Chapter 29

            That night, Emily and Mubarak told the others that she would be leaving with the jinn. Devereaux’s jaw dropped. He stuttered in disbelief: “Y-y-you can’t, Emily! You just can’t!” The team stared at her with wide eyes, their minds trying to imagine what lay ahead for her.

            “I am convinced this is my destiny,” she said softly. “I love Mubarak. I care deeply about him and his people, and I want to learn more about them. I can’t do that here. I’ll be safe. It’ll be the adventure of a lifetime.”

            “We will protect Emily, I promise,” Mubarak said.

            Devereaux paced back and forth, trying to think of some way to change her mind.

            “The President will want to speak with you,” he said. “You have to come back to Washington!”

            “I’ll send him a postcard,” Emily said with a shy grin.

            “You take care of yourself, girl,” said Vanessa Willis, her arm around Dan Keller’s waist. “It sounds pretty scary to me, but after all we’ve been through, it’ll probably turn out to be a cakewalk.”

            “Thanks, Vanessa,” Emily replied. She paused, and looked around at the team. “I’ll miss you all. I really will.”

            “I almost envy you, heading out into space, exploring the universe,” said Lasser. “Almost.” He looked around him at the City of Iram. “I guess I’ll stick to what I know – or think I know – the Great Underground.”

            A few of them laughed. Bakhashaf poked him in the shoulder.

            Emily said to the team: “If I can send you a message, I will. I promise I’ll try. I will never forget you.”

            They gathered close around her, exchanging embraces and what they knew would be farewells.

           

            When dawn came, the jinn exodus began. It started slowly. One after another, the jinn citizens of Iram stepped out of their homes, took flight and headed up toward the pearl dome. Before they reached it, they vanished, entering a rift in spacetime. The opening carried them into a wormhole, and the wormhole led to their new world. Soon dozens were flying upward, then hundreds, eventually thousands. At various secret places around the world, the same process was underway, though not on so great a scale as at Iram. The jinn of Earth were leaving.

            The expedition members were invited to witness the departure of the jinn leadership. A farewell ceremony was arranged in the central plaza. A large glowing, rose-colored sphere sat in the square, awaiting the leaders. There appeared to be no doorway or portal into the sphere.

            The jinn leaders approached from a nearby building. Frank Devereaux, as expedition leader, greeted the officials. Emily Goddard, co-leader, stood back, close to Mubarak Awda. She wore blue expedition coveralls, but Awda had exchanged his for a gleaming white Saudi thobe. He also wore a red-and-white-checked shemagh, wrapped and tied like a casual turban. Emily and Mubarak looked frequently at each other, speaking with their eyes. Dan Keller stood with the Marines, beside Pvt. Willis.  The back of his left hand gently touched the back of her right; otherwise, they gave no sign they even knew each other. Lasser, Bakhashaf and Semple whispered together, and the psychiatrist kept looking over at Mubarak Awda.

            Earlier, Dr. Semple had taken Awda aside, and asked him the question.

            “Please tell me,” he said. “Why did your people create the UFO deception? Why did you torment us for so many years, with saucer sightings, close encounters, abductions and the like?”

            “Your wife…”

            “Yes.”

            “I’m so sorry, Dr. Semple.  I truly am. Sometimes, these strategic decisions can cause pain and suffering. I realize that. That was not our intention. What my people did was an act of self-preservation – nothing more. Do you know of Christopher Sarantakos?”

            “No, I’m afraid I – “

            “Perhaps you know him by his stage name, Criss Angel. He’s an American illusionist, who performs on television, in Las Vegas and similar venues. He’s known for his amazing magic stunts. Most of these illusions are achieved through misdirection. The audience looks in one direction, the illusionist acts in another. This what the jinn have done. We turned your eyes to outer space, while we lived around you – and indeed beneath you.”

            Mubarak placed a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Again, I’m truly sorry your wife suffered at our hands.”

            Semple could think of nothing to say. He looked Mubarak in the eye and nodded slowly.

            Miriam addressed the humans. Her rich, almost musical voice carried far throughout the plaza and above, and some of the departing jinn paused to listen to her.

            “We thank you for witnessing our departure. I must say, this is a sad moment for all of us. We shall miss the dear Earth and its inhabitants. But we have a destiny to fulfill, and the time has come.”

            She paused, and Devereaux spoke up.           

            “When you are gone, what do we do next? How do we make use of your technology, your City?”

