Chapter 12: Star of the Morning
I finish leading the pack up the ladder and move to an observation position near the dark ledge. I take a couple protein bars from my sack and offer one to Paul for breakfast. We share the last moments of the night stars while chewing and waiting for all the teams to ascend. Quietly, we continue grinding, staring, and waiting for the pretentious Sun. Out of the corners of my eyes dark figures begin forming this last line of defense. There are no words spoken; just the joyous noise of wandering faces covered in moonlight. Moses gnawing silhouette slowly fills the dark void between Dave and I. I smile a morning salute. I feel strangely relaxed in this embrace of shared anticipation, and slip back in time to a warm memory. I was twelve and anxiously waiting with my family and friends for the finale of that year’s Fourth of July fireworks celebration. Suddenly, the dark sky erupts with rainbows of sparkles and explosions of “Ahhhs!” I feel like I’m in that mesmerizing moment again. We all rest at attention, and patiently gaze into the cool east air.
Paul whispers, “There it is-the ‘morning star’-Venus.” We ponder the planet playing in the first sign of Sun life. I marvel, as the dark blue churns the black velvet back. Every second transforms this living tapestry with swirls of colors. Entranced, we glance at the dark scarlet shoving the indigo shade of blue further up. The bright twinkling’s wrestle in this war of the waves. The dim colors wash over the stars, making their final stand, but are plucked up and cast out into the outer darkness. Gentile golden finger tips begin peeking up and tickle the burgundy sky with its pretty pink crimson feather, that’s dedicated to painting the pink puffy clouds. In my seclusion I consider, “I’ve seen this sight a thousand times. But, I can’t imagine one more amazing.” My heart shouts at me to envision that one son rise two thousand years ago. I admit to this deliberation, and gratuitously nod my head in respect. “Please be with us all today,” I pray. “I know in my heart you truly are the ‘star of the morning’.”
Each team checks their sector of travel for any sign of LD. We then disband and race to beat the sunrise back down the ladder. Gary stays on the roof, and will act as the “watchman.” The rest of us shuffle through the dark towards the store’s entrance. Once there, we wait like paratroopers for the right moment to leap. I hand out three improvised compasses made from caps that came from three old furniture polish cans. Inside each is a magnetized piece of two inch wire that’s stuck through a makeshift cork. I jammed the cork into the cap to lock it in place. I hand each team one, and then explain they’ll need to add a little water for the cork to float. This is a north-south pointing compass. While they pack them, I decide to send one team at a time across the dark property.
I wave Moses and Scotty up to the door. I double check the property area for any unusual outlying movement. The shadows in the broken forest are making it hard to detect the difference between the wind and the possible dark dancing devils. I lean out and check with the “watchman.” I see Gary waving that the “coast is clear” sign. I determine it’s safe and pat Moses on the shoulder while whispering, “It’s time. God go with you.” The team moves out and stumbles along the terrain till they disappear in the dark. I wave Dave and Randy up next. I repeat the same message, “It’s time. God go with you.” I smack Dave’s back as the pair dashes away into the dark. I realize in this moment, I have never felt this proud of Dave. Amanda and Jerry shuffle in to position. I order them to wait with my hand. I stare at the pair while listening for the “watchman.” Once again I say, “It’s time. God go with you.” I watch them dash, while saying a special silent prayer for this team. I turn my head briefly and ask Paul if he’s ready. I feel him attempting to remove my rucksack off my back, as my eyes turn towards the departing team. I watch them also fade into the shadows of the morning as Paul whispers, “We’ll share this load.” I find great comfort in those words for a change.
We line up and I check our flanks. I check left while Paul keeps an eye on his right. “How’s everything looking pastor?” He pats my shoulder twice letting me know that the coast is clear. Side by side we make our move to the edge of the property, maneuvering through the duck and cover system. I hear the flopping sound of Paul’s rucksack, knowing it needs to be readjusted tighter. The hurried pace is causing Paul to breath hard. We make it to the darken tree line and find a spot to sit and rest amongst the slithering shadows. I lean over to assist Paul as he tries to tighten the sack on his own. I try and assist him while taking a quick observation of the eastward sector. I look at Paul’s mouth and see his breathing is returning to normal. I ask him, “Are you ready?” He nods his affirmation as we stand. I tell him, “I’ll lead and you follow my hand signals.” I move just far enough ahead to where I believe he will be able to accurately distinguish the difference between my hand signal and the moving morning shadows. I wave to him, commanding him to advance. I turn to look ahead as Paul races towards my position. I see the alleyway entrance, sensing the security it can offer. As Paul meets me, I wave him to continue on. We dash side by side the rest of the way into the alley.
