by J W Kiefer
“Is that better?” the voice asked.
“How did you know I wanted light?” he asked curiously. “I did not ask for it.”
“I heard your desire for it in your mind.”
“You read my mind?” He directed the question to the hovering locket, although he felt foolish talking to jewelry.
“Of course. I can also communicate directly to your mind. How do you think I am talking to you now? As a locket, I have no mouth.”
“Do you have a brain?” he asked, smirking.
He examined his surroundings now that he had light to see with. He was lying down in a small room or possibly a cupboard of some kind. The entirety of the small space was covered in soft white pillowy material and had little room to move.
“Hey—am I in a coffin?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I am in a coffin or yes, you have a brain?”
“Both,” the voice said blandly, apparently not picking up on the sarcasm. “I am sentient, though I do not exist and think as you do.”
He shrugged off the voice’s attempt at explaining itself. “Locket, why am I in a coffin?”
It was silent as if contemplating how best to respond to the question. “Because you are dead.”
The revelation of his demise sent a shock wave of memories surging through his mind. He grabbed his head with his hands and attempted to curl up in a ball as the images thundered through his mind.
Pictures from his childhood as his family moved from church plant to church plant. His baby sister cooing; pain washed over him at the sight. Pictures of school graduations and sporting events he had played flashed by next, bringing with them feelings of warmth and joy. He saw himself going through the academy and then finally graduating.
Eventually, the memories stopped at the face of a beautiful woman with long brown hair and luminous dark eyes. He knew her face, but her name… It was at the edge of his mind. Finally it hit him.
“Dana!”
He remembered everything now. Remembered how much he loved her and with the remembering came more pain. The pain turned to panic as a picture of his brother flashed before his eyes. He remembered the pain of the knife and not being able to breathe. He had died. Steve had killed him.
“I have to get to her. She is not safe—he will kill her!”
He flailed at the walls of the coffin, like a caged animal his pounding muffled by the pillowed sides.
“Calm yourself,” the voice soothed. “She is safe for the time being.”
“Calm myself?” he spat. “He will kill her. Do you understand? He will find her and torture her in ways I don’t want to think about. I know he will. I may not know why my brother is doing what he is, but one thing I do know is that just like any other murderer, he will not want loose ends, and she is a loose end.”
“Jared. She is safe. He has not harmed her.”
His name washed over him like ice water, Jared froze. He blinked his eyes and grunted. It felt like he was waking from a dream, no, a nightmare. Or was this the nightmare? He could not be certain, but with the mentioning of his name came more memories.
He remembered the darkness. He shuddered at the thought of it and felt for the sides of the coffin in order to prove that he was no longer lost.
“You will not return to the darkness,” the voice said in response to his thoughts. “You need not fear it. It was a place of transition and nothing more.”
Jared went to blow out a long breath but found that he had none to expel. Curious, he reached for his neck and felt for a pulse. Nothing. How could that be?
“Locket, how… am I alive?”
The locket hovered and glowed but did not respond immediately.
“You are not alive, at least not in the biological sense. You exist still because I have chosen you and I will it to be.”
“You what?” Jared asked incredulously.
“I will it.”
Jared’s thoughts raced again as he tried to grasp what this thing was saying to him. “Locket, what are you?”
“I am Tzedakah. I am Justice.”
“Metaphorically speaking, or as in the actual spirit of?” Jared asked. This whole situation was so surreal, and he was having a hard time wrapping his head around it.
“Yes.”
Jared frowned. This was all so impossible, and yet, he remembered dying and he remembered the darkness. He shifted uncomfortably. Not out of physical discomfort, but rather because he was beginning to get antsy. He glared at the locket still hovering above him. His fingers itched to reach out and grasp it. Before the thought had crossed his mind, he had done it. Had he done that on purpose or had something else compelled him?
“We will continue this conversation later. He is here.”
“Who is here?” Jared asked.
“The one who converses.”
Then the world went dark again.
Thirty
Jeremy Wagner sat on a small bench that resided near the walkway in a rather large cemetery, staring up at the night sky, his mouth slightly agape in awe and his legs swinging. This was his first time this far upstate and he was awed by its beauty. Most people thought of New York as nothing more than a great sprawling metropolis, but to those who called the state home, they knew it to be so much more. Two mountain ranges, thousands of acres of undisturbed forests, lakes, rivers, gorges, and canyons made New York one of the most beautiful states in the union. It was a pity that when people thought of New York all they saw was the city.
This late at night, the cemetery was quiet and peaceful. Jeremy enjoyed the solace it brought. He wasn’t a creep, mind you, and it was not his usual habit to spend his nights wandering around cemeteries, but of all the strange places God had led him to, this one was not so bad. The cemetery was well kept, and fresh flowers adorned many gravestones. Grieving families had erected crypts and set up memorial statues from the slight and unassuming, to the colossal and gaudy. All in all, it was a beautiful place—at least, if you were into that sort of thing.
He yawned and looked at his watch. It was getting late and he really hoped that whatever had brought him here would happen soon. It was a clear chilly night, so he stood up and moved around a bit in order to warm himself. Jeremy stretched his average frame, and the bangs from his short, unkempt dark brown hair fell into his eyes. He blew at them, trying to get the wayward strands away from his usually laugh-lined bright brown eyes, but they stubbornly refused to comply. He puckered his lips, crossed his arms and pouted like a toddler at his rebellious bangs.
Seriously, it was getting really late and he just wanted to go back to his hotel room and crash. Of course, if he did, there was no way that God would let him sleep. No, He would keep him up all night, pestering him about duty and the importance of what he needed to do. What exactly it was he needed to do tonight, God had yet to reveal.
Jeremy exhaled and his hot breath condensed, making it look like he was breathing smoke. He breathed out again, only this time harder, growling like he imagined a dragon would. He’d have to ask a dragon if they really did make sounds like that if he ever met one.
Jeremy’s eyes wandered up to the night sky. It was filled with stars. More stars than he had ever seen before. He could get used to this, he thought. It was nearly impossible to see even one star over the ambient light of the city, let alone the hundreds and thousands he was seeing tonight.
“It is time,” a voice spoke.
“Really? Already? Gee, it only seemed like two seconds and not forever. I mean, I only got frostbite in one of my fingers, so that’s good,” Jeremy told the voice he knew so well.
It was God’s. Of course, no one believed him when he told them that. When he was a kid, his own parents had tried to have him committed because they thought he was schizophrenic. To tell the truth, for a while he believed that, too. Then it had happened.
A little girl got lost in Central Park. Her parents called the police, and before long it seemed like the entire city of New York was out looking for t
he little girl. After a day of searching, the girl was still missing. He and his parents were helping look when the voice directed him to one of the bridges that dotted the park. Underneath it, he had found the girl.
She was unconscious and had a nasty gash in her forehead. She had fallen and struck her head and needed immediate medical attention. Thankfully, she recovered, and life returned to normal for everyone except him. Ever since that day, he realized that the voice that was speaking to him was real. He started listening instead of suppressing it.
“So, what is it this time?” he asked unenthusiastically. “A demon? No, I know, it’s a restless spirit that needs me to help them find peace and move on. Maybe I should’ve brought a camera crew with me and we could film a ghost-hunting show.”
God was silent, but Jeremy could sense His amusement. For some reason, God liked his sarcasm. Jeremy really did pity people who did not know this side of God’s character. The Almighty had a wonderful sense of humor, as well as a highly developed appreciation of irony.
“With the jawbone of an ass,” he muttered from the Bible, “I made asses out of…”
A strange sense of expectancy fell over him. Whatever was about to happen, it was important.
God led him farther into the cemetery and to a fresh grave where the grass had not yet had time to grow. Crouching down, he tried to read the name on the headstone. It was too dark, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Blue light illuminated the etching.
“Jared Caddret,” he read aloud. “He was only twenty-eight years old when he died. Now, that is sad. How did he die?”
Before God could answer him, the ground beneath his feet began to shift and he fell backward in fright. It took a lot to scare Jeremy. In all the years God had been talking to him, he had seen many things both amazing and horrific, but zombies clawing their way up out of the grave was a first.
A hand broke through the ground. Surprised, Jeremy jumped back up on his feet. Wide-eyed, he watched as the hand turned into an arm and then a man’s head broke through the dirt. Strangely, he barely disturbed the dirt as he seemed to phase through the earth to stand atop the grave. To Jeremy, the being seemed to have floated up through the ground, more like a spirit than a zombie.
“Really?” Jeremy said out loud, staring wide-eyed at the man standing before him. “So, we really are ghost hunting? Seriously, I should’ve brought a camera.”
The man Jeremy assumed was Jared Caddret seemed to be confused as he surveyed his surroundings. He held up his fist and a strange soft glow seeped through his fingers.
That’s one big lightning bug clutched in his closed fist, Jeremy thought.
The man, like a basilisk, turned his eyes on Jeremy and paralyzed him with shock. To Jeremy’s dismay, where the man’s eyes should have been, there was nothing but writhing darkness.
Jeremy’s eyes widened in recognition when he saw those nightmare black eyes. “Oh crap. This is not good.”
He got up and casually brushed himself off while Jared scanned his surroundings as if seeing the world for the first time. Sighing deeply, Jeremy plopped himself down on a nearby headstone.
So, the Shogun was dead, Jeremy realized. He had to be dead if this—whatever he was—was standing here in front of him.
The man stopped looking around and fixed his eyes on him. Jeremy knew what those eyes saw when they fixed on people. At least, he had a vague understanding of what it was they saw. The Shogun had once told him about the dark gaze. Jeremy shuddered as the man continued to stare at him.
“See anything interesting?” he asked.
The man did not speak as his eyes continued to bore into him.
The intensity of his gaze never wavered as he spoke. “Honestly, I have no idea what I am seeing. It is like the world is the same, yet different. If that makes any sense?”
“Yes, actually it does,” Jeremy replied, shifting uncomfortably. “So, I take it you haven’t been dead long.”
Jared’s face fell at that, and the hand holding the locket dropped.
