(The events of this post take place several weeks after the events of the previous post—sorry, but some events must remain hidden for reasons of operational security.)
I stepped from Shadow into the quiet darkness of the pre-dawn wilderness just outside of our hidden haven. Inside my head, though, it was anything but quiet. Dark whispering voices cried out, expressing their hunger, their pain.
After four weeks of constant forays to locate and retrieve stragglers the Bat Cave was bursting at the seams with people. There were very few areas where there weren’t any cots or sleeping mats laid out for ORC’s or their family members. The Frau had been working hard to find each and every person as much space and privacy as the cramped quarters could provide, but even she couldn’t cast a spell that would create enough space for the nearly four hundred survivors that had been assembled.
I needed an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts and to deal with shattered remnants of those dark spirits that remained inside with me. Their voices had become too loud to ignore, too dangerous for those I cared about to be around me. But those chances had been few and far between of late. That was especially true since our latest raid on the headquarters of Bone Financial had stirred up El Diablito and his allies again.
Ravyn had been the impetus behind that raid—she felt it was vital that we inflict a little damage and inconvenience on our enemies. It had been wildly successful, but retribution against our few remaining agents and allies that hadn’t been hit in the first series of attacks had been swift and severe.
My hard-soled boots crunched on the stony ground of the hillside. Even the thick layer of pine needles and low grasses couldn’t keep my steps from scraping loudly in the stillness of the pre-dawn darkness. But the clamoring inside of those dark souls almost kept me from hearing my own steps.
The air was probably cold at this time, but I couldn’t feel it. I never have to breathe unless I need to say something, but even if I did my breath wouldn’t bring about any steam since my body generates no warmth. Extremely cold temperatures used to affect my inner workings, when I still needed the infusions of sugared soda pop to keep me operating, but ever since my encounter with Ma Grendel, flushing and gushing was no longer necessary—small residual bits of her life essence had fused with my body, providing all of the energy I would ever need to keep working. That same dark energy also healed my body of any wounds I suffered, usually within minutes, depending on how severe the blow had been.
Those things came with a price, however. While I had gained a number of powers and abilities over the Shadow and a huge host of memories from Ma Grendel, I had also inherited a darker side. Most of the time, I was able to control the urges, the hungers, or those evil little voices deep inside, but the more people that I was around for extended periods of time, the more those voices were able to play on my own innate insecurities and darker moods. With the Bat Cave as cramped as it was for the last month or so, I was getting dangerously close to snapping and doing some things that I would’ve regretted.
I turned uphill and began trudging to the summit of the hill, towards the Sacred Circle that mirrored the exact placement of the obelisk in the Shadowland.
Each obelisk was unique, but they all shared some powers. One of those shared powers was that no one, no matter how skilled or powerful in their use of magick, could locate one through the use of magick. Just like Drake had been, each obelisk was invisible to detection through any kind of magick.
John had told me that the obelisk was located at the top of this particular mountain, but that it could only bee seen in the Shadowland. I had to discover for myself though that the thing wouldn’t let anyone or anything approach it within the Shadowland. Even with the amulet that allowed us to use the transportation chamber below, it blocked all approaches to itself within the Shadowland itself.
The closest that I had been able to get to it within the Shadowland was a few hundred yards from the summit where it stood. It stood there in the distance, a towering pillar of obsidian stone that simply radiated power like a radio tower in the real world. It was easily a hundred feet tall and forty feet in diameter at the bottom. It narrowed gradually, coming to a point well above the nearest trees. Even at the distance I had been from it, I had been able to make out strangely glowing and moving runes that appeared at seemingly random points on the obelisk before they shifted shapes and positions, like a foreign language neon sign in Times Square.
I had tried every trick I knew of moving about in the Shadowland, including flying, but I could never approach closer than three or four football fields to it.
So I gave up on approaching the thing within the Shadowland and had decided to hike to the summit. I needed the time alone anyway.
Herne had simply nodded and clapped me on the shoulder when I told him I was going. “Good, you need to get away for a bit.”
“Have I been that bad?”
He nodded. “You nearly took that kids head off last night when he bumped into you. Go, recharge your batteries.”
I shook my head as I walked away. “If only it was that damn simple.” But Herne was right. I had spun around and raised my arm to strike before I even realized it when that kid of fifteen had barreled into me trying to escape his friend. He had gone completely pale as he realized who he crashed into and what I had been about to do.
The kid had stammered his apologies, but I was lost in my own world of dark whispers and a sudden hunger to exact revenge. Luckily for both of us, Cerrydwen had been passing by and rushed over to get between us. She, of all the people I knew, understood the darkness that lay inside of me.
She placed her left hand on my raised fist and spoke softly to me. “Easy, Rusty. Let it go.”
Her simple presence and her quiet reassurances brought me back to the moment. “Damn. What the hell was I going to do?”
She turned to the boy and waved him away. “Go on Darren, Rusty knows it was accident. He accepts your apology. Why don’t you and your friend there head to the library? I’m sure the Frau could use some of your energy to get that place organized better.”
Darren had nodded and ducked out of the hallway, glad to be away from me.
It only took about thirty minutes to reach the crown of the mountain from where I had come out of the Shadow, but in that time the first sliver of morning sunlight had begun to lighten the eastern horizon. The mountain was not particularly tall, but it was tallest of the nearby peaks. Even so, the summit was still crowned with smaller pine trees that leaned to the east from the constant wind. There was one wide area, however, that was barren of all growth. It was a circular patch of ground about sixty feet in diameter, with an inner circle about forty feet in diameter that was clearly marked out by deliberately placed stones, each no larger than a closer fist. The inside of the smaller circle was barren, hard-packed dirt, except for in the very center. In the center was a small set of larger rocks that formed the edge of a fire pit.
I recognized the spot immediately as the exact place where the obelisk stood in the Shadowland. By entering the circle of smaller stones, a person would be simultaneously inside the Shadow of the obelisk and in a place of power.
John had indicated that this place had been sacred to each of the various tribes of Native Americans who had controlled this land, that this was a place that shamans and warriors had come to participate in vision quests without ever knowing of the existence of the obelisk in the Shadowland that stood in that very spot.
As I approached the circle, I could feel the power of this place. The dark whispering inside my head reached a crescendo as they objected to my coming here, crying out in fear and pain, but I pushed them away and crossed the threshold. As soon as I did, they stopped as if a switch had been thrown.
I signed in relief as my mind was finally as quiet and peaceful as the outer world around me. I was alone with my own thoughts and just my own inner voice for the first time in weeks. I knew it had been bad, but now in the total absence of their hounding, I realized just how loud and obnoxious they had become. I needed to come here far more often.
As the eastern sky continued to brighten, I moved to the center of the circle near the fire pit. In the distance I heard the sharp, piercing cry of an angle soaring high above on the warming currents. Glancing up, I saw the majestic bird as it circled high above me before continuing on its own journey.
I smiled to myself and sat down. “Thanks, John. I needed this.”
I felt a tremendous welling of emotion as I thought back to all that John Red Bear had done and all that he had sacrificed for the greater good in a battle that had never been his to fight.
For the first time since I learned of his dealings with Drake, I found myself truly able to forgive him. Now that the dark voices within had been silenced, even if only for a short while, I could begin to appreciate all that he had given up to help Drake bring me to this point of self-realization.
The sun finally rose above the peaks to the east, shining gloriously on the verdant greens and deep rich browns of this magnificent land. I could feel the cleansing burn of the sunlight on my mostly artificial skin as it washed over me. The shadowy spiritual remnants of Ma Grendel and her thousands of victims cringed quietly, hiding deep within the cracks of my flawed and all-too-human Spirit.
This beautiful, peaceful feeling was better than almost anything that I had ever experienced while I had been alive.
Showing posts with label John Red Bear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Red Bear. Show all posts
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Friday, December 28, 2007
Confessions all around...
(The events and conversations in this post took place in the Lower World immediately before and during Drake’s final passing. These events can now be told in full. For a brief refresher on the context in which these events take place, readers are encouraged to re-read the posts from the following dates: March 18, 2007, A Visit from an Old Friend…Part 1; May 27, 2007, Drake’s Farewell Message; June 10, 2007, Meditation and June 14, 2007, Hell’s Bells…Part 1)
When Drake revealed to me the location of his secret stash of artifacts, his voice was been dry and raspy in my head, like he was having difficulty with what he was saying. “Rusty, I have been afraid to reveal this information to you, because it is perhaps the last and most dangerous truth that I have to tell you.”
“Drake, as much as you have lied, I can only imagine how painful it would be to have to tell the truth. Say what you have to say and be done with it.”
“It is not that simple, Rusty, because this truth goes to the very foundation of who you are and how you came to be as you are now. It was the one truth that I could not risk for you to discover on your own.”
“Drake, stop playing around. Nothing you have to say will surprise me.”
His dry chuckle resonated in my mind. “Very well, I will delay no further.” His voice became deep and somber when spoke again. “Long before there was an Omega Project, I had met a young man—an FBI agent—who I thought might have the potential to eventually inherit the struggle against the An’girasii. He was a talented Caster with a natural charisma and the strength to carry on a long, lonesome battle, if need be. He left the FBI at my urging and worked with me for several years. We learned a great deal from each other once we learned to trust each other. He taught me much about the Shadowland and the many Spirit Worlds that I had been unable to experience myself. I taught him of the long and bitter war that I had been fighting against my father’s people. After nearly a decade of working together though, we came to the mutual decision that he would not be the one. But even so, we made a solemn pact. The essence of that pact was that I would provide him with the initial financing and support to form a secret group of Casters that could become the backbone of a defensive force against the An’girasii if necessary, and in return, he would provide me with any assistance that I needed when I had found the person I considered to be the candidate. I also asked for his assistance in creating a secret storage site for all of the artifacts and books that I had acquired in my many millennia. He agreed, providing a place that was secret and safe.”
