Archangel Michael Jackson Island Part 4

Even through a severe storm, the town projected order and propriety. The cars that lined the streets were all virtually identical ten year-old Chryslectric 4WD Chargers. They seemed in mint condition, as if they been maintained to last a lifetime. Indeed they did. Archangel Michael only received goods via parachute airdrop, and cars were too big to drop. These vehicles were likely shipped here all at once just before the island closed itself to the outside world. Even public cellular and satellite phones were blocked here. His full featured Apple iComm would be useful only as a voice memo recorder on this island.

The town surprised O'Connor in many ways. This didn’t seem the type of place where the "Jacko Wackos" hid out… the brainwashed, deluded, religious fanatics…

O'Connor didn’t hear but felt the shattering thud on the back of his head. And everything went black.

An unknown time later, O'Connor opened his eyes, but they could not focus. His head was covered in a large bandage and throbbed audibly. It seemed as if an ice pick was stuck in the back of his skull. He stirred and moaned in what seemed to be a downy-soft bed. He felt someone lift his arm and inject a hypodermic needle. He quickly and peacefully slept.

O'Connor slowly awoke. His eyes could focus this time and he saw a pleasant, pastel blue, well-furnished hospital room. He felt for the bandage on his head. It was gone as was the headache. He felt stitches on the back of his skull. A lovely nurse in an indigo pinstripe uniform asked him gently how he was feeling. He found it difficult to speak. He mumbled "how long?" The nurse replied, "Heal the World! Merry Christmas, Mr. O'Connor. The Archangel has blessed you. You’ve made a full recovery."

O'Connor closed his eyes. Christmas? His last memory was in late November. The nurse assured him that he was fine and all his questions would be answered. But now he needed his first solid food in a month. She brought him a warm pudding that tasted like pureed meat and potato and a cool glass of what seemed to be a delicate coconut milk, telling him that his stomach needed to be brought back into action slowly.

The pudding was filling and O'Connor was full of questions. The nurse was sweet, kind, courteous, and unerringly polite. She assured him that although it was Christmas day, the Advocate General had been notified and was on his way to the hospital to speak with him.

Within minutes the Advocate General arrived, a striking, attractive man well over six and a half feet in height. He pulled up a chair next to O'Connor’s bed, greeted him with what seemed to be the standard salutation "Heal the World," wished him Merry Christmas and began to address him courteously. The Advocate seemed overjoyed to answer O'Connor’s questions, stating that they "didn’t get many visitors around here."

The Advocate explained that the island’s security forces had tracked him from the time he snuck underneath the "shark net." They were extremely impressed at how he passed unscathed through the laser mines and the underwater metal detectors. A security officer had sniper-tagged him on the back at Round Rock Bay with a transmitter so they would know where he was at all times. That explained the sting on his back.

Since they did not know if he was a threat, they tracked him until he got close to The Archangel (The Valley’s new town name). They could not take the chance to let him approach the town if he was a saboteur, so security ended his journey at this time. O'Connor felt the big scar on the back of his head and congratulated the Advocate on the efficiency of his forces.

The Advocate laughed gently and continued to explain that The Mwinyi had taken a personal interest when it was discovered that he was the noted journalist Ian O'Connor. The Mwinyi wanted to meet with him when he was feeling better. The hospital doctors had advised that he could be released from hospital but required two more weeks of recuperation.

The Advocate informed him that a beach house near Michaeltown had been prepared for him with nurses standing by 24 hours a day for the next two weeks. O'Connor asked if he were a guest or prisoner. The Advocate smiled again and replied "guest."

Continued In Archangel Michael Jackson Island Part 5

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