Then said Jesus unto his disciples, If any man would come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me- Matthew 16:24

The shrilling, ear-splitting, jarring, penetrating, piercing and, above all, incessant skull ripping ringing being weaved its way maliciously into a realm where reality morphed with unbelievable imagination; brusquely jolting the still body that was very contented with where the mind escaped. The mind had went to seek rest for the tired soul and relief for sticky eyes. Now, the ringing being was drilling its way into the mind until it somehow managed to find the elusive centre to trigger a shockwave of pain to the sides of skull that contained the psyche.

The mind was irritably disturbed from its rest. The man that it served was groaning with the dreary routine of violent waking.

A hand reached out and groped around the bedside table in search of the phone to answer the call, almost knocking over the night lamp in process. Finally it found what it was searching for and gripped it in a stranglehold like the neck of its most hated enemy.

The hand with the receiver disappeared into the covers.

"Railllyyyyy…." The voice was drowsy and hostile. The rude-awakening from a healing unconscious state of being would never leave the victim happy and chirpy, ready to greet the new world with exploding energy.

"Elijah here. I won’t be joining you. I want to look up some things myself." The drone from the other end was a lullaby of sorts. In his somnolent status, Isaiah was almost hypnotized. Elijah’s robotic murmurs was adding lead to the cotton wool in his head and he really just wanted to sleep.

However, the monotonous message slowly infused into his consciousness and took on meaning. The caller at the other end was waiting for feedback which was dragging its feet into Isaiah’s mouth, out of his lips, to be release as articulated phonetics.

Isaiah’s mind slowly cleared as Elijah’s announcement registered. He sat up with much struggle finally saw light of day as the covers slipped away. He rubbed his eyes to rid it of muggy, coagulated cobwebs and cautiously unveiled the green gems to the proud splendor of the sun.

"What, how, why? I mean…how in the world do you expect me to do it? You took the files! You’re my partner for goodness sake!" Isaiah was not in the best mood. He never was if he could not wake up properly and naturally. He used no alarm clock and switched off his mobile. The phone was spared from sudden death as darkness covers the land because he recognized that urgent matters quite often materialized in the night. There was something about nightfall that made the world a little more dangerous- as if daytime was not already tedious enough on some days.

"Hmm..." came the usual reply followed by a pregnant pause. Isaiah too was pregnant- pregnant with rare indignation. At the same time, he had no words. He did not even knew if it was his turn to speak and if it was, he was afraid he might actually sin through his choice of vocabulary.

"I’ll email you the necessary information in an hour. Goodbye." Elijah notified Isaiah after the minute’s delay. The call disconnected immediately and left Isaiah staring incredulously at the receiver.

"Goodbye too…" He spoke in disbelief into the mouthpiece- his eyes narrowed and his head throbbing. Slinking down onto his bed again, he dropped the receiver with a cringing clash onto the floor. His only thought was to catch more winks.

An hour later, his eyes automatically opened. His biological alarm was still right on cue despite the brief interruption. It was ten a.m. The last service for Mass on Sunday was in another hour’s time.

Stretching himself, hearing his bones creaked and cracked, liberating unwanted tension, he almost jumped out of bed to greet the new day properly. Suddenly, remembering his unfriendliness earlier on, he cursed himself, worried that his brother would take it the wrong way- that the rift would be widened even more by that one little episode of hostility stemming from disturbed slumber.

After performing his morning rituals, he left his house, drove all the way to West 37^th Street, New York- Manhattan, to join the congregation in worship in that grandeur Gothic-revival Catholic Church, christened Christ the King*, on the Sunday late morning, roofed over by a stark blue sky and occasionally visited by soft gusts of gentle breezes.

***

Isaiah was kneeling in the adoration room, just soaking up the quietness and sanctity. Light streamed in from stained glass windows in five rays like outstretched fingers. A spotlight was created by blessed candles on the simple altar which humbly and yet proudly held the exposed Blessed Sacrament, a distance away in front of him. Between him and the Host were a few other elderly people and a couple of teenagers. Most of them were Hispanics but Isaiah spotted three Caucasians and five blacks among the faithful.

Mass had ended and Isaiah wanted to seek some solace. He had converted to Catholism about 3 years ago when he was still with the NYPD. Burdened with his gift and hopelessly grappling with what he was supposed to do with it, he had at one moment, while walking along the busy road, simply felt over-whelmed and dashed into the peaceful sanctuary amongst the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, aiming right for the confessional booth. He needed to unload it to someone wiser than him, more in touch with God than him.