“Come off it, Drake. It sounds like you are trying to take credit for founding a group like the ORC’s.”
“Indeed, this young man was instrumental in just that, it was he who founded that little group that you are so fond of.”
“Yeah? I find that very hard to believe. Who was this mystery man?”
“He didn’t have to keep his end of the bargain until quite recently, so it is someone you know, or rather, you knew, quite well…”
I sat there stunned as I listened to his words, coming to a conclusion that I did not like very much at all… “No…not him!”
“Yes. John Red Bear was my ally in creating you.”
“That’s not possible!”
He sighed again. “I am sure that you have the means to ask him yourself, should he choose to answer you, but you may rest assured, John Red Bear helped me to make you who are now.”
“You better believe I’m going to ask him! But I want to hear it all from you, Drake. Finish your story and tell me where this stash is so that I can be done with you forever.”
“As you wish. It is well past time for me to move on in any event. After we parted our ways, he began to form the group that became the ORC’s. He sought out like minded Casters and individuals who had the potential to become Casters. He helped to mold this budding young group into a force for good, creating secret schools and academies all over the country. I began to gather individuals like Klimm and Papa Locks to me, in part to keep them from interfering with John Red Bear and his fledgling group, and in part because I had come up with a new idea to try that would need the services of Casters with fewer morals and inhibitions than those individuals that Red Bear was making contact with. Throughout the years though, I kept in secret contact with him, each of us providing guidance and resources to the other as needed. He had very deep misgivings about my new ideas, but maintained his pledge to assist me when I felt that the time was right.”
“So, you are saying that John Red Bear knew of this plan to make zombies of people?”
“He was aware of the general principle that I was looking at, yes. He wasn’t privy to some of the darker details that were required to make the Omega Project successful, but that was necessary in order to make his eventual role easier to play.”
“What role was that?”
“He played the role of the good cop.”
I snorted. “Let me guess, you played the role of bad cop?”
He chuckled. “Indeed, a role that I am quite comfortable playing.”
I shook my head. “Drake, just tell me this. Why did we—did I—have to go through all of this? Why did you have to bring John into this mess? And why did you have to tell me about his betrayal?”
“Rusty, over the millennia I have come to learn that I do not possess the ability to ultimately win this war that I have been fighting against the An’girasii. But I have learned something about what will be needed to win this war. Every trial, every single test that I have put you through has been designed to determine if you had the potential to develop into the person that could help lead this struggle. In all of my previous attempts, save one, I had either broken my potential successor or created a monster that I would later have to put down. John Red Bear was the lone exception. He was the one candidate that I parted on good terms with. In the process he taught me a very important lesson…that in order to succeed my heir would have to maintain an essential humanity that I have never had. Despite all of the years that have passed, I remain my father’s son.”
“An evil fucking bastard.”
“Indeed. That is why I needed him to help with you. I had to push you away, to make you stronger. I had to make you hate me enough to fight with everything you had. He was there to pick you up again, to keep you grounded in you human nature, and to give you the spiritual tools that would allow you grow in ways that I never could.”
“But why are you telling me all of this now? Why are you trying to ruin my memories of John?”
He sighed. “Rusty, I’m telling you this now because it is the truth. You needed to hear it from me—and him, if he is willing or able to speak to you about it—before it discovered by your real enemies and used against you. Red Bear sacrificed much in order for you to become who you are now. Don’t let those sacrifices be in vain.”
I sat in stunned silence as I contemplated everything that Drake had said so far. His voice was small and quiet in my mind when he spoke again.
“My last gift to you and your friends is the location of that vault I had mentioned earlier. You will find it safely hidden in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Here is the exact location and the combination you will need to access everything…”
With that last bit of information, Drake left me and the ring behind. His Spirit moved gracefully to stand in front of Alexa. Her small face was both serious and tender as she took his confession of and forgave each and every one of his thousands of crimes, one at a time.
I was still trying to absorb everything that Drake had just revealed when the sound of a footfall behind me caused me to turn around.
John Red Bear stood behind me in human form. His face was that of his younger self, but his eyes held all of the wisdom of his years and a tremendous sadness. “Jason, will you walk with me one last time?”
I couldn’t have been more surprised by his appearance here after what Drake had just told me, but I was suddenly nervous leaving Alexa alone with Drake. That nervousness must have been obvious.
“Jason, do not worry about her. She, of all people, is safe in this place.”
I snorted. “I’ve heard that kind of assurance from you before, John. But I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with you anymore.”
“I would understand if you refuse my request. You have every right to reject me, but I feel I have much to explain in just a short time. This is the last time that I will be able to come to you, so please, will you walk with me one last time?”
I swallowed my pride and my anger and nodded.
John turned and guided me out from underneath Yggsdrasil’s canopy and towards a small path that was opening in the woods beyond.
We walked in silence for a few moments. I couldn’t take it for long though. “John, is Drake telling the truth? Did you work with him to help create Rusty Bones?”
I could tell from the flash of emotions across his face that he was deeply conflicted.
“Yes, Drake spoke the truth, as much of it as he knows.”
“What does that mean?”
He stopped and knelt in the middle of the trail. I knelt down beside him as he began scribbling in the open patch of dirt with a twig.
“I am sure Drake has told you that he and met many years before.”
“Yes. He said that you were an FBI agent then.”
John nodded. “Yes, I was the first Native American agent that the FBI ever had. I had a promising career ahead of me, but despite the promising career track laid out before me, I was unfulfilled. I longed for something deeper, more spiritual than such a career would allow me become.
“One winter, near four decades ago, I left my assigned office and cases work to track down a vicious killer in the backwoods of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. There had been rumors that this killer was actually a wendigo, a creature from the myths of many tribes in that region.
“I had asked my supervisor in Detroit to allow me to go investigate this mysterious killer, but he refused. He said that there was no indication that this killer warranted the Bureau’s involvement yet. His victims were poor, rural, and Native American. He said that the locals and the tribal cops would handle the investigations. One Friday night after another brutal killing, I ignored my boss and set off on my own to investigate the matter.
“By the next evening, I had tracked the creature to an abandoned cabin deep in the woods. I was about to confront it by myself when I discovered that I wasn’t the only person tracking the wendigo. A strange man who later introduced himself as Drake Kampmann came up beside me and indicated that my shotgun and sidearm would be of little use against the creature. He recommended that I use a bladed weapon, if I had one.
“Before we could come up with a plan, the wendigo charged us from the cabin. It was a terrible sight. As Drake had predicted, my shotgun blast to its face had little effect on it. But luckily for me, the wendigo had no interest in me. It attacked Kampmann with its full fury.”
John shook his head as he looked up from his scribbling in the dirt. “I had never seen anything as fast as those two fighting each other. The wendigo towered over Drake, fully eight feet tall, but incredibly gaunt. Despite being very thin, it was wiry and strong enough to push down small trees with each clawed hand. Drake ducked and dodged with such speed and agility, striking the creature with only his feet and hands, yet obviously causing it great pain.
“In less than two minutes, it was all over. Drake had broken one of its legs and each of its arms. He had the creature in a headlock from behind. He looked up at me long enough to ask one question. “Can you come get the necklace out of my jacket pocket?”
“I did as he asked, pulling out a strange looking pendant with a large ruby at the center. He grabbed it from me and placed it on the creature’s forehead. The beast let forth a terrible howling shriek that died in the winter air as the creature dissolved in his arms. Needless to say, I had never seen anything like this creature or its demise.”
I looked down at the drawing that John had made in the dirt. It looked very much like the creature I had known as Grendel. “John, what does any of this have to do with why you helped to create me?”
John tossed the stick away and stood up. He motioned for me to continue down the path with him. “Jason, that was the day when my eyes were opened to the possibility—the reality, really—that monsters that were walking freely in this world. My people had stories of such creatures—most cultures have had their stories of fantastic creatures that roam the world—but I had never seen one with my own eyes. I had not yet learned to walk the worlds of Spirit, so this was all new to me.
“Drake saw something in me that day though, perhaps he sensed the shaman that I would later become, but whatever his reason was, he asked me to join him in his fight against creatures like the wendigo and their masters, who he named as the An’girasii, as you know well. In this strange, distant man, I sensed a certain strength and strong sense of purpose that I had been unable to find as an agent of the FBI.”
John turned from the path that lay before us and pushed through the thick foliage into the heart of the forest. He waved for me to follow him.
“I left the Bureau the following week and joined up with Drake Kampmann. We spent a period of several years together. He taught me much about his history and the war he had fought against the An’girasii. He took me to a number of masters and teachers that he knew of who helped me to find my path. It was he who was most responsible for me becoming a shaman of some small skill.
John stopped moving ahead of me and stared at a tall obsidian obelisk that was almost totally obscured by thick, leafy vines and tall, thorny bushes that had grown right up against it.
“What is that thing?”
“It is a map of sorts.”
“A map? A map of what?”
He moved closed to the obelisk and began pulling the vines off of it. I moved in to help him as he replied.
“It is a map that can be used as a guide through the many Spirit Worlds and to some places beyond as well.”
“There are places outside of the Spirit Worlds?”
