“This is my mind!” he yelled and then said, “You can’t trap me here -- son of a Bitch!” He finished with a scream to the walls of the empty room. He waited for a response. He waited to meet the culprit who stole his body. But nothing happened. And then he realized nothing had to – there was absolutely no challenge to be had.
“This is as much my mind as his,” he mumbled, thinking he might laugh at the silliness of not thinking this sooner. And then he saw the door knob. It is my mind – mine. Always will be. It never occurred to him to grab the handle, and he wondered if it had been there all along. He dismissed the idea and reached for the handle, and with hesitation, he turned the knob. It did not resist. It turned with his hand and the inner workings of the door’s latch spoke a click-clack-click language before opening. Jacob stepped into the familiar corridor of his mind.
At once all of his sensations returned to him. Jacob collapsed to his knees as the wave of consciousness crashed on him. It was overwhelming. A fever boiled in his mind and his stomach turned. A seizure threatened, and he was certain a release of troll mites would rip and tear and pull his flesh apart. They threatened to steal his beating heart. Only it wasn’t troll mites or an infection that spread across his body and spine and brain – it was Chris Connely. And he was sent to save his son and to use Jacob as a means to do so.
As he looked around the inside of the trailer, Jacob saw Sara across from him with Jonnie at her side. He was standing at the trailer’s door and stepping out onto the landing. Jacob grabbed hold of the wood railing as a wave of wind and rain hit him. The weather was a welcome feeling of wet and cold on his skin. Jacob inhaled the hurricane air, almost too deep, as a downpour soaked every part of him.
“You find our boy!” Sara yelled to him from inside the trailer. Without any attempt to move, his head was turned back toward Sara. He told her he’ll find their son. It’s his voice, his body but invisible puppet strings pulled on him, moving him and speaking for him. It’s Chris, and he can talk and walk. Chris can control all of it; all of him. Jacob’s heart sank.
“Yes I can,” Chris replied to Jacob, interrupting his thoughts. “Now please, let me find my boy – that’s all I want to do.”
Jacob’s grip tightened on the railing as fear turned to nausea. A moment later, faintness leaned into him as the world around him started to go dark.
“Come on Jacob, buck up – we’re in this together,” Chris continued, “I just want to get my boy is all. Please. Please don’t fight this. Your here now, so help me. Help me save my son.”
Jacob heard the cries of a familiar voice. Through the sounds of the rain batting against the trailer roof, and past the winds that seemed to change direction every few minutes, he heard Jill’s voice. He searched the collected groups of men and women wandering around in rain parkas. A sea of Greens and Reds mixed with Yellows invaded his view before he was able to find his WJL-TV station jacket. It was Jill he heard, and she was standing just twenty yards from him. Jacob tried to turn around and jump down the landing. He wanted to go to her, to hold her, and to tell her he was okay. But his body didn’t move. His grip on the railing wasn’t his anymore.
“Not just yet,” Chris said, “we’re running out of time. Kyle is dying.”
Jacob pushed on his lips, he forced some control over the muscles in his face, smearing his nose and lips to one side in a contorted manner that let him whimper a few words.
“I’m out of the room. This is my body!! My mind! Get out!” Only the words came out ImmmOouuttmmmyroooom-myyybooddymmyymiinnddEedddOuuttdd, but Jacob knew that Chris heard him and that he understood his demands.
“Sorry, can’t do that. Kyle only has another hour and he’ll die. I won’t let that happen. I can’t let that happen. Why do you think I’m here? How do you think I’m here?”
Jacob considered what Chris said. But before he could answer, his body turned with another swell of nausea as he moved down the landing. Jacob felt the motions of his muscles under Chris’s direction and as Chris pulled and pushed his legs up and down, Jacob tried to stop them.
Sometimes Jacob’s fight was a good fight. But sometimes his fight wasn’t much of a fight at all. When he heard Jill’s voice again he struggled to pull his will over Chris’s. He fought and pushed, and thought he might just break through. But Chris was strong and his will was burdened with a heavy purpose. Fear overwhelmed Jacob, like his sensations earlier, and he pulled back. If he lost his will what would happen?
