The Warrior's Beckoning

by Patrick Howard

  I pulled my head lamp from my pocket and fixed it on my forehead, centered above my eyes. I placed it on the point setting, a single beam of light that illuminated exactly where I was looking. Sliding my flashlight into its holster, I jumped forward and landed in a crouch on my feet in the center of the walkway. I stood quickly, drawing my flashlight and holding it forward as I started down the dark path.

  Soon I reached another lever, against the right corner of the end of the path. Odd. Why would a lever be kept underwater? I glanced around then returned my gaze to the lever. I pulled it back cautiously and was rewarded with a click, followed by another click, then silence. I searched the walls, looking for a ladder, but found none. However, there were pipes running at different intervals along the wall. I grabbed on to the pipes, using them for footholds to scale the wall like a monkey, shifting my weight from side to side, using the momentum to extend my reach. When I reached the top pipe, I raised myself up and rolled onto the walkway. Standing quickly, I moved swiftly down the walkway and found myself looking up at an open hatch.

  A ladder extended from it, just within reach. I jumped and grasped the lower rung with both hands and pulled myself up far enough to reach the next rung with one hand, then the next, then the next, until I had both hands and feet on the ladder. Rung by rung, I ascended at a steady pace.

  Midway I paused. A chill ran down my spine. I pulled the thermometer from my pocket and held it out. The temperature below me was around seventy degrees; oddly enough, the temperature above me was at least twenty degrees colder. Just as I returned the thermometer to my pocket, a cold hand grabbed my right hand.

  I looked up quickly. My gaze was met by the cold eyes of a pale figure. “Warrior,” he said to me. “You must save her…but before you may do so, you must revisit the demons of your past. Learn from them… conquer them.” He held my hand firmly. I locked my leg around the ladder and released my grip on the rungs, grasping his other hand. He looked at me, surprised. Tears welled up, or would have, if he had been alive.

  “It is too late for me, Warrior,” he said, despair evident in his voice. “But it is not too late for her. Find her. Save her.” He looked behind him then back to me. His hand trembled in mine, his eyes telling his story. The darkness had consumed him, and now it sought to take him back.

  “I won’t let go,” I said to him, holding firmly. He groaned as the forces beyond him pulled at him, but when I continued to hold on, he smiled. A sensation of relief crept into his eyes as he stared into my eyes one last time.

  “You will triumph, I know. Farewell, Warrior,” he said softly. A white cloud puffed from his mouth, blinding me. The hand that I held so tightly vanished, and he was gone, back into darkness. Or was he now free? I sighed, resting my forehead against the ladder, closing my eyes.

  Demons of the past…Warrior…find her…too late for him…What was going on?

  I resumed climbing just as a voice broke the silence. “I am following your every step, Warrior,” said a menacing and oddly familiar voice from the shadows. I reached the top of the ladder and opened another hatch.

  I was in my room, the room where I started the Separation. Now, it seemed that I would live this story.

  The Separation

  I SAT ALONE in my room, contemplating what lay in the chest. I knew it was merely a symbol of what lay within. Of what I was not. The night terrors had returned, but they hadn’t taken hold. I would awaken to see a flicker of fire at my window. A dark figure would rush past, extinguishing the fire. Shadows of who I had been surrounded who I was.

  I cried out to Jesus, rebuking that which surrounded me. I belong to him, to my Savior! But I had to let go…let go of who I had been and embrace who I was now. I had to face that which I feared most…that which had led to countless nightmares. The darkness of who I was and who I almost became.

  “I’m ready,” I said, glancing out the window. Thunder and lightning raged, angrily breaking the silence. The power had been out for some time, and all had vanished. Save for God, I was alone. Attaching my flashlight to my belt, I reached for my Bible and held it tightly to my chest. The Word of God would be near my heart, both figuratively and literally; it was my truest weapon, the one that would not fail me.

  I stood up from my chair and turned to the door. A shadow stood just before me, as if to block me from exiting the room.