John laughed and pulled another vine from the stone. I could see that there were thousands of tiny symbols, pictographs and writings all over it. “Oh yes. The multiverse is an inconceivably large and complex place. This obelisk is a both a map and guide post placed here long, long ago. There are similar markers in other places, other worlds. For those who recognize them and who discover the keys to unlocking their mysteries, these obelisks tell how to get to places that might otherwise be totally inaccessible. Before I leave you, I wanted to show this one to you and show you how to access at least a portion of its information. But first let me finish with Drake.
“After a few years under his guidance, I found the path that I knew that I needed to follow. Unfortunately, my destiny was not to be the Warrior, the Hunter, the Successor that Drake had been seeking in me. Our skills complimented each other in ways that found us each wishing that we had some or all of the skills and abilities of the other. We parted ways quietly after coming up with a new plan. Drake explained to me that he felt that he needed to re-create, as much as possible, the conditions that led to him becoming who he was, but that he would try to do so in such a way as to drive his chosen successor to acquire some of the same skills in the realm of Spirit that I had. That plan eventually led to your creation, and to the creation of the ORC’s.”
I dropped the vine I had pulled from the obelisk and looked into his eyes. “John, tell me this. Do any of the other ORC’s know of your involvement in helping to create the Omega Project? Do they know the role Drake had in creating their own organization?”
John shook his head. “No. Those were secrets that I have had to keep to myself. By design, none of the others share my guilt. Jason, I feel no pride in having deceived you as I have. It is a shame that I will carry with me as I leave these realms and move on to my next journey.” He held up his hands imploring me to listen just a little longer.
“Jason, I could not reveal any of this to you before because I could not risk the possibility of failure. You were our last best chance at succeeding before the An’girasii freed themselves again. Time had grown exceedingly short. I know this not from Drake and his stories, but from my own journeys and research through using these obelisks. So let me tell you how to access the information on this so that you can someday do your own research. I am not asking for your forgiveness, but only for your eventual understanding. Once you learn everything that I have, I hope that you will come to fully understand the necessity of what has been done to you. Please don’t judge me too harshly until then.”
At that point John showed me how to unlock a small portion of the mysteries of that and any other such obelisk that I might encounter. But dear reader, you will come to see how those things work in the coming weeks.
My next post will be made on Friday, January 4, 2008 where I begin the story of what happened after the surviving ORC’s fled El Diablito’s tower in the Shadowland.
When Drake revealed to me the location of his secret stash of artifacts, his voice was been dry and raspy in my head, like he was having difficulty with what he was saying. “Rusty, I have been afraid to reveal this information to you, because it is perhaps the last and most dangerous truth that I have to tell you.”
“Drake, as much as you have lied, I can only imagine how painful it would be to have to tell the truth. Say what you have to say and be done with it.”
“It is not that simple, Rusty, because this truth goes to the very foundation of who you are and how you came to be as you are now. It was the one truth that I could not risk for you to discover on your own.”
“Drake, stop playing around. Nothing you have to say will surprise me.”
His dry chuckle resonated in my mind. “Very well, I will delay no further.” His voice became deep and somber when spoke again. “Long before there was an Omega Project, I had met a young man—an FBI agent—who I thought might have the potential to eventually inherit the struggle against the An’girasii. He was a talented Caster with a natural charisma and the strength to carry on a long, lonesome battle, if need be. He left the FBI at my urging and worked with me for several years. We learned a great deal from each other once we learned to trust each other. He taught me much about the Shadowland and the many Spirit Worlds that I had been unable to experience myself. I taught him of the long and bitter war that I had been fighting against my father’s people. After nearly a decade of working together though, we came to the mutual decision that he would not be the one. But even so, we made a solemn pact. The essence of that pact was that I would provide him with the initial financing and support to form a secret group of Casters that could become the backbone of a defensive force against the An’girasii if necessary, and in return, he would provide me with any assistance that I needed when I had found the person I considered to be the candidate. I also asked for his assistance in creating a secret storage site for all of the artifacts and books that I had acquired in my many millennia. He agreed, providing a place that was secret and safe.”
“Come off it, Drake. It sounds like you are trying to take credit for founding a group like the ORC’s.”
“Indeed, this young man was instrumental in just that, it was he who founded that little group that you are so fond of.”
“Yeah? I find that very hard to believe. Who was this mystery man?”
“He didn’t have to keep his end of the bargain until quite recently, so it is someone you know, or rather, you knew, quite well…”
I sat there stunned as I listened to his words, coming to a conclusion that I did not like very much at all… “No…not him!”
“Yes. John Red Bear was my ally in creating you.”
“That’s not possible!”
He sighed again. “I am sure that you have the means to ask him yourself, should he choose to answer you, but you may rest assured, John Red Bear helped me to make you who are now.”
“You better believe I’m going to ask him! But I want to hear it all from you, Drake. Finish your story and tell me where this stash is so that I can be done with you forever.”
“As you wish. It is well past time for me to move on in any event. After we parted our ways, he began to form the group that became the ORC’s. He sought out like minded Casters and individuals who had the potential to become Casters. He helped to mold this budding young group into a force for good, creating secret schools and academies all over the country. I began to gather individuals like Klimm and Papa Locks to me, in part to keep them from interfering with John Red Bear and his fledgling group, and in part because I had come up with a new idea to try that would need the services of Casters with fewer morals and inhibitions than those individuals that Red Bear was making contact with. Throughout the years though, I kept in secret contact with him, each of us providing guidance and resources to the other as needed. He had very deep misgivings about my new ideas, but maintained his pledge to assist me when I felt that the time was right.”
“So, you are saying that John Red Bear knew of this plan to make zombies of people?”
“He was aware of the general principle that I was looking at, yes. He wasn’t privy to some of the darker details that were required to make the Omega Project successful, but that was necessary in order to make his eventual role easier to play.”
“What role was that?”
“He played the role of the good cop.”
I snorted. “Let me guess, you played the role of bad cop?”
He chuckled. “Indeed, a role that I am quite comfortable playing.”
I shook my head. “Drake, just tell me this. Why did we—did I—have to go through all of this? Why did you have to bring John into this mess? And why did you have to tell me about his betrayal?”
“Rusty, over the millennia I have come to learn that I do not possess the ability to ultimately win this war that I have been fighting against the An’girasii. But I have learned something about what will be needed to win this war. Every trial, every single test that I have put you through has been designed to determine if you had the potential to develop into the person that could help lead this struggle. In all of my previous attempts, save one, I had either broken my potential successor or created a monster that I would later have to put down. John Red Bear was the lone exception. He was the one candidate that I parted on good terms with. In the process he taught me a very important lesson…that in order to succeed my heir would have to maintain an essential humanity that I have never had. Despite all of the years that have passed, I remain my father’s son.”
“An evil fucking bastard.”
“Indeed. That is why I needed him to help with you. I had to push you away, to make you stronger. I had to make you hate me enough to fight with everything you had. He was there to pick you up again, to keep you grounded in you human nature, and to give you the spiritual tools that would allow you grow in ways that I never could.”
“But why are you telling me all of this now? Why are you trying to ruin my memories of John?”
He sighed. “Rusty, I’m telling you this now because it is the truth. You needed to hear it from me—and him, if he is willing or able to speak to you about it—before it discovered by your real enemies and used against you. Red Bear sacrificed much in order for you to become who you are now. Don’t let those sacrifices be in vain.”
I sat in stunned silence as I contemplated everything that Drake had said so far. His voice was small and quiet in my mind when he spoke again.
“My last gift to you and your friends is the location of that vault I had mentioned earlier. You will find it safely hidden in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Here is the exact location and the combination you will need to access everything…”
With that last bit of information, Drake left me and the ring behind. His Spirit moved gracefully to stand in front of Alexa. Her small face was both serious and tender as she took his confession of and forgave each and every one of his thousands of crimes, one at a time.
I was still trying to absorb everything that Drake had just revealed when the sound of a footfall behind me caused me to turn around.
John Red Bear stood behind me in human form. His face was that of his younger self, but his eyes held all of the wisdom of his years and a tremendous sadness. “Jason, will you walk with me one last time?”
I couldn’t have been more surprised by his appearance here after what Drake had just told me, but I was suddenly nervous leaving Alexa alone with Drake. That nervousness must have been obvious.
“Jason, do not worry about her. She, of all people, is safe in this place.”
I snorted. “I’ve heard that kind of assurance from you before, John. But I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with you anymore.”
“I would understand if you refuse my request. You have every right to reject me, but I feel I have much to explain in just a short time. This is the last time that I will be able to come to you, so please, will you walk with me one last time?”
I swallowed my pride and my anger and nodded.
John turned and guided me out from underneath Yggsdrasil’s canopy and towards a small path that was opening in the woods beyond.
We walked in silence for a few moments. I couldn’t take it for long though. “John, is Drake telling the truth? Did you work with him to help create Rusty Bones?”
I could tell from the flash of emotions across his face that he was deeply conflicted.
“Yes, Drake spoke the truth, as much of it as he knows.”
“What does that mean?”
He stopped and knelt in the middle of the trail. I knelt down beside him as he began scribbling in the open patch of dirt with a twig.
“I am sure Drake has told you that he and met many years before.”
“Yes. He said that you were an FBI agent then.”
John nodded. “Yes, I was the first Native American agent that the FBI ever had. I had a promising career ahead of me, but despite the promising career track laid out before me, I was unfulfilled. I longed for something deeper, more spiritual than such a career would allow me become.
“One winter, near four decades ago, I left my assigned office and cases work to track down a vicious killer in the backwoods of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. There had been rumors that this killer was actually a wendigo, a creature from the myths of many tribes in that region.
