THE RIGHT MAN FOR THE JOB

“Is that you, Old Bones?”

Aricel sat in a corner taking in the scene. It was almost a classic from the studio lots in Hollywood. An old Black man lay prone in bed, his strength fading slowly. On one side is his daughter trying to be brave. Various other friends and family press close to hear his last words and say their last farewells.

Aricel arrived in the dimly lit back bedroom alone, without his armor and without the usual Host commander at his side. They detected no threat in the area, and none within any of the people gathered. The only other spirits in the area were the Host who had been guarding this man most of his life. Aricel conversed with their leader before slipping quietly through a wall. He did not see any reason for his presence but he always went where he was sent. “Obey first, answer questions later.”

Aricel chuckled at the unofficial motto of the Investigators. He loved his job.

“You won’t find it so funny when I slip through your hands, Old Bones.” The elderly man said, “Death be not proud! You remember that? You ain’t gone hold me.”

Aricel looked over to see the old man looking back at him; he can see me? Aricel thought. No way! He wasn’t even in the same dimension as the people. He could peek in unnoticed, or should be unnoticed, and assess the situation before taking any action. This personal contact might be the first bit of unusual information in this assignment. He decided to address the man.

“Hello, my friend. I am happy to tell you that I am not the Angel of Death.” He made a show of looking around the room as if the walls were not there. “In fact, I don’t see Old Bones anywhere.”

“Don’t you be mocking me son! I—” the old man began coughing painfully drawing his entourage closer. Someone tried to put a cup of water in his hand. Another dabbed at his brow with a wet wash cloth as if to soothe a fever. Those farthest away from the old man murmured he must be delirious, talking to the air like that.

His niece whirled around with a fierce countenance. “You hush now! You may not believe him even after all these year but Poppa has always had the Sight. He sees what other can’t; he can look into the other world. Don’t you go doubting him now after all the help he’s given y’all for so long.”

One of the men might have answered back but this was not the time for a debate. The room became silent as the coughing fit faded. Aricel was not a Comforter but he did have some of the abilities of that other class of Eternal. He placed a hand on the man’s chest and stopped the sore muscles from spasming. He also removed some of the mucus that irritated him so. Immediately the man relaxed. He opened his eyes again and looked at all the faces around his bed, seeing them clearly for the first time in days.

The man called Poppa patted his daughter’s hand. They exchanged smiles in silence for a moment before he spoke again in a low voice. “Thank y’all for coming to see me off, but I’m not quite gone yet. I think I’ll be here for a bit longer to be sure. Why not all of you step out and get something to drink and eat, and wash up? I’m going to rest awhile. Don’t worry! My friend is here,” indicating Aricel though no one else could see him, “he’s going to make sure I don’t go nowhere before you get back. Now go.”

The gathered people reluctantly filed out the door looking back as the departed. The last one to leave, his daughter eased the door closed as if afraid to disturb a sleeping child.

Aricel silently pulled up a chair to the bedside. He masked the room with sleeping sounds so that anyone listening at the door would only hear the old man’s soft breathing.

“It’s about time we formally met, captain. My name is Wylie Houston Everhart; it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Aricel regarded this fascinating man. “My name is simply Aricel. I am likewise pleased to meet you, but how did you know I like to be called ‘captain’?”

“I call everyone senior to me captain, Captain – old habit from my days in the Navy. I was a sailor when I was young, real young; lied about my age. Got wounded in a battle before I was eighteen. Got a commendation and got found out. They cashiered me and that’s when I moved to America. Been here ever since.”

“Interesting,” Aricel said. “My friends call me Aric. And I can see we are going to be friends so you can do the same.”

“Aric—I might try that in a bit but for now I like Captain better.”

“Whatever makes you happy, Poppa.”

“Now, family calls me Poppa, most people calls me ‘Mister Wylie,’ but those who really know me—as I’m sure you do—call me ‘Willie’.”

