The Guardians of Yin and Yang

“Slow down,” Burton Bradshaw says, watching Matt Omar down his third vodka tonic.

“Just getting my shore legs back.”

“You think so?” the suave English bartender says. “Another one of those and you won’t be able to feel your legs. I think it’s odd that you work on a ship with unlimited booze- which you never touch - then you come here to drink like a fish.”

“Maybe I like the company better.”

“What company? You watch ESPN and drink alone. How was the cruise?”

“Uneventful.”

“There wasn’t a single dowager for you to prey on?”

“No, I didn’t feel like making nice with the blue hairs.”

“When do you ship out again?”

“Six weeks,” Matt replies.

“Do you intend to spend it all cemented to that stool?”

“I would think you’d appreciate getting rich off of me.”

Burton reaches for a nearby bottle of water, taking a sip. “Feeling sorry for yourself again, Matt?”

“Sometimes I wonder where this is all going. I’m a purser. I have the most boring job on the ship. I dance with eighty-year-old heiresses and have dinner with a Captain who can’t remember my name.”

“You’re a good man, Matt, but you let life treat you like a doormat. It doesn’t get any easier after forty.”

“I’m forty-five,” Matt says.

“You’re just proving my point, mate,” Burton retorts, drifting away to serve another customer.

Matt looks at his reflection in the mirror above the bar, checking his dark hair for flecks of grey, and searching his swarthy complexion for wrinkles.

“Haven’t aged a bit,” he says to himself. “Still a handsome devil. So why am I alone?”

Sighing, Matt scans the bar, frowning at the sight of couples gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes.

“That’s enough torture for tonight,” he says, downing his drink.

Swinging open the door, Matt nearly hits a passing woman.

Matt is awestruck by her hourglass figure, porcelain skin, and cascading raven hair. Her perfectly symmetrical face is accented by a beauty mark on her left cheek.

Her violet eyes lock with his.

“I apologize.”

Her white teeth shimmer as she smiles at him.

“Apology accepted.” 

Turning away, the woman disappears around a corner.

Matt’s legs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds apiece as he shuffles after her.

He turns the corner. The woman is nowhere in sight.

“Figures.”

The next night, still daydreaming about his encounter with the beautiful stranger, Matt nearly barrels into a departing young couple as he enters Burt’s Bar.

“Looks like you’ve already had a few, mate,” Burton comments, pouring him a drink.

“I saw a goddess last night.”

“So, why aren’t you with her?”

“She disappeared before I could follow her. Story of my life.”

Burton reaches under the bar, pushing a small package in front of Matt.

“Maybe this will cheer you up.”

Matt tears open the package.

“Interesting chain,” Matt says. “It looks like it's solid gold. What’s on it?”

“That’s a North Star pendant,” Burton replies. “But where’s the other half?”

“I’d say it was made that way. Half the blue gemstone’s missing too.”

“Maybe whoever sent it has the other half,” Burton says, winking.

“You’ve been watching too many Indiana Jones movies. There’s no name on the envelope. Did you see who delivered it?”

“No. I was in the back. When I came back out it was sitting on the bar.”

Matt puts the pendant around his neck.

“Feel a tingle? Some sort of magic?” Burton jokes.

Matt takes a sip from his drink. “The only thing I feel is the oncoming buzz from the vodka.”

Matt opens the door to his apartment. He drops his jacket on the floor when he sees the brunette stranger sitting in a chair.

“I like bold, beautiful, and mysterious women, but breaking and entering might be going a bit too far.”

“You didn’t follow me last night, so I knew I had to prod you into noticing me.”

“Stevie Wonder would notice you. Did we meet on a cruise or at Burt’s Bar?”

The woman’s tranquil, lilac-colored eyes and soothing tone put him at ease. “No, but we’ve known each other a very long time.”

“We have? You’re somebody I’m not likely to forget.”

“Do you remember anything past a year ago?” she asks.

“Of course. I remember playing baseball in college, Christmas with the family, even being class president in junior high.”

The woman’s placid eyes narrow. “Those memories aren’t real.”