Jeremy smiled apologetically. “Too soon?”
The locket suddenly glowed brightly and shifted in Jared’s hand, transforming. When the glowing finally died down and he opened his hand, the locket had transformed into a silver ring. Jared stared at the ring for a moment before compulsorily putting it on one of his fingers. He stared at the ring thoughtfully.
“I guess I haven’t had much time to think about it,” Jared replied, looking at the man again. “I am sorry.”
Jeremy lifted an eyebrow. “Sorry for what?”
“For your life,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh that. I guess you are seeing everything about me now. Hopefully, you won’t want to kill me for that bad habit I couldn’t shake during puberty.”
“Just puberty?” Jared said, flashing a sarcastic smile.
Jeremy choked back a laugh. “Well, this is different—you have a sense of humor! From my experiences with the one I knew, people like you don’t usually have one. Maybe the reanimation process is different for each individual. Reanimation is a good word for this, right?” He gestured to Jared with both his hands.
“My ring said reanimation is an accurate if simple explanation. At least, I guess it is my ring that is speaking,” he said, examining the ring on his finger again.
“I have never seen it take on the form of a ring before,” Jeremy said curiously. “Usually it is a sword. Of course, I have only known one of your kind and it was always in the shape of a Japanese katana when he had it. He liked to ask me questions about God and heaven. I guess he was curious.”
“Are you a minister or a priest?” Jared asked. “My parents are pastors.”
Jeremy slowly got to his feet and stretched. He shivered a bit from the cold and rubbed his arms with his hands. “No, at least not in the traditional sense, anyway. God talks to me, is all.”
Jared nodded his head slightly.
“I know. It sounds crazy, right? But God really does talk to me. In fact, I usually can’t get Him to shut up. I find it so ironic that the rest of the world complains about how silent He is. I just wish He would stop talking to me when I am in the shower.”
“Interesting. Tzedakah says that you speak the truth.”
“Well, he would know,” Jeremy replied. “Anyway, can we continue this conversation back at my hotel room? It’s freaking cold out here and I am tired.”
Jared suddenly lurched back as if avoiding some unseen assailant, and Jeremy bolted upright his eyes darting around searching for any signs of danger. The flap of bat wings reverberated through the air as a dark shadow darted past the two men. Jared’s ring glowed, and with the speed of thought, it transformed into a large blazing sword. He crouched down and raised the weapon, searching for any sign of whatever it was that had just flown by them.
Even though Tzedakah did not speak to him directly, he could sense what it felt. Darkness. Danger. The connection the sword had made with him was so instant and complete, it was as if they were no longer separate beings but one singular entity. It felt strange at first; his instinct was to fight against the sword’s intrusion into his consciousness. With this resistance, the connection wavered.
As if sensing the hesitation, the creature attacked again. This time the blow landed, sending Jared flying into his own headstone. It cracked under the force of the impact, the top part of it breaking off. Despite the power of the blow, he wasn’t stunned. In fact, he felt no pain at all.
The creature hovered in the air, beating its enormous bat-like wings. It was humanoid in appearance but had large horns protruding from its head and bulbous red eyes. It wore dirty iron armor and brandished six-inch claws on each of its six fingers.
The creature bared its fang-filled maw and hissed, “What great fortune my dark master has given me tonight by delivering you into my hands. I, the great and powerful Baal Shaffar, shall have the privilege of slaying a fledgling Justice.”
With a blur of motion, the
demon threw itself at Jared again. Before he could react, the creature’s nails were suddenly in his face, only inches from his eyes. Gripping Tzedakah with both hands, he managed to bring up the sword just in time to deflect the raking claws. Sparks flew and he could smell ozone as the nails scraped across the black metal. He pushed back against the demon and managed to fling its arm to the side, knocking it slightly off balance. Tzedakah screamed in his mind and he stumbled and shook his head violently as the sword attempted to invade his consciousness. The demon noticed the turmoil and grinned.
The demon lashed out with his tail, striking Jared hard on his legs, sweeping his feet out from under him. He knew he was falling and that he was in trouble, but his body felt heavy and slow like he was moving through water. The demon struck him as he fell, slashing his claws against his chest, ripping his shirt and tearing into his flesh. He felt the sudden pressure of the talons as they tore through his body and watched as gore and flesh sprayed into the air, but it was like he was watching it happen in a dream rather than real life. He barely registered the impact as he hit the ground.
Jeremy was unable to follow the movements of the battle, but he could sense that Jared was in trouble. He snapped into motion, drawing a small cross-shaped dagger from its hiding place in his coat, and launched himself at the demon. He landed on the creature’s back just as it was lifting its arm for another blow, grabbed onto one of its wings for leverage, and drove the blade of his dagger into the back of the unsuspecting demon.
It howled in pain and thrashed wildly, trying to throw Jeremy off its back. He held on for dear life, riding the demon like a champion bull rider before it managed to grab one of his legs and pull itself free. It roared as it slammed Jeremy into the ground, leaving him stunned and gasping for air.
The demon glared down at the prostrate Jeremy, its red eyes burning with hatred. “Foolish human, I will rip you apart.”