“Then Willie it is. Now Willie, what is it I can do for you right now?”

Willie looked very old now, more so than before Aricel helped his breathing. “I’m tired, captain, so tired and if I could I would have crossed over days ago.”

That simple statement bounced around inside Aricel’s head. The Investigator in him opened several lines of inquiry at the same time but he set them aside. “I assume there is something holding you here?” he ventured.

“I need to see my son. He moved up to Lynchburg when he got married and raised a family. He got the world that I need him but he has not made it in yet. I don’t know what is keeping him. If you could, would you see what is holding him? I need to see him.”

“I’ll do more than that. You sleep now and let me do what I do.” Aric said with a wink.

Willie smiled as he dropped off into the deepest sleep he dared risk in many a weeks. Aricel checked on the family outside the door. Ministering angels cooled the room and calmed troubled souls. Each person realized they did need a break from their vigil and also got much needed rest and nourishment.

Aricel stepped through the wall and found the Host on watch. The camp was quiet. Aricel scanned above, out to the horizon, and below the ground. He called to his ship in orbit above and they confirmed his observation; all was quiet.

“Host leader,” he called out. When the mightiest angel appeared instantaneously, Aricel continued. “May I review your logbook?” Of course he had the authority to command obedience but he always preferred to be polite. Eternals were as much teachers as leaders for angels.

The Host leader carried a large book under his left arm. It served as a strong shield in battle being indestructible and as a repository of the events of each assignment. Aricel accepted the proffered book and settled in to do his research.

When a Host is dispatched on a mission they keep the records. The first page holds basic information about the subject, usually a person. The next page holds the requested service and their explicit orders. All of that was written by the Holy Spirit and inviolable through all eternity.

Not to say there is never opposition. In fact, the Host generally expected opposition; you don’t call an armed guard unless you expect violence. This Host had been on duty with Willy Everhart since he turned 13. The record showed many spiritual battles, some quite lengthy, some lost. Willy was at the center of a spiritual storm most of his life – and he knew it too.

The Host did not write the log, it wrote itself. Aricel read the entire volume in no time; really, no time passed in Creation while he read. He made notes in the margins and recorded his thoughts about some of the events. Curiously, the record fell silent two months ago, about the time the old man – Willie got sick.

Aricel looked around again. Certainly it was still quiet now. Daemons fled at the approach of an Eternal unless they were bound to a task or a place. Aricel expected silence now. But he had only arrived fifteen minutes ago in real time. The log reflected weeks of minimal activity in the area. To call it abnormal would be insufficient. This screamed of conspiracy in high places.

Why would the enemy plague a man almost his entire life then suddenly fall silent when the man was dying? The log records many incidents of the man using his spiritual gifts to influence events and people over a large area. Many men came to faith in the LORD because of him. Many families were healed. This man did much damage to the Enemy’s plans and still does. In the silent weeks he has relit a movement in several local churches. Silencing him should be more important now, not less.

Aricel handed back the logbook to the Host leader. “I suspect I won’t find any more answers here, my friend.”

“Where will you look next, captain?”

“The best line of inquiry leads to his absent son. Seems he should have been here by now if the relationship between father and son is as strong as the record shows. I will see what is causing the delay.” Aricel called his ship. “Deck officer, locate Mr. Wylie’s son.”

“Yes sir, just a moment,” came the reply.

In an instant a massive lion stood facing Aricel. Shoulder equaled shoulder, eye met eye; massive paws each as big as a dinner plate flexed glistening claws into the soil. All gentleness fled from his countenance. This armor in the shape of a massive lion stood ready to serve.

“I assume there is a reason my armor arrived, deck officer.” Aricel closed his eyes and leaned in to touch his head to the lion’s.

“Yes sir, he is needed. The son is not in the middle of a battle, he is in the middle of a war.”