I see a good cover spot inside the alley and steer us in its direction. Paul appears in the path of my peripheral vision. I see he’s breathing faster than his legs are moving. We finally make it to the cover spot behind the dumpster just in time for me to watch Paul fall in exhaustion. I stick my head out, looking up the alley corridor for any signs of LD. I again give Paul a minute to catch his breath. I hear his gasping begin to slow, while wondering how the other teams are doing. The brilliant contrasting shades and colors on the horizon hypnotically force me to gaze up and see the last remaining stars dissolve into the effervescent blue yonder. A peace comes down to me, amidst this chaos of racing shadows.
The morning camouflage of Paul’s striped face is illuminated just enough to see him telling me he’s ready to travel once more. I make a decision that we’ll travel side by side forgoing the maneuvering ritual. The cover of the shadows and the darkness of the alleyway will be our protection. I whisper to Paul, “Keep alert,” and shake my hand several times toward his right side; designating this as his sector of observation. I walk alongside methodically checking ahead, and to my left. I hear the steady crunching of fragments pulverizing, and then shoot out from under our advancing feet. We vigilantly stare for pot holes as we hurdle the morning shadows helping to hide them. Paul suddenly slips and skips over a small crater his eyes failed to detect. We both immediately stop and listen for possible reaction that his stomping feet make. The echo of his dance slowly fades away into the silence of this morning. We cautiously continue on.
The light begins unmasking the scenic view of the purple mountains lining each side of the alley. Stripes of gold divulge the true identity of the irregular shapes. Large jagged chard splinters stab the mounds between us. These purple facades were once someone’s home. Rarely do we pass a structure that is still mostly intact. This is the first real experience Paul has of the town’s devastation since the meteor shower. The warm sun gradually begins to bake the lumps leavened with rotting corpses. The sweet scent of the fresh dew evaporates releasing the blanketed reek. Over the next ten blocks I notice Paul’s face turn from awestruck and disbelief to reverent numbness.
We turn right at the end of this alley to go check the area around my former home. My mental note pad reminds me of the loud noise I heard the day I found Tiffany. For some reason the sound struck me as being manmade. We convert our strategy back to advancing by duck and cover; now that we are in the well lit open. I signal Paul to wait, as I move to the intersection of this street. I look left and see an overturned burnt military truck torn in half, blocking the street. A fairly large crater near it tells me it was the result of the meteor shower. I am startled by the light breeze swinging the decimated driver’s side door slowly open. Its scratching noise unnerves me. It’s like finger nails grating over a chalkboard. I check my right flank and become aware of a distant figure on a mound at least a block, or more, away. This clear path through t
he destruction allows me to see a dark figure bending down just in front of a partial front of a house; as if it is looking through the blacken debris. I just have this gut feeling we should investigate this despairing entity.
I wave at Paul to advance. Paul stoops behind the tree I’m hiding behind, as I silently signal him to wait here. I whisper, “I’m going to check this out. If I’m not back in three minutes, take off and head back home.” I peer out reestablishing my line of sight to see the figure now sitting on the mound of debris. I stare at it watching the sorrowful figure repeatedly jiggle up and down. The moving light slowly exposes its tattered attire dangling in the breeze. My compassion is confused. Should I go help? I continue to watch this scene of utter misery and desolation. I can’t be sure if this is a possible straggling Irreverent or a roving LD. It just sits in the open in front of the facade. I reason that it must be LD, due to its lack of concern towards concealment. I pan the perimeter for proof of its possible companions. The only things detected are the slow movements of the shortening shadows. All my reason tells me just to move on, but my spirit invites me to take a closer look.
I check constantly side to side for LD as I move up the street towards the object. It seems to be sitting with its arms pressing against its legs and head. I cut a path through the debris piles and sneak up near to it, while gathering information as to its existence. I am fairly safe, as long as it stays seated facing away, and I continue to move quietly. I turn on my first line of defense, found in my spirit sensing ability. I don’t feel the eerie demonic presence, or the radiating abundance of emptiness always associated with the evil pair. I hear a male voice emanating from it, that seems to be conversing with himself. I manage to maneuver just twenty feet, or so, from its position. I hear it strain to whimper between its self imposed questions. His scratchy voice sounds worn from excess crying. The only words I can make out are “Why?” leading off each of his sentences. I decide to move just a few feet closer to hear what it may be saying. I accidentally crush a small fragment sounding the alarm of my presences. He at once turns, stands, and prepares to charge me.
I shift into flight mode and turn my body away. My eyes stay glued on him while preparing to adjust to his next move. He extends his arms fully outward unveiling himself to the full morning light. I freeze in my frenzy seeing he is not furious, or LD. There is no brand on him. It is like he thinks I am a LD waiting to attack him. He just stands there with closed eyes offering his self up to me. “Psss,” I whisper, “I’m Irreverent!” He collapses as soon as I finish saying these words. I turn before ascending the pile and see Pastor Paul’s head leaning out pass his hiding tree to take a peek. I immediately realize I’ve been gone way past the three minute mark, but Paul still remains. I wave to him to advance to my position as I proceed to this fallen man’s side. I turn him over and see his thin red face is covered with the salty sediment of dried tears. I figure it took every ounce of his remaining strength to stand up to me.
Paul slips on a loose plank, while climbing the pile to assist me. The plank slaps out a sharp shrill that reverberates throughout this basin of wreckage. Paul stares up at me as if to say he’s sorry, but I know we got to get moving before we are all sorry. I signal him to hurry alongside me. We each grab the man’s arms and drag him down the pile, and then back towards the tree at the intersection. We stop briefly behind it employing its cover, and silently observe. Paul turns towards the alleyway to observe, and I turn my face back towards the heap. I see three outlying shadows materialize on a mound far away. They disappear and resurface a few seconds later atop a closer mound, suggesting they’re on their way to investigate the source of the sound. I hear one yelling something vulgar and feel its hateful demonic spirit.
We head for the safety of the alley as fast as we can. Carrying this man proves to be too much for us. I start looking for a possible shelter big enough to hide all three of us. Both of us begin praying very quietly as we continue. We make it into the alley as I notice the dragging trail we’re leaving in the dust. I tell Paul to stop, and then grab his legs. As he repositions himself, I see a set of horizontal shelter doors hiding between two dead bushes. We hustle over the fallen fence leading into the backyard of this property, breaking a few slats in our effort. I set the man down and tell Paul to grab his shoulders. I brush the bushes back, and lift the doors open. A cobweb curtain, mixed with leaves, prevents me from seeing inside the chamber. Approaching voices warn us they found our trail. I rush through the sticky net and pull it with me into the black abyss. Paul follows me dragging this man right behind him. I dump my sack and run back up the stairs. I lean down and tell Paul, “Use the flashlight in my rucksack. I’m going to through them off our trail.” I shut the doors, and then push the bushes back over the doors. I hear Paul’s voice reverberates against the underside of the doors, “No!”
I leap over the fallen fence, back into the alley. I turn and run away from the LDs encroaching voices. At this moment, they turn in the alleyway and immediately identify me as Irreverent. I reach in my pocket and pull out a handful of weapons. I rush away while tossing a few of the homemade “caltrops” over my shoulder. These are four pronged spiked objects that always land with one point facing up. I made them from large “jacks” I borrowed from the girls playing back at “H.” I soaked them with lubricant for maximum effect. I hear their thumping steps gaining on me, but one seems to have fallen in pain. I hear a scream and smashing sound resembling a pile of lumber falling over. I sprinkle several more “caltrops” along the alleyway exit, as I run and gasp huge breathes. I turn at the end of the alley on to the street and attempt to initiate the “zigzag” maneuver. I head towards the intersection and hurdle several pothole size craters along the way. I stay to the left side of the street to shorten the angle of my approaching left turn. I prepare to turn left and drop the remaining “caltrops” right before the intersection. The inertia causes their tingle to spread evenly across the entrance to the intersection.
I detect at least two sets of tramping feet still chasing me. Grinding rock and the sharp pitch ting of the metal scratches the pavement a half a block behind me. A deep voice curses at me as I finish my intersection left turn. These evil things seem to be immune to pain, as they persist in stomping along with one inch of the “caltrops” stuck in their feet. I can tell now they are rounding the alleyway on to the street by the skating sound of the metal skidding on the asphalt. I suddenly hear wood slats snapping sounding, as if one LD ran through a fence. I assume it failed to negotiate the alleyway turn onto the street. I hear loud agonizing groans, confirming there is now only one chasing me.
The last beast is truly possessed, and furious! The thrashing sounds of its loud steps quicken, along with its cursing. The menace shifts gears from metallic jingle to the crushing of pavement under its feet. I know what it is doing. It’s a wounded soldier’s trick. It is using its pain and anger to fuel its feet. It speeds up chewing up chunks of the asphalt, that each of its steps spit out, sliding them across the roadway. Futility and exhaustion finally sets in. I can no longer run. I gasp and hear the approaching words, “I got you now!”
My momentum carries my outstretched body flying forward, as the Demon grips me, and then anchors me. “I’m going to enjoy tearing you to pieces,” it spitefully snarls. It twist the center of my back, bunching my jacket in its death grip. It squeezes and chokes all the air right out of me.
My eyes feel like they’re bulging out of their sockets. The evil thing lifts me with one arm off the ground and asks, “Where is your cursed God now?” I cry out in all desperation the holy name, “Jesus!” It laughs hideously at the pain God’s name causes it. I feel it bend slightly, absorbing the blow, and then it punches me back, right in the kidney. This shot to my body is so violent, I instantly vomit and choke. I feel it lifting me up higher, while tilting me back; as to show me captive towards Heaven. The putrid runs down my cheeks, as I continue choking. It shakes me sadistically and yells toward the midday Sun, “You
stole Heaven and gave me Hell. I’ll steal this soul and give you Hell!”
I feel the sword of the word enable me. A great peace takes over me, shoving out the pain of doubt. I hear the sound of a speeding freight train barreling down right at me. “Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh: is there anything too hard for me?” A bright blast of holy power explodes and blows me and the Demon off his feet. The evil loosens its grip as I fall on top its trembling body. It screams in anguish, “Get off me!” It frantically and tremendously pushes at me, but it cannot budge me. I pray the one word weapon of choice, “Jesus!” The weight of His holy name shoves me effortlessly downwards. The horrible breath of the beast is thrust out, as my benevolent weight squishes it. Its rugged structure slowly snaps, piece by piece, under the power of my words. I yell the holy name again, “Jesus!” Again, I am shoved downward. The body below me balloons out, and then burst into oblivion. I feel the evil spirit shatter the enslaving body, and then flee into the security of outer darkness; where damned souls go.
Both joy and sorry come over me while lying motionless on its remains. I lift myself off and thank my God for this victory, but I am reminded of His great compassion. The thought enters me that two of His eternal creations are forever lost. In this knowledge I too weep bitterly.
The energy lingers in me as I stand. I feel the holy adrenalin still at work. I turn to head back and help Paul, but I see two approaching bodies a half block away. They look at me strangely, as their faces fill with wonderment. I watch patiently as the dirty ragged pair cautiously steps nearer. I sense they are scared, but they are being drawn to me. The puzzled look on the thin lady’s face turns innocently into a childlike smile, while the thin man’s face turns grimmest. I smile at these Irreverent souls for their bravery.
The first words out of her mouth astonish me. She giggles, “Why are you glowing?” I kindly reply, “I am not aware that I’m glowing.” She reminds me that I am, while she tries touching what she perceives to be my aura. “It tingles,” she tells me, while she continues to prick at several spots on my arm. The stern gentleman instructs her, “Lucy, you’re loony!” I have many questions, but I feel the Holy presences telling me to be still. I believe God is working in my silence. She gazes firmly into my eyes and asks, “Are you God?” My spirit causes me to laugh and speak, “No dear, but I do know Him.” The man inserts his opinion, “You’re both crazy.” A soft quiet voice fills me with the realization that misery has softened her heart, but has hardened his.
I ask them, “Why would you risk coming to me out here in the open?” The angry man commands, “We saw what you did to that mad man, and we want to know how you did it!” Lucy interrupts me, as I prepare to answer him, “Because, he’s an Angel.” Her innocence continues to overwhelm me, and my thoughts. I laugh and inform her, “No, I’m not an Angel either, Lucy. But, I do have a message from God.” The man warns me, “Stop filling my wife’s head with that garbage!”
I ask the pair to follow me to a more secure place to discuss the matter. Lucy seems excited to follow, but her husband is determined to get his answer. I tell him, “It was the power of Jesus that destroyed the evil man. I just have faith in His word.” Lucy shakes her head leisurely side to side in awe, to hear there is a greater power at work. I see tears of hope swell up in her eyes, as his turn angry and red. “You’re crazy! The whole world is crazy!” he proclaims. He grabs Lucy’s arm to pull her away, but she wrestles his grasp free. “I want to hear more,” she cries. He turns, and tugs at her again. At once, I project my protecting arm between them. I stare into his eyes and sternly warn him that he is wrestling this very moment with the very Spirit of God. Fear replaces his anger, as he ceases battling me. He turns his back on me, and then slides his loose hand along Lucy’s arm while walking away. His rejected spirit pitifully announces to Lucy, “If you’re coming, come on.” Lucy cries to him, “Henry!” I reach in my back pocket and hand her a small New Testament Bible. The immediate joy on her face turns urgently back to the misery she is facing. I whisper to her as she battles between the message I have, and her love for her husband. “Go, Jesus loves you.” I smile at her as she runs after Henry. Her tattered clothing streams behind her that arouses a childhood memory of the streamers I had on my bicycle. I watch sweet Lucy run after her Henry as she clutches the tiny treasure pressing against her heart.
I feel powerless to move until they disappear back into the piles of debris. I remain in continual prayer that God will reveal himself in both their lives. I knew there was a reason I felt led to underline certain passages in that Bible last night. I’ve given her little messages of hope, love, faith, and salvation. I also drew a map leading to “Project Hope” on the very last page. I pray they heed the message of the cross.