, and she would take him home to his real mother. Molly closed her eyes and pushed the hysterical scenario back into a subdued place in her mind. She pushed the food around on her plate but she couldn’t eat another bite.

The plates were cleared, and three iComm screens lit up around the room. A stream began to play praising The Abraham Project and all that Austin Abraham and his pilgrims had done for the people of Omicron. Oliver Pugh shook Mr. Abraham’s hand and swept a gesture toward all the exuberant couples holding babies and toddlers in their arms. The recording device followed his gesture and scanned the many Omicronians. They articulated their joy and thankfulness for the families the pilgrims had helped create and the populace that was being restored to the people of the planet.

The stream ended, and Molly exhaled. Her lungs burned from the pressure. Kita had not appeared in any of the scenes. Apparently, it had been updated from the one that had been shown on Earth at the transportation station. However, Pastor Oliver was present at the recording Sure, they would have new testimonies, more current interviews. It made sense, and yet Molly’s heart ached for her sister and what she lost, rather than gained from The Abraham Project. Something began to gnaw at her gut. Did this mean Pastor O was nearby?