“I had asked my supervisor in Detroit to allow me to go investigate this mysterious killer, but he refused. He said that there was no indication that this killer warranted the Bureau’s involvement yet. His victims were poor, rural, and Native American. He said that the locals and the tribal cops would handle the investigations. One Friday night after another brutal killing, I ignored my boss and set off on my own to investigate the matter.
“By the next evening, I had tracked the creature to an abandoned cabin deep in the woods. I was about to confront it by myself when I discovered that I wasn’t the only person tracking the wendigo. A strange man who later introduced himself as Drake Kampmann came up beside me and indicated that my shotgun and sidearm would be of little use against the creature. He recommended that I use a bladed weapon, if I had one.
“Before we could come up with a plan, the wendigo charged us from the cabin. It was a terrible sight. As Drake had predicted, my shotgun blast to its face had little effect on it. But luckily for me, the wendigo had no interest in me. It attacked Kampmann with its full fury.”
John shook his head as he looked up from his scribbling in the dirt. “I had never seen anything as fast as those two fighting each other. The wendigo towered over Drake, fully eight feet tall, but incredibly gaunt. Despite being very thin, it was wiry and strong enough to push down small trees with each clawed hand. Drake ducked and dodged with such speed and agility, striking the creature with only his feet and hands, yet obviously causing it great pain.
“In less than two minutes, it was all over. Drake had broken one of its legs and each of its arms. He had the creature in a headlock from behind. He looked up at me long enough to ask one question. “Can you come get the necklace out of my jacket pocket?”
“I did as he asked, pulling out a strange looking pendant with a large ruby at the center. He grabbed it from me and placed it on the creature’s forehead. The beast let forth a terrible howling shriek that died in the winter air as the creature dissolved in his arms. Needless to say, I had never seen anything like this creature or its demise.”
I looked down at the drawing that John had made in the dirt. It looked very much like the creature I had known as Grendel. “John, what does any of this have to do with why you helped to create me?”
John tossed the stick away and stood up. He motioned for me to continue down the path with him. “Jason, that was the day when my eyes were opened to the possibility—the reality, really—that monsters that were walking freely in this world. My people had stories of such creatures—most cultures have had their stories of fantastic creatures that roam the world—but I had never seen one with my own eyes. I had not yet learned to walk the worlds of Spirit, so this was all new to me.
“Drake saw something in me that day though, perhaps he sensed the shaman that I would later become, but whatever his reason was, he asked me to join him in his fight against creatures like the wendigo and their masters, who he named as the An’girasii, as you know well. In this strange, distant man, I sensed a certain strength and strong sense of purpose that I had been unable to find as an agent of the FBI.”
John turned from the path that lay before us and pushed through the thick foliage into the heart of the forest. He waved for me to follow him.
“I left the Bureau the following week and joined up with Drake Kampmann. We spent a period of several years together. He taught me much about his history and the war he had fought against the An’girasii. He took me to a number of masters and teachers that he knew of who helped me to find my path. It was he who was most responsible for me becoming a shaman of some small skill.
John stopped moving ahead of me and stared at a tall obsidian obelisk that was almost totally obscured by thick, leafy vines and tall, thorny bushes that had grown right up against it.
“What is that thing?”
“It is a map of sorts.”
“A map? A map of what?”
He moved closed to the obelisk and began pulling the vines off of it. I moved in to help him as he replied.
“It is a map that can be used as a guide through the many Spirit Worlds and to some places beyond as well.”
“There are places outside of the Spirit Worlds?”
John laughed and pulled another vine from the stone. I could see that there were thousands of tiny symbols, pictographs and writings all over it. “Oh yes. The multiverse is an inconceivably large and complex place. This obelisk is a both a map and guide post placed here long, long ago. There are similar markers in other places, other worlds. For those who recognize them and who discover the keys to unlocking their mysteries, these obelisks tell how to get to places that might otherwise be totally inaccessible. Before I leave you, I wanted to show this one to you and show you how to access at least a portion of its information. But first let me finish with Drake.
“After a few years under his guidance, I found the path that I knew that I needed to follow. Unfortunately, my destiny was not to be the Warrior, the Hunter, the Successor that Drake had been seeking in me. Our skills complimented each other in ways that found us each wishing that we had some or all of the skills and abilities of the other. We parted ways quietly after coming up with a new plan. Drake explained to me that he felt that he needed to re-create, as much as possible, the conditions that led to him becoming who he was, but that he would try to do so in such a way as to drive his chosen successor to acquire some of the same skills in the realm of Spirit that I had. That plan eventually led to your creation, and to the creation of the ORC’s.”
I dropped the vine I had pulled from the obelisk and looked into his eyes. “John, tell me this. Do any of the other ORC’s know of your involvement in helping to create the Omega Project? Do they know the role Drake had in creating their own organization?”
John shook his head. “No. Those were secrets that I have had to keep to myself. By design, none of the others share my guilt. Jason, I feel no pride in having deceived you as I have. It is a shame that I will carry with me as I leave these realms and move on to my next journey.” He held up his hands imploring me to listen just a little longer.
“Jason, I could not reveal any of this to you before because I could not risk the possibility of failure. You were our last best chance at succeeding before the An’girasii freed themselves again. Time had grown exceedingly short. I know this not from Drake and his stories, but from my own journeys and research through using these obelisks. So let me tell you how to access the information on this so that you can someday do your own research. I am not asking for your forgiveness, but only for your eventual understanding. Once you learn everything that I have, I hope that you will come to fully understand the necessity of what has been done to you. Please don’t judge me too harshly until then.”
At that point John showed me how to unlock a small portion of the mysteries of that and any other such obelisk that I might encounter. But dear reader, you will come to see how those things work in the coming weeks.
My next post will be made on Friday, January 4, 2008 where I begin the story of what happened after the surviving ORC’s fled El Diablito’s tower in the Shadowland.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
A Visit From an Old Friend
I emerged from the Shadow into the forest surrounding the clearing where Yggsdrasil stood. Since I was in my actual physical form as opposed to my Spirit form, the path did not form for me as it normally would have.
I couldn’t remember the last time that I had come to this place in body as well as soul, but I felt a niggling little pull in the back of my consciousness that told me that it was time to come here. Traveling in this manner was the lazy way of accomplishing the task since it didn’t require any meditation.
I picked my way through the dark, gloomy forest, crunching heavily through the thick, dry underbrush. The forest seemed to resent my intrusion. Every low lying branch hung an inch or two lower than I thought, each root cluster standing an inch or two taller than it looked. But despite the obstacles, I pushed through and emerged into the clearing that John Red Bear had first introduced me to in his earliest instruction. Of course, I had since planted the seed that had grown into the massive black tree that now stood sentinel in the middle of the clearing.
Its massive, gnarled trunk would have required the interlocked arms of ten men to cover its entire circumference. Its enormous crown of leaves whispered in the breezes of this place, sometimes forming words that could be understood when the tree wanted to be understood, but the strangest thing about those leaves was their color. The top side of each leaf was black as the darkest, moonless night, while the bottom side of each leaf was milky white. I had found fallen leaves with the faces of people I knew etched on the white sides. The thick, gnarled root clusters spread from the trunk of the tree in every direction rising up high enough in more than one place to become impromptu benches where I, and others, could sit under the canopy. On the far side of the trunk there was a small, dark opening where the roots of tree parted to reveal a stairwell down to a cavern where a reflecting pool had formed. That part was always the same, the cavern was always on the opposite side of the tree from where I entered the clearing, no matter which direction I came from.
Sitting on its haunches amidst the roots near the trunk of the tree was the brown form of an enormous bear, a bear with a splotch of red fur on its front, left shoulder.
“John? Is that you old friend?” I almost ran as I called out towards the creature.
The massive head of the creature turned to face me, its mouth curling into a snarl that become a smile as his form shifted from that of the bear to a near-human form the glowed with an internal radiance. John raised his right hand in greeting as I approached.
“Jason!” He looked around him, pointedly glancing at the tree trunk and the canopy of black and white rustling leaves. “I see that you have seen fit to redecorate our old meeting place. I must say that I’m rather impressed.”
I reached out to take hold of his glowing hand in mine, noting the stark contrast of light and darkness as he pulled me into a fierce hug.
I shrugged as we pulled apart. “I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened.”
He laughed. His smiling face was now free of the lines of premature aging that had once marked it. “That is not unusual in this place. Take care in this place, for all actions taken here are likely to bring about consequences that you didn’t intend.”
“Yeah, so I’ve noticed. Now instead of a quiet place of contemplation, I get a grumpy tree that likes to laugh at me and gives all sorts of cryptic advice.”
The rustling of the leaves grew louder, as if in complaint at my characterization of it, but nothing intelligible was discernible. Probably just as well.
“The Tree is a reflection of its creator, Jason. There is much for you to learn from it, however.” He pointed to a cluster of roots that was tall and long enough for both of us to easily sit. “But I called you here today to speak about other things.”
“So it was you who called to me!”
He nodded. “I have wanted to speak with you for a long time now, but I haven’t been able to get back to this place until now.”
“I would have thought that you travels through the many worlds would have taken you far from this place, John. Frankly, I’m surprised that you’ve come back at all. I’m glad you have though, because I’ve missed our lessons.”
He nodded as he looked directly into my own eyes. I felt as if he could see everything about who and what I had become since we had last spoken. I wanted to tell him about it, but speaking seemed so frivolous, so unnecessary.
“Jason, I can see that you have become far more than I ever could have imagined. I have watched as you have battled first to regain your humanity and then to become…more than human. I cried when I saw you fall to that foul creature of darkness beneath New York.
