“Henry! Hank’s alone up there,” called Sandy across the crevice.
“My boy,” Henry whispered and he dashed up the cliffside.
Sandy looked up at the three brutes standing at the edge, hands on their hips laughing, humming, screaming into the air as the flailing horse fell to her death on the jagged rocks below. Romano Goldstein and Frances O’Donnelly appeared next to them under the sharp silver half-moon rising behind them.
Then Sandy saw the reinforcements—over a hundred warriors lined up alongside the directors at the cliff’s edge.
One of the giants turned from the edge and reappeared holding something aloft. It was a man, kicking and pounding his fists at the thug’s arms.
“Hank!” yelled Sandy. “You unholy beast, put my boy down.”
The monstrous brute looked up at his captive and laughed. Hank was twisting and kicking, trying to escape the giant’s grasp, smashing the enemy’s wrists, pulling at his fingers.
“Throw the worthless pig down,” said Goldstein.
The giant drew his arms back overhead. Sandy watched in horror.
Then the giant crumbled. Like torpedoes Mark and Lucille flew into his body—Mark hitting him in the left knee, Lucille flying into the right side of his neck. Two sets of powerful canine jaws crunched down—Mark’s into the giant’s leg, Lucille’s into his jugular.
Sandy watched the man fall like a tree, dropping her son at his feet. The dogs reverted to their wolf-killing instincts and tore the man apart while Hank’s weak, wounded body rolled over the lip of the cliff. He grasped the base of a sapling in his right hand and clawed at the turf with his left. He desperately scraped his boots against the rock for purchase but found none. He twisted down, clinging with one hand to the bush, but he couldn’t hang on. He fell from the clifftop out of Sandy’s sight.
Sandy fell hard to her knees on the granite shelf, but she didn’t feel the pain. Her face sunk into her hands under her bushy white hair.
“Sandy. Sandy, get in the boat,” Carlos said. He had maneuvered Water Walker to the deep water on the back side of Sandy’s ledge.
“Climb down here and slide on your backside to that little outcropping and you can jump in from there.”
The big boat had forty-five Task Force Saber warriors aboard, plus two dogs and Cinnamon.
Sandy took one more look at the cliff where the savages stood proud between the directors, scoffing at her and her retreating army—peaceful Cielavista now occupied by a powerful demonic army. Sandy hesitated there on her rock.
And there was Henry.
Henry was stepping heavily down the uneven rocky stairway with his son embraced in his arms, carrying him like a toddler, chest to chest, one of Henry’s arms around Hank’s bleeding thighs, the other across his back. Hank’s face was nuzzled into Henry’s neck, his weakened arms clinging to his father.
“I got him,” said Henry.
“Oh, thank God,” said Sandy. “Henry!”
A cheer rose up from the crowded trawler.
Henry couldn’t make the leap over the wide crevice on Sandy’s rock to get to the boat, so he made his way to the shallow water on the near side of the ledge.
“Carlos can’t get the boat over there, Henry, it’s too shallow,” said Sandy. “What are you going to do?”
Henry smiled up to her over Hank’s matted hair. “Sandy, I’ll be right there. Get in the boat.”
“Tobias, you there, buddy?” said Henry. “You know what I need, right?”
Sandy said, “Who’re you talking to, Henry?” She was kneeling on the edge of the granite ledge looking down at her husband and her son. “How is Hank, Henry? Is he all right?”
Hank lifted his face up off Henry’s neck and gave his mother a weak grin.
“Get in the boat, Sandy. I’ll be right there,” Henry said. “These women,” he said to Hank, “they just don’t trust us, do they?”
From the rocks on the tideline Henry stepped out onto the gently rippling water. One step. The second step—lost his balance for a second on the unfamiliar surface—hung on to Hank. Another step, and then Henry walked confidently out on the ocean around Sandy’s ledge.
“If Saint Peter could do it, so can I,” said Henry.
“Now you know how he did it,” said Tobias, swimming under the weight of Henry and Hank. “We angels never got the credit we deserved.”
The two wolfhounds were swimming next to Henry.