  “You have no power over me,” I said. “I am in Jesus.” I walked through the shadow and opened the door. The lightning briefly illuminated the dark hall as it cracked against the sky. I pulled my flashlight from its holster and turned it on, setting it to a flooded beam. I stepped to the right, entering my bathroom slowly. There I lay my flashlight on the side of the sink, looking down as I turned the faucet. No water came out. I stood for several minutes, contemplating the situation, whatever that might be. The silence was broken by another burst of thunder, and I looked up into the following flash of lightning to see a sword raised behind me, ready to thrust into my back. I grabbed my flashlight and spun around.

  There was nothing there. Just as quickly as it appeared, it had vanished, leaving behind only the sulfurous smell of my own terror. The armed figure had matched me in height and build, and the sword resembled the one in the chest in my room, but that was all I knew. Shaken, but far from discouraged, I moved out of the bathroom to my brother’s room, to the left, just before mine. In the far right corner, beside the window, I saw myself, chained to his computer desk. I had once had the chance to break free, but I had not taken it. There were many things I could have done, had I not been chained to a computer.

  I said aloud, “Though the past remains unchanged, the future is yet to be molded.” As I finished those words, the chains fell from my other self, and he began to move toward me. I extended my hand, and he took it gently. We became one. It was but one piece of my past that I had to join with my present to mold the future.

  I closed the door and went into the living room, where I saw myself frozen before a television, slowly being pulled into it, losing myself to video games. Each day that I spent dedicated to them, I lost more and more of who I was.

  I said aloud, “For what may one do when all hope seems lost, when you feel that you are all alone? Open your eyes.” I extended my hand, and my other self looked at me. The hold on my past fell away, and he took my hand. We merged.

  I walked to the kitchen, where I saw myself fall into a pit of lust, as pornography had a strong grip on my heart. I watched as my other self struggled fiercely, climbing so close to the top only to fall once more. “What a shame,” I said aloud, “when love has been so fleeting. Open your heart.” I extended my hand, and my other self emerged from the pit and walked to me. Taking my hand gently, he merged with me.

  I moved to stand before the edge of the kitchen, next to the utility room. I stared down that dark hallway, my flashlight unable to light it sufficiently. My gaze fixed on my mother’s room. I trembled in fear as screams of pain and hatred bellowed from the darkness, as well as weeping, like that morning that I had found my mother in bed, her breathing erratic, her eyes wild, and I had thought nothing of it. I paused, frozen in pain and terror as the memories surrounded me. I clutched my Bible tightly.

  I set my flashlight on the counter. “Let the Lord be my light,” I said as I stepped toward the hall. The darkness faded as I drew near, for I was with the Lord. But it had not always been so. The screams and crying grew louder the nearer I drew. Nevertheless, I pushed on. The Lord was guiding me.

  I stood in the doorway, and, just as before, there lay my mother. Her breathing had ceased; her soul had left her body. I saw myself standing to her left and to the right. One version of me wore a black trench coat, a black dress shirt, and black pants. A sword was strapped to his waist. He was Hatred. The other wore a black BDU shirt and pants, and a black tactical vest, with an M4 slung on his shoulder. He was Rage.

  Both of my selves stared at me, saying in unison, “She is dead because of you. Your hatred and rage led to t
his.”

  “Your cold heart could not give her the love she deserved,” Hatred said in a cruel voice.

  “Your anger lashed out at her,” Rage said in a booming voice.

  I watched them both silently. I remembered those feelings, those very thoughts. However, they no longer had any hold on me.

  “The death of her body was painless and peaceful,” I said as I approached Hatred. “And the life of her spirit is eternal and joyful.” Hatred vanished at those words.

  I placed my hand on my mother’s shoulder and looked over at Rage. “We often lash out at the ones we love the most, but through love, all is forgiven.” Rage vanished.

  I knelt down and embraced my mother gently, and she, too, began to vanish. Her voice whispered to me, “I await you.”

