Psychic Warrior

by David Morehouse

  “Sure, Doc … but we didn’t discuss any of the files.”

  “That’s okay; I have a fairly good sense of what you thought. That’s all I needed.” He raised his eyebrows, said, “Thanks!” and motioned me to the door of the office.

  I said nothing else. Lost in thought, I quietly walked back to my office, my head low. I closed my door and sat at the desk, staring at the pile of documents. I can’t do it, I thought. I just can’t do it. I placed the documents in the safe, closed the drawer, and slowly spun the tumbler.

  Several days passed and I never opened the drawer. I refused to spend time worrying about the future. Instead, I concentrated on my family.

  Debbie planned outings for the entire family. I’d never had the chance to be involved in those, back when I was in the Rangers, and I wanted to get to know my children. It was a struggle at first, trying to adapt to a quasi-civilian way of life. It seemed I was in the way more than anything else. I guess it’s difficult for a family to contend with Dad being home so much, when for years they’ve barely seen him. I think I was cramping their style, but they were as tolerant of me as they could be.

  Michael started taking skating lessons, which eventually led to his playing ice hockey at an arena near Alexandria. It was a lot of fun for me to take him to the arena for practices and games. His gear bag was bigger than he was at the time. On Saturdays and Sundays the entire family would go to his games in the arenas about the capital Beltway. It was a tremendous escape from the events of the office and a fair diversion from my nightly journeys into the unknown.

  I was beginning to feel I was fitting into the family again, to feel that Debbie and I were gaining confidence in each other. We seldom talked about what went on in my head at night, but I knew it troubled her. She was the one who comforted me when I became frightened, who wiped the perspiration from me, and who often shook me awake from my screams. There was no avoiding it, I was slowly losing ground with her on this issue. She was concerned about me, and angry that I wasn’t seeking professional help. The career didn’t matter to her. All that mattered was for me to be rid of these nightmares—these visions.

  It was Easter weekend, 1988. We attended church as we usually did and picked up my parents at National Airport immediately following the service. It was good to see them again. I always felt comfortable around Mom and Dad. They made me feel safe. We spent time together catching up on family and friends; we even looked up some of Dad’s old army buddies and spent an evening laughing over stories of World War II and Korea. It was without a doubt one of the most pleasant times I’d had in quite a while. Dad and I enjoyed a small glass of wine before retiring.

  “How’s the new job?”

  I looked at him and grimaced. “It’s interesting—and that’s about it. No matter how good it gets, it’ll never be as good as the infantry was. I’d give a month’s pay just to see some dirty-faced troops for a week or so. I wouldn’t call this the army, Dad; it’s more like a highly paid, expensive boys’ club. Some of the guys in this organization are drawing extra-duty payments of over eight hundred dollars a month.”

  “For what? Being spooks?”

  “It’s a bit more criminal than that. The other day I was sitting in a meeting when the unit training officer informed the various commanders that there were still some people drawing demolition pay who hadn’t yet completed their quarterly qualifications. If they didn’t, they’d lose their pay for a month. The good part is this: the qualification involves detonating a simulated blasting device. Can you believe that? These guys are drawing demo pay for blowing up what amounts to an M-80 firecracker. It pisses me off to see it. I remember young Rangers who jumped in five gallons of fu-gas with a claymore mine taped to it to incinerate the objective. And hell, they did it every other week. I couldn’t have gotten them demolitions pay for that if I’d tried. And these guys get it for lighting firecrackers. It’s bullshit, Dad, pure bullshit.”

  “I don’t understand how they get away with it. Isn’t somebody watching for that type of abuse?”

  “I assume they are, but it’s a big army, and we tend to concentrate on what we can see, not what’s hidden from view under a cloak of secrecy. I saw a watch in a safe the other day that cost the taxpayers more than I made in three years. It was a prop that somebody in the unit used on a mission, as part of an alias. That would have bought me a lot of training ammunition when I was in the Rangers.”