            “That’s up to you, Mr. Devereaux. I’m sure your government will have some ideas.” She smiled. “Also, when we depart, I think you’ll find your satellite phone works much better.”

            His hand went automatically to the small black phone holstered on his belt.

            “But meanwhile, we have something for you that may make your task of comprehending all this…” She waved her hand. “… somewhat easier.”

            She beckoned to one of her assistants, who brought her a book. It was a small, thick tome in a glistening green cover. Miriam handed the book to Devereaux. He paged through it.

            “It’s in English,” he said, surprised.

            “We thought you’d like that,” she said. “It’s an instruction manual of sorts. Call it our scriptures.”

            Devereaux looked up, his eyes wide. “This is – this is so … thank you,” he said.

            “Don’t mention it,” she replied.
(Next)

(Beginning)

Chapter 28

            Mubarak took my hand and we rose up in the air, leaving the central plaza quickly behind as we climbed higher and higher. I gasped, overcome with vertigo, but he put his other hand over my eyes and suddenly I felt a great calm sweep over me. When he removed his hand and I opened my eyes, I saw that we were perched on the capital of an alabaster column at the highest point above the City of Iram, within a vast, upside-down pyramid far beneath the desert sands, just below the stunning, flattened pearl dome that capped it all.

            Mubarak wanted privacy, so he could discuss something important with me. I was all ears, but a bit apprehensive. I wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, to the departure of the jinn. That would mean I would never see this amazing – man? jinni? – again.

            The vertigo was totally gone. I looked out over the City, absorbing all I could with my wide-open eyes. This might be the last time I ever saw Iram from this perspective, and I was positively drinking it in.

            Mubarak waited patiently for a while, then took me by the shoulders and turned me toward him. He kissed me gently and held me close for the longest time. I felt so safe with him. I wanted the moment to continue forever.

            “Emily,” he said. His brown eyes were so earnest, almost pleading. “I want you to come with me.”

            I didn’t answer. I just stared at him. I’m sure my jaw had dropped.

            Finally, I said: “I can’t do that.”

            He smiled. He could be very persuasive!

            “Yes, you can.”

            He leaned forward and kissed me again, as if to give me confidence. My lips tingled, as if I’d tasted some exotic spice.

            “Mubarak, that’s crazy! You and your people are heading out into space, to some far-off planet, God knows where, and you want me to tag along? It’s totally insane!”

            “Not really, Emily. We’re going to an Earth-like world with water, air, vegetation and all the rest. We’ll be like the early colonists who settled America, only with advanced technology!”

            “And what about the ‘Indians’?” I asked.

            “Hah!” Mubarak said, with a semi-laugh. “Yes, there will be ‘Indians,’ as you call them. We will help them, like we helped you.”

            “They probably look like huge purple lobsters, with clacking claws.”

            He smiled again. “No, they are very much like humans. We have seen them. This galaxy, what you call the Milky Way, is full of humanoids – or more properly, hominins, members of your extended family. The planets were seeded long, long ago – maybe by God.”

            I rested my hand on Mubarak’s arm. His muscles were taut, like a drawn bow. He was clearly worried I would say no. I was going to say no, really. I gave him more reasons why I couldn’t leave. I didn’t have any family to speak of, so I turned elsewhere for excuses.

            “Mubarak, I have my work! I am a professor! I have students back in the USA who are waiting for me.”

            “This world is full of teachers. Your students will survive. And you can do your work, your research, wherever you are. You can study the jinn up close and personal, as they say. Besides….”

            “Besides what?”

            I searched his eyes. They were so deep, and I felt I was being drawn in, like paper boat in a whirlpool.

            “Besides, I love you, Emily. I have always loved you.”
            I guess that’s what you would call a sucker punch. It was hard for me to recover from “I love you.”

            After I surrendered, Mubarak sat patiently with me and explained all I would need to know: how jinn technology would enable us to survive the journey through space, how we would navigate the networks of crisscrossing wormholes that penetrate the fabric of spacetime, how long it would take to reach our destination, how we and the rest of Earth’s jinn would settle our new home. There were still many questions unanswered. But it was a start.