 

***2***

“This is serious,” Aricel observed from the outskirts of Lynchburg. Spiritual combat raged as far as the “eye” can see – provided one had the proper set of eyes, that is. If he had to guess he would say most of the daemons in this world were present and expending great energy in the struggle.

Normally, his arrival would tip the scales in the battle. This time the enemy had the force necessary to counter his presence. At least four Mardukim loomed over the battle. The massive arms (all four of them) scattered Host and demons alike with each swing - mighty red giants spewing flames and violence with every step. Not many things could stand up to one of these creatures. An Archangel is one. The other thundered across a valley off to the left. One fist the size of a two-story family home slammed the nearest Mardukim hard enough to drop it on its back.

An Enforcer engaged the enemy’s right flank. He is an Eternal like Aricel but he specialized in direct action. If his kind had been in existence in the early days of Man’s history they would have been the stuff of legend, something above “gods” and titans. And yet the battle raged.

Aricel could see a Messenger bound and shackled in the midst of the enemy camp. Messengers were a special class of angel that had no specific existence, that is, they were a nonlocalized entity until they received a message to deliver. At that point they could be tracked and intercepted though with great difficulty. Whatever was causing this conflict must have to do with him.

He turned to the leader of his Host. “Host leader, report to the Archangel or the Enforcer. Provide whatever support they require until I return.”

Aricel grew to full size in his armor. He was not as big as a Mardukim by a third and less than half the height of an Enforcer. What he lacked in raw strength he more than made up in speed and ferocity. The closest daemons scattered as a Mardukim charged him.

That struggle was as brief as it was fierce. Aricel pounded vulnerable spots one after another faster than the beast could block. Black talons rang off Aricel’s breastplate doing no damage. He stomped the grotesque head into a granite escarpment before bounding across the scaly back.  That major daemon would recover shortly but for now it was out of action.

The remaining dark forces rallied to block Aric from reaching the Messenger. He batted them aside by the dozen but more specters filled their place at once. His march took on the look of a man trying to wade through waist-deep oil. Eventually, he reached the last line of defense. Instead of fighting these golems punch for punch, Aric called down fire from heaven and his ship obliged.

The flame consumed the organic bit holding the stone creatures together. The heat drove the disembodied spirits out leaving the stone to crumble in a heap on all sides. The way was clear for a moment but a moment is forever at Messenger speed. In a flash he was in the home. Aricel followed quickly behind.

Their bags packed and piled by the door, the father sat reading a bible to his two adult daughters. In another room, in her private prayer closet a mother received the long awaited message from above. It was not what she wanted to hear and she pleaded for reconsideration. Nothing changed and soon the mother accepted the word of the LORD. The Messenger, unbound by duty lost locality. Only GOD can find him now.

The woman wept silently for a moment and then composed herself. She joined her family in the other room. Her husband turned to her, reading all he needed to know in her face the way husbands do. He embraced his wife comforting her.

One of the daughters spoke up. “Does this mean Willie won’t be able to make it back in time?”

Their father extended one arm to gather his two girls to himself. “GOD is sovereign over all but sometimes the government can be stubborn. If the Navy says he is needed then they must know what they’re doing. Let’s get on the road. Poppa is waiting for us.”

Aricel did not want to spend too much more time here and appearing to this family would tie him up with a lot of conversation he doesn’t need. He asked his ship to locate the son, Willie’s grandson and namesake. He then spoke into the father’s mind. “You know, the Navy isn’t really an entity. It is made up of people making decisions. Sometimes those decisions are wrong, or capricious or even downright spiteful.”

The man did not know where these new thoughts came from; perhaps his subconscious mind. He answered anyway. “Yeah, that chief of his is an old school – I don’t want to even think of him as a racist because I’ve never met the man. But, yeah, he’s got personal issues with my boy. I wish he could see him for the good man I raised and not for the color of his skin – if that’s the problem, that is.”

“Whatever his problem,” Aricel whispered, “You already know the answer. You said before ‘GOD is sovereign over all.’ If a miracle is required then GOD is a God of miracles. Get on the road and let Him handle His business.”

The father said aloud to his family, “In Him I do trust.” And his family responded, “Amen!” They were smiling as the headed out to the car.

 

***3***

Several hundred miles out to sea a very large ship barely rocked in the heavy Atlantic seas. Long the bane of seafarers the Atlantic struggled against the nuclear powered leviathan late that afternoon. The last flights back to CONUS stood warming on the foredeck. Within hours the ship would transition to the Fifth fleet AOR. Not long afterwards they would see the Straits of Gibraltar. Europe beckoned. But before that, conflict in the Middle East.

Far below the flight deck men sat in berthing spaces with little to say. Each

alone in their thoughts; mostly thinking of home and how long it would be before they returned. Old sailors remembered deployments of almost exactly six months. Now with tightening budgets and shrinking fleets it seemed ships were at sea more than they were in port. On any given day eighty percent of the US fleet was out in the deep.

Petty Officer Wylie George Everhart leaned into his rack. On one hand he had a letter from his mother asking him to come home to see his grandfather one last time. Next to that was a letter from the Red Cross requesting his release for a brief absence. One small piece of paper overrode both; his request for leave.

He had plenty of leave on the books and, as a single sailor with no bad habits he had plenty of money to afford a flight to Europe to rejoin his ship. His chit came back with the ‘NO’ box checked all the way to the executive officer and covered with reasons why he was “indispensable to ship operations.”

Willie did not feel ‘indispensable’ at the moment. His division had the luxury of extra manpower. They had picked up some extra watchstanders when another carrier decomm’d and some of the sailors had to finish their sea tours.

“Hey Willie!” A friend from the department called over to him. “You packed yet? The last flight out is today.” Willie knew the man was in high spirits. His wife had given birth prematurely – “mother and daughter doing fine” the message read – so he had plenty of reasons to smile.

Willie didn’t want to dampen his spirits. “Go on up, I’ll follow along when I can.” He said while stashing the request chit under the other letters.

“Oh. Okay then; see you up top.” His friend pretended not to know the score. He had been on the ship the same time as Willie; they went all the way back to ‘A’ school together. If there was a problem he knew who was behind it. That chief. The friend left before his face betrayed the anger his heart felt.

Ten stories up, high above the flight deck the captain of the ship sat in his personal chair in the pilot house. He did not drive the ship at this particular moment or direct flight operations. He had key people in the right places all over the ship doing those things. He monitored them from his station, anticipating what would be the next step when the current cycles ended.

One thing he needed was more coffee. An orderly appeared at that moment requesting permission to enter the bridge. He held a very special carafe from the captain’s mess. No one was foolish enough to get in his way.

The captain caught the aroma as the steaming liquid filled his mug. This was not his usual roast. He had not had this particular blend since, - Hawaii? CINPACFLT favored this particular Kona coffee in his office. The captain sipped at it. Yes, this was definitely Kona roast.

The orderly was a new man. He read the name on his blouse. “Seaman Aricel, when you get back to the mess let Chief Harris know I said this was the best cup of coffee I’ve had in years.”

“Yes sir, I’ll tell him.”

“Oh and, tell him, this better not be the only cup of Kona I get on this cruise.”

Aricel stammered in the way a very junior sailor does when delivering a threat from one senior to another. You don’t want to be the messenger in that exchange; not without some extra stripes to spare.

The captain did not notice a piece of paper added to his short stack of forms while he was distracted by the smell of coffee. Now he picked up his clipboard as the mug cooled. He initialed the fuel status report on top. The second was a request for leave. He read it over carefully.

He turned to the bridge officer, “Executive officer to the bridge.”

 

***4***

Aricel stood by holding a small snack tray, an unnoticed seaman apprentice while a captain addressed another captain. In turn, a commander arrived attempting to explain his comments on the request. More officers of lower rank arrived covered in sweat from more than the effort to get to the bridge.

Finally, the captain ended the debate. “I command a ship of thousands, with an embarked air wing of thousands more. And you’re telling me that we cannot operate this ship without this one petty officer? What would happen if he died?”

No one had an answer for that. Of course the ship would sail on even if the captain dropped dead. He spelled out “Approved, Immediate” on the bottom of the request and signed it. "Gentlemen, Petty Officer Everhart just died."

The captain then said, “Master Chief.”  ABFCM (SW/AW) Koehnig stepped forward to receive the request form. He could smile because his head was not on the chopping block. “Make sure this man is on the next flight off the ship. When you’re done with that, find out who is responsible for this screw-up and bring him to me.”

Master Chief Koenig left the bridge with a smile. This was the part of his job he enjoyed the most. Someone, as a result of their own questionable judgement, was going to be very disappointed with their next performance review.

Twenty two minutes later, Petty Officer Everhart got a quick pre-flight orientation in the island before stepping out onto the flight deck. Someone grabbed his hastily packed sea bag and ran to the waiting S-3 COD. Willie had heard planes landing on and launching from the flight deck for years. This would be the first time he had the opportunity to experience it for himself.

Soon he buckled into the window seat behind the cockpit. The crew chief checked his straps, tightening them more. Willie’s friend smiled from the other side giving him a ‘thumbs up’ because the whine of the turbofans made normal conversation impossible.

The flight deck personnel directed the plane to the bow catapults. Willie watched all he could through the window. He had scorned ‘Airedales’ for years as little more than “mobile ballast” taking up space on the ship and standing in lines everywhere. To be fair, the air wingers tended to have an equally low opinion of the ship’s company.

Soon it was time to assume the position. He leaned hard into his seat burying his cranial helmet into the headrest to avoid whiplash. He braced his boots against the railing below, and crossed his arms on his chest as the engines ran up to full power. With a sudden rush the plane accelerated at 4G in less than two seconds to about 140 knots indicated airspeed. Willie knew all the mechanical details that made this launch possible. He worked in the enginerooms where the steam formed from nuclear heat. He qualified Surface Warfare and would also qualify Aviation Warfare Specialist when he got back. Technical understanding is one thing, flying is another.

He heard himself let out a long “YEE-HAW!” as the shuttle pushed the plane off into space.

 

***5***

Lower Mississippi gets a lot of rain this time of year. Sometimes tornadoes push through too. The storm approaching from the North was nothing as minor as that—except this storm would never reach its destination.

The enemy regrouped for a final push against the assembled Hosts gathered in defense of Willie H. Everhart’s home. It might have been an epic battle except it would never happen. One Eternal could tip the tide of battle, two or more could assure victory – 12,000 Eternal was a foregone conclusion!

Together they formed a wall as impenetrable as the Word of GOD Himself. They imposed their collective will on events and nothing beneath the Throne itself could say them, “Nay.” The war ended before it started.

Aricel sat chatting with Willie when his daughter burst in with good news. She paused because this time she could see the handsome man sitting in the chair across the room. Willie assured her he was a friend and to go ahead and speak.

“George is here! His wife and daughters are getting out of the car right now. I’ll try to get him in as soon as I can tear him away from the family.” She nodded to Aricel and pivoted to leave again as quickly as she came.

“She always was excitable.” Willie said. “Just like her mother; probably why I love her so. She reminded me of the crazy young thing I first met and fell in love with. You know, it was like living with the same angel twice.”

Aricel knew real angels. Women were far worse and far better than those Sons of Heaven. Having been in love himself he knew the sentiment quite well. “I never had children but I have a niece. She was the best thing to come into my life. Made me wish I had gotten married before –”

“But you didn’t?” Willie finished. “You can tell me about it someday. My son is here.”

George Franklin Everhart appeared at the door alone. Willie was happy to see his long absent son – but not happy enough. Aricel sat unnoticed in the corner while son hugged father for a long time. He knelt by the bed, ignoring the chairs in the room. He looked like a man who was comfortable kneeling in prayer for long periods.

Once they were disturbed when the rest of George’s family came in to see Poppa but they could see this was important between the two men and departed. Again, they were interrupted with the offer of food and drink. They declined.

After talking together for more than an hour, they were disturbed once more – this time with the arrival of a tall young man in Navy whites. His rows of ribbons spoke of honorable service and his three blue chevrons spoke of responsibilities weighing down his shoulders. But there was more.

More than just the white color of the uniform, the man seemed to glow. Aricel had seen the man before on the ship several times but had not seen this aspect before. Beyond that, Willie began to glow as well, much brighter than the other. George did not seem to notice but Aricel did and marveled at the spiritual display.

Willie ‘Jr.” (as Aricel began calling him in his head to make the distinction) entered alone and hugged his grandfather. Three generations of proud, hardworking men talked and prayed together for some time. Something passed along from Willie Senior to George to Willie the Younger. When it was over it was time to say goodbyes.

The rest of the family gathered into the room to hear Poppa’s last words. He blessed them, each one with his right hand. His escorts arrived while he was speaking and stood with Aricel in silence. This was no sad occasion for them; this was the most joyous day in their existence, “a Saint was returning home!”

Willie’s body lost its glow and faded into a peaceful rest. His spirit rose up in the room and faced Aricel. He looked a lot like the younger Willie, probably more like himself than he had been in years. Aricel smiled and memorized his face, they would meet again soon!

His family sang joyous hymns of praise while shedding tears of sorrow. Poppa had finally gone to his rest. Their lives were all diminished by his absence but they possessed the hope of seeing him and Big Momma again in the Hereafter.

Everyone wandered out to let the mortuary man do his job. People swapped stories about Poppa and how he had touched their lives. He would remain an inspiration for many years. No one bothered Willie Jr. as he walked by himself through Poppa’s garden. He would never see his tomato crop this time.

When he was sure no one could hear him, Willie said, “So, who are you?”

Aricel step up next to him. “I’m just a man with a job.” he said. “This assignment seems to be finished so I’ll be on my way shortly.”

Willie was puzzled. “You’re not going to stay? With all the stuff going on around here, I thought you were in charge.”

“No, my friend, I don’t run things. I come and go as needed. You are going to discover that things in the Spirit Realm often come and go in a flash. Before that time you’re likely to face a big decision.”

“The Navy.” Willie said without looking up.

“Yes, the Navy,” Aricel added. “It is possible you might have to choose which path you will follow; the Cross or chief’s anchors. But understand this; even though you have what Poppa called ‘the Sight’, it is a gift that has uses everywhere. You might already be in the place GOD wants you to be. If not, you’ll know soon enough. But one thing I can assure you, your life will never be boring again.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that.” Willie was already wondering what he was going to do about having the Sight on a ship sailing into combat. Interesting times awaited his return.

 

***epilogue***

 

One person was not looking forward to Willie’s return. He emerged from chief’s berthing on the third deck to find the command master chief waiting for him. All of his personal possessions were in two sea bags, a suit bag and several boxes hastily filled. Anything else remaining would be shipped to his final destination. Two junior petty officers from the master-at-arms office carried the possessions without daring to say a word.

They walked down the portside passageway to the Personnel Office. Senior Chief Corpus had orders already typed up transferring him to the beach detachment in La Maddelena, Italy. With luck and the grace of GOD the chief would be able to retire at his present rank.

The chiefs walked in silence to the stairwell leading up to the hangar bays. Neither man noticed the seaman apprentice that stopped his sweeping to let the two senior men pass by. Neither man was likely to ever see “Seaman Aricel” again during their journeys.

 

***END***