This is episode thirty-five of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise
. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by.
Privately With Me'Ached
Trace followed Me’Ached into the sanctuary behind the stage. White with gold trim dominated the room. It felt very sanitary to Trace. The pen on the white desk was white. The desk had gold ornate trim. A gold ten-pointed star hung on the wall behind the desk. There were windows on both sides of the wall that supported the star. Beyond the windows, a tropical garden waved in the breeze.
The only chair was behind the desk. Me’Ached sat and gestured to where he wanted Trace to stand—in front of the desk.
“White for purity,” Trace said, “contained by golden threads of wisdom and enlightenment.”
“You have read about me,” Me’Ached approved.
“Yes,” Trace said.
Me’Ached asked, “For enlightenment?”
“Yes,” Trace said, “but not in the way you think.”
“Than, to get inside my thoughts and motivations,” Me’Ached said.
“I worked on a crab boat on the Bering,” Trace said. “I wished I’d read more about it before I got there. It wouldn’t have been hard to figure out why men go there. It would be to know what the seas were all about. You go to China, you read a book about it, before you go. If I’d read about the Bering beforehand, I’d have never gone. But now that it’s over, I’m glad I went. A book can never give you the experience.”
Me’Ached raised his eyebrows, smiled, and asked, “And this place?”
“I read what I could about the island,” Trace said. “Then I read about you.”
“No doubt you read from some of my detractors,” Me’Ached said.
“I read some critics,” Trace said. “If a critic had an ax to grind, I paid little attention to it. I read mostly what you wrote. There were also a couple of books that took an academic approach.”
Me’Achad bobbed his head as if interested and asked, “Doctor Cromwell’s book?”
“Yes,” Trace said, “I read that one.”
“I don’t recall,” Me’Ached asked, “but did he mention we shared classes at Harvard?”
“He did mention that,” Trace said. “He said you were one of the brightest students he ever came across.”
Me’Ached chuckled. “And he being one of the dullest.”
“So how should I consider his writing?” Trace asked.
“He is completely wrong about the inane spirituality of all men,” Me’Ached said smugly. “There are those born into the human race for no other reason than an animal has. They have no spiritual values or inclinations. The only reason for their existence is much like sheep, cows, and buffaloes. They groom the earth.” He smiled and looked out the window where a man was trimming the plants. “They keep the grass trimmed.”
Trace nodded toward the man trimming and asked, “Does that include that poor fellow?”
“Those who know their place and keep it find the greatest satisfaction,” Me’Ached said sharply.
“Is he ever rewarded?” Trace said, “Or does he die like the sheep, the bovine, and the buffalo?”
“He is here to elevate his status,” Me’Ached said. “There is more hope for him than for you and your friends. He’s aware of his status. You and your friends are not.”
“How will he know he has been elevated?” Trace asked.
Matter of fact, Me’Ached said, “I will inform him.”
“But how will you know?” Trace asked.
“I have been given special enlightenment.”
“Is it possessed by anyone else?” Trace asked.
“Yes.”
“And I’d bet they are all in the confines of this island,” Trace said.
“Exactly,” Me’Ached smiled confidently.
“I know,” Trace said, “enlightenment can only be properly spread if concentrated into a singular location.”
“Well done,” Me’Ached said proudly, “you have really done your homework.”
Trace smiled. “You might say, I have been enlightened.”
“Hardly,” Me’Ached replied.
“So what is your end game?” Trace asked.
“What have you read?”
“Those enlightened will pass on to another place in the universe,” Trace said. “They will go to another civilization. There are too many to count who require enlightenment.”
“They will come into being someplace else,” Me’Ached said, “just as I have come here. I was enlightened elsewhere and came here. That is my mission.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Trace said.
“You know I have debated some of the greatest philosophers of our time,” Me’Ached boasted. “And all walk away bewildered.”
“Cromwell wrote of that,” Trace said.
Me’Ached asked confidently, “And his conclusion?”
“He had none,” Trace said. “He left that to the reader.”
“And your conclusion?”
“My conclusion,” Trace stated, “you dodge and change the narrative. There is only one standard and that is yours.”
“The book referred to has carefully edited my conversations with my challengers and made it appear as if I evade arguments. Try me out.”
“You say you can heal any sort of disease or infirmity?” Trace stated.
“I can. Did not Jesus heal?”