When Henry got to the boat, Carlos and several of his nephews lifted Hank from Henry’s arms. They helped Henry over the transom.
“Now I’ve seen everything,” said Carlos.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Henry accepted his wife’s punishment when he met her on the deck. Sandy grabbed Henry’s jacket with both hands and shook him. She banged her forehead against his chest. Then she followed the men bearing her wounded son below into the cabin. Althea jumped down behind her.
Henry was puzzled as the boat slowly backed away from the rock and into the open water, swung around, and accelerated out to the horizon. Carlos, Henry, Roberto, Beto, and Robby looked at each other.
“Say good-bye to our home,” said the elder Roberto.
The warrior-family on deck looked up at the cliff receding behind them. On the heights stood Frances O’Donnelly, Romano Goldstein, and over a hundred fresh enemy fighters.
The warriors in the boat whispered prayers. Prayers of thanksgiving and prayers for guidance. Water Walker sped out to sea, towing the Sea Ray.
“We’re all safe. Some with serious injuries, but all alive except for that brave warhorse,” said Carlos. “You know, Henry, you went AWOL on us. But old Gabriella told us there was a higher reason for your taking off like that.”
Young Beto said, “I think old Henry here had—what’d you call it— an epiphany up there in Neddick.”
“Yeah?” said Carlos.
“Look at him, Grampa. He ain’t shaved in a week, and he hasn’t even changed his clothes in three days. He even quit washing the dishes in the galley. I had to do that.”
“Well,” said Carlos, “great job, my friend, rescuing Hank. We all thought he’d met his maker. And by the way how’d you do that water walking thing?”
Henry, still silent, looked to each man—Carlos, Roberto, his son Robby and grandson, Beto. “How fast do you think we’re going?”
“Feels like thirty to forty knots. Top speed, I’m thinking,” said Beto.
“Anyone hear any engine noise?”
They all stood and listened. They were on the deck right over the engine compartment. The trawler was flying through the ocean, leaving a huge wake behind. Each man’s brow wrinkled at the same time.
“Who’s at the helm?” said Henry.
They all looked at the ship’s wheel and saw it unmanned.
“One other thing—where are we going?”
Carlos knelt down by Lucille. She was drinking from a bowl of water and eating a steak. “So, Lucille, how many angels we got pulling this trawler?”
“Seven? Nice. They do a very smooth job. Ask them where we are going.”
“What did she say?” said Henry.
“It’s a surprise.”
Sandy came up from the cabin, stood next to Henry, and crossed her arms across her chest. She bumped him with her shoulder.
“Hank’s sleeping. Yolanda applied one of her honey-calendula potions to his wounds and gave him tea from an herb called Star of Bethlehem to make him sleep. Evidently the boy’s body is made of Kevlar.”
“How about his mind, his soul?” said Henry.
“Hard to tell, but you know, I’ve never felt more hope for him. Those clouds in his eyes have gone. When he responded to what Yolanda gave him, his breathing became normal immediately. All he could do was smile and joke around.”
“What’s with the little cutie?” Henry said.
“Yeah, Althea. She’s quite the young lady. Sweet as can be, tough as leather.”
Henry just looked at Sandy. She k
new what he was thinking.
The cliff of Cielavista was dipping into the horizon under the half moon. The hoard of fresh enemy troops remained lined up on the edge of the cliff. The battle in the starry sky was over.
“They’ll renew their attacks on innocent victims, won’t they?” said Henry.
“Not them,” said Sandy.
“What do you mean?” said Henry.
“I only know what I know and I can only do what I can do,” Sandy said.
“That used to kill me, you know, but not anymore,” said Henry.
“Maybe something clicked on,” said Sandy. “All I know is this war isn’t over. Somehow, don’t ask me how, Gabriella will have her victory.”
“Henry, did you notice the fuel gage?” said Beto seated at the helm of Water Walker. Henry and Sandy sat in the mate’s chair next to him.
“No.”
“I used the last drop of gas keeping her steady on the shore back there when we were loading the family.”
Sandy and Henry smiled at the gage on the dashboard reading empty. “This seat is designed for just one person, you know,” said Henry.