Just then, Chris became distracted by Sara’s voice. Jacob felt Chris’s control over his body loosen. Just a little more, Jacob thought. And a moment later, he seized on the opportunity and pushed himself forward to take over. He turned his head and neck around so that he could face Jill. Muscles tore in his back and neck and sounded like lightning ripping the sky open to spill more rain. The pain burned and pulled Chris’s attention. Jacob met Jill’s eyes, and in that instant he told her everything. He told her it was him and that he was afraid. The moment ended abruptly as Chris took control again. Before Jacob could finish, Chris turned his head and neck back around to face the woods.
Chris quickened their pace over a sea of soft mud and grass. When Chris looked up, Jacob glanced the tops of the trees and watched how the winds were teasing them like twigs; threatening to break them. Back and forth they swayed with sounds of bark and timber erupting in small explosions from somewhere deep in the dark belly of the forest.
“My son is in there!” Chris shouted.
Jacob was afraid, very afraid, his body was no longer his and the storm was bearing down and would run itself through Croatan National Forest, cleansing it of all the year’s debris including him and Chris and even Kyle.
“So do you know why I’m here and how I’m here?” Chris interrupted, pulling Jacob’s attention away from the woods.
“How?” Jacob asked but then wondered if he really wanted to know.
“It’s that nugget in your head, Friend. It’s a gift. A tool,” Chris started. “You didn’t just happen to come upon it one day and think it was yours to have and to hold forever and ever?” he finished sarcastically. Jacob felt more confused.
“What do you mean? The brain tumor?”
“It’s a gift – but it’s more than just a gift,” Chris continued.
Jacob grew frustrated and pushed against one of his legs while Chris tried to pull up. They both felt the muscles in his thigh begin to burn and tear.
“Stop that, it’s your body you’re hurting; I’m dead.”
Jacob let go of his leg and they continued walking across the grass. His feet sank into the wet mud causing them to slip a little before taking his next steps.
“About that, you’re dead as in D-E-A-D, dead,” Jacob reminded Chris.
“That’s right. But I wasn’t supposed to die; it wasn’t my time,” Chris answered back sounding sad and resentful. Emotions caught up to him. Jacob felt the sting in his eyes. They were unfamiliar. They were Chris’s, and he tried to blink them way but couldn’t.
“You died saving lives --” Jacob said, “-- if you hadn’t stepped up then who knows how many might have died. It could have been Jonnie … Kyle, or maybe all of you; everyone! You don’t know. Nobody knows.”
“Do you know what eye for an eye means?”
“Sure … I think I do.”
“Well, there is another side of that -- and that is why I’m here. God owes me one. I saved lives that day. Granted, I didn’t exactly intend on it. It just worked out that way. In return, I have an opportunity to save a life. I’m gonna save my boy’s life.”
In some way Jacob understood Chris. Through his spirit, he could see all of Chris’s memories -- and feel them too -- as though he was there and had lived them. Their breathing was becoming labored and Jacob felt his heart beating hard as they pushed forward. He forced them to pause as another tree explosion sounded from the darkness they were entering.
“But what does that have to do with me?”
Jacob felt
Chris raise his hand. He tapped Jacob’s fingers against his head a few times, ending the last tap in a subtle slap before dropping his hand back to his side.
“It’s that nugget of yours – a magic nugget. Doctors call it a brain tumor, but it isn’t. It is a gift and if I’m reading things right it’s been a gift for you for quite some time,” Chris said laughing. Jacob realized Chris saw just as much of him as he could see of Chris. Embarrassment surfaced as he realized this. When the embarrassment was gone, he listened. Chris hurried their pace again as a large tree landed closer to them. They could feel the impact of the tree and Jacob wondered just how close it really was.