Matt notices the woman’s pendant.

“I’ll bet your story has got something to do with your having the other half of the same pendant as me, doesn’t it?”

Rising from the chair, the woman goes to the window. Parting the curtains, she looks down into the street, biting her lower lip.

“Are you being followed?”

“We should go somewhere else for a while. It’ll throw them off our trail.”

“Sure. I was going to Burt’s, but I know a classy restaurant a few blocks away. Did you say, ‘our trail’?”

The waiter places bowls of gazpacho soup in front of Matt and the woman.

“So, who are you?”

“Chione. It means daughter of the Nile.”

“I can’t pronounce that.”

“You always had problems with it, so you called me Violet.”

“I get it, the eyes. But just one name, like Cher and Madonna? Are you a celebrity?”

“I’m a Time Guardian. And so are you.”

“No. I’m a purser on the liner Oceanic.”

“Your real name is Maat. You changed it to Matt when we came to America.”

“Together?”

“Of course. We help maintain the natural order of things.”

Matt nearly gags on his soup. “Come again?”

“The yin and yang of life. We protect people who are destined to make history.”

“Good or bad?”

“That’s what yin and yang means. For everything good that happens, something bad must occur to balance the scales.”

Matt shakes his head. “I should have known a beauty like you would have more baggage than a ship’s hold.”

Violet smiles provocatively in return. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. That’s why I sent you the pendant. You already noticed I have one half and you have the other.”

Matt snickers. “Does that mean we work together to fight evil like Batman and Robin?”

“Something like that.”

“What does it do?”

“It allows us to teleport through time. Tap it, say the year and the destination, and it will take you there. But be careful. On the back of it is a small switch. Push it to the left, and it sends a distress signal that tells me where you are. Push it to the right, and it emits a ray that will knock anyone out for thirty seconds.”

Matt searches for the switch, accidentally pushing it. A beam of light shoots out, hitting Violet between the eyes.

Violet face plants in her soup.

The waiter rushes over to the table.

“Narcolepsy. I never know when she’s going to take a nap.”

Violet pulls her face out of her gazpacho.

“You always were a little too curious,” Violet says, wiping her face.

“Sorry, my hand slipped.”

“Do you believe me now?”

“A Time Guardian. That’s a lot to take in.”

“Where are all the people in your present life that you remember?”

“…Around, I guess. Or dead.”

“You were given those memories as a backup in case you were injured.”

“I was hurt?”

“Last year. We usually work in pairs, but the assignment called for a man to board the Australian light cruiser Sydney in November 1941. You were supposed to warn them they were going to be ambushed by a German auxiliary cruiser and sunk with all hands. But you couldn’t convince the Captain. In fact, he threw you in the brig. You were knocked out when a shell exploded near you. You were singing ‘Sea Cruise’ to yourself. Fortunately, your pendant pressed against the floor and was activated when you fell.”

“Let me guess,” Matt says. “Your teleportation device heard me singing, ‘Won’t you let me take you on a sea cruise’ and put me on the Oceanic.”

“It’s not a perfect system.”

Matt loses himself in Violet’s indigo-colored eyes. “You’re such a beautiful liar.”

Violet looks out of the restaurant window at the street, shuddering.

A tall blonde man and an athletic blonde woman pass by, crossing the street.

“Something wrong?”

“The Arayats. They’re after us.”

“Those two? What do they want?”

“To destroy the balance between life and death.”

“Meaning they have to destroy us, right?”

“The Arayats were passive for centuries, letting us maintain the balance between life and death, and good and evil. For the past two hundred years they’ve been trying to undo our work, to take over.”

“And if they do?”

“There will be war, death, and misery on an unimaginable scale. Every country, every town will have its own Hitler, Pol Pot, or Stalin.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since the dawn of time,” Violet replies.

“You look a little young to have gone to bible school with Jesus. How old are you?”

“Old enough to have celebrated my honeymoon on the Nile on a barge with my friend and maid of honor, Cleopatra. P.S. she was no raving beauty.”

“Well, you certainly are. Where’s your husband?”

“Sitting across from me.”

Matt laughs. “Me? So, running into was no happy accident. Now I know why I’ve had such rotten luck with women. I was already taken! Does this mean we can celebrate getting back together?”

“We don’t have time for that now.”

“Yep, we really are married,” Matt replies. “How did we meet?”

“We were matched at birth by the Guardians along with seven other couples. An alchemist bonded us and made us immortal…for the most part. The Arayats have invented a weapon, a ray gun that can kill us.”

“And then they’ll be in control,” Matt replies. “Back to us. Do I love you because some holy man put a spell on us?”

“Does it feel that way?”

“No. What I feel for you goes deeper than any spell,” Matt answers. “So, when will I start to remember who I am? Do you have to hypnotize me or something?”

“Hold your pendant out and repeat this word… Khalid.”

Violet reaches out with her pendant, joining them together.

“Khalid.”

Matt feels a jolt of energy.

“Whoa. Khalid…Eternal life… I feel whole again.”

“Good. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

Burton nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns around to face the blonde couple’s probing stares.

“How did you two get in here? It’s ten o’clock in the morning. We don’t open for another hour.”

The man’s posture stiffens. “I’m Hans. This is Greta. We are looking for Maat Omar. We traced him here.”

“I don’t know any Maat Omar and he’s not here, mate.”

Reaching into her jacket, Greta pulls out a gun.

“Don’t be so anxious, Greta.”

“That’s one fancy pistol, mum.”

“Tell us where Omar is, or you’ll see how it works.”

“I’ve got a feeling you mean to do him harm,” Burton says. “I wouldn’t tell you where he was even if I knew.”

“He’s useless,” Greta snarls, pressing the trigger.

“Our assignment is to save a girl named Diu Cheng. Take my hand,” Violet says.

“Gladly.”

“San Francisco. Lafayette Elementary School, 2046. Room 115.”

Matt and Violet stand at the end of a long hall, the screams of frightened children and teachers echoing in their ears. Gunshots roar on the other side of the school.

Two boys run into their view. They pause to look back and are blasted off their feet.

“We’re too late,” Matt says. “We were supposed to get here before the gunman.”

“Like I said, it’s not an exact system.”

The sound of gunshots moves closer. Two girls speed past, shrieking hysterically as they are forced to jump over the bodies of their dead classmates.

“Let’s go!” Violet says as she and Matt rush toward room 115, bolting through the door.

A jittery teacher screams, pushing Diu Cheng under a desk.

“It’s all right!” Violet says. “We’re here to get you out!”

Picking up a desk, Matt smashes it against the window until it shatters. Knocking out the shards of broken glass, Matt helps Violet drop the children outside.

The door to the classroom springs open. The shooter sprays the ceiling with bullets.

“School tax! I pay three thousand a year in school tax, and I ain’t even got kids!”

The children hiding under desks scream. Matt pushes Violet out of the window.

The shooter locks eyes with Matt.

“What are you tryin’ to do? Be some kinda hero?”

“Nah. I’m just your garden variety time guardian,” Matt replies, flipping the switch on his pendant.

A beam of light hits the shooter between the eyes. Cursing, he drops the rifle, falling backward.

The police rush in, handcuffing the gunman.

Matt climbs out of the window into Violet’s arms.

“Mission accomplished. We saved Diu Cheng,” Matt says. “You mind telling me why?”

“She’ll discover a cure for cancer in 2068.”

Matt scans the streets of New York City’s financial district.

“2049, and they still have that bronze bull statue on the corner.”

A short, heavyset man staring at his phone nearly bumps into Matt.

“Well, there’s one habit that hasn’t changed.”

Preoccupied, the man walks into the street.

An Uber races toward him.

“Hey, buddy! Hey you! Look out!” Matt shouts.

Running toward the man, Matt grabs him, pulling him to safety.

The Uber speeds by, honking its horn.

Looking up from his phone, the man says, “Wow, I could have been flattened. Thanks!”

The man waddles off, looking back at his phone.