            Not long afterward, he took me out of the subterranean city and into the trackless desert above. I didn’t exactly see how this happened, because my eyes were screwed shut in fear. We passed through some sort of opening, and Mubarak had me kneel forward, and suddenly my knees were in hot sand. I looked around. It was late afternoon, the orange sun was sinking toward the western horizon and the ovenlike heat of the Empty Quarter was beginning – ever so slightly – to abate. Our world was made of nothing but dunes – waves and waves of orangish, pudding-y dunes – stretching as far as the eye could see. We were at a high point, and the perspective was wonderful.

            Despite the view, there was something slightly melancholy about it all. Apart from the two of us, there was no life, none at all – just the plaintive moan of the wind. As an academic, I knew that this was not completely true. If you looked carefully, living creatures could be found in the valleys, on the edges of sabkhas, hiding in holes and among scrawny, gray salt bushes. There were camel spiders, scorpions, sand snakes, spiny-tailed lizards, even the occasional small mammal, like a jerboa or fennec fox. But while the sun was out, most life stayed hidden, waiting patiently under the sand for darkness and dinnertime.

            “I wanted to see this place one more time before we left,” Mubarak said, his arm around me, as we watched the sun set. “It’s austere, but I will miss it.”

            The sun bulged and glowed like a copper skillet as it descended toward the horizon.

            I held on to him tightly as a light breeze hit us. He was so human, so male, at moments like this.

            “It’s hard to believe you’re not human,” I murmured, my head against his warm chest.

            “What makes you think I’m not human?” he asked.

            I looked up at him quizzically.

            “You’re a jinni, Mubarak!” I said.     

            He smiled and nodded. “Yes. But still….”

            “Still?”

            “Listen, Emily,” he said, “I want to share a little secret with you.”

            He sat us down in the sand, face to face, and he told me the truth.

            It was very hard at first for me to accept this, but after all that had happened in recent days, I was becoming more accepting of new ideas, and as it sank in, I grew more comfortable with the notion. You know how humans make use of only a small part of their brains? Well, if we could somehow learn to use more of our precious gray matter, we would be able to do some amazing things. We would develop telekinetic and telepathic abilities. We would be able to create visual illusions and change our shapes. We would be able to see the rips in the fabric of spacetime, and slip out of our three spatial dimensions and into other higher ones. In short, we would become jinn….

            “There’s nothing mysterious about this,” said Mubarak. “It’s simple biological evolution.”

            “So you – the jinn – climbed higher up the evolutionary ladder, and we – the humans – stayed behind.”

            “Well, that’s an oversimplification. Let’s just say, we got a head start.”

            “So that’s why jinn and humans can marry and have children together.” An image flashed through my mind, of Mubarak and me, standing in the front yard of some exotic cottage on another planet, surrounded by a brood of frolicking half-jinn children, some levitating, some shape-shifting, all just being kids….

            “Yes, our DNA is very similar. We are all members of the hominin family. We jinn are the lucky ones. We developed first. We feel it is our duty to help others learn to use their brains more fully, and take the next steps up the ladder. We have done that with your people. You are on the very verge. When we leave, your species will learn to expand their brain power from the knowledge we leave behind. It will help them to become jinn, so to speak.”

            “And me?”

            Mubarak laughed softly. “Yes, you will become one of the jinn – even faster than the others!”

            The sun dipped below the distant dunes. The wind toyed with us. I snuggled up beside him and hugged him. Maybe I could actually do this, I thought.

            Another thing puzzled me. It was one of those academic questions that most people don’t think of until later. (Don’t ask me why; my mind works in strange ways.)

            “Mubarak, how do you know where to go next?”

            “Sorry? What do you mean?”

            “How do the jinn decide what planet is their next destination?”
            “Oh! We don’t decide. The decision is made for us.”           

            “Who makes the decision, then?”

            “Actually, we don’t know. Again, it could be God. Perhaps a superior species. One day, a meteorite strikes the planet where we live. The indigenous people find a chunk of the meteoric rock, and decide it comes from heaven. The meteorite is revered and protected. Amazing as it sounds, the rock, the meteorite, has invariably come from our next destination. It was sent to us, as a message. We study it, and then we know where to go.”

            I put my hand on his forearm.

            “The Black Stone!” I said.

            “Yes.”

            “The jinn took it?”

            “With the help of the Qarmatians, yes. Each meteorite that falls from the sky has a signature, a characteristic mineral structure that tells us where it originated. We know our galaxy rather well. We are able to tell which meteorites are deliberately sent. We studied the Stone, and determined the message – our next destination. The Stone was returned, after the Abbasids paid a big ransom to the Qarmatians. The Qarmatians thought they were returning a fake, but it was indeed the real thing.”

