“Isn’t it dangerous for him to be in a continual state of REM sleep?” the professor said.
“We think so. We’re talking to a sleep specialist right now.”
“But you have no idea why he’s in a coma?” Dana said.
The doctor shook her head.
“When will you know?” Brandon tapped his foot on the maroon carpet.
The doctor smiled. “I’m sorry. Everyone thinks medicine is a science. And it is. But it’s also an art. And right now we can’t see the whole painting. So we’re going to paint a few more of the numbers with the best brushes we have and see what we can see. But that will take some time. I wish I could tell you more, but that’s all we have for the moment.”
“Is there anything else?” Marcus put on his coat.
“Yes. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but since you are his friends, I have to ask about medical coverage. Reece didn’t have any ID on him or medical insurance cards.” She glanced at each of them. “Do you happen to know if he has a medical plan?”
Should she tell? Dana wasn’t sure, but at this point her exhaustion put her in a position of not caring who knew. Besides, it might make them take better care of him. “If he doesn’t have coverage, he’s good for the money.”
“How do you know that?” The doctor folded her arms, the clipboard pressed against her chest.
“He’s got millions.”
Brandon and Marcus stared at her.
“He’s got what?” Brandon said.
Dana waved her hand. “It’s a long story.”
Brandon opened his palms. “I have time.”
“Not now.” She turned to the doctor. “He’s good for it. Trust me. Can we see him?”
The doctor shook her head. “Not yet. Tomorrow, yes. I’m guessing the best thing for the three of you would be to get some sleep. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands here.”
As Marcus drove away, he bounced his fist on his steering wheel. “God, I need some light. Reveal what is going on below the surface.”
Instantly a picture of Reece lying in a hospital room with a dark cloud seeming to be holding him down flashed into Marcus’s mind. “What are you showing me, Jesus?”
After a mile farther, Marcus slapped his knee with an open palm. “That’s it!”
He grabbed his cell phone and dialed Brandon.
“Hey, Marcus.”
“Is Dana still with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Put me on speaker, please.”
“You’re on.”
The noise of Brandon’s truck filled Marcus’s Bluetooth. “I don’t think Reece’s situation has anything to do with his body or his mind.”
“What’s left?”
“His spirit. His coma is not a medical condition. It’s spiritual.”
“Comas are not caused by spiritual dysfunction,” Brandon said.
“This one is.”
“Why do you think so?”
Marcus hesitated. “God told me.”
“God told you? Hmm.”
“Is that not one of the points of our training? That we will hear the voice of the Spirit? Well, I heard from him. The doctors can’t explain it because there’s nothing on the physical level to explain.”
“Let’s say you’re right. What do we do?” Brandon asked.
“We enter in and free him from whatever has him held captive.”
“Go in? What do you mean, go in?”
“Precisely the same battle we fought inside Dana and inside me. We must discover a way through the gate and into Reece’s soul and neutralize whatever is holding him hostage.” Marcus rubbed his head. “Strike that. Not neutralize. Destroy it.”
Dana’s voice floated through his cell phone. “I appreciate your passion, Marcus. Really. Brandon and I love the guy too. But if what you’re saying is true, we don’t have the experience to do something like that.”
“What about the admonition to jump off cliffs and build our wings on the way down? We’ve already entered into souls.”
“That’s the point, we’ve done it with Reece.” Dana sighed. “Not on our own.”
“At some point we have to grow up.”
“I agree, but people don’t go from a yellow belt to a double black belt,” Dana said. “There’re orange belts, green belts, purple belts, brown belts, and other belts along the way.”
“That’s inconsequential. I cannot allow myself to let him lie there knowing what I now know. Will you join me or not?” Marcus smacked the back of his fist into the side window.
“No offense, Marcus,” Brandon said. “But you heard the Spirit speak this. We didn’t. And—”
“I’m in,” Dana said.
“Thank you.” Relief coursed through Marcus. “Brandon?”
He could imagine the look on the musician’s face.
“All right, I’m in too.”
“Do either of you have a suggestion where we might gather for this attempt?” Marcus asked. “Reece’s fire pit?”
“No,” Brandon said. “Too wet, too great a chance of being disturbed.”
The line went silent for a moment. Then Dana spoke with confidence. “I know exactly where we should go in from.”
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you when we get to the park. See you there in a few minutes.”
Marcus stared at the hint of dawn in the rain-soaked sky. Wherever Dana had in mind, he hoped it was close. His heart told him they were running out of time.
Dana and Brandon arrived at the park first. He pounded out a quick rhythm on his steering wheel as they waited for the professor to arrive. Where did she think they should go in from? There wasn’t anywhere nearby that he’d choose.
“You want to tell me the place while we wait?” He turned to her.
She pointed out the windshield. “He’s here.”
After Marcus’s car skidded into the parking lot, he shut off his engine, stepped out of his Jeep, and joined them in Brandon’s truck. The second the door shut, the professor zeroed in on Dana. “Where is this perfect place?”
“A place where we know we won’t be disturbed. A place that has a prayer covering over it. A place where the curtain between us and the spiritual realm is thinner, which will make it easier.”
A look of disbelief passed over Marcus’s features. Brandon scowled. She couldn’t mean—
“You’re talking about Well Spring,” Marcus said.
“Yes.”
“Great idea.” Brandon pointed at Dana and winked. “I’m sure we can be there in about twelve hours.”
She raised her eyebrows and he realized what she was suggesting.
“You want to try that? Reece’s beam-me-up technique? Sure. Oh yeah, perfect time to test it.”
Marcus scrubbed the top of his head with his fingers. “Maybe it is. Maybe it’s time to find out what we believe. Maybe it’s cliffjumping time.”
“You two are crazy.” Brandon tapped his temple.
“So was Peter. So was Paul. So was Elijah. So was—”
“Okay, I get it,” Brandon said. “Sure, it might work. But what happens if we show up there and the owners are hanging out at the listening post or grilling up a few steaks on the barbecue out back?”
Marcus glanced at his watch. “If they are there, they’ll probably be asleep. Unless they’re early risers.”
“The owner won’t be there,” Dana said.
“How do you know?”
“He’s not there. I promise you.” She closed her eyes and massaged her forehead. “And he won’t be showing up for at least a few days, if he ever shows up again.”
“How can you be certain of that?” Brandon asked.
Dana sighed. “Because at this moment the owner is lying in a hospital bed at Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland, Washington.”
FIFTY
“REECE OWNS WELL SPRING?” BRANDON TWISTED IN HIS seat and stared at Dana. “You’re kidding.”
“Yes. And no, I’m not kidding.”
“It makes sense.” marcus shook his head and let out a soft laugh. “I’m flabbergasted we missed it.”
“How does it make sense?” Brandon asked.
“It was obvious. Consider his demeanor surrounding Well Spring. The way he described it to me when he was inviting me to come, the way he talked about it when he gave us the tour, his countenance when he strolled around the main cabin. And didn’t you ever see him standing out back gazing at the cabin or the bunkhouses? Like they were made of gold.”
Sure, Brandon had seen that, but it didn’t mean Reece owned the place. He turned to Dana. “When were you going to share this nugget with us?”
“He asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say.”
“What does one guy need with a ranch that size?” Marcus said.
“Training center, probably,” Brandon said. “Do you—?”
“Guys!” Dana popped them both in their shoulders. “Time to stop talking about how Well Spring came to be and get moving.”
“You’re right,” Brandon said. “Where should we try this ludicrous idea?”
Dana patted her leather seat. “Right here in the car. I don’t think the location has anything to do with it working or not working.”
Marcus and he nodded.
“I agree.” Marcus held out his palms. “Join hands.”
Brandon stared at the determination on Dana’s face. “You believe this will work?”
“I don’t know. That’s why it’s called faith.”
Brandon nodded. “Reece had you memorize the special words he uses, right?”
Dana smiled. “I thought he told you.”
Marcus shifted in his seat. “Have you considered the actuality that we have no idea how to make this occur?”
“I have, and I admit that could be a problem.” Dana held tighter. “But I’m not going to worry about it.”
“I believe.” Brandon looked into Marcus’s eyes, then Dana’s. “Help my unbelief.”
“Amen.” Dana glanced at Marcus. “Do you want to lead this thing?”
“Sure. Is everybody ready?”
Dana shook her head once and then nodded.
“Rock and roll.” Brandon grinned at him.
“Then let’s proceed.” Marcus sucked in a deep breath and held it as long as he could, then slowly released it. “Jesus, if this is you leading us—”
Instantly the air around them swirled and a flash of brilliant light made Brandon slam his eyes shut. He felt weightless, more than weightless—as if his body no longer existed, only his spirit. Ecstasy erupted out of his heart and he felt like Dorothy caught up in the middle of a tornado—only this one was a tornado of indescribable joy.
The sensation of time vanished. It was like swimming in an ocean of utter bliss and unquenchable love. If he was given a choice to stay in this forever, he would have agreed in an instant. He still felt Marcus’s and Dana’s hands in his, and when he squeezed tighter they returned the pressure. Another flash of brilliance, then the light enveloping him dimmed and Brandon opened his eyes. He wiggled his toes. Terra firma. He looked down to make sure his shoes were standing on real earth. They were. The three of them stood just above the main cabin of Well Spring Ranch.
“Did you two just experience—?”
“If that’s the Spirit of God, I want more,” Marcus puffed out.
“I think that’s just a taste,” Dana said.
“What a rush! Have you ever felt God’s love like that before?” Brandon patted the air with both palms. “Definitely some songwriting material in that experience.”
The sun had just crested the ridge to their left and it lit up Dana’s hair like gold.
“Unbelievable.” Brandon released the professor’s and Dana’s hands and spun in a slow circle. “Simply utterly unbelievable.”
He was stunned. It had worked. They’d done it. He shook his head and smiled. Not true. They’d done nothing. The Spirit had done it all.
“Not to rush past this moment, but we need to rush past this moment and go after Reece.” Dana started down the slope toward the cabin, her shoes sinking in the soft soil. Marcus and he followed and when they reached the front door they found it open. They walked in and stood in the center of the living room.
“Where should we try this from?”
“Try there is no. Only do.” Brandon attempted to imitate Yoda’s voice.
Marcus laughed. “A worthy attempt, Master Jedi. However, it’s ‘Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.’”
“Thanks, Professor Trivia.”
Dana gazed toward the nine-foot-tall sliding glass door. “At the listening post of course.”
They walked through the door onto the pathway and to the end of the patio where they would take a crack at entering Reece’s soul. Brandon’s heart pounded. He guessed Marcus and Dana had thundering going on in their chests as well. They’d gone quantum in their learning in the past five weeks, but going into Reece’s soul without Reece there—that was quantum learning with nitro afterburners.
They sat and joined hands. “All right, let’s go,” Brandon said softly. He waited till Marcus and Dana closed their eyes before closing his. Then he focused his spirit inward and waited for the Spirit to take them. The by-now-familiar sensation closed in on him and—
“Stop!” Dana said.
Brandon jerked his eyes open and rocked forward in his chair. “What’s wrong?”
Dana opened her palms. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Marcus frowned.
“What is the second rule of going into a person’s soul?”
Brandon let go of their hands. “Uh . . .”
Dana tapped her forefingers together. “You do not go in without explicit permission.”
Marcus pulled off his glasses. “And I quote, ‘There is never an exception to rule number two. Never. Are we abundantly, exceedingly clear on that point?’”