“The Bible says he healed everyone who came to him,” Trace said. “Yet, some who you claimed to have heeled, do not actually recover from their condition.”
“When I heal them, they are healed immediately,” Me’Ached said cooly. “It is their own impurity that allows the condition to return—sometimes it returns in a matter of moments.”
“So, you are saying those who Jesus healed had no impurities?” Trace countered.
“Spiritual and moral impurity,” Me’Ached lifted his head arrogantly. “Nothing can corrupt a being who is spiritually and morally pure. Even one of the great prophets said, ‘No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper.’ Many have been my enemies and detractors, and used all sorts of weapons, and none have succeeded. Here I am. I have prospered. That little display last night; it is nothing—traitors, nothing more. A couple of injuries, nothing more. Damages to equipment, nothing more.”
“Seeds of doubt,” Trace said, “nothing more.”
“There are no seeds of doubt,” Me’Ached said. “I can assure you.”
“What about the three who escaped?” Trace said.
“The girl, Sylvia, she became poisoned when she left the island on an assignment. She brought the poison back with her. The exercise last night cleansed the island. It was providential. I willed for the expedited removal of the traitors.”
“And of course, you knew their guard would go along, right?” Trace said sarcastically. “Nah, I don’t think so, so don’t bother to tell me it was all a part of some divine plane.”
“Let’s get back to healing,” Trace said. “We’ve drifted.”
“We were done with it,” Me’Ached pressed his lips.”
“You were done. I was not,” Trace said. “If someone on the island has a condition, like appendicitis, you heal them, of course.”
“I have healed many cases of appendicitis,” Me’Ahed said.
“Many, but not all,” Trace said.
“Those who have not been purified cannot be healed,” Me’Ached said.
“You allow those who are impure to be a part of this spiritually pure environment?” Trace asked.
“Impurities can return.”
“Even you?” Trace questioned.
“I am not of this world. I came from an incorrupt world into a corrupt world. I have come to purify and to elevate and pass those purified ones on to another world.”
“Then you will not die?” Trace asked.
“When I die the world dies,” Me’Ached’s eyes squinted.
“How will you explain getting older, feeble, and soiling your robe?” Trace asked.
“When and if that happens, it will mean my work here is slowly coming to an end. And I am called elsewhere.”
“Apparently a little at a time,” Trace quipped. “I’ve seen some pictures of you back in the day. Just off-hand, I’d say you’re slipping a bit. You cover up an aging man’s gait with a stroll of a holy man.”
“If you’ve read all my writings,” Me’Ached smiled, “all your doubts and questions would be answered. If not in my writings, they will come to you from the cosmos.”
“What does the cosmos say will happen to us,” Trace asked.
Me’Ached stood.
Trace started to rise; the guard immediately entered the room as he did. He struck Trace in the back of the head with a cane. Trace fell from the chair. He tried to regain his feet but staggered. He steadied himself by holding onto the back of the chair. The guard raised the cane to strike Trace again.
Me’Ached raised his hand. “That is enough. Return him to The Reform.
Trace staggered toward the doorway leading to the auditorium. He rubbed the back of his head and turned. “You don’t suppose you could make this headache go away?”
Me’Ached looked disdainfully at Trace. The guard shoved him through the doorway and into the auditorium.
Back at the stockade, the guard shoved Trace into his cell. Sage and Coyote immediately swung to their feet, sensing something physically overcame him.
Trace sat hard on his bunk.
“What happened?” Sage asked.
“The guard whacked me in the back of the head with his cane,” Trace said. “I’m okay. I didn’t see it coming.”
“Do you think you might have a concussion?” Sage asked.
“I don’t think so,” Trace said and lowered his voice. “I faked it a little bit. That’s not to say it doesn’t hurt.”
“Did they give you any ideas what they’re going to do with us?” Coyote asked.
“Here is an interesting fact I came across when reading about the island,” Trace said. “According to their published reports; over the years seven hundred and sixty-eight cult members have come to the island to work. One hundred and twenty-six are presently on the island. Forty have been dismissed. Five hundred and fifty-one have returned to the outside world to recruit. That leaves fifty-one unaccounted for.”
“Escapees?” Sage offered.
“Last night was the only successful escape from this island,” Trace said.
“You don’t think…” Coyote started to say.
Trace interrupted. “I don’t think they have gone on to another planet to purify it.”
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