Sandy snuggled her behind against Henry’s lap and looked at the seven soaring angels easily pulling on Water Walker’s, mooring lines. “This is the only way to sail,” she said.
“Look. It’s the supertanker we saw this morning, the Hyundai Spartan,” said Beto, pointing through the boat’s windshield at the dark shape on the horizon. “No lights.”
Henry and Sandy strained their eyes at the line where the sky met the ocean beyond Water Walker’s bow. The ship they were racing toward grew larger quickly.
“We’re not going to ram this tanker, are we?” said Henry.
The angels let their lines go slack. The Water Walker slowed as it approached the starboard side of the huge tanker. Henry swiveled around the mate’s chair so he and Sandy could face the crowd of Carlos’s family standing below them on the main deck, all craning their necks, looking up at the steel side of the giant vessel ten stories high. One collective gasp rose up from the warriors on the trawler as the side of the tanker opened up and the angels pulled Water Walker and the Sea Ray into the bowels of the ship.
The ship’s hull closed behind them and halogen lights banged on overhead. Water Walker and the Sea Ray bobbed gently on the pool of seawater in the tanker’s belly.
Sandy, Henry, and Beto stood in the helm. “Tie her up,” said Henry as if docking a fishing boat inside a supertanker’s hull was something he did every day.
Antonio and Beto secured the lines to the steel dock inside the fuel tank and the weary warriors disembarked the boats and bunched up like sheep, waiting on the metal dock for Sandy and Henry.
Sandy went below to check to see if Hank could walk. Yolanda had two of her grandsons fashion a stretcher out of blankets and a couple docking poles. Over Hank’s objections they made him lie on it, and they carried him to the deck and onto the dock.
Henry led the troops up the metal stairway on the interior wall of the tanker to a landing near the ceiling. A door opened as he got to the landing and a crewman welcomed him aboard.
“Hello, Henry,” said the stocky sailor. He shook Henry’s hand. “Welcome aboard the Spartan. I’m Simon.”
“Thanks. Any idea what’s going on?”
“Nope. I just work here.” Simon gave Henry a big toothy grin. “Follow me.”
“Stay close, folks,” said Simon to the Santiago family as they fell in line on the expansive deck of the Spartan. “There’s lots of obstacles on the deck here, so don’t wander off.”
Simon led the file of haggard soldiers along an elevated pipeline to the four-story-high structure near the stern.
“This is the bridge,” said Simon. “Watch your step. There’s a lip at the base of this door.”
In a minute, they were all seated in comfortable chairs in the recreation hall. Except for the steady hum of engines and electricity coursing through the veins of the ship, they may have been in the ballroom of a five-star hotel.
“Every family or individual gets a room,” Simon said. “These guys will show you to your quarters.” He waved in the general direction of four clean-cut men in pressed khaki shirts and trousers.
“There’s clean clothes for you in these boxes. Before you go to your rooms, just rummage through and get what you need for the night.”
“The dining room is next to this room. We’ll have breakfast in an hour. Our chef is the best.”
Sandy turned to Henry, “Their chef is the best.”
“We’ll see,” said Henry. “If not we’ll just take our business to another supertanker.”
“Yeah,” said Sandy. “One with big doors that open up and swallow fishing boats.”
“Plenty of those,” said Henry.
“Let’s get some clean clothes.”
Henry and Sandy clutched their new sweats, socks, underwear and slippers to their chests like refugees. Simon opened the door to their suite. They stepped in over the edge of the doorway. Simon flicked the switch and soft lighting streamed into the plush quarters.
“This is the best you can do, Simon?” said Henry, gazing into the elegant room.
Sandy punched her husband. Simon smiled. “I’ll come get you in a few minutes after you bathe and change. The captain would like to have a word before breakfast.”
Showered, changed, and lying next to each other on the king-size bed, Sandy said, “Sleep much?”
“Not lately. If this guy doesn’t knock in the next two minutes I’m out like a light.”
“Gotten any lately?” she asked.
“You’re gonna have to wait for that until after breakfast, kid.”
Sandy, Henry, and Simon entered the elevator and rode it up to the command bridge. The stainless steel doors zipped open and they stepped out to a hallway lined in teak paneling. Simon opened the door opposite the elevator and they entered the command center. Four rectangular windows offered a 180-degree view of the horizon. On the rear wall behind Henry and Sandy stood a bank of thirteen metal cabinets, each one with its own digital dials, buttons, and radio handsets.
Through the windows all Sandy could see was stars. Between Sandy and the command console were three high-backed leather chairs with headrests and arms. Two looked occupied by large men, the third seemed empty.
“Sir?” said Simon.
The chair on Sandy’s right spun around and a grey-haired man in black slacks and a white uniform shirt with black epaulets trimmed with four wide gold stripes slid off his chair and held out his hand. The captain shook hands with Sandy and Henry.
“What a pleasure to meet you two heroes. I’m Skip Blumenthal.”
The chair in the middle spun and a younger, blond version of Skip Blumenthal appeared. He stood smiling and greeted the couple with handshakes. “I’m Tom, Skip’s son.”
Skip seemed enthralled with Sandy and Henry. He looked at them and shook his head. “We’ve followed every stage of your battle. I’m sure that General Joshua is proud of you.”
It took Sandy a few seconds to comprehend. “Oh, yes from heaven. You think he was watching?”
Skip smiled, “Who knows, but your soldiers executed his tactics superbly. And no battle deaths.”
“Well, our dear courageous Sadie. She saved my son’s life and gave up her own.”
“Yes, yes. So sorry about Sadie, the splendid warhorse,” said the captain.
Tom interrupted, “And I believe you already know our other captain.”
Sandy gave Tom a puzzled look. He reached over and put his hand on the back of the third chair and gave it a gentle turn.
“Nonina!”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Captain Blumenthal got his son’s eye and gave him the signal. He rotated his index finger in a couple circles. Tom grabbed the handset from the metal cabinet behind him and gave the order, “Raise anchor, ease her forward 270 degrees. Ten knots steady.”
Sandy’s heart pounded as she kneeled down and
lay her head in Gabriella’s lap. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh, God, Nonina.”
The old lady looked down at her granddaughter and up at Henry.
Sandy said, “You old lady. Where have you been? Why couldn’t you communicate with me? I was going crazy with you gone. I was worried….”
“Shhhhhhh, darling,” said Gabriella. “You wanna scold someone, scold the angels. But not now they’re busy.”
Gabriella stroked Sandy’s hair. “We’re in the hands of the Lord, my dear granddaughter. He’s got plans for us that we don’t always understand. I had work to do out here on the ocean, and He knew you were the one to direct the battle at Cielavista.”
“But why couldn’t I see you. Why did you have to disappear?” said Sandy.
“To build your independence, dear Sandy.”
Henry wiped his eyes and his nose with the sleeve of his new sweatshirt. “Who are these people, and where did this ship come from?” he asked.
“One of my nephew’s fleet, Henry. From Sicily. They have been our allies in the heavenly war for many, many years. I never knew it until a few weeks ago,” said Gabriella.
“Turns out we are one of seven units of spiritual warriors stationed around the globe. That enemy force that came to reinforce the Directorate had been fighting our allies in South America. They were ordered to disengage from the battle down there and join the campaign here in New England. Our mission will be expanded in the future.”
Sandy shook her head and took a deep breath. She looked into Gabriella’s eyes and said, “Don’t ever do this again.” And she hugged her grandmother long and hard.
“Now, Sandy, stand up and see what God has planned,” said Gabriella.
“Henry, are you able to see into the spirit world?”
“No, Gabriella. I’m that guy that has to believe without seeing. Not as easy, you know.”
“Hmmm. Still the wise guy, huh? Okay, Sandy, you want to tell your husband what you see out there?”
The tanker Hyundai Spartan pushed steady westward through the flat sea at ten knots. The moon had climbed to her zenith. Cielavista’s cliffs rose above the horizon. The entire estate was ablaze.
Proof Through the Night Page 29