“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***