  I stood slowly then left the room and stood before the entrance to the porch. An angel appeared behind me. “You have faced your past. Now you must face yourself,” he said. “Carry with you only the Word of God, for that is all that you need.” The angel walked away, and I returned to my room. I held the Bible tightly, pausing for a moment. I would face my dark side, with only the Word of God as my sword and armor.

  “Your faith will protect you,” a gentle voice said to me as I opened the door. My gaze fixed on the chest, the one in the far corner.

  “Come!” a sinister voice beckoned to me. Through faith, I walked to the chest with confidence, kneeling to turn the key and remove the lock. The lock fell to the ground. I awaited…something…but there was only silence. The mood became still. I stood. Suddenly, the lid of the chest flew open, and Hatred and Rage arose from inside to pull me in. They took tight hold of me and began to pull me into the darkness with them.

  In defiance, I cried out, “My Lord, remove this evil from me! Separate me from the man I was, for I am your servant now. Love dwells within my heart. Compassion rules my soul. May Hatred and Rage consume me no more!” With that defiant cry, I reached through Hatred and Rage and slammed the lid of the chest shut.

  Light returned, and I was no longer alone. Hope stood beside me, encouraging me as she had always done. Even though I could not always see her, she had been beside me the entire time. The chest was locked now. Thank you, my Lord, for guiding me…The room shifted as I revisited the burial…when I buried Hatred and Rage.

  The Burial

  I STOOD BEFORE the chest that held Hatred and Rage, lost in silent contemplation. The task I had to undertake would be strenuous and long. And the weather was not good. Dark clouds crowded the daylight sky, threatening to wash away all my hope. I knelt down, grasping the chest and pressing it close to my body. My dad opened the door for me as I carried the chest to the doorway and down the ramp. As I loaded the chest into my car, I couldn’t help wondering what role the weather would play in the outcome. Would it rain and thwart my plans? Or would the rain hold off, at least long enough for the hole to be dug? On faith, I would go. On faith, I would succeed.

  I started my car, sipping an energy drink as the engine roared to life.

  After much contemplation and planning, I would finally bury it all…bury them…Traffic was heavy as I pulled into the main highway. Was it to defer me from this endeavor? Or mere coincidence and nothing at all to do with me? I could only wonder.

  Despite the looming storm and heavy traffic, the drive was rather smooth. I arrived at the church seemingly just minutes after leaving my house. There, I found Carlos waiting for me inside. I told him my plan, which had been in the making for quite some time, and he was supportive, though the weather was not.

  As I went to pull the shovels from my trunk, I wondered if Carlos happened to have a video camera. He said that he did, and, in fact, it was in his car, but its memory was full.

  I shrugged, thinking that a written account would be much more valuable.

  I parked next to the van, which was very close to where I planned to bury the chest. It was a bare area, with little grass. I began to dig. I established the perimeter of the hole and slid the shovel down into the dirt to pry it loose. Realizing that I would need to place the chest near the opening to be accurate, I retrieved it from my car and set it down next to where I was digging. I made the proper corrections to the perimeter and dug deeper. Soon my body began to ache, as if to defy my spirit, but I would not give up.

  I worked quickly, believing that it would rain soon. However, when I sat on the chest to rest a moment, I gazed up to the sky. The sun was becoming visible, and the rain clouds above me were scattering. “Thank you, Lord,” I said aloud.

  I stood once more and estimated how far I had dug; the hole was about a foot deep. I continued to dig, widening the perimeter as needed. The sandy ground proved easy to remove. I jabbed the shovel into the ground, and then I went to the church entrance. Jason met me at the door. I told him of my progress and went for water, which briefly rejuvenated my aching body. My spirit remained strong, so I did not break for long. I returned to the hole and resumed digging.

  I hopped into the hole to dig more effectively. The edge of the hole was almost to my waist now. To climb out, I jabbed the shovel just beyond the edge and used it to brace myself. I placed my right foot on the opposite edge and my left foot by the shovel. Using my right leg to boost myself, I jumped up and out, nearly falling back but quickly regaining my balance.