“I rejoiced to see you return and come to grips with the changes that were brought about by that experience. I wanted so badly to warn you from trying to free the creature that you know as Dracaar, but I was not permitted to interfere.”
“What do you mean that you weren’t permitted? If I had really known what it was that we were trying to do, what it was that was being freed from that damn urn, I would have taken it far, far away from our world and left it to rot.”
A single glistening, radiant tear fell down his right cheek. “I know, Jason. But as I said, I was not allowed to interfere, to help you in any way at that time.” He held up a hand to stay my next question. “I cannot discuss who prevented me, or I why I wasn’t allowed to help. It must suffice for me to say that I was simply not permitted to intervene. What is important is that the deed has been done and that it cannot, now, be undone.
“Dracaar was going to be released, by you or someone else, but it was critical for you know this new foe and for you to have access to information that would allow you and your allies to have a chance to face him and his ilk. It was crucial for you to see the nature of your true enemies.”
“Well, I’ve certainly seen that these damn creatures need to be defeated. But I have no clue how I am to do it. I had trouble facing one of their damn servants!”
He looked down at the mass of roots spread out beneath us. “Yes, the doppelganger in South Beach. You did better with the second one, but you were right in your assessment that the one in Detroit was weaker. You have made yourself known with that killing. The An’girasii will not take the slaying of one of their valuable servants lightly. That is one of the reasons I called you here.”
“Are you going to give me some clues as to how to kill these things?”
He shook his head at that. “No, that touches on other things of which I am not permitted to speak. However, I can tell you that have access to all of the clues that will lead you to find a way to stave off defeat at their hands, if only temporarily.” He reached out and touched me on the chest with his right hand and then waved up at the canopy of leaves and the tree trunk behind us. “Just as you carried within you the seed to plant this magnificent tree, your seed has been used to give birth to the one person who can bring about the final defeat of the An’girasii.”
I sat back. “Alexa?”
He nodded. “Yes. Only she can now bring about their total defeat, though the costs may be higher than even she may be able to bear. But while only Alexa can trigger the keys to final victory over the An’girasii and their minions, she will never be permitted that chance unless you and the ORC’s first find those keys and get them to her, all while protecting her from them.”
I shook my own head. “How can the fate of the world rest in the hands of toddler? How can all that pressure rest on the head and shoulders of any one person period?”
He raised his hand to stop my questions. “It has taken extreme efforts over many millennia by secret allies that I cannot reveal to bring about this one chance.”
“You mean there are ‘secret allies’ out there that have been running this show? Why can’t these assholes, whoever the Hell they are, step in give us some real damn assistance? John, can’t you help me to understand this?”
A second tear rolled down his cheek. “I can only say that there are Laws that prevent these allies from providing any of the direct assistance that you are asking for.”
I threw up my hands. “What the Hell is it with all of these damn ‘laws’? I was a cop and am now and FBI agent. I don’t know of any damn ‘laws’ that would affect this shit! Drake keeps talking about ‘laws’ that the An’girasii have to live by, and that damn elf queen, the Lady of the Lake or whatever the Hell she was, mentioned stuff about ‘laws’ too.”
He laid a hand on my leg. “Jason. I know this all seems so foreign and strange to you now. When I was alive, I was not aware of any of this myself. It is only in the traveling that I have done since my death, and the knowledge that I have gained in those travels, that has given me the perspective I now have. Please understand that the people you have just mentioned have already provided you some of the clues that you will need in order to have a chance at helping Alexa succeed in achieving her mission. Drake is with you for a reason. He holds answers that no one else possesses about the An’girasii.” He brought his hand to tap me on the chest. “Drake has answers about who, and what, you have become. Listen for those clues in what he has to say and perhaps you will find the strength to do what must be done.”
He looked away from me as I sat in stunned silence.
“You have time yet, to seek those clues. The An’girasii are just beginning to emerge again and will take some time yet to gather their strength. They have yet to understand your true significance and the significance of Alexa. Luckily, they also have a disdain for human technology and methods of communication or the telling of this story as you have been until now could be disastrous.”
“Oh shit. Should I stop blogging about this stuff?”
John shook his head again and looked me in the eyes. “No. It is part of what keeps you in touch with your humanity. And it is that which will enable you to face the coming challenges with a chance to succeed. If you lose touch with your humanity, then all hope is lost.”
John stood up. The glow within him grew brighter, his body more translucent. “Jason, I must take my leave.”
I stood up as well. “Will I see you again, John?”
His face looked very somber. “Perhaps. If given the opportunity, I will gladly visit with you again, but that may not be for me to decide.”
I reached out to touch him as his body continued to grow brighter and more transparent. He took my hand in a grasp that was warm and strong. I could feel energy flowing from him as it entered into my own Spirit, filling me with joy and peace as he flashed brighter and faded away.
The whispering of the leaves reflected a sadness that I shared as I sat down again to think on all that was said.
I couldn’t remember the last time that I had come to this place in body as well as soul, but I felt a niggling little pull in the back of my consciousness that told me that it was time to come here. Traveling in this manner was the lazy way of accomplishing the task since it didn’t require any meditation.
I picked my way through the dark, gloomy forest, crunching heavily through the thick, dry underbrush. The forest seemed to resent my intrusion. Every low lying branch hung an inch or two lower than I thought, each root cluster standing an inch or two taller than it looked. But despite the obstacles, I pushed through and emerged into the clearing that John Red Bear had first introduced me to in his earliest instruction. Of course, I had since planted the seed that had grown into the massive black tree that now stood sentinel in the middle of the clearing.
Its massive, gnarled trunk would have required the interlocked arms of ten men to cover its entire circumference. Its enormous crown of leaves whispered in the breezes of this place, sometimes forming words that could be understood when the tree wanted to be understood, but the strangest thing about those leaves was their color. The top side of each leaf was black as the darkest, moonless night, while the bottom side of each leaf was milky white. I had found fallen leaves with the faces of people I knew etched on the white sides. The thick, gnarled root clusters spread from the trunk of the tree in every direction rising up high enough in more than one place to become impromptu benches where I, and others, could sit under the canopy. On the far side of the trunk there was a small, dark opening where the roots of tree parted to reveal a stairwell down to a cavern where a reflecting pool had formed. That part was always the same, the cavern was always on the opposite side of the tree from where I entered the clearing, no matter which direction I came from.
Sitting on its haunches amidst the roots near the trunk of the tree was the brown form of an enormous bear, a bear with a splotch of red fur on its front, left shoulder.
“John? Is that you old friend?” I almost ran as I called out towards the creature.
The massive head of the creature turned to face me, its mouth curling into a snarl that become a smile as his form shifted from that of the bear to a near-human form the glowed with an internal radiance. John raised his right hand in greeting as I approached.
“Jason!” He looked around him, pointedly glancing at the tree trunk and the canopy of black and white rustling leaves. “I see that you have seen fit to redecorate our old meeting place. I must say that I’m rather impressed.”
I reached out to take hold of his glowing hand in mine, noting the stark contrast of light and darkness as he pulled me into a fierce hug.
I shrugged as we pulled apart. “I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened.”
He laughed. His smiling face was now free of the lines of premature aging that had once marked it. “That is not unusual in this place. Take care in this place, for all actions taken here are likely to bring about consequences that you didn’t intend.”
“Yeah, so I’ve noticed. Now instead of a quiet place of contemplation, I get a grumpy tree that likes to laugh at me and gives all sorts of cryptic advice.”
The rustling of the leaves grew louder, as if in complaint at my characterization of it, but nothing intelligible was discernible. Probably just as well.
“The Tree is a reflection of its creator, Jason. There is much for you to learn from it, however.” He pointed to a cluster of roots that was tall and long enough for both of us to easily sit. “But I called you here today to speak about other things.”
“So it was you who called to me!”
He nodded. “I have wanted to speak with you for a long time now, but I haven’t been able to get back to this place until now.”
“I would have thought that you travels through the many worlds would have taken you far from this place, John. Frankly, I’m surprised that you’ve come back at all. I’m glad you have though, because I’ve missed our lessons.”
He nodded as he looked directly into my own eyes. I felt as if he could see everything about who and what I had become since we had last spoken. I wanted to tell him about it, but speaking seemed so frivolous, so unnecessary.
“Jason, I can see that you have become far more than I ever could have imagined. I have watched as you have battled first to regain your humanity and then to become…more than human. I cried when I saw you fall to that foul creature of darkness beneath New York.
“I rejoiced to see you return and come to grips with the changes that were brought about by that experience. I wanted so badly to warn you from trying to free the creature that you know as Dracaar, but I was not permitted to interfere.”
“What do you mean that you weren’t permitted? If I had really known what it was that we were trying to do, what it was that was being freed from that damn urn, I would have taken it far, far away from our world and left it to rot.”
A single glistening, radiant tear fell down his right cheek. “I know, Jason. But as I said, I was not allowed to interfere, to help you in any way at that time.” He held up a hand to stay my next question. “I cannot discuss who prevented me, or I why I wasn’t allowed to help. It must suffice for me to say that I was simply not permitted to intervene. What is important is that the deed has been done and that it cannot, now, be undone.
“Dracaar was going to be released, by you or someone else, but it was critical for you know this new foe and for you to have access to information that would allow you and your allies to have a chance to face him and his ilk. It was crucial for you to see the nature of your true enemies.”
“Well, I’ve certainly seen that these damn creatures need to be defeated. But I have no clue how I am to do it. I had trouble facing one of their damn servants!”
