“No!” I said.
“What was that? You got a problem with the game plan Stark?” Coach yelled toward my direction momentarily snapping me back to reality.
“No, no sir. Sorry.”
A teammate leaned toward me. “Pull it together man.”
An image of a man lying motionless on a stone floor forced its way into my head. I recognized him as the same disarrayed man in the image I'd seen on Corbin's computer. He was lifeless and defeated, imprisoned by jagged moss and mud covered stone bricks. Darkness consumed the room other than a faint reddish glow coming through cracks in the wall.
The disheveled man sat up and scurried to the corner of the cell. Voices from beyond the walls grew louder as they approached. It was unclear what they were saying or what language they were speaking. The cell door creaked before swinging violently open. The man trembled in the corner as three beastlike creatures towered over him. He kept his face hidden. Their voices became clear. “You did it, brother. This is a time for rejoicing. Come with us. You can take part in the celebration. You can watch as we bind the soul to the darkness.”
The man remained silent, shaking in the corner. “Then you will suffer here for eternity. That’s our promise to you!” The creatures spewed vile anger at the man as one of them fashioned a hangman's noose and wrapped it around the man's neck, dragging him across the room and throwing him like a ragdoll against the stone wall.
"You're no stranger to the feeling of a rope around your neck are ya boy!" The beast squealed. Bones crushed and broke as he bounced off the jagged stones and fell limp to the ground. “Get up and run!” The creatures taunted, opening the door and inviting him to escape. He struggled with all his strength to reach the door, the coarse stone ripping his fingernails out as he crawled, only to be grabbed and hurled back into the cell. The beatings came harder with each attempt to escape. I shivered.
To my astonishment the beasts just seemed to give up. Eventually growing tired they left, not even bothering to lock the door, daring the man to escape. Was this a game to them? A sport or amusing pastime? I shook. My heart broke for this man. Who was he?
Pray. The same mysterious voice I heard while Monika was in trance was speaking within my mind. Pray. It commanded. I hesitated and then closed my eyes. Please help this poor man. A faint, dull, ball of bluish-white light appeared and hovered above the broken man, trying to work its way inside of him. The light fought to gain entry before being blocked by a black barrier surrounding his body. The light never gave up. Hurling itself again and again towards the man as he released an agonizing moan and rolled over onto his back. The light persisted, breaking through the black barrier and entering the man’s chest. His face straining with intensified agony. The voice spoke. No prayer goes unanswered. The man gained a slight momentum as the light worked its way inside him. His eyes opened.
“Come on! Get Up!” I yelled.
“That’s the spirit Stark! Go get’em son!” Coach fired back before I realized I was still in the locker room.
My broken concentration caused the light to simmer and faded out. The man was unable to continue his forward momentum. I prayed again. Please help this man. Another ball of light floated through the ceiling of the cell towards the man on the ground. Each time my thoughts went out to him another ball of light entered the cell until the room was fully lit. Illumination lifting the man to his feet.
The beasts came running. Angry and hate-raged, they tried to enter the cell. One of them placed his foot inside releasing a shrill vile shriek. “It burns!” The beast cried. The light formed a wall of fire, protecting the man. Now's your chance. Get the hell out of there. The door is open.
The man stumbled forward, falling to his knees. He dragged himself to the cell door and stuck his head outside. The beasts were in his face, yet couldn’t get to him. Terror poured out of his eyes. He broke through the creature's defenses, hurling himself out of the cell and fading into the darkness.
***
“Alright, get out there and get your calisthenics done, let’s go, let’s move!” Coach barked. I hadn’t heard a word of what he said. I had no clue what the second half game plan was. We are only down 21-7, which wasn't impossible. We took the field for second half warm-ups. The image of the tormented man had carved it’s permanent residence in my mind and grinded my stomach into paste. Anxiety creates a desperate mind. I wanted to leave the field and calm my nerves. I could fake an injury but what would my coaches and teammates think? I searched for another way to cope, trying anything to block the image. I remembered Dr. Z. teaching me to put up a wall in my mind in which anxiety provoking thoughts could not penetrate. As lame as this sounded, it worked. A wave of tranquility ran through me as I released a deep breath.