  Dad touched my shoulder. “I know, son. It’s a pain in the ass when you see stuff like that. But I’m sure it has a purpose, somewhere. They’re probably working with the Agency when they pull some of this stuff—aren’t they?”

  “I don’t know. I doubt it. There seems to be a running battle between this unit and the CIA. If you were to ask me to vote, I’d vote to let the CIA do it. They know what they’re doing when it comes to this stuff; we don’t. Yeah, we’ve got some good people in the unit, but for the most part it’s a bunch of guys trying to play James Bond, and they aren’t any good at it. As a matter of fact they stink at it, and it’s embarrassing to the army to own these guys. The damned secretary of the army doesn’t like ‘em or trust ’em. But I told you that story already.” I glanced at my watch. “Look, it’s getting late, and tomorrow’s a workday. Let’s hit the sack. Good night, Dad. I love you, and thanks for being here.”

  He smiled and drained the last of his wine from the glass. “I love you, too. See you in the morning.”

  I checked on the children and finally lay down beside Debbie. She moved closer to me in her sleep as I lay on top of the covers, my hands behind my neck. I watched the fan on the ceiling spin as I lost myself in thought and quietly drifted into sleep.

  My eyes opened to the darkness of the room. Above me the fan stopped cold in its tracks. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to see the rest of the room with my peripheral vision. I couldn’t feel Debbie next to me on the bed. I was alone. I tried to call her name, but nothing came from my mouth, as if some powerful thing refused to let air or sound escape from me. Again I tried to speak, but my throat only grew tighter.

  I tried to raise myself, but the pressure of a dozen unseen hands pressed me back into the bed. I tried to scream, but couldn’t make a sound. All that came from me was a gagging hiss of air. My arms wouldn’t leave the position they were in, and I felt as though I were sinking into the bed, deeper, deeper. I could see nothing but blackness, like the blackness I’d seen in the desert—a blackness that brought with it a light from an unseen source. It filled the room. In sheer terror, I rolled my head from side to side, desperately trying to free my body from whatever held it fast to the bed. I tried to sit up or move my legs or roll, but I could not move. My heart raced, pounding so hard it felt like a foreign object, attached to me but not of me. Suddenly, the sound of a harsh wind pierced my ears. As I watched in horror, the room and everything in it folded upon itself and me … and then there was utter darkness and silence. It lasted only a blink, and I found myself resting on all fours in some unknown place. The ground was crimson and magenta and it sparkled from every angle. Not moving my arms and legs I raised my head to the horizon to see a torn and broken landscape, everything washed in strange mixes of blue and crimson.

  Everything in sight, even the sky, was a swirling mass of color and movement. A dull, hot wind touched my face and dragged across the landscape, bringing with it small crystals the size of coarse sand. They stung my exposed skin, and I raised my arm to protect my face. Peering through the crook of my arm, I squinted hard to survey my position. I was alone, as far as I could see. There were no structures, no mountains, no trees, nothing but the cracked surface beneath me, and the crystalline dust. I felt my body to see if it was real.

  A sound unlike anything I’d heard cut through the constant rush of the wind. I snapped my head, cocking it as a dog might, straining to get a bearing on its direction. Again I heard it! I spun on my heels, facing into the wind, pointed my body in the direction of the sound, and leaned f
orward, pushing my way toward it, my face protected by my arms. The sound grew in intensity as I weaved along. I thought several times that I could make out what it was saying. Every time I seemed to be within a few feet of it, close enough to seize it, the wind washed it away, leaving me to change direction once again.

  I could barely make out an opening in something ahead of me. As I drew nearer, the mouth of a small cave presented itself. I entered it, leaving much of the noise behind. In front of me, a strange glow replaced the darkness. Ahead of me—at a guess, about twenty feet—I saw a blurred figure standing in the cave, its image moving wavelike in the glow. The noise came again. It was my name. “David,” the figure called. I could see nothing but the pale outline of a being. It looked transparent, even hollow, yet it was not. Again it called my name.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” I screamed at the being. It made no movement. It did nothing but call my name again.

  Again I screamed, “Who are you? Where am I?” I clawed toward it, screaming as loud as I could. “Who the hell are you?” I stumbled and fell at the creature’s feet, snapped to my knees, and looked up at it in contempt. My eyes burned into it and I swung at it with my fists, fighting to stand as I did so. My limbs passed through the being, leaving no trace. I swung and struck out at it again and again until, exhausted, my arms dropped to my sides. I stood there, head down and beaten, as though I’d tried to fight a scarecrow.

  Emotion overcame me. I began to weep, dazed and muddled. I slowly raised my head to look into the face of the being and the shock of the vision stung my heart. It was my face that the being wore. “Jesus!” I screamed, striking out again. I plunged my fists into it once, twice, three, then four times, and then reeled to run away out of the cave and into the storm again. As I ran, I could hear it laughing behind me. The farther I ran from it, the louder the laughter became until I was certain the being was running after me, trying to overtake me. Turning my head to look over my shoulder as I ran, I lost my footing and fell hard. My face smacked on the flat surface, and my eyes closed at the impact. Stunned, I tried to climb to my feet, the laughter all around me … an evil, hideous laughter. Instantly, hands were all over my body, grasping at my arms, my head, my legs. I kicked and screamed aloud, fighting off whatever had hold of me.

  “David! David, stop!” The air grew cold and the noise of the wind was gone. “David, stop kicking—we’re trying to help you. David!” The voices came from different mouths all around me. “David! Open your eyes, son. It’s Dad. Open your eyes!” I stopped struggling and lay there feeling the coolness and moisture of the ground on my cheek. I opened my eyes to see concerned faces: my mother’s, my father’s, Debbie’s.

  “Are you all right, honey?” Debbie stroked my hair with one hand resting on my shoulder, ready to push me into the ground again if she needed to. I heard my father’s voice.

  “He must have been walking in his sleep!”

  Groaning, I rubbed my eyes and tried to find my voice, “What happened?”

  Debbie caressed my back. “You’re outside,” she said, “on the back lawn. You had a nightmare or something; we heard you screaming out here, and you were thrashing around on the ground like you were fighting something. Your mother heard you first.”

  “I thought there was a prowler or something—I didn’t know what to think. You scared me to death,” my mother said. She stood next to my father, holding his hand.

  I raised myself to a sitting position, head down and arms folded in front of my knees. “Jeez,” I grumbled, still somewhat dazed. “I’ve never had anything like that happen before. I’m sorry to scare all of you. I don’t know what happened. Must have been all that Chinese food, huh?” Everyone gave a guarded chuckle.

  “I’ve eaten a lot of Chinese food in my life,” Dad said, “but I’ve never ended up on the lawn because of it. You need to get this checked out, son.”

  Debbie put in, “He’s been going through this ever since he was shot in the head.”

  “Shot in the head?” my mother shouted.

  “Aw, Debbie! You didn’t need to say anything about that, goddamn it.”

  She snapped back, “Oh yes I did. You’ve been having problems since it happened, and it’s time people know about it, and you get some attention for it. I can’t go on shaking you out of your nightmares, or quieting your screams, or picking you up off the lawn every morning. Damn it, I’m tired of it. You need to get some help.”

  Mom pointed at me, her words cutting the way they did when I was a child. “I can’t believe it, David. You mean you got shot and you didn’t bother telling us about it? Do you know how angry that makes me?”

  “Christ, son. Why didn’t you tell us?” Dad shook his head in disbelief.

  “Well, I didn’t←”

  Debbie finished the sentence for me. “Because he didn’t want anyone to worry about him. He’d rather you chase him through the woods like a lunatic than get medical help.”

  “Damn it all,” I said, forcing myself to my feet. “It wasn’t this bad at first. It’s just been getting worse lately, that’s all. I’ve been talking to the psychologist at the unit about it.”

  “Oh? And what’s he say?” Mom asked. “You probably ought to be in the hospital.”

  “No! I don’t need to be in the hospital. That’s the last place I need to be. I just need to get some rest. I’ll tell the doctor about this in the morning.” I walked toward the house. “Good night, everyone. I apologize for getting you all up.”

  I lay down on the bed I had unconsciously left, and stared at the moving fan. I didn’t close my eyes again that night.

  The next morning I was nursing a hot cup of coffee outside Dr. Barker’s office door, waiting for him to arrive. When he did, I spent an hour relating the events of the night to him.

  “Well, it sounds very interesting, although I’m not sure what to make of it. Have you ever experienced somnambulism—sleepwalking—before this?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody’s ever had to wake me up before, but who knows what’s happened when I don’t make so much noise? I mean, who’s to say this hasn’t all been a symptom of sleepwalking?”

  “That’s a good point, but everything you’ve talked about so far fits the mold … . You say it was your face you saw?”

  “That’s right. What did it mean?”

  “Actually, I have no idea what that might have meant. It was unlike anything you’d experienced prior to this. It may be some manifestation of the tempest inside you, the fight that is happening in you every day. You’re confused about what you were shown, what the message you were given means. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say those unanswered questions are prompting these visions. The cave and the being itself also interest me, but we’ll save the discussion of those for another time. Okay?”

  “Fine, but I have to do something about it. I can’t go on living like this. In fact, I don’t consider this living at all—it’s more like existing. I don’t know from one minute to the next what is going to happen. Every time I close my eyes I wonder if I’m going to end up in the woods or on the street, in some shopping mall, or stepping through some portal and going into a world I might never come back from. Did that ever occur to you, that I might not come back?”

  “Hmm.” Barker frowned. “Stay right here, I want to make a call. But before I do, I want you to know that I’m encouraged by this, and I want you to be as well.”

  “Encouraged? What the fuck is encouraging about it?”

  He raised his hand to me as if to say, Calm down. “Just wait, you’ll see what I mean. I think I have the right answers for you.”

  With that he picked up the phone and called a number I couldn’t make out. “Hello, Bill? It’s Innis. Do you remember the individual I told you about? … I’d like to bring him over to meet you, tomorrow morning if possible … . Good, we’ll be there around eight-thirty. Looking forward to seeing you.” He hung up and smiled broadly. “Let’s meet here early tomorrow, and we’ll take a trip to Fo
rt Meade. I want you to meet some people there.”

  I had a pretty good idea who he wanted me to meet, but I wanted it from his mouth. “Meet who?”

  Barker paused for a moment as if he were thinking that perhaps he had rushed too quickly into this. “Well, I didn’t want to alarm you, but I’ve been talking to these people about you ever since our first meeting.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes, I have. In fact, I must confess that I’ve been watching you out of the corner of my eye ever since I reviewed your psychological profile. You have all the indicators that would lead me to believe that you would do well in this unit.”

  “What unit?”

  “The unit responsible for the files you have been reviewing.”

  “You want me to join them.”

  “The thought did cross my mind, but it’s not that simple. You don’t just walk in there. They have to want you. If they do want you, then nothing can stop them from getting you. On the other hand, if they don’t want you, then we will have to explore some other options for helping you cope with this new gift you have.”

  Barker and I drove to Fort Meade the next morning. At eight-thirty we pulled into an asphalt driveway that led toward two long one-story buildings partially obscured by giant oak trees. Barker stopped in the small parking lot adjacent to them. There were six other cars scattered around the lot. We approached the building on the left, the longer of the two. It had a large, heavy metal door guarding the entrance, and security screens were bolted over all the windows. Paint peeled off the surface of the building as though it were a snake sloughing its skin. Frankly, it looked like hell. Weeds snarled the sidewalk and clung to the green wooden stairway leading to the front door. I remember that as Barker knocked, I thought to myself that a kid armed with a small hammer would be capable of penetrating this building to reveal the secrets inside. Maybe they protected it with their minds, I laughed to myself.