He looked down at the mass of roots spread out beneath us. “Yes, the doppelganger in South Beach. You did better with the second one, but you were right in your assessment that the one in Detroit was weaker. You have made yourself known with that killing. The An’girasii will not take the slaying of one of their valuable servants lightly. That is one of the reasons I called you here.”
“Are you going to give me some clues as to how to kill these things?”
He shook his head at that. “No, that touches on other things of which I am not permitted to speak. However, I can tell you that have access to all of the clues that will lead you to find a way to stave off defeat at their hands, if only temporarily.” He reached out and touched me on the chest with his right hand and then waved up at the canopy of leaves and the tree trunk behind us. “Just as you carried within you the seed to plant this magnificent tree, your seed has been used to give birth to the one person who can bring about the final defeat of the An’girasii.”
I sat back. “Alexa?”
He nodded. “Yes. Only she can now bring about their total defeat, though the costs may be higher than even she may be able to bear. But while only Alexa can trigger the keys to final victory over the An’girasii and their minions, she will never be permitted that chance unless you and the ORC’s first find those keys and get them to her, all while protecting her from them.”
I shook my own head. “How can the fate of the world rest in the hands of toddler? How can all that pressure rest on the head and shoulders of any one person period?”
He raised his hand to stop my questions. “It has taken extreme efforts over many millennia by secret allies that I cannot reveal to bring about this one chance.”
“You mean there are ‘secret allies’ out there that have been running this show? Why can’t these assholes, whoever the Hell they are, step in give us some real damn assistance? John, can’t you help me to understand this?”
A second tear rolled down his cheek. “I can only say that there are Laws that prevent these allies from providing any of the direct assistance that you are asking for.”
I threw up my hands. “What the Hell is it with all of these damn ‘laws’? I was a cop and am now and FBI agent. I don’t know of any damn ‘laws’ that would affect this shit! Drake keeps talking about ‘laws’ that the An’girasii have to live by, and that damn elf queen, the Lady of the Lake or whatever the Hell she was, mentioned stuff about ‘laws’ too.”
He laid a hand on my leg. “Jason. I know this all seems so foreign and strange to you now. When I was alive, I was not aware of any of this myself. It is only in the traveling that I have done since my death, and the knowledge that I have gained in those travels, that has given me the perspective I now have. Please understand that the people you have just mentioned have already provided you some of the clues that you will need in order to have a chance at helping Alexa succeed in achieving her mission. Drake is with you for a reason. He holds answers that no one else possesses about the An’girasii.” He brought his hand to tap me on the chest. “Drake has answers about who, and what, you have become. Listen for those clues in what he has to say and perhaps you will find the strength to do what must be done.”
He looked away from me as I sat in stunned silence.
“You have time yet, to seek those clues. The An’girasii are just beginning to emerge again and will take some time yet to gather their strength. They have yet to understand your true significance and the significance of Alexa. Luckily, they also have a disdain for human technology and methods of communication or the telling of this story as you have been until now could be disastrous.”
“Oh shit. Should I stop blogging about this stuff?”
John shook his head again and looked me in the eyes. “No. It is part of what keeps you in touch with your humanity. And it is that which will enable you to face the coming challenges with a chance to succeed. If you lose touch with your humanity, then all hope is lost.”
John stood up. The glow within him grew brighter, his body more translucent. “Jason, I must take my leave.”
I stood up as well. “Will I see you again, John?”
His face looked very somber. “Perhaps. If given the opportunity, I will gladly visit with you again, but that may not be for me to decide.”
I reached out to touch him as his body continued to grow brighter and more transparent. He took my hand in a grasp that was warm and strong. I could feel energy flowing from him as it entered into my own Spirit, filling me with joy and peace as he flashed brighter and faded away.
The whispering of the leaves reflected a sadness that I shared as I sat down again to think on all that was said.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Looking to the Light
I have a great deal of news to report, which I will go about doing over the next few days, but first, I need to give Greg his own final posting.
It was easier than I thought it would be, to teach Greg how to free himself from the spiritual prisons that we helped to build for ourselves. That's what El Diablito was doing with us on those occasions that we went to his little warehouse shop in Hialeah well after his normal closing hours.
It was a long, grueling and nasty process. There seemed to be an endless array of rituals, body fluids and other foul smelling ingredients brewing in the back room of that shop. I can recall at least three different occasions that I would be sitting there waiting for that little troll to finish some ritual or another and then feel a sharp prick on my back, or my arm. He would use these burned, nasty looking needles to prick us. His smile was wicked as he stared at the red drops of blood dribbling down the needle, as he pranced away to his crowded altars to finish the spell that would create the prison that is now my Chakra.
It was the same for all six of us really, we compared notes on a number of occasions afterwards, but we all went through the process alone. Oh, Drake was usually there as well since he brought each us down to see El Diablito personally, but he always drifted away once the rituals started. Even that cold fish seemed uncomfortable around El Diablito when he really got going in his full regalia.
I thought I was going to have to do something physical in order to free Greg from his Chakra-to-be, and I thought I was going to be doing it on Friday once I read the statement from the detective who had arrested the primary suspect in Greg's killing. Instead, Friday morning while I was in the meditative state that I slip into when I am 'flushing and gushing', I felt John Red Bear approach me from the Underworld. I concentrated and slipped out of my body and darted through the drain in my shower to emerge in our normal meeting place, a shadowy clearing in a darkly overgrown pine forest. He was in his usual form, that of a scarred black bear with a big splotch of red fur that resembled a man's head on his chest. I was in my own form, enjoying the feeling of touching, smelling, breathing once again.
"Brother Bones," he said, "you must meet me in real life, near the city in Ohio named for the Deathbringer, Colombus. There is a museum for the iron steeds you call motorcycles. Meet me there at dawn tomorrow."
"Why?" I asked. "I think Greg needs me now. I don't know how soon the Chakra will be sealed away from easy access."
He stood up on his rear legs, towering over me until he placed his front paws on my shoulders and brought his grizzled muzzle down to look me in the eyes. He snickered, as much as a bear can snicker anyway, and said "Do not worry, the prisons that hold you and your friend can be broken only from the inside. I will show you how tomorrow."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"I am. There is much to discuss, I have other important information for you as well. It is imperative that you meet me, our time will be short. Make sure you donothing out of the ordinary today. Go to work as you would normally, assist your keepers in any way they need you to, but leave tonight. Drive there, do not allow yourself to be followed."
Our conversation went on, but too keep it short and on point, I returned to my body and finished what business I needed to that day, and followed the instructions I was given, both by the Lab Geeks who still needed my help on a daily basis moving Greg's increasingly heavy body around to the different machines they used, and later those given to me by John Red Bear.
I met with him as planned the next morning. I got in his car in the parking lot and we went for a long, twisting drive through the suburbs of Colombus until we came to a large, open park that was pretty much abandoned on a cold Saturday morning in February.
We got out and crunched through the frozen, wet grass. While we walked, he talked for what seemed like hours. Many of the things he told me will be revealed in later posts and in the book that I am working on, but what's important here now is that he taught me how Greg and I could free ourselves from the Chakra devices that El Diablito had constructed. It was both incredibly hard, but maddeningly simple.
Essentially, what kept us trapped within the Chakras was a deep seated fear of that final death, that final passing into the unknown darkness that Drake and his henchmen had been subtly pushing on us since we first joined the program. John taught me that the cord that kept our spirits tied to this device was both as easy to snap as thin fishing line, or as tough as the strongest metal linked chain. We 'merely' had to unravel the chains of our own fears of moving forward into the unknown worlds beyond this one and seek out the Light that lit the way. Uh yeah...just that damn easy.
The reasons for the clandestine nature of our meeting will be revealed later, but I will let you know that there is far, far more to John than he had previously let on, and that I was enlisted fully by him to help in some ways that will soon become clearer.
In the end, I was finally convinced that the solution he had, for Greg anyway, was viable and I agreed to see if Greg would try it.
Early this morning, I went to the office before any of the regulars would be in, and found Greg where I had left him. I told him of the plan and showed him what I could of the techniques that John had taught me. He was eager to try it. He took to the exercises easily. He retreated briefly back into the Chakra, re-emerging moments later, brighter, fuller. He seemed to be smiling as he I watched him work. Soon, I could almost see the cord connecting his spirit to the Chakra grow fainter, weaker. There was one brief flicker, as doubt seemed to creep in, but that faded just as a shimmering tunnel seemed grow from the ceiling. The Light illuminated us both. His spirit seemed to grow in strength as he floated up to it. He looked down at me briefly, a look of pure joy and exhiliration as he cried out-"Mom!"
I can't tell you how much I wanted to follow him at that moment! But as the Light faded, I slipped back into my own body and glanced to my right to see Drake standing there in the doorway to the lab. His expression was that same, bloodless smile that he always had, but I could tell he knew something had happened.
Without a word, he turned and left, the door slamming behind him with a loud bang. Inside I felt a joy that was but a shadow of the joy that Greg felt. "Take that, you bastard." I mumbled.
I looked down at Greg's now truly lifeless body and knew that I had done good. He was at peace at last.
I, however, have a shitload more work to do before I can find such peace.
It was easier than I thought it would be, to teach Greg how to free himself from the spiritual prisons that we helped to build for ourselves. That's what El Diablito was doing with us on those occasions that we went to his little warehouse shop in Hialeah well after his normal closing hours.