The tranquility was strengthened by the sight of her, but only for a moment. Allison was in the stands. She was sitting in a group of people with whom I was unfamiliar. I squinted to get a better look. They wore dark clothing. I hung my head and clenched my fists. “Hey, is that Allison in the stands next to those Outsiders?” I asked Randy, even though I already knew the truth.
“Looks like it. You don't see that every day.” Randy said as we jogged over to the sideline to prepare for the second half kickoff.
“What the hell is she doing? If her father finds out we'll be neck deep in Civil War.”
Randy stopped and looked me in the eye. “Put it aside Will. You can deal with it after the game. Focus!” He ran off to speak with coach as I averted my eyes back to the field.
We played the entire second half with more intensity than the first, but I was miles from the game. I felt like one of coach’s clichés, just going through the motions. My headache subsided. I don’t think it was a concussion, just a major bell ringing. But that didn’t explain the vision that haunted me the rest of the night.
The lead was cut to 21-20 by the end of the third quarter, no thanks to my lackadaisical efforts. The game clock read 2:12 left in the fourth quarter as our opponents lined up in punt formation. Our Offense was poised to take the field. I had been playing tight end since the middle of the 3rd quarter. Our regular guy went down with a high ankle sprain. I found myself wide open when Randy hit me for a 12-yard gain. I forgot how sweet it was catch a pass since I hadn’t caught one since my freshman year.
“Run it again Will!” Randy shouted into the ear hole of my helmet as spit landed in my ear. There was no time to remove it. We were in the hurry up offense. I ran across the middle where two defenders were waiting to greet me and timed the play perfectly, one knocking the ball away and the other knocking me hard to the ground.
"You OK man?" The defender stood over me looking down.
"Yeah, I think so. Thanks." I held my hand out to be helped up.
"Good, wouldn't want you to miss Sunday School this week." The defender laughed, slapping my hand away and leaving me to pick myself up.
“Shake it off Will, looks like they’re not going to give us the middle anymore,” Randy said as we huddled up. “Coach thinks the sidelines are our best shot." We broke huddle and hurried to the line of scrimmage. After two unsuccessful plays it was 4th down.
Randy took the snap and a 5-step drop. He checked off the main receiver and his second option, both were covered. Randy's third option somehow managed to get behind the safety despite his lack of speed. The Hail Mary ball sailed and hung in the air, shooting itself like a comet. The receiver laid out as the ball skidded across his fingernails and fell to the ground. I glanced towards the stands to find comfort, hoping to see Allison alone. She was gone.
Chapter 6
Not much was said in the locker room after the game. I kept to myself, wondering about the man in my vision and why it all seemed so real. Justin said I had gifts that gave me an advantage. Maybe my thoughts had power, enough to rescue the man from his torments.
“Take it easy Mike, have a good weekend.” I said to the equipment kid as I left for the parking lot. I saw Randy running, well, limping towards my car.
“Hey Will, you coming to the Lodge tonight? A bunch of us are heading out there.”
“Are you sure you're up for it? You might want to stay off that.” I glanced downward at the bulge protruding from his blood stained sock.
“What?” Randy’s brow wrinkled.
“Never mind.” I said.
Allison would be there. I really wanted, more like needed to see her.
"There’s gonna be two kegs. It should be sweet.” Randy said.
"Yeah I’ll go." I was worried about Allison. Why would she be hanging with a group of outsiders, especially in public. Allison always liked the spotlight and the attention it gave but this was an act of desperation.
“Cool man, jump in. I’ll give you a ride. You told your parents you wouldn’t be home tonight right? I plan on getting bombed, and unless you can drive us back, I think we’ll just crash there tonight."
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “I don’t really know if I’ll get bombed but either way it’s best if we stay off the roads tonight.”
We arrived at the party as a parade of cars lined the driveway. “Man, if this isn’t suspicious, I hope the cops don’t drive by." I said.
“Don’t worry, be happy,” Randy calmly giggled. I never knew for sure if he truly didn’t have a care in the world, or if it was just his cover for something he didn’t want the world to see.
We walked up the front steps and knocked. Allison greeted and quickly hugged the both of us. “Hey guys, how’s it going?” Her voice was bubbly and inviting. Allison was one of those magical people that had a natural ability to draw the conversationalist out of me. It was her greatest gift. I loved her for it.
“Doing great,” my eyes lit up the moment she smiled. She was so personable. A quality that I could never imagine for myself. A mystery that I could never solve.
Allison handed me a drink. I reached into my pocket and rubbed the charm between my fingers, its smooth texture quieted my mind and allowed me to speak.
“How have you been?” I asked.
“Oh I’ve been pretty good. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you. It’s been so busy with work and school.”
“That’s ok,” I replied. “I understand, I’ve been busy too.”
“I bet you’ll have a ton of free time now that football is over."
"Yeah, did you see that last play? Ugg, so close. How cool would have it been to win our last game after losing for so many years. I should be used to it but this one stings."
"Um yeah, it's too bad."
I knew Allison never saw that dropped pass. She knew that I knew. She knew that the sting I felt wasn't from losing. It was from seeing her with the Outsiders.
What have you been up to?” Allison said.
“Oh just this and that.” I flushed with the lameness of the statement, knowing I wasn’t being truthful.
“That’s cool. I'll talk to you later.” Allison didn’t press me for knowledge about what I had been doing. She and Randy were both alike in that aspect. They took me at face value. They never dug too deep. I returned the favor, deciding that now was not the time to ask her what the hell she was thinking.
Two hours had passed. The party was oddly therapeutic. Standing alone and a little buzzed, I headed downstairs. A tingling chill ran through me as I reached the bottom step. On the basement walls were painted the same oddly familiar symbols that were painted on the walls at Gateway. Allison approached me before I could fully process what I had seen.
“Hey Will, can I ask you something?”
“Um sure, what is it?”
“I want you to try using the Ouija board with us.”
“What? Why? What would you do that for? Who’s us?” I asked.
Allison turned and directed her attention towards the corner of the room. Corey Fritz was standing there. I hadn’t noticed him before. His dark clothing blended with the shadows of the dimly lit room. My immediate instinct was to say no, but my judgment was blinded by alcohol and Allison.
“We are going to make contact with a spirit using the board,” she smiled. “It’s harmless.”
I hate this town. Had it become cool to try and contact the dead? “I've heard of those but I thought they were just a game played by people with overactive imaginations. They don’t really work do they?”
“Yes, spirits have always been attracted to Ouija boards. It’s really fun.” The same enthusiasm that greeted me was now repealing me. Screaming at me to run away.
“What would your dad say if he knew you were doing this?” I asked.
Allison’s enthusiasm soured faster than mayonnaise at a summer picnic. “Don’t even talk about him. I am so mad at that jerk!”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
"It's ok Will. Just forget it.”
Randy had been watching us from a distance and motioned me over. “Don’t even think about it Will, those things are dangerous. Every store in town has one or two for sale. Plus, Corey and his family are all into that Occultist crap. It’s only going to lead to something bad. I saw on TV that bad spirits can feed on the energy of people using Ouija boards because they're vulnerable and don’t know how to protect themselves from attack.”
“Attack?" I said.
“Using the board gives a spirit permission to attach themselves to the person's energy field. Communication is their invitation. The problem is they wear out their welcome and don’t leave politely. They bind their chains to your soul. Dark spirits need to feed off the energy of living since they have cut themselves off from the positive energy of the universe. They attempt to control the host person, causing them to spill their energy. Once the energy becomes muddied, the dark entity can gain strength for a limited time."
Allison pulled at my arm as I turned towards her. “Please Will, I really want you to try it. Please, please, pretty please,” she pleaded.
“Do you think if we used the Ouija board we'd be open to attack?” I asked.
“What are you talking about Will? It’s just for fun. That crap my dad and the other preachers talk about, it's just that, crap.” Allison had gained my trust the first time I met her. I hadn’t the willpower to resist. Her long silky dark hair sealed the deal. I glanced back towards Randy but he was gone.
“Ok,” I said. “Just once.” Corey walked over to us, mumbling something but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. It didn’t sound like English, but the alcohol may have affected my judgment.
Corey took the lead and placed his bony hands on the worn planchette, his body stiff and serious. “We are here to speak to any spirits who desire to communicate with us tonight. Please answer Yes or No if you are willing to communicate.” The planchette floated across the board.
“Are you moving it? Allison asked.
“No,” was Corey’s only utterance until the planchette landed on Yes. “Thank You,” Corey said. “We mean no harm. Who do you owe your allegiance too?” Corey asked. I took my eyes off the board, my brow curled down. The planchette did not move from Yes. A chilly gust of wind zipped through the room, but there were no windows in the basement. Without warning the planchette accelerated violently from letter to letter. A disembodied voice whispered throughout the room, “under their control.” It wasn't the same strong commanding voice I'd heard with Monika. This voice was fearful and raspy.
“Whose control are you under?” Corey asked.
The planchette moved with lightning speed. S-U-N-N-Y.
"What do you want?" Corey asked.
"The Resurrectionist."
We looked at one another with blank stares. Corey shook his head. The planchette flew forcefully across the room and shattered against the brick fireplace. We all jumped up from our chairs, each one of us visibly shaken.
“Sunny. Sunny Miller?” I said.
Corey’s eyes grew wide. “Oh God! Break the communication! Break it now!" Corey screamed and threw the Ouija board to the ground. “What have we done?”
“Corey! You're scaring me.
What’s going on?” Allison said.
My arm draped over Allison shielding her from Corey. Corey sat on the couch unresponsive. “Corey? Corey? Corey!” I shouted.
Corey’s eyes were glassy as he slowly looked up. “My parents both worked for Sunny before he passed. They said he was working to gain control of a legion, a group of malicious entities under his control who are forced to serve him."
“What the hell is a legion?” I asked.
“I don’t know, I'd say about 5000 demons.” Corey said.
“And this A-hole commands all of them?”
Corey threw his arms in the air. “No dumbass! Sunny commands one legion. They just happen to be the cream of the crop.”
“Great! Thanks!” I started to walk away but forced myself to turn and look into Corey’s face. "Tell us then, antichrist, what is Sunny's Legion after?"
Corey took a deep breath. “They won't stop until they accomplish their goal. They con weak willed humans into entering a diabolical pact. They use the person to do terrible things and then feed off of the carnage they create. Some say Sunny is the Devil himself.”
The room was silent, my legs heavy. Nobody uttered a word until I dared to break the silence. “Why would someone want to enter a diabolical pact? What does that even do?”
“The Legion preys on people who believe they have been wronged by God or others. The demons offer their powers to help the person get revenge and in turn feed off of the blood and dark energy that's created.” Corey said.
"What's a Resurrectionist? They were after it." I said.
Corey shook his head. "No clue."
“So it is true that you can sell your soul to the devil? That nonsense my father is always spouting off about, it’s real?” Allison asked.
“There's no such thing as a written contract but metaphorically speaking, yes. Once you offer up control of your body to the demon they will use their will to overpower you. There's no going back. People who have been deeply hurt in life want to lash out. God is the source of their pain so why not cause him pain by hurting others."
The Resurrectionist Page 5