He did not feel like he was becoming more of a saint or that life was going to be a bed of roses the moment he converted. In fact, the decision to be a Christian meant that he had a cross that he must carry. The Bible was clear on that. To follow Him would meant he had to take up his cross and not run away from it. Sometimes, it could get too tedious. And sometimes, he lapsed. He was not perfect. He made mistakes all the time but he had the will to turn his mistakes around and triumph over them. He knew he could journey on with hope in the promises of his Faith. And he knew he would grow to be someone stronger, wiser and better.

So he always tried to carry his cross with a smile and a happy face.

Tried.

Elijah was now the heaviest cross he ever had to carry. And it was difficult to smile for that android.

Kind old Father O’Hare was the man he always turned to about matters of faith. He was an old but healthy priest of about seventy-five when Isaiah first encountered him in that small booth where the deepest, darkest secrets and sins were bared. In that small booth where many chose to accept grace and to change their lives around for the better.

Father O’Hare died just last year in his sleep, with a beatific smile on his face. Though Isaiah could converse and hold theoretical discussions well with the other two parish priests, he missed the wrinkly old man with the thick head of white hair and a gung-ho attitude. But God had called him to rest and he would only be a memory away for Isaiah.

Isaiah was baptized exactly a year after he first stepped into the Church. Exactly a year. How strange life paralleled events that had transpired.

Breathing in deeply, Isaiah, having enough tranquility, said a short prayer and stood up- his knees almost numbed from kneeling for close to twenty minutes. Leaving the room as quietly as he could so he would not disturb the rest, he very gently closed the door and stepped out into the car park of the Church with the dissonance of the city in which he lived just a few meters away.

***

"Bye Isaiah!"

Isaiah was just about to unlock his car door when chatters of innocent little cherubs intercepted his actions. He spun around and saw the sight which never failed to bring a smile to his face. A group of small orphans were being led by their guardian into a bus and they all waved enthusiastically at him. If Isaiah was in one of his melancholic moods, their chirpy laughter would always be able to lift him out of the forlorn woods for a while.

Their family was with one another. Their home was an orphanage partly funded by the donations offered by the congregation called Hope’s Hands. Isaiah volunteered there when he could and he always made an effort to visit the children at least once every week. However, when there were cases, he could barely afford time to eat thus he had to very reluctantly break away from the kids for a spell or two.

"Bye brats!" He shouted good-naturedly back. The kids giggled and some wanted to run to him but their guardian hovered over them with a stern face that was so seemingly out of place with those sweet features.

"Now kids! We’re running out of time…we have to be at the museum in half-an-hour’s time…" Anne Lear clapped her hands and hurried the kids along. Twenty-three and blessed with a lovely face that had its unique allures unlike the gorgeous facades on magazine covers- she was more charming than attractive. Her straight mahogany-red hair only just brushed across her shoulders. With luminous hazel eyes and a splash of freckles, she had the child-like face that would never be corrupted by the trials of life- or so, as he liked to romantically imagined.

Two little golden-haired children were determined to stay rooted to the ground. Anne cajoled as best as she could but they shook their head and refused to bulge.

After he had enough enjoyment at seeing Anne’s flustered countenance, Isaiah strode over and squatted down in front of the two difficult angels, gazing straight into their violet eyes.

"Hello my favorite Jases…why aren’t you two darlings in the bus yet?"

The shy one was a boy while the fiery bundle was a girl. They were twins and were abandoned by their parents on the doorstep of Hope’s Hands one stormy night, in a oval straw basket, wrapped up with woolly blankets. The bitter scenario could be an exact real-life rip off from some tear-inducing melodrama. The guardians named them Jason and Jasmine.

A helpless Anne, who was now standing behind the kids hand-signed rapidly, indicating to Isaiah that she tried. She was not deaf, she just wanted to communicate with Isaiah silently so the kids would not hear her helplessness.

Kids are shrewd. They are innocent but clever enough to know they could always exploit an adult who was completely lost in how to handle them.

"We don’t wanna go…we wanna stay in Church with Jesus." The girl pouted and crossed her arms. The boy hid behind his sister, his eyes widened in agreement. He always went along with whatever his sister wanted. Isaiah felt his smile creeping wider. Jasmine was also the one who decided what was best for the both of them- best for her brother.

Isaiah loved the both of them dearly. If he was older, wiser, he would definitely adopt them and give them a beautiful home. The bond between the twins were as strong as the magnetic pull between the moon and Earth. Jasmine was the moon, always revolving around Jason, protecting him as he stood where he was- so painfully timid.

And he remembered that Lynn loved them as well. She helped out in Hope’s Hands almost as frequent as him.

"Jesus is everywhere…not only in the Church…we come to Church as a family to worship Him…to see Him. But He’s everywhere…"

The boy looked worried and tugged his sister’s sleeves. His sister immediately knew what he was afraid of. She was a psychic, but only for her brother. Each knew the exact words whispered silently in the other’s soul.

"Even last night when Jason broke the vase?" She asked innocently in the high-pitched and yet so sweet voice of hers, her own eyes rounded as well.

Isaiah laughed and ruffled their hair. He carried the boy up the steps of the minibus first then the girl. They took to him and were obedient whenever he was around.

Jasmine could be a real terror. Extremely mischievous, extremely protective of her introverted elder twin.

"Don’t worry. Jesus always forgives. He loves you two too much! Besides…it was an accident. Jesus knows. Besides, loving Jesus is not about feeling bad all the time… you should be happy. Free." Isaiah was convinced of the freedom but he could not feel it for himself sometimes. He often wondered if freedom came at a price. The cross could seem too overwhelming, so much so that sometimes, he could not breathe. Yet, there always came a moment when he would still his heart and just leave everything in the Almighty’s Hands.

And he would feel free.

For a while. Until he got lost again.

The boy placed a hand to his chest, relief spread over his face and the girl grinned happily. It was not long before they were comfortably seated and Anne pushed the sliding door shut.

"Thank you, Isaiah. I’m always stuck with the most hyperactive and difficult bunch all the time…" She faced Isaiah and he found himself drawn to her eyes- bright, large and clear. Isaiah strongly believed that eyes were the windows to one’s soul. Hers revealed to him a soul that was clean and pure like fresh white sheets, blowing in the wind, hung on horizontal poles placed on green meadows, behind rustic houses.

He scratched the back of his head and grinned sheepishly.

"Well…it’s really nothing. Kids like them can be a little insecure. They are after all abandoned by those who should love them the most…" Isaiah’s voice withered off as flashes of memories hit him- flashes of memories that could still push him into the melancholy’s sad embrace.

"I’m sorry I haven’t been putting in more time…"he added with a slight smile, after the memories passed and let his heart settle down.

Anne reached out to give him a friendly hug. She was simple and affectionate. There was a subtle fragrance that lingered in the air as she came close to him. A fragrance like those of flowers in springtime, a welcomed contrast to Autumn which always had more rain than was desired. And her softness and warmth would make most men melt.

But Isaiah was no longer included in the category of most men. He had already fallen very much in love with someone else.

Sometimes he wondered why he had not fallen for Anne instead. They were really good friends.

As she was plastered on him by the hug, he was reminded very much of unrequited love and a silent apology was muttered in his heart.

"Shucks. I know you must be busy. Lynn’s been coming around pretty often though. The kids love her." The embrace was brief, triggering, but comforting nonetheless. Isaiah gave her a light kiss on her cheek.

"Really? She did not mention it to me."

"You know Lynn, she does these nice things and she will deny doing them in your face, even as you tear her nails away." Anne winked at him and opened the door and was about to climb into the driver’s seat when she added, "The kids miss you. Do come over when you can."

Isaiah nodded and smiled sincerely. "Sure, no problem."

"Bye darling!" Anne jested.

"Bye my love…" Isaiah cheekily responded. They were always like that, calling each other affectionate names, still remaining friendly. He often told himself to stop all the harmless teasing yet old habits were hard to break. He had been uncomfortable around her until she started kidding around with him a few days after the question which had been asked a few months ago. And it was like the short-lived period of awkwardness had never occurred.

He drove off a while after the minibus pulled out of the Church’s parking lot. At the gate however, he had to stop. Lynn was waiting for him.

Reaching over to the passenger’s side, he unlocked the door and she stepped in, all gorgeous and cold without her jacket. Wearing a pastel pink turtleneck- that only loan frail strength to her porcelain complexion-and faded blue jeans, fragility was brought to her already delicate features that only emphasized the resolute glint in her eyes.

"I took a month’s leave." She informed Isaiah the moment she slid into the car.

"What?" Isaiah was taken aback. He knew Lynn did as she pleased but to take a month’s leave from work just like that was something he would not expect of her.

"You heard me…actually…I applied for your department. I am given a month’s leave from my department so I can be tutored by you…heard you’re after a psychopath now."