“Like I said, it’s a gift and God put it there but it isn’t just for you. Eye for an Eye, Life for a Life. When there is a calling and one of us gets our turn to do right by someone, we’ll need someone to help us. That someone is you. Your nugget is a marker – it let me find you. It let me work with you … through you. It’s a wonderful gift, Jacob, and I thank you.”
Jacob didn’t know what to say. He felt appalled and disgusted and more afraid than ever before. “What do you mean, a marker? Will it go away?”
“I have to stop,” Jacob said suddenly. He was overcome with all of it. Jacob pulled on his legs. The burn rumbled through his calves and thighs while he swayed forward. They lost their balance as he fell to his knees and landed onto his palms. A second later Jacob was able to throw up. When the nausea passed he asked Chris again, “What do you mean, a marker?”
Chris remained quiet for a moment. Jacob could feel the uncertainty that weighed on his words. It scared him.
“What is it, Chris! What do you mean -- Marker?”
“I know this isn’t easy for you friend, but you’re here to do the work of God. Heck, we all are – we all have a purpose. Just in different ways. Your way has to do with setting things right where they went wrong. You’re a Guardian Angel, Jacob. To be honest, I didn’t know there was such a thing until after I’d died. I learned a lot of things after that day. But here we are and that is evidence enough. I know this is a lot, Jacob, but we have to keep moving. My boy is dying and I’ve only got a small amount of time before I’m called back. Once we’re done, you’re free my friend, and I mean it when I say it … Thank you.”
Jacob didn’t know what to say. He was speechless and too tired to go on. Exhausted, he let go of his muscles. Chris pulled his body up like a rag doll and pointed them back towards the woods. Towards Kyle. Chris carried Jacob’s feet up and down. And like a train gaining speed, the more Jacob let go, the faster Chris was able to move. Jacob was a passenger now. An innocent bystander left aside to watch Chris traverse the heavy woods. He said nothing more and attempted no control of his muscles. His mind felt weary. He needed to conserve something. As much as he wanted to give up and let go, he thought if he shut down, even for a minute, then Chris would take over forever. I can’t go back to that room, he thought and remained quiet and in the background.
Chris jumped over fallen trees and crawled beneath bushes. Jacob remained quiet while the father of the lost boy called out Kyle’s name and ran across the pine wood floor. Chris knew where to go. There were no hesitations to break his stride. No reservations about whether to go left or to go right. Chris Connely knew where his son was and Jacob was certain Chris was going to pull Kyle from a certain death. Jacob prayed for Chris to find the boy. And he prayed with hope that this would all be over soon.
38
Chris’s piston motion up and down of Jacob’s legs smoothed to an easier walk that led to a steady jog. Chris navigated his way through the woods. Imaginary strings pulled him left and then right but always forward. The strings weaved him through the trees, past the falling timber, over the bog mud and across dangerous gullies. Chris never stopped to rest. He never slowed no matter how hard the rain poured or the winds threatened.
Chris didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t have to. He knew with every turn he was another step closer to his son Kyle. With every step, as his feet pressed into the soft ground, the echo of his son’s heartbeat drummed in his ears. He could hear Kyle, sense Kyle, and he knew Kyle had precious little life left in him to live.
When he came upon Kyle’s body, he knelt to his boy’s side. Chris brushed away the wet matte of hair covering his son’s face and looked at the gray color of his skin. His son was broken. For a moment he was afraid he might be too late. When he moved his fingers over his son’s eye and then lips and then to his son’s arm, Kyle stirred. The sight of Kyle was almost too much. But Chris knew there was no time to waste.
Chris pulled Jonnie’s Superman Cape out from his jacket and wrapped it around his son. The rains were quick to drench the blanket as the blue of the cape went dark. Hurricane Dani did more than just wash away debris from Croatan National forest – it washed the blood from the blanket as if cleansing the wrong that was done to Chris and his family on that horrible day six months earlier.
A gust of wind grew from behind them and threw a branch close to where they sat. The tree branch landed hard in a snap. Kyle flinched. Chris was relieved to see his son startled by the sound, even if it were a little. Kyle opened his good eye just enough to see he wasn’t alone.
