John Frum The Reluctant Messiah

Well, That Explains A Lot

20 Years earlier...

He stopped at the edge of the clearing, hiding from the crazed hunters behind a giant yucca. His lungs, now at the brink of exploding, tore at his chest, his heart pounding so hard he swore his enemies could hear it.

"Breathe! Breathe through the nose" he warned himself, struggling to control his breathing, He held his breath momentarily and listened for the determined warriors. They were getting closer. Before him was the last three hundred yards, an entire football field without a single bit of cover. Once he committed, he'd be wide open to whatever death punch was waiting to swoop in and end his life and the life of John's only son. One last gamble, one last roll of the dice. Gerard's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened and with one last gulp of humid night air, he bolted for the hanger.

"Run!! Just keep running!" he thought. He should have been filled with fear but there was no room for it. It had been pushed out the moment he took his first step onto the field by his overwhelming need to survive. Suddenly arrows began to appear, sticking out of the ground in back of him, in front of him, and to the side. He felt the sting in his left leg as a feathery spear caught the cuff of his pant leg, grazing his calf. It stuck in the soft ground spinning him around but like a good offensive receiver, managed a complete 360 and kept moving towards the goal post, never once letting go of the ball.

He managed to make it to the hanger, pressing himself up against the metal building. From the corner, Gerard could see Aiden being confronted by a soldier in fatigues forcefully motioning him to the cockpit. Some of the warrior hunters were still coming across the field, determined to strip the Colonel of his stolen prize. In a moment their torchlight would expose him but not before the soldier noticed them coming. Shielding his eyes from the glaring light bulb, he drew his weapon, popped off a round, and hit one of the savages squarely in the chest. The 45 hit him with such force that his legs flew up into the air, landing him in the opposite direction.

Here was his chance. The immediate threat had been neutralized and an idling plane beckoned with it's cargo doors wide open, sitting just 15 yards in front of him. He had no idea where it was going but anywhere was better than where he was. Gerard and his precious bed linens snuck aboard the aircraft and as luck would have it, it taxied and took off into the relative safety of the night sky.

"Well, that explains a lot-this dream- ever since I was a kid..." John said. "So, when did you realize we were on board?" he asked.

"Right about when your uncle threw my gun-toting guest out the left cargo bay," Aiden said matter of factly. John was taken aback and looked at Aiden in astonishment.

"What?!" Aiden said in mock indignation. "He threw him a parachute pack on his way out the door. Or a knapsack filled with MRE's- was never entirely sure, it was dark," Aiden continued to eye John. "It's just bloody impolite to shove a 45 up someone's nose..."

John shook his head in disbelief.

"So where exactly was this? I know it was some sort of jungle, somewhere in this corner of the Pacific, but no one would ever say for sure."

"And they never will, mate," Aiden shot back. " They don't want you to know. It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous? Wait, wait. Dangerous? And who are 'they'? Aiden sighed and shook his head trying to decide whether to go on. "Come on, spill, I wanna know!" John demanded.

Aiden lowered his voice. "There are people that would kill me if they knew I was talking to you about this."

"Who?" John asked.

"People!" Aiden yelled. "Just...people, OK?" John held up his hands in surrender.

Aiden continued, "Your father-"