            “When they returned it, it was broken into seven pieces.”

            “Yes, but that was not our doing, The Qarmatians were less than respectful in returning the Stone; they thought they were handling a fake.”

            “How do you know all this?”

            “It’s part of our history. It was a long time ago. But our records go way back.”

            “How about you? Do you go ‘way back’?”

            “You mean, am I old? Not that old!”

            “How long do you jinn live?”

            “A couple hundred years. I’m barely 70.”

            He looked 30. I shook my head in amazement.

            “Don’t worry,” Mubarak said. “When you expand your brain power, you’ll live much longer too.”

            “That’s a relief,” I responded. “I’ve got so much to do, and so little time to do it.”

            My big, strong jinn lover grinned and wrapped his arms tightly around me.
(Next)

(Beginning)

Chapter 27

            A terrible silence had descended upon Ehsan and his comrades of the Iranian strike force as they trudged on through the tunnels. Ehsan began to think they were being punished by God, that they would never see their families and friends again.  For the fifth time, they passed the same point in the caves, and some of the soldiers gasped audibly in grief and despair. The sergeant gruffly urged them onward.

            Just when they had about given up hope, the soldiers found a way out of the tunnels. The loop was broken, and Ehsan and the others suddenly entered a short stretch of cavern that miraculously glowed a phosphorescent green, as if smeared with the abdominal tincture of fireflies. Inside that cavern, they felt a rush of vertigo, as if riding an elevator or a bullet train. Then all was still, and some of the men put their hands against the cavern walls, to steady themselves.

            One of the soldiers saw a light up ahead. They rushed toward it. It was an opening – daylight! The sergeant urged caution, but the soldiers ignored him, and soon they were tumbling out of the cavern and into the bright sunlight. They were on a white sand beach. The sky was a lush blue, with cottony clouds. The sea was aquamarine and very still. Ehsan turned around and looked for the cave opening from which they’d just exited. But it was gone.

            “Where in God’s name are we?” asked one soldier, kneeling in the sand.

            The answer seemed to be coming toward them. A young boy, dark-skinned, about seven years old, was hiking up the beach. He wore shabby khaki shorts and a threadbare Nike T-shirt, and his bare feet splashed along the water’s edge. He was carrying a bucket of rank bait. When he reached the soldiers, he looked them up and down, but didn’t seem surprised.

            “Buenos dias,” he said.

            Ehsan, who knew a bit of Spanish, said, “Buenos dias. Donde estamos?”

            The boy smiled. This time he spoke in English: “Welcome to Cuba.”

            “Cuba??”

            “Si. Guantanamo, Cuba. Have a nice day.”

            The boy continued walking along the beach. From the direction he’d come, the soldiers could see several vehicles racing toward them – military vehicles – Hummers, in fact. From inland, they heard the sound of helicopters.

            Ehsan turned and looked for the boy. He had vanished. It wasn’t long before the Iranian strike force was surrounded by American troops, bristling with weapons. The Iranians threw down their guns, raised their hands above their heads and surrendered.

            After they were taken into custody, and were assigned to cells in the high-security prison, the soldiers encountered other Iranian prisoners. From them they heard the bizarre rumors about a Saudi who’d been brought in with his hand trapped inside a large black stone.

           

            Bill Semple stood on a balcony looking out over the jinn city. Frank Devereaux stood beside him, contemplating what would happen over the next 24 hours.

            “You know,” said Semple, “I never thought the whole UFO thing would turn out this way. I genuinely thought that space aliens were visiting us. Who could have imagined that they’d turn out to be an Earth species – beings that we have shared this planet with for millennia?”

            Devereaux smiled. “Well, it seems to be operating in the opposite direction from what we once expected. The jinn are heading into space. The ‘aliens’ are leaving.”

            “Why do you think they posed as beings from outer space? With flying saucers and all the trappings?” Semple asked. “Why did they abduct people – like my wife Sandy?”

            “I think you should ask them.”

            Semple grimaced. “I will. I will.”

            Frank looked at Bill. “There are some positive aspects to all this. First of all, we won’t have to worry about UFO sightings any more – or at least for a while. And secondly, imagine the benefits of all these technologies. The whole human race should be able to take a big step forward.”

            “Do you think the Government will reveal all this to the public? I tend to doubt it.”

            “Well, we shall see….”
(Next)

(Beginning)