“Dad?”
“Hi son,” Chris replied in a voice that was broken by the sight before him. “You’ve got yourself pretty banged up here.”
“Dad --” Kyle opened his eye some more, reaching with his arm that struggled to find air, “-- how?”
“I’m here to take you home.”
“It’s good to see you Dad, I nissed you.”
“Missed you too – let’s get out of here, what’dya say?”
“Can we go home to Mom and Jonnie?”
“You bet.”
“Can we maybe get some Dairy Queen?” Kyle joked, trying to smile past his broken mouth and teeth.
Chris returned the smile and said, “Time to do the DQ.”
“Yeah … time to do the DQ.”
When Chris emerged from the woods with Kyle in his arms and wrapped in Jonnie’s blanket, he was met by a handful of volunteers. Their red and yellow and green parkas waved along with the wind and provided a temporary shelter. As Chris passed through what seemed like a school of parkas, the sounds of gasps and mumblings could be heard as each volunteer maneuvered to get a glimpse of the boy.
Sara ran to meet them. She broke through the parkas, stopping short of Chris, who turned to her with Kyle struggling to call out ‘momma.’ Sara cried when she saw her son. She cried with joy and pain and feathered the injuries on his face with kisses. Jonnie joined his family and they knelt to the ground and hugged while more of the volunteers arrived.
The red and yellow and green parkas closed around them, grouping together like the safety of the vehicles. They protected the Connely family from the winds and the rain.
“Thank you – Thank you – Thank you, Chris!” Sara sang out, turning to look at her husband. But, when she looked into Chris’s face, Jacob looked back at her, his eyes telling her Chris had left.
“You’re welcome,” Jacob said then stood to find Jill amongst the sea of colorful parkas.
Epilogue
Hurricane Dani became better known in the news as the Bitch’s Wind. Maybe in part, because of the Colonel’s slip of his tongue while being interviewed on national TV soon after the rescue of twelve year old Kyle Connely. The Colonel never received a reprimand or even a scolding. For those who knew him it was a humorous slip, and one that fueled conversations at dinner parties well into his retirement years. Kyle Connely was the Colonel’s last rescue effort.
It was some time before Kyle Connely saw the trailer or even the welcome side of the Croatan National Forest again. After enduring five days and four nights of the Forest and the Bitch’s Wind, he spent more than three weeks being nursed back to health at Jacksonville Memorial. There he received cards and balloons and well wishes from all over the country. Some of the cards were adorned with scribbled hugs and kisses, while
others spilled a few dollars on his bed sheets to buy whatever it was he wanted. The first thing he bought with his newfound money were a pair of nice sneakers.
Jonnie was Jonnie again, rammy, funny and clumsy, and to Sara’s delight, happy. Sara packed away the blue blanket and purchased a real Superman’s Cape for her little boy. While Jonnie was reluctant at first, he finally sided with the new one, not caring that it wasn’t as soft as his blue or that it didn’t smell like he did.
Life for Sara went on. She had two boys and a home to take care of. Chris remained in her thoughts every day. The pain that accompanied his memory eventually faded. It was replaced by fonder days, like the day they purchased their first home, where, as a family, they held the ‘For Sale’ sign on the front lawn. The photo from that day went missing. And for a while, Sara had all but assumed it lost. Then one day, when finally tearing down the wall of cardboard boxes she found it laying right-side up in the ‘LUL-LUF’ box. She wondered how it got there and when looking it over found handwriting on the back that looked eerily like Chris’s handwriting. The penned text gave her the name of a bank with account numbers and pass-codes. The note was from Chris, he was correcting the financial absences that plagued Sara and the boys after his death. Soon after finding the photo, Sara built up the cardboard wall once more only to move it to their old home, buying it back from the bank that foreclosed on it. Within months, Sara and the boys recovered nearly everything they had lost. Her wedding band remained with her. However, these days she wore it around her neck where it stayed close to her heart.
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