“Explicit permission. We don’t have it, do we?” Dana said. “Let alone implicit.”
Brandon looked at her. She was right. The scene from the movie screen in Reece’s memories flashed through his mind. “We try to go into his soul without permission and we could wind up going through a gate into a soul that isn’t that of our fearless leader.”
“Precisely.” Marcus shifted in his chair. “And it is a virtual impossibility to get permission from Reece with him in a coma.”
Brandon reached out and took their hands again. “I say we go anyway.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Dana said. “And we go through the wrong gate?”
The image of Reece’s wife and daughter pounded through his mind. No. He wouldn’t allow fear to machine gun his belief. Why would the Spirit have brought them to Well Spring if he didn’t want them to go inside Reece’s soul? Then again, what if Dana was right?
Brandon glanced back and forth between them as sweat dripped down his back. “If we go through the wrong gate? We might die. But I don’t care anymore. Really. Yes, I’m terrified. But I’m more terrified of what will happen to my heart if I don’t go in. I’m not going to carry around that kind of regret the rest of my life. I’m ready to jump off the cliff for Reece. Because he would do it for me.”
Dana propped her elbow on her knee and buried her face in her hand. “Marcus?”
The professor glanced at Brandon. “When you present it that way . . .”
Brandon held out his shaking hands to Dana and Marcus. “Let’s go.”
They sat in silence. No one moved. But at seven seconds Marcus offered his hand. At ten Dana slid her palm against his. “Lead on.”
Brandon took a deep breath as he gazed down at the river, then let it out slowly. “Jesus, if it’s not right, block us. Keep us out. Show us another way to save Reece. But if this is you, take us in now—”
Well Spring vanished. There was no sensation of movement, no sensation of time. One moment he sat at the listening post, the next they stood on a tiny island—two acres o
r less in size—in the middle of a vast ocean, its gentle waves spreading out as far as he could see in every direction.
The air was sweet, too sweet, and a light wind swirled the fragrance around his head like circling flies. Brandon raised his hand against the midday sun and glanced at the others. “You both good?”
“Yes,” Marcus said. “Fine.”
Dana nodded and pointed to something dark in the middle of the island on top of sparse green vegetation. They eased toward it. It looked like a person lying on his back, head tilted to the side, with one arm splayed out as if reaching for something.
“Reece?” Dana said.
Brandon broke into a jog; Marcus and Dana did the same. After twenty-five yards it was clear Dana was right. When he got within five feet, Brandon slowed and stared. A blood-red flower drooped over Reece’s chest and every few seconds a drop of what looked like yellow-tainted light dripped off the end of the lowest petal and disappeared into his chest.
“I’m not thinking that flower is a good thing,” Brandon said.
“We have to obliterate it.” Marcus stepped forward. As he did, a light red mist swirled around Reece’s body, forming a ring that extended three feet in every direction. Sporadic bursts of long, thin streams of red light shot out of it toward them. They stumbled back as if one.
“I don’t think we want to get touched by one of those,” Dana said.
Marcus circled the mist, his hand out as if gauging its power. “If we have the power of the Spirit, fear is not a consideration we need to dwell on.”
As the professor reached the halfway point, one of the tendrils shot out at his hand and latched onto the tips of his fingers. He cried out in pain. “Jesus!” The tendril pulled back and a sizzling sound filled the air.
“Marcus!”
“I’m okay.” He held his fingers. “It stings but nothing more.”
“Look.” Dana pointed at Reece, who stirred and whose head flopped from side to side. “He’s trying to speak.”
His voice was a whisper and sounded like he spoke through a phone from the 1920s. “It’s my fault. My fault. I murdered them.”
As he spoke a thick, gray smoke oozed out of his mouth and joined with the red mist. In seconds the mixture became a cloud too thick for them to see through and Reece faded from sight. Brandon forced himself to breathe steady. The Spirit had brought them here. There had to be something they could do. Show us, Jesus.
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