Part 28 (1/2)

”Sorry,” he said.

”Xandrak only writes through me if I relax and keep my mind clear.”

Philip chuckled and returned to his books. If there was ever a person who would be able to keep her mind clear, it was Krissi.

As far as he knew she hadn't had a deep thought in years. But getting her to relax was another thing. Let's face it - opening yourself up to the influence of aliens and allowing them to write messages through you would tend to make anyone a little nervous.

But that's what Krissi was doing, and she was getting good at it. Very good. The process was called automatic handwriting, and during the past week its effects had grown stronger than ever. Often the writing would repeat the same phrases over and over again. Phrases that always emphasized Krissi was a specially chosen Light Worker, that she would help usher in the New Age of spiritual enlightenment, and that if she listened carefully to the Ascended Masters, she could help cleanse the planet and rescue it from its self-destruction.

Of course, neither Philip nor Krissi was sure what all of this stuff meant, but what they did understand sounded pretty cool.

Krissi also had been warned, over and over, to stay away from people with ”dark emotions” - especially narrow-minded Chris tians like Rebecca Williams, Becka's boyfriend, Ryan, and now Julie Mitch.e.l.l. It made no difference that they all used to be friends. Their old-fas.h.i.+oned way of thinking, their ”clinging to outdated religion,” could pose a real threat.

At least, that's what the messages kept saying.

They said one other thing too - and this was the phrase that had Krissi the most excited. They told her she would be ”making contact with an intergalactic race.” Soon.

That's why Krissi was so busy trying to connect with Xandrak, her alien guide. And that's why Philip was poring through every book on UFOs that he could find in the public library. If there was even the slightest chance of actually meeting inhabitants from another world, he wanted to be prepared.

At first Philip didn't buy into all of this UFO nonsense. As an intellectual type, he believed everything had to be proven.

Sure, he knew Krissi's automatic writing was legitimate - they'd tested it a dozen times. Not only was the handwriting entirely different from her own, but whatever or whoever was moving her hand knew things Krissi couldn't possibly know.

Still, to believe it was actually somebody from another planet, to believe that an extraterrestrial was actually writing through his girlfriend, well, that was a bit much for Philip. But as the information in her writing continued to line up with his research, Philip was finding it harder and harder to deny what Krissi was telling him.

”Check it out,” he said, referring to the book in front of him.

”It says here that one out of ten adults in the United States has seen a UFO.”

”No kidding?” she asked.

He nodded. ”And not just crackpots. It says here that the pharaohs of Egypt saw them, as well as Christopher Columbus, Andrew Jackson, and NASA astronauts.”

Krissi nodded and repositioned the pencil on her writing pad so it would flow more smoothly. Still, nothing happened.

Philip continued. ”Ninety-five percent of the sightings can be explained, but there's still five percent that no one has an answer for. Oh, and listen to this: 'Currently there are over one thousand doc.u.mented cases of personal contact with alien creatures.' ”

”You mean where people actually meet them?”

”Uh-huh. It also says there are UFO channelers and automatic handwriters around the world.”

Krissi's excitement drooped. ”So there are more people than just me doing this type of writing?”

”Yeah, tons. In fact, it says - ”

”Philip,” she interrupted. ”Look at my hand. It's starting!” They both looked down at the paper as her hand began to write letters. It was the same handwriting they'd seen before.

”This is so cool,” she chirped. ”I'm not having to zone out or daydream or anything. Now it's just happening as I sit here talking.”

Philip c.o.c.ked his head to watch the letters form. ”I guess that means it's getting stronger.”

”He,” Krissi corrected. ”He's getting stronger.” Philip shrugged. He still wasn't entirely convinced.

They continued watching, but instead of the New Age ramblings that Krissi's hand usually wrote, this message was short and to the point: Greetings in the name of the Intergalactic Alliance. The time for our rendezvous has arrived. Prepare for encounter at old logging road off Highway 72, north of Seth Creek. 8:00 p.m. Peace.

Xandrak The pencil came to a stop. Philip's and Krissi's hearts pounded as they stared at the message. Neither fully believed what they saw. Finally, Philip looked at his watch. ”It's 7:07 ...” Krissi nodded, swallowing back a wave of both fear and excitement. ”If we're going to meet him we better hurry.”

”Sweetheart, I'm just a little concerned, that's all.”

”Everything's fine, Mom.”

”But you're spending all your evenings there. And Becka and I, we hardly ever see you anymore.”

Scott could feel his mother closing in. If he didn't hurry and ease her fears, she could stop him from going over to Hubert's at all. He reached across the dinner table for the ca.s.serole dish and piled up an extra portion of Hamburger Whatever onto his plate. Eating was a good way to stall while he thought of the best approach. Come to think of it, eating was good for just about anything these days. At fifteen, Scott Williams was growing faster than a weed, and food was one thing he could never get enough of.

Food and playing Crypts and Wizards.

The game had been going on for about two weeks now. Darryl, his best friend, had invited him over to his cousin Hubert's house.

As a part-time computer whiz and full-time weirded-out genius, Hubert had modified an incredible fantasy role-playing game.

Each night, he would lock himself away in an upstairs bedroom and run the master computer while Scott and a half dozen other players plugged in their own computers downstairs and tried to track down the treasure Hubert had hidden in a special crypt - a crypt that only he had the map for.

The game was incredible. Not only did it give Scott a chance to really use his mind, but he could put that incredible imagination of his to work as well. Each of the players played a character with special strengths, personalities, and magical powers. Some were elves, others werewolves, warriors, warlocks, wizards, zombies, and the list went on. You could be anything you wanted.

And nothing matched the excitement of battling as a supernatural character who had special weapons, spells, and magical powers.

Of course, Scott knew some of this stuff could be pretty dark at times, and it did make him just a little bit nervous. But, hey, it was only a game. Just make-believe. All in his imagination.

The character he had created for himself - a mystical holy man by the name of Ttocs (Scott spelled backward) - had many of the same personality traits he did: a strong sense of justice, a belief in the supernatural, and a love for people. As the game continued over the hours, the days, and on into the weeks, Scott had grown more and more attached to the little guy. Together the two fought off the ghouls and monsters that Hubert - and other players' characters - threw at them. All this while carefully planning their route to get to the treasure.

”Scotty, are you sure it's really that healthy?” Becka asked from across the table.

”What's that supposed to mean?” Scott didn't exactly snap at his older sister, but he wasn't smiling, either. What business was it of hers? Sure, the two of them were extra close. There was something about growing up in the Brazilian rain forest and only having each other as playmates that created a bit of a bond.

Then there was losing Dad in the airplane crash less than a year ago. And, of course, all that occult stuff they'd gone through since they moved to the States. Still, that didn't give her the right to meddle.

Becka shrugged. ”It just seems like spending all your time doing something like that isn't so smart.”

Scott tried to hide his irritation. ”Relax. I'm just honing my computer skills. Besides, I'm getting a chance to exercise my imagination and - ” he threw her a pointed look - ”make a few friends along the way.”

Becka glanced down.

He'd hit his mark. It was a little mean, but he'd had to find some way of telling her to back off. He knew Becka had a hard time making friends; on the self-image scale of 1 to 10 she was about a 3. He also knew that Philip and Krissi, two of the few friends she did have, had just cut her off.

Becka grew silent. He knew she'd caught his drift. Now there was only Mom to worry about.

”Well - ” his mother wiped her mouth and rose from her chair to get dessert - ”I'm not saying no. Yet.” Scott relaxed.