"Serial killer." Isaiah corrected her with forced stability, her sudden announcement was a little hard to register in one go.

"Oh…one and the same…"

Isaiah drove slowly out of the Church, glancing at her once and seeing her almond-shaped black eyes glitter with almost contagious excitement. Almost, because he was a jaded investigator and her adrenaline rush only contrasted the difference between the both of them- the understudy and the guru. Shaking his head, he smiled but a cold fear twisted his heart. With one hand on the wheel, he rubbed his forehead with the back of the other- wiping away some beads of sweat as well.

"Sometimes Lynn, maybe not. He could be a perfectly normal guy, even well-loved. Maybe a teacher in some knitting course or a leader in his community. He might even be a mayor or someone actively involved in ‘moral’ organizations or something. That’s lesson no. 1."

Lynn stuck out her tongue and pinched his nose playfully. "If he’s not a psychopath, then he must be evil."

The sense came back to Isaiah. His heart beat faster and he felt cold beats of sweat forming on his back. Pulling his lips into a thin, tight line, Isaiah drove the both of them to Eaeshore without another word.

***

Lynn fiddled almost violently around with Isaiah’s handheld. Isaiah knew that she was always slightly peeved when he could not figure out how to use simple technology like that. Now, she was checking his email for him which he was supposed to have done almost a couple of hours ago. His brother had sent him a very important email.

"There! All the information…gosh! I can’t believe it…your brother actually typed out the whole report-both of them-for you….no wonder the file is so huge…" Lynn read the contents and her brows raised slightly at the end comment.

"Yes?" Isaiah glanced over, sensing her sudden quietness and uneasiness.

"Listen to this. ‘Look out for Nazi influences. The second victim is Polish. Will investigate and discuss with you when you are done.’" Lynn read out the last few lines aloud.

"Nazis?" Isaiah was a little unnerved then.

Isaiah wished Elijah had been more forthcoming with details. But he had his suspicions as well. Having actually stepped foot in Auschwitz about seven years ago, he remembered the sense of wrenching loss, agonizing dread and nausea he had in one of the most horrifying place in the world. A more imaginative or neurotic person could close their eyes, breathe in the perfume that was Death’s and easily conjure up images of a sea of skeletal human beings, clothed only in translucent skin, screaming their last death cries.

Their last piercing shrieks.

One of his fellow backpackers had told him that approximately 2.5 million people had lost their lives most undeservingly in that hellish camp in Poland, which was not the only concentration camp the Nazis built in World War II for the Final Solution.

The dread and heartrending sorrow remained and with each heavy footstep atop lush green grass that had sprouted from the killing grounds, a vague triumph of life over death, Isaiah’s soul had been twisting. They visited the concentration camp, already emptied but haunted.

They took in everything. No one spoke. They remembered and recognized the unspeakable sufferings that were all this place knew once. They silently prayed for the souls to rest in peace.

In the mournful, honorary calmness, their soft footfalls seemed too loud.

Isaiah remembered how traumatic it was for his sensitive spirit. So gut-wrenching disturbing that right after the visit, he had to hog a cubicle of the student’s hostel toilet for quite some time because he could stop purging; trying to purge out the memory and the miasma of imagined dead bodies that had already been carted off Death’s favorite playground more than fifty years ago.

"I’ll leave it to Elijah to bombard me with the Academic stuff. We are going to check out Sandy Miller’s dorm room. Guide me."

"No map."

"The map’s in the car. Check the glove compartment." Isaiah concentrated on maneuvering into the exit to Eaeshore and his tone was more officious than necessary. Lynn muttered something under her breathe. He heard her and grimaced at his lack of tact.

"Sorry Lynn…I get all…"

Lynn smiled at him without much mirth after she retrieved the map from the glove compartment. "Just remember…I’m dating you mainly. Be nice…don’t talk to me like I’m some kid."

Seeing no cars behind, Isaiah pulled up onto the road shoulder though he knew it was dangerous. He was curt to her and yes, condescending. Thinking that he had more experience than her made him arrogant. He had forgotten that she was just as equal as him.

He leaned over and kissed her on her porcelain cheeks. She turned to kiss him on the lips and all was forgiven and forgotten immediately. Staring into her black eyes, his expression became all somber; all naked for her to see; to discover.

"Lynn…"

"Shh…" She placed a finger on his lips, deducing very naturally what he wanted to say. "We better get going. Time is passing us by and we can’t catch it back. There’s an evil to stop."

***