Chandler
watched as the woman leaned into the blue light, levitated slowly, then poof, vaporized. He shook his head,
thrust his hands into his jeans and stepped back from the glowing cone in the
Arizona desert. Time to rethink.
An attractive woman to his left watched with a frown. The man was having second thoughts, perhaps
a hesitant? She stepped forward and coughed, causing Chandler to turn.
“I’m confused.” She said, timidly. “Do
I step into the blue circle, or just let myself fall into the cone? By the way,
I ‘m Magdalena.”
He smiled, “Of the Bible? New
Mexico?”
“Call me Maggie.” The dark-haired
woman with the angular face and large green eyes replied lightly.
Chandler explained that the brochure
recommended stepping into the circle, though one could just lean forward. There
were those who turned their backs and let themselves topple rearward into the
cone, and then elevated twenty or thirty feet in the blue light before vanishing.
They traveled to a parallel universe, or so the literature claimed.
Maggie nodded and looked at the blue
light, a large circle one hundred yards in diameter that gently sloped upwards about
thirty feet before fading into the night sky. The inverted cone was set against
the McDowell Mountains and a gateway that transported one to a higher dimension
where new life was transcendent with unbridled happiness.
As Chandler stared at Maggie, he had second
thoughts about taking the journey. Rachel had left him and the stock market had
gone south, leading to drink and an oxycodone dependency. But standing there in
the cool desert air with this attractive woman he felt a flicker of hope.
“You know,” Maggie said, interrupting
his musing. “I bought a French Burgundy to toast my visit to Blue Cone and my ascension.
But I couldn't drink alone.”
He nodded and smiled.
“Since we have time, why don’t we
share a glass of wine or two? We can return here later. The gateway isn’t going
anywhere.” She added lightly.
Divine intervention, Chandler thought
to himself. He needed to sit on her patio, study the desert night, sip wine and
then reconsider his decision to travel the Blue Cone.
“Great idea, “Chandler responded. “ I
have a corkscrew on my Swiss army knife.”
He followed her through the chilly
desert night, winding around the eerie saguaro cacti. The intimate complex was
northeast of the Scottsdale McDowell-Sonoran Preserve. For the affluent, rental
casitas were within walking distance of the blue cone that glowed in the night
sky, appearing as a vessel from a far away system. He felt revived as he saw Maggie’s
neat, white adobe dwelling set among the desert scrub.
Chandler
awoke with a slight buzz from too much wine, but felt reincarnated, alive and
ready to forgo traveling to the parallel universe. He turned over in the bed
and flung out an arm for Maggie. He heard a door open and sat up on his elbows
as she exited the bathroom in a white terry-cloth robe, her left hand held a
towel to her black hair. She smiled, and then reached into the pocket of her
robe, pulled out a snub-nose .38 and shot Chandler in the chest. He fell back
with his eyes wide and his mouth working. Maggie came to the bed and shot him
again in the forehead. The room was quiet as the gun smoke floated in the cozy
room. She sat on the bed, working her wet hair with both hands.
That evening Maggie emerged from the
room and she paused on the stone walk as the cleaning crew arrived. “Don’t
forget the letter.” She called. “Send his relatives the usual… ‘He went happily
into the Blue Cone to a new life of success and bliss.’”
Later as Maggie prowled the base of
the cone, she spotted a man ahead of her in slacks and a sports coat who
muttered, and then took a step back, shaking his head at the blue light. She
noticed with a pang that this was where she had met Chandler, but she quickly
shook off the remorse. There could be no undecided, no dropouts; there was no
going back, no refunds or the Blue Cone Enterprise would collapse.
The wavering man looked around and
spied Maggie.
“Excuse me, “she asked shyly, “Does
one lean in to the blue cone, or are you supposed to step in boldly?”
The man let out a breath and gave her
a smile. “Let’s compare notes.”
She
mentioned her French Burgundy and the man accepted a glass of wine with
pleasure.
Maggie smiled. There was work to be
done.