“He’ll be lucky to make it two more blocks before he gets nailed,” Matt comments.

“Did you recognize him?” Violet asks.

“Was that Lowell Boscombe?”

“Yes. In five years, he’ll make three of the most egregious financial decisions in history. His mismanagement will usher in the biggest stock market crash since the Depression.”

“And we were assigned to save him. Why?”

“Yin and yang. Diu Cheng was our good deed, our yin. Lowell Boscombe was our yang. Saving him balances the scales.”

Violet stands by the curtains, scanning the street below.

“I wish you’d stop doing that. We’re safe here. You yourself said the Arayats are probably a hundred miles away by now, following the false signal we set up.”

“You’re right,” Violet replies. “You know, balancing good and evil has made me hungry.”

“Delivery takes forever around here. How about a pizza and a bottle of wine?”

“Still the incurable romantic,” Violet replies. “I guess it’s better than the fish and heqet we ate when we were first married.”

“I’ll be back in a jiffy. Tonight, we’re gonna party like it's 30 B.C.!”

The messy-mopped teenager whose face is losing its battle with acne hands Matt his pizza.

“Your necklace is missing half its rock, mister.”

“It’s a gemstone.”

“Whatever. Is it supposed to blink like that?”

Matt rushes into his apartment, noticing an overturned table and broken lamp. A path of destruction leads to the kitchen, which is littered with broken plates and overturned chairs.

One of the long, serrated kitchen knives sits on the counter, smeared with blood.

“Good for you, Violet. You didn’t let them take you without a fight.”

The gemstone blinks.

“Where is she?”

A voice answers, “Warehouse. 1180 Ihnat Avenue, Brooklyn. Second floor.”

Matt turns the engine off, letting the car drift into the warehouse’s lot.

The gritty dirt crackles under Matt’s feet as he edges along the side of the darkened building. The back door creaks as he forces it open. Climbing the stairs, Matt can hear the two Arayats arguing about whether to kill Violet immediately or wait until he comes to rescue her.

Matt steps into the dimly lit room.

“Thanks for waiting,” he says.

The left side of her face bandaged from a knife wound, Greta holds a phaser gun to Violet’s head. Violet’s pendant sits on a nearby table. She smiles confidently at Matt.

“Your pendant. Give it to me,” Hans says.

“Come and get it,” Matt replies.

Hans steps forward, throwing a roundhouse punch that grazes Matt’s cheek. Violet pushes away from Greta. Growling like a vengeful animal, Greta presses the trigger of her gun, vaporizing Violet.

“VIOLET!”

Hans throws another punch at Matt, who grabs his arm, twisting it behind his back.

Greta fires her phaser as Matt pulls Hans against him, using him as a shield. Hans takes the blast from the gun in the chest and is vaporized.

Matt pushes the switch behind the pendant. A beam hits Greta, knocking her out. Her body slips to the floor. Matt picks up her gun.

“…Violet…,” he whispers sadly.

His grief is quickly replaced by an idea.

“Warehouse. 1180 Ihnat Avenue, Brooklyn. Second floor. One minute ago.”

Greta holds her weapon against Violet’s head. Violet smiles confidently at Matt.

“Your pendant. Give it to me,” Hans says.

“Come and get it,” Matt replies.

Hans steps forward. Matt hits Hans with a blow to the side of the head and a punch to the solar plexus that freezes him, dropping him to his knees. Hans looks up helplessly as Matt knocks him out with a punch to the jaw.

Violet pushes away from Greta, who takes aim at her with her gun.

The ray from Matt’s pendant hits Greta, knocking her out.

Violet runs into Matt’s arms. “I knew you’d figure a way out of this.”

“What do we do with them?”

Violet picks up her pendant. “Roanoke Colony, July 1587.”

Their unconscious foes disappear.

“What’s so special about that location and date?” Matt asks.

“I sent them to the Lost Colony of Roanoke. In 1587 the entire settlement disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again.”

“Now what?”

“A long overdue honeymoon,” Violet replies. “Egypt. 30 B.C., the Nile River. Cleopatra’s barge.”