4.

There is a foreboding fear rather than an ending possibly being nearby. It is not necessarily an end of everything though an end of everything is not impossible either, such a thing is definitely not completely off the table. There is a feeling of grandeur and not a false kind either.

Something is coming whether it is wanted or not, a challenge with a pre-determined acceptance. The outcome will have an importance which could stretch out to the very end of days or possibly even bring about an end of days a hell of a lot sooner than one would anticipate. It all boils down to the participation of a simple man who is not at all so simple.

Taking on such a thing in his youth would be a heck of a struggle so at a later point in life where health is more than a consideration is something to question one's sanity. It provides a what the hell at the same time. If there will ever be a moment to step up, then this is that moment. The acceptance of whatever will come from it all will just be a given. Win, lose or draw, this is it.

If this really is to be it, then the least one can do is go in prepared.

He doesn't know why an expectancy weighs upon him. Nothing has been directly put before him yet, yet he knows it is coming. What has come already is something which seems silly when he really thinks about it. He is sick, on a possible path to the end of the road, and there is that visit from what apparently was the Sun God Ra.

How ridiculous this seems. A quest is coming, one which is prophesied, and it is Johnny Birch in all his glory who is to bring it all forward. Before anything is to be presented to him, Johnny Birch returns to a church he had randomly gone to not all so long ago and in such, one thing may be raised and that is, is anything truly random?

He arrives at a time where no ceremony, no mass is being offered up, he arrives at a time when the church is next to empty. He arrives with purpose though to look at him, it would be next to impossible to presume that there is much at all weighing upon him let alone something along the lines that is there.

Indeed, the church sits in silence. He dallies before moving to sit exactly where he had sat the last time he had been here. As quiet as a mouse, someone else has arrived. If he has walked from any point to be where he so happens to be then he did so with great stealth since Johnny had heard no movement at all, but then again, being so lost in his own thoughts as he so happened to be before words were exchanged, a storm could have almost gone unnoticed.

'Welcome back, my son.'

These words are spoken so softly that they would not startle the most jumpiest of people. Again, the words, like last time, are more than a little off. That priest appears to be so much younger than Johnny Birch that the words my son comes across as almost sounding funny. Of course, the words are literal, Johnny is no son of the priest but perhaps a son of God in some sense ... still it is odd. He is older enough to be the father of this priest, all parishioners are children of the lord. Johnny does not belong to this parish, and that is if he belongs to one at all.

The priest is sitting behind and slightly to the right of John. This too is more than a little unusual. Nothing about anything is usual as of late, it's best to move forwards and not question everything. Some questions still do need to be asked, and what's better than right here in the right now.

'Father Eckles, good to see you ...'

'As it is you, my child ...'

John wants to laugh at this but doesn't. 'Father ... what can you tell me about Jacob?'

'In a religious sense?'

'Yes ...'

'Well, Jacob wrestled an angel, and the angel was overcome ... it can be up for debate or interpretation as to exactly who the angel was and as to if the angel purposely gave in or gave it his all ...'

'Do you have a particular interpretation, Father?'

'Why yes, yes, I do. Can I ask you ... when it comes to matters of a religious nature, do you wrestle with what you believe?'

5.

Sometimes, we all need a little ... faith.

As it so often goes, there is no time like the present and Johnny Birch isn't getting any younger, health will not be improving any time soon, more likely his physical ailments soon will begin to deteriorate a little quicker, if not a whole lot quicker.

He has come to consider what it is that has been offered to him. All he has to do is say his name. ... If he is going to do this, whatever this is, he'd rather find a quiet spot to begin it all. He feels as if an end is on its way and if an end is coming then the weather should at least reflect the impending doom but no, it is as nice a spring day as there has even been outdoors and somehow this makes him all the worse.

To the local town park is where he goes, moving with neither trepidation nor determination. What will be, will be, surely nothing he can do will change any of that. A relatively quiet spot is found. There are those near who seemingly move without a care in the world. None of them will pay any attention to an older middle-aged guy let alone glance his way but what does he know?

'Ra ...' he says gently, almost choking on the word. He coughs once, twice, three times, bringing up smidgens of blood.

What am I doing? If only he knew.

'Ra ...' he speaks again, a little louder and quite clearly, '... I'm here ... I'm ready ...'

He appears behind Johnny, no more than ten feet away, the big man with whom he had met in a local public bar. The one-man army who could possibly take on the world by himself and win at that too, perhaps he is just exactly what it is he says he is. His size is as impressive and intimidating as it was when they previously met.

'Are you ready?'

Johnny turns quickly, startled but expectant, knowing who or what he is about to see before he sees ... him.

'Ready for what?'

'Only you can know that ...'

'So, we're going cryptic?'

'Most every journey is unique. They can be something cryptic, substituting one thing for another. I can only aid you step onto your trail. You must go and see where it leads.'

'What if I don't want to go?'

'You have come this far ... you may as well see it out, whatever the cost. If you turn back now, it will plague you all through the remainder of your life.'

'And there probably isn't much of that, right? ... my life, that is.'

'Such is not for me to say ...'

'Alright so, how do we begin this? Is there anything I need to know before we get underway?'

'Just look up and step forward, take things as they come to you.'

Johnny Birch does look up. A war cry catches his attention. A falcon, the lord of the sky, basks in all that is his kingdom. The sky suddenly clears, and the sun strengthens by quite the multiple in an instant. The sudden heat is such that John immediately begins to bake.

'What the ...?'

He has questions but there is no one close to ask. There is no one near, not one single park goer where there had been some a moment ago. Thing too is, there no longer is a park for Johnny Birch now stands up sand, tonnes of sand, an infinite desert stretching out in all directions. Indeed, what the hell is this?

He is a middle-aged man, much closer to age where he might get to collect a pension than to a time where he would be in his prime. And he certainly is not anywhere close to his prime, he is anything but. The reaper may even be planning a visit. Hell, that's the last thing he needs, though hell probably does not get much hotter than this. This place may well be the Sahara for all he knows. How is he to go forwards through this? A tie is loosened, and a jacket is removed. This is a start but not enough of one.

An odd extended kind of grunt sounds out. The most peculiar of sounds. This sound is a foghorn of sorts, not from any kind of ship of the sea, or shoreline landmark, but one of a living ship of the desert. The sound is almost ominous and echoing, it could also be lifesaving. Where is it? It must be nearby. John turns a one eighty ... and there it is ... a camel ... a single lowly camel ... a monstrous yet friendly apparition ... apparently equipped with a saddle bag, ready to aid a master out on a quest.

This animal, an indigenous creature of ... wherever all this is, is about forty feet away, forty feet which is the most difficult of distances this length that Johnny Birch has ever had to travel. His feet sink a little below the sand, the sun continues to bake, the air is too hot to breathe, if he doesn't get out of this, then he won't be getting anywhere soon. Thing is, where can he go?

Time is of the essence. A short slog is completed. The camel is indeed equipped, prepared for one who is about to head off on one heck of an expedition. Skull caps, bandanas, two large canteens of water, enough food to last a master a number of days. Guess John is to be that master. There is footwear too, to aid travelling upon sand. No time to waste, an immediate goal is to find some shelter. If a kind of dusk visits this place, then such a time is possibly the best time to go on the move.

Wouldn't you know it, something is on John's side. He spies a cavern with which he can get out of the sun within ... if he can get to it. Now, how does one drive a camel? No way is he thinking of climbing aboard this monstrous thing but how willing will this beast be with moving in a direction Johnny would like it to move?