  I picked the chest up and placed it in the hole, which turned out to not yet be wide enough. As I sized up the perimeter, I saw a white daddy longlegs spider crawl across the top of the chest. I pulled the chest out, making sure not to injure the spider, and slid the shovel down against the walls of the hole until it was wide enough. I hopped back into the hole and dug deeper. I got out of the hole the same way as before, and again I almost fell back in. I made my final adjustments to the perimeter of the hole and hopped back in. I dug until the edge was above my waist. I hopped out as before, but this time I did not stagger.

  Wanting to see how the chest would fit now, I picked it up and tossed it in. I thought I should make the hole still deeper, but when I knelt down to pull out the chest, I found that it was wedged in the hole. I could not remove it. That decided it for me. The hole was deep enough.

  I began to cover the chest, filling the hole completely and methodically. I smiled in delight as I packed the last of the sand down with the shovel. I had done it. I had buried Hatred and Rage…for good. The sun seemed to shine brighter now, and the last of the rain clouds had vanished.

  The Lord was with me, and he gave me the strength to make it. Thank you, Lord.

  • • •

  I left work early to remove the chest and choose another location. It did not feel right. I had bought a pair of gloves and some trash bags from Dollar General and was pulling into the church’s parking lot when a better idea came to me. I would excavate the chest, but I would use the same hole, just dig deeper. Then I would fill it back in with dirt to ensure that it could not be removed and to ensure that no danger would come to it.

  I quickly dug out the outlines of the chest and removed the dirt on and around it. I straddled the chest as I attempted to lift it out, to no avail. My legs began to sink into the dirt on either side of the chest. With all my might, I pulled once more, and the chest began to loosen. “Give me the strength, Lord,” I said aloud, pulling once more with a mighty heave.

  Success. I removed the chest from the hole and dug deeper. My body ached from the efforts of the previous day, but I pressed on. The sun slowly nestled into the horizon as I dug down the last few feet. A feeling of peace and serenity surrounded me.

  The hole was approximately five feet deep now, the edge measuring up to my shoulders. I paused for several moments, pondering how I would climb out. The sides of the hole were unstable. I placed the shovel before my feet, in hopes of using them as a step, but they were not high enough. I then placed the shovels against one side of the hole, side by side. I pressed my back against the other side, and, with my right leg against the right shovel and my left leg on the left shovel, I managed to wa
lk my way up against the sturdy shovels until I could push myself up using my arms.

  It felt as if my body was about to break. My breathing was heavy, my heart rate rising. I went to my car and ate a protein bar, and I drank bottled water. I loaded the chest before driving home. The last of the sun’s light was beginning to fade. But I would not be deterred.

  I attached my flashlight to my belt and put my gloves on once more. I placed the chest in a wheelbarrow and carried it to the hole. I dropped the chest into the hole, only to find that it hadn’t seated itself properly. It was tipped.

  Part of me wanted to leave it that way, but I knew it would not do.

  I knelt down beside the hole and, with my right hand, grasped for the chest, struggling to reach it and pull it back out. I had little advantage, and no leverage, and risked falling in if I reached in any deeper.

  Give me the strength, Lord. I pulled once more. Slowly the chest moved, and I pulled harder and harder until finally I had it above ground again, next to me. I dropped it in a final time. I then proceeded to toss dirt into the chest, until it was full. The sun had set now, and night was falling. I slipped on my head lamp and climbed onto the chest to lock it, only to find that I had no key to do so. I searched my pockets, finding nothing.

  Help me out, Lord. I reached for my spotlight and turned it on. I searched the area and found nothing.

  I looked down at the edge of the hole and saw something shining under the sand. The keys. I climbed back onto the chest and locked it. By this time, there was no more sunlight. The only light I had came from my head lamp. As I began to cover the chest with dirt, my body ached more and more. But I would not leave until I was finished. I had spent about three hours on the burial today and about two hours the previous day. The Lord was with me both days. All glory is unto him.