Sightless Seer Part 4

“Enter the Forest”

     I thought the burnt out church was depressing for a meeting sight, that had nothing on the old cemetery where the collective was called together.  I really have no other term for what we are.

     But Padre was there in his hoody, jeans and leather coat with the bandages over his head and hands; Alan A. Dale was dressed in a simple casual suit reporter and Imam; The Hood, was dressed all in black, with a green baggy hoody and head covering.

     “So why the text Padre?”

Alan was the most direct.  The Padre laid down the story and the theory.  The Sheriff had struck again was his supposition and in striking had killed another, for lack of a better term, Supra, in Calgary, a Seer.  The Hood coughed slightly.

     “Okay, so Sheriff whacked this cleric and the Pigeon, why?”

     It was my turn to step into the conversation and fill in some of the logistical gaps as to the why.  I talked of my experience in Banff, the strangeness of the Lox.

     “The Lox? As in Loxley a part of the Robin Hood mythos where my Hood comes from.” Hood blurts out.  There is a linkage here. “See I have been investigating this further, and if we want to think this through using as Padre phrased it, Paleo-Seti, then the actual Robin Hood legend tied to Herne the Hunter of Celtic lore can be espoused.”  Okay who gave the chicky a PhD in this stuff? “Essentially we are all pieces of the puzzle, each of us has a role to play.”

     I nod, way too much info, but she continues rattling it off.  The Robin and Marian dynamic, Alan as the storyteller, Padre as the Tuck, Pigeon and the Seer would have had roles to fill probably within the realm of Scarlett and Much.

     But here we are two short, and the Sheriff hunting us down. Weirdness, but not as weird as when I glance up in the sky to the spherical lights twirling overhead like right now.

     “Uhm guys maybe we should look up?”

A hole opened in the light sphere, this was not going to be good, how do I know? Simple, nothing in my life ever works out for the best when it starts with floating light objects.  It is days like today I wished I had completely avoided the career change and stayed a homicide detective, damn you Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and shooting assassins that caused it.  Okay end venting. All the pretty lights make things go sparkle.

     Four of us rematerialize floating around brilliant white glowiness. My compatriots seem as phased as I am by this. “Not to make anyone else worried, but I do not believe we are in Sherwood anymore.” Padre said.

     Hood, if I could see her eyes, appeared to be taking in the whole scene. Alan was being a typical reporter, I could note him taking in all the scenery and noting anything of importance.

     The voice sounded almost like an electric recording gone bad, “You are still in Sherwood, simply above it. Welcome back Lox.” Welcome back?  My eyes readjust to the brightness, and the image is familiar.  The typical alien, from such memorable moments as Fox’s Alien Autopsy, I believe the exact term is Grays.

     “The name is Rex.”

“No, as with the others you are the Lox, you have been merged with our ancestors essence to bring about the salvation of the Universe.  I am Herne.” Okay so now I have been merged with an ancient alien, while I am talking to an alien who has named himself after a Celtic god. Great, maybe I need a vacation. “No Lox you do not require a vacation, the Sheriff is attempting to usher in 2012 early, the ultimate change for 2013 in the rebirth would be a recolonization of Terra by the Nordics.” Nordics, they are aliens that are usually described in incidents as resembling pasty Viking types if you will.

     “For you see, Sheriff is one of the 12, the holy number.” The voice is singsong, a pale, almost albino humanoid form, towering tall I’m thinking 6’9” if he’s an inch. “Forgive me, I am Odin.”

     Okay my mind is reeling and thankfully Hood jumps in. “Whoa, what the fuck is going on around here?”

     “Give us a moment and we shall explain.” I did not recognize the voice, but the start Alan gave spoke volumes. “Yes Mr. Dale, it is I, Pigeon without my corporeal form due to Sheriff’s attack.”

     “Sheriff blind sided us.” A thick Middle Eastern accent continues the story, “I am the one you have termed the Seer, and I too lack a body, for our deaths do not mean the death of our essence, rather we await rebirth and merging anew.”

     Okay so reincarnation works through alien possession?

“It is not possession, rather we become living hybrids with you.” Herne explained.

     “What did you say about the holy 12 and recolonization?”

     “Our ancestors coexisted peacefully with the nation you termed Aztec, their calendar ended in 2012 because they believed a new world order would be ushered in 2013 that would radically change the world would function.” Said Pigeon.

     “The radical shift would be one world government under Emperium control.” Said Seer. Emperium? This is starting to sound like a bad Star Wars movie.

     “Sheriff is hoping to usher this in by releasing your energy essences from your corporeal selves through assassination. Like each of us here, Sheriff is one of the holy 12.” Said Odin.

     “What the fuck?” Padre just blurts out. “I’m sorry with my frame of reference I think of the 12 tribes of Israel, or the 12 disciples.”

     A new voice joins the fray, the hulking behemoth is close to 8’ tall and looks like a Gorn from the original Star Trek. “I am Gisbourne, the holy 12 is a number represented through many religious systems throughout the galaxies, in fact usually within 12 there is a weak link, or traitor, betrayer if you will, for Terran Christians you would say Judas.  Sheriff is our Judas.”

 A Reptillian, intriguing.  So this brings our total on board light floating orb to 9, with Sheriff that is ten. “I note that brings us up to 10, we are still missing 2.”

A loud sigh that feels to already emanate directly from my mind.  “You may call me Hag.” Hag, the ancient woman of wisdom. “Or ULO since you humans love acronymns.”

“ULO?” I inquire.

“Unidentified Light Object.” Touché. So that makes 11.

“But my math still says oh great aliens we are one short.”

I think the Reptillian is smiling. “No, you are coming with me for one more recruit, our very own Little John out of Ottawa.”

To Be Continued…

Next: Enter Jonny Power.

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