It was a long, grueling and nasty process. There seemed to be an endless array of rituals, body fluids and other foul smelling ingredients brewing in the back room of that shop. I can recall at least three different occasions that I would be sitting there waiting for that little troll to finish some ritual or another and then feel a sharp prick on my back, or my arm. He would use these burned, nasty looking needles to prick us. His smile was wicked as he stared at the red drops of blood dribbling down the needle, as he pranced away to his crowded altars to finish the spell that would create the prison that is now my Chakra.
It was the same for all six of us really, we compared notes on a number of occasions afterwards, but we all went through the process alone. Oh, Drake was usually there as well since he brought each us down to see El Diablito personally, but he always drifted away once the rituals started. Even that cold fish seemed uncomfortable around El Diablito when he really got going in his full regalia.
I thought I was going to have to do something physical in order to free Greg from his Chakra-to-be, and I thought I was going to be doing it on Friday once I read the statement from the detective who had arrested the primary suspect in Greg's killing. Instead, Friday morning while I was in the meditative state that I slip into when I am 'flushing and gushing', I felt John Red Bear approach me from the Underworld. I concentrated and slipped out of my body and darted through the drain in my shower to emerge in our normal meeting place, a shadowy clearing in a darkly overgrown pine forest. He was in his usual form, that of a scarred black bear with a big splotch of red fur that resembled a man's head on his chest. I was in my own form, enjoying the feeling of touching, smelling, breathing once again.
"Brother Bones," he said, "you must meet me in real life, near the city in Ohio named for the Deathbringer, Colombus. There is a museum for the iron steeds you call motorcycles. Meet me there at dawn tomorrow."
"Why?" I asked. "I think Greg needs me now. I don't know how soon the Chakra will be sealed away from easy access."
He stood up on his rear legs, towering over me until he placed his front paws on my shoulders and brought his grizzled muzzle down to look me in the eyes. He snickered, as much as a bear can snicker anyway, and said "Do not worry, the prisons that hold you and your friend can be broken only from the inside. I will show you how tomorrow."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"I am. There is much to discuss, I have other important information for you as well. It is imperative that you meet me, our time will be short. Make sure you donothing out of the ordinary today. Go to work as you would normally, assist your keepers in any way they need you to, but leave tonight. Drive there, do not allow yourself to be followed."
Our conversation went on, but too keep it short and on point, I returned to my body and finished what business I needed to that day, and followed the instructions I was given, both by the Lab Geeks who still needed my help on a daily basis moving Greg's increasingly heavy body around to the different machines they used, and later those given to me by John Red Bear.
I met with him as planned the next morning. I got in his car in the parking lot and we went for a long, twisting drive through the suburbs of Colombus until we came to a large, open park that was pretty much abandoned on a cold Saturday morning in February.
We got out and crunched through the frozen, wet grass. While we walked, he talked for what seemed like hours. Many of the things he told me will be revealed in later posts and in the book that I am working on, but what's important here now is that he taught me how Greg and I could free ourselves from the Chakra devices that El Diablito had constructed. It was both incredibly hard, but maddeningly simple.
Essentially, what kept us trapped within the Chakras was a deep seated fear of that final death, that final passing into the unknown darkness that Drake and his henchmen had been subtly pushing on us since we first joined the program. John taught me that the cord that kept our spirits tied to this device was both as easy to snap as thin fishing line, or as tough as the strongest metal linked chain. We 'merely' had to unravel the chains of our own fears of moving forward into the unknown worlds beyond this one and seek out the Light that lit the way. Uh yeah...just that damn easy.
The reasons for the clandestine nature of our meeting will be revealed later, but I will let you know that there is far, far more to John than he had previously let on, and that I was enlisted fully by him to help in some ways that will soon become clearer.
In the end, I was finally convinced that the solution he had, for Greg anyway, was viable and I agreed to see if Greg would try it.
Early this morning, I went to the office before any of the regulars would be in, and found Greg where I had left him. I told him of the plan and showed him what I could of the techniques that John had taught me. He was eager to try it. He took to the exercises easily. He retreated briefly back into the Chakra, re-emerging moments later, brighter, fuller. He seemed to be smiling as he I watched him work. Soon, I could almost see the cord connecting his spirit to the Chakra grow fainter, weaker. There was one brief flicker, as doubt seemed to creep in, but that faded just as a shimmering tunnel seemed grow from the ceiling. The Light illuminated us both. His spirit seemed to grow in strength as he floated up to it. He looked down at me briefly, a look of pure joy and exhiliration as he cried out-"Mom!"
I can't tell you how much I wanted to follow him at that moment! But as the Light faded, I slipped back into my own body and glanced to my right to see Drake standing there in the doorway to the lab. His expression was that same, bloodless smile that he always had, but I could tell he knew something had happened.
Without a word, he turned and left, the door slamming behind him with a loud bang. Inside I felt a joy that was but a shadow of the joy that Greg felt. "Take that, you bastard." I mumbled.
I looked down at Greg's now truly lifeless body and knew that I had done good. He was at peace at last.
I, however, have a shitload more work to do before I can find such peace.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Interlude
I have just returned from a very exciting, and unexpected trip to go see my new friend, John Red Bear. I will detail the things I have learned on this trip at a later time, I don't want to compromise a personal investigation that I am pursuing until I have further information.
Instead, I will complete The Conversation, and post additional information about the process by which I came to be this way, since I think this will be of most interest to my readers.
I should also note, that I have begun work on my first book, which will fully reveal my entire history and tell the tale of how I came to be. As the book progresses, I may post excerpts from it, and of course, if I find a publisher, I will post the details of how to get the book. I am in the very beginning of this process, though.
Do not worry, I shall keep posting, hopefully on a more frequent basis as I adjust to my new schedule as an active agent.
Instead, I will complete The Conversation, and post additional information about the process by which I came to be this way, since I think this will be of most interest to my readers.
I should also note, that I have begun work on my first book, which will fully reveal my entire history and tell the tale of how I came to be. As the book progresses, I may post excerpts from it, and of course, if I find a publisher, I will post the details of how to get the book. I am in the very beginning of this process, though.
Do not worry, I shall keep posting, hopefully on a more frequent basis as I adjust to my new schedule as an active agent.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Rocky Mountain Raiding
We have just concluded the operation that I had alluded to earlier. It was a successful raid on a domestically based Al Qaeda sympathizer group.
It was learned that a small group of radical (mostly) American dissidents had opened a small training camp in the mountains, and had very foolishly put out word on the web that they would serve as a haven and a training center for like minded activists. Luckily, they weren't the most tech savvy of groups, and failed to realize that their activities might arouse suspicion and observation by DHS and other government entities.
I am sure the media news cycle will be breaking the story before too long, so I will reveal some the details for you.
The group had been contacted by an undercover agent online, and was presented with the possibility of a volunteer coming to join them. It was arranged then that I would be that volunteer and that I would drive an unmarked vehicle to the compound gates as other units moved into position to storm the compound as soon as the signal was given. I was wired up for the CommVan, so that the higher-ups could follow everything I saw and relay that info to the field in terms of numbers and armaments. The terrorists were told that I was a veteran of the Afghan/Soviet war, and that I was severely disfigured from a bomb blast, but that I had valuable experience and could train others to fight that kind of war. They took the bait and set up the time for me to come to their compound.
I was given an extensive makeup job to cover up the bullet wound scar on my forehead, and to give my visible skin a more 'vibrant' hue. My limping stiffness fit in just right with the identity they had created for me.
I drove up in an old beater of a VW Minibus, and was met at the gate by a scruffy young man who offered his name as Abu Majid, and after he searched me (badly, I might add) and the vehicle, he climbed into the passenger seat and directed me to go past the gate and down the long winding drive that led around a fairly steep, but wooded slope and into a small valley. I was directed to park in a small lot with several other beat-up and aged looking vehicles, and led from that lot back into the woods where a small lodge-like cabin had been built, right up against the far slope, possibly showing that they had dug back into the rock for additional protection and space.
I had spotted only two sentries on the way in, one up in a barely exposed tree stand holding a sniper rifle, and a second sitting in a fairly well constructed fighting positon on the western slope of the valley, shrouded slightly by dead brush. It looked like he might have some serious armaments there, as I noted a tripod mounted gun and the tip of what looked like an RPG sitting against the back of the position. I made sure to keep my glances short, but right on target.
Abu Majid led me up to the cabin, and made a series of tapping sounds on the door that I imagine were supposed to be some sort of code. The door openned into the darkness beyond to reveal a large, sparsely furnished entry hall. A stern-faced woman shrouded in black, except for her face and hands silently admitted us. About a dozen pair of boots were lined up along the near wall, and I noticed that Abu Majid was making quite a show of taking his own boots off. When he indicated that I should do the same, I politely deferred, referring to the severe burns I experienced in Afghanistan, and my need to keep my specially made boots on nearly all of the time. He seemed to accept this as legitimate, and he led me deeper into the building as the woman shuffled off through a side door, silent as a ghost.
Even within the dark confines of the cabin, I kept my sunglasses on, since I knew that one good look at my eyes, and I would raise their suspicions.
Abu Majid led me into a large meeting room, that also seemed to double as a lunch room, and indicated that I should wait here, the others would be out shortly after their midmorning prayers. He then excused himself to take care of his own prayers. I sat down stiffly on one of the small, roundish cushions and composed myself for the wait.
I could hear the quiet recitation of the others engaged in their devotions in a room farther back into the rock of the slope. So they had hollowed some caves to make the place more easily defensible. After the prayers were completed, a mixed group of twelve young and middle-aged men can to join me. I stood up, and greeted the leader, who was evident from his salt and pepper beard and his intense eyes. Most of the men seemed to have middle eastern origins, but a couple of them, especially the younger ones, could easily have passed unremarkably in any suburban mall.
The leader extended his hand and greeted me, "I am Abu Mahmoud, I am pleased to meet you and hope that you can help us in our calling."
"Inshallah," (God willing) I replied. "I am honored to meet you and your brothers-in-arms. I also hope that I may be of service."
With those greetings, Abu Mahmoud invited me to sit down again, and began introducing me to his fellows. He also explained that this place was quickly becoming a refuge for muslims living in America who could no longer tolerate the pagan ways of this society. He asked me to decribe my experiences in Afghanistan, and who I had fought with. I briefly gave out the little spiel that had been rehearsed a hundred times now, and told him of the 'time' I had spent with the mujahadeen and rattled off the names of a couple of commanders who were fairly well known, but now known to be dead.
During the discussion, it was revealed that their group composed presently of 20 men of fighting age, 11 women who were the wives of some of the men, and few small children. I was shown to a small room where my small bag had been brought during the time I was otherwise occupied, and given some time to make my own 'devotions' which I pretended to do.
I knew that the raid would not come until nightfall, so I busied myself nosing about the place, with Abu Majid serving as my guide. He was eager to show off their home, and was easily impressed by my fake accounts of fighting against the Soviets.
I was able to get good images of most of the cabin and the compound, knowing that the CommVan would be using these images to plan the assault. I also made sure to record the sizes and numbers of weapons laying around, since I didn't want to see any of my fellow agents palced in any undue jeopardy.
By nightfall, I had taken my leave to perform my evening devotions alone, and to prepare for the assault. I pulled out the collapsible baton from my bag and waited for the assault to begin. Once the noises from the others had quieted down, I slipped out of the room and made my way as quietly as I could out into the main meeting room, baton held down to my side and out of sight. I then slipped into a small nook next to the locked door into their small armory. I knew this would be the place that the young men would rush to once the raid started, and I wanted to limit the number of combatants who would be armed. I knew that Abu Mahmoud had an assault rifle in his possession, but that he didn't trust for all of the men to have such weapons handy with the small children also present.
Once the alarm sounded, the cries of the young men to get to the armory arose. I stepped out from the shadows as Majid and three others made it to this hall. Gunfire and explosions could be heard outside. Women and children were calling out in fright.
Majid stepped forward, eyeing my now extended baton in my right hand.
"You must stand aside, the enemy has found us out! We must go down as martyrs!"
"Not tonight my friend. Just stay back and wait for my friends peacefully."
He glared at me with hate in his eyes. "You betrayed us, you infidel dog." He motioned for the others, "Let's take him!"
The others hesitated just that one nearly fatal second, as my baton crashed into his shoulder, breaking his clavicle. He dropped like a stone. The remainging three tried to bull rush me, but a couple of quick, hard slashes with the baton ended in two broken legs and a severe concussion. They were all moaning or crying in pain as Abu Mahmoud came around to see what the delay way. He had his AK47 ready, and let go a quick burst of rounds that pushed me back against the door for a moment, before I sprang forward and smashed his trigger hand with a powerful swing. A second swing broke his jaw, his eyes wide at seeing me still standing after his 5 round burst had hit me square in the chest.
As quick as that, the assault squads had secured the perimeter, and blasted in the front door. The resistance had ended without much further fighting, since the men left in the cabin had been largely left without assault weapons. In the end, only three of the four sentries had been killed, and everyone in the house remained alive, if not whole. Luckily, none of the children were harmed in the assault, and only one minor injury occurred among the females.
John Red Bear had led one of the assault teams, and he seemed to be genuinely glad to see me when the teams assembled in the cabin, after everything was secure. Other agents were just looking at my fresh bullet holes and looking away again nervously, avoiding having to talk to me. Drake came in after all was secure and beamed with pride to room as he exclaimed what a success his project had been. The bastard treated me like a damn asset right there in front of the assault teams!
Well, I ignored him, and took John aside. "I think I would like to learn about that spirit walking you spoke of before, as soon as we can arrange a time."
He smiled, and gripped my hand in a firm grasp, "We shall make the time soon my friend. Until then, take this."
He had placed a small leather pouch attached to a pair of long, narrow, leather ties in my hand, which I opened to look at.
He closed my hand around it before I could get a good look at it, and he whispered to me, "It is powerful medicine my friend, and will help you until I can show you how to help yourself. Wear it around your neck for now."
I put the pouch and ties into my pocket, and shuffled off to my room to get my things. Drake wanted to take me back to the based camp and debrief me on the hours leading up to the assault.
Back at basecamp, I woodenly answered all of the questions I was asked, and wrote up my reports, but my mind was busy thinking about what it might be like to walk as a spirit...
It was learned that a small group of radical (mostly) American dissidents had opened a small training camp in the mountains, and had very foolishly put out word on the web that they would serve as a haven and a training center for like minded activists. Luckily, they weren't the most tech savvy of groups, and failed to realize that their activities might arouse suspicion and observation by DHS and other government entities.
I am sure the media news cycle will be breaking the story before too long, so I will reveal some the details for you.
The group had been contacted by an undercover agent online, and was presented with the possibility of a volunteer coming to join them. It was arranged then that I would be that volunteer and that I would drive an unmarked vehicle to the compound gates as other units moved into position to storm the compound as soon as the signal was given. I was wired up for the CommVan, so that the higher-ups could follow everything I saw and relay that info to the field in terms of numbers and armaments. The terrorists were told that I was a veteran of the Afghan/Soviet war, and that I was severely disfigured from a bomb blast, but that I had valuable experience and could train others to fight that kind of war. They took the bait and set up the time for me to come to their compound.
I was given an extensive makeup job to cover up the bullet wound scar on my forehead, and to give my visible skin a more 'vibrant' hue. My limping stiffness fit in just right with the identity they had created for me.
I drove up in an old beater of a VW Minibus, and was met at the gate by a scruffy young man who offered his name as Abu Majid, and after he searched me (badly, I might add) and the vehicle, he climbed into the passenger seat and directed me to go past the gate and down the long winding drive that led around a fairly steep, but wooded slope and into a small valley. I was directed to park in a small lot with several other beat-up and aged looking vehicles, and led from that lot back into the woods where a small lodge-like cabin had been built, right up against the far slope, possibly showing that they had dug back into the rock for additional protection and space.
I had spotted only two sentries on the way in, one up in a barely exposed tree stand holding a sniper rifle, and a second sitting in a fairly well constructed fighting positon on the western slope of the valley, shrouded slightly by dead brush. It looked like he might have some serious armaments there, as I noted a tripod mounted gun and the tip of what looked like an RPG sitting against the back of the position. I made sure to keep my glances short, but right on target.
Abu Majid led me up to the cabin, and made a series of tapping sounds on the door that I imagine were supposed to be some sort of code. The door openned into the darkness beyond to reveal a large, sparsely furnished entry hall. A stern-faced woman shrouded in black, except for her face and hands silently admitted us. About a dozen pair of boots were lined up along the near wall, and I noticed that Abu Majid was making quite a show of taking his own boots off. When he indicated that I should do the same, I politely deferred, referring to the severe burns I experienced in Afghanistan, and my need to keep my specially made boots on nearly all of the time. He seemed to accept this as legitimate, and he led me deeper into the building as the woman shuffled off through a side door, silent as a ghost.
Even within the dark confines of the cabin, I kept my sunglasses on, since I knew that one good look at my eyes, and I would raise their suspicions.
Abu Majid led me into a large meeting room, that also seemed to double as a lunch room, and indicated that I should wait here, the others would be out shortly after their midmorning prayers. He then excused himself to take care of his own prayers. I sat down stiffly on one of the small, roundish cushions and composed myself for the wait.
I could hear the quiet recitation of the others engaged in their devotions in a room farther back into the rock of the slope. So they had hollowed some caves to make the place more easily defensible. After the prayers were completed, a mixed group of twelve young and middle-aged men can to join me. I stood up, and greeted the leader, who was evident from his salt and pepper beard and his intense eyes. Most of the men seemed to have middle eastern origins, but a couple of them, especially the younger ones, could easily have passed unremarkably in any suburban mall.
The leader extended his hand and greeted me, "I am Abu Mahmoud, I am pleased to meet you and hope that you can help us in our calling."
"Inshallah," (God willing) I replied. "I am honored to meet you and your brothers-in-arms. I also hope that I may be of service."
With those greetings, Abu Mahmoud invited me to sit down again, and began introducing me to his fellows. He also explained that this place was quickly becoming a refuge for muslims living in America who could no longer tolerate the pagan ways of this society. He asked me to decribe my experiences in Afghanistan, and who I had fought with. I briefly gave out the little spiel that had been rehearsed a hundred times now, and told him of the 'time' I had spent with the mujahadeen and rattled off the names of a couple of commanders who were fairly well known, but now known to be dead.
During the discussion, it was revealed that their group composed presently of 20 men of fighting age, 11 women who were the wives of some of the men, and few small children. I was shown to a small room where my small bag had been brought during the time I was otherwise occupied, and given some time to make my own 'devotions' which I pretended to do.
I knew that the raid would not come until nightfall, so I busied myself nosing about the place, with Abu Majid serving as my guide. He was eager to show off their home, and was easily impressed by my fake accounts of fighting against the Soviets.
I was able to get good images of most of the cabin and the compound, knowing that the CommVan would be using these images to plan the assault. I also made sure to record the sizes and numbers of weapons laying around, since I didn't want to see any of my fellow agents palced in any undue jeopardy.
By nightfall, I had taