CH. 3 Xavier by: Henny Daniels

As he opened his eyes, Xavier once again entered a state of mania. Surveying his surroundings, he was unable to mentally interpret the current situation. Since his last awakening, Xavier hadn’t known what state of consciousness he was in; was he dreaming, was this real, was he even alive? Now, he was in a King-sized bed in a room he had never seen before, let alone willingly entered. He began to wonder if he would ever wake up in his true home again. Demi invaded his thoughts; he could hear her telling him how much she loved and missed him. Please lord, let her be safe.

A knock on the door broke Xavier’s train of thought. “Umm. . .come in, I guess.” He stood up beside the bed and braced himself for more illogical drama.

G-lock entered with a grim look on his face, dried tears staining his cheeks. “Hello again Mr. Jones. I’m going to cut right to the chase in an effort to lull some of your confusion.” He closed the tall, mahogany door behind him. “To start off, I am your First sergeant, Grady Lockins—also known as Brother G-lock.”

“What do you mean my First sergeant? So that makes me, what?”

“Command, sir. You are the head of the most successful civilian army on this side of American History. Now, I realize that you just arrived here, and under normal protocol, I wouldn’t need to explain to you what’s happening. But due to unforeseen circumstances, I only have a few minutes to say a mouthful.”

“So, those people dressed in black were my army? But it couldn’t be any more than thirty people.”

“No, sir. That was only one team; our excavation team. We were sent to retrieve you from your arrival base to bring you back here— headquarters. It’s imperative that we bring you up to speed.”

Xavier was reminded of the last thing he saw before waking up in this room; a SUV exploding before his very eyes. “Did everyone make it?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“I remember you telling me that the car behind us would be fine; you said they were trained for that and would make it to our destination. Did they make it?”

Though he remained upright and at attention, G-lock displayed physical reaction to Xavier’s question, as if the question were a stiff blow to the stomach. Answering slightly above a whisper, “No, sir.” He took a deep breath, regaining his composure. “I’m sorry to inform you of this, but. . .” G-lock searched for the most sympathetic words but couldn’t find any.

“Well, go on. You said we don’t have much time.”

“The car that got hit was vehicle four; among those who lost their lives was: Rain Davison, Jermaine Reed, Blake Harris, and. . . Milan Williams.”

“Wait, you mean, my Milan Williams?” Xavier felt as if his stomach had dropped out of his body. He sat in a nearby chair. “But. She. I—” He lowered his head, waiting for tears to fall. Nothing would come; not because the news didn’t affect him, but because he couldn’t force himself to believe it. What if this is real?

“Sir, I hate to interrupt your grieving; I know this is heavy information, but I must tell you everything you need to know so that we can move forward with our plans.” Xavier nodded in response. “What I am about to tell you might sound crazy at first, but if you decide not to believe what I have to say, then at eighteen you will have lived a very short life.”

Xavier lifted his head with a look of bewilderment etched on his face. “Is that a threat?”

“I would never threaten you, Sir. You see, I’m aware that you may be thinking this is a dream, and everything that happened since waking up this morning was a figment of your imagination; you are completely incorrect. The truth is, you have just arrived at an alternate dimension; a parallel world that may appear to be similar, but everything is drastically different.”

“What? But if that’s true, then how did I get here?” This is nuts. This guy is out of his mind!

“From your loved ones’ perspectives, you were in a fatal car accident last night; the Xavier Jones that you know of remains in a coma on life support at Tallahassee Memorial until they decide to pull the plug.”

“What do you mean by that? Was I in an accident or not?”

“That is a loaded question with no simple answer, sir. In this world, you are one of the most innovative intelligent men to ever live. Before traveling to what you now know as home, you invented the equipment to do so. The purpose of the mission was to escape our enemy, stay for a few years, and hide something that belongs to us. But we weren’t prepared for what happened when you got there; you didn’t just arrive, you were born—starting life over from an infant; needless to say, you didn’t remember your mission. Not only that; we didn’t account for the time difference. To us, you haven’t been gone long at all. The car accident was the Universe’s way of returning you home, leaving your previous body without your actual being.”

With a perplexed look, Xavier questioned, “But, that makes no sense. If I haven’t been,” he used his hands as mock quotation marks, “gone long at all, then how do you know all of this? Like for example, how did you know that I was eighteen before I got here?”

“We were able to surveil the situation in a manner that is similar to how television works there; we received transmission.” Xavier didn’t understand, but he figured he probably never would and moved on to his next question.

“You said that I was escaping our enemy? Who is the enemy?”

In a chanting tone, G-lock responded, “The enemy of the black man has ALWAYS been the white man, though not by the black man’s choice. We are at war with this race of people who intend to own and control the entire Universe. Once again, it’s not our first choice, but in order to survive and thrive as God intended ALL of his children to—we must TAKE IT. He pounded his chest while barking the last words.”

That explains the kill order earlier. “Woah. So that’s not just a problem in the ‘land of the free’, huh? So, what is the secret I was supposed to hide?”

“Before your departure, we implanted in you something called ‘Melanin-One’; this is – quite literally—the Mother of all genetic DNA molecule structures extracted from frozen remains of the first woman on Earth, Eve; she was in fact, a black woman. Which is precisely why our Black Women and Every other Woman of color is constantly under attack and hated by most.

You created a special microscopic device to store it, and designed it to naturally pass through your body, so that you could bury it somewhere no one would possibly find it. Unfortunately, since you arrived inside of Demi’s stomach, she now holds the key to survival for our people. The enemy seeks to destroy both you and ‘Melanin-One’ since you stole it from them before they could terminate it. If they succeed, every single person of color will be banished into nothingness forever, and they will finally achieve Hitler’s vision; one race separated only by hair and eye color.”

“Does that mean my mom is in danger? I called earlier and could hear her crying, but she couldn’t hear me. Check your transmission to see if she’s ok!”

“Sir, hearing your mom’s voice is just one of the side-effects of pan-dimension traveling. Those were audio remnants of her while she visited you at the hospital; she was upset that you’d been unresponsive, seemingly fighting brain damage in the coma, and have been for a long time—by now. She’s oblivious of her present monumental importance to humanity. The paramount question is, does the enemy know?”

Understanding slowly emerged, making sense of the longest dream of Xavier’s life. It was time for him to accept this as reality now. If not, many others would be in danger—including his mother, Demi. He couldn’t help but think of her at this moment, how she must feel thinking that her only son is brain dead. It’s time to get home NOW. “Ok, so how do I get back to her then? That’s what this is about right, our plans and what we have to do next?”

“First thing’s first sir—we have some fallen soldiers to honor.” Currently, we have a few qualified comrades brainstorming strategy and defense consolidation. As you saw, every route we travel must be cleared as suddenly as ten minutes prior to departure.

There’s also something you need to see—a damage-control video you left in the small chance of mission malfunction. Like I said sir, you are one of the GOATs.” Shifting his stance, “I will transport you to sufficient viewing quarters after your appearance at the upcoming funeral services.

“Alright, I guess.” He scratched his head with a perplexed squint. “Wait, I don’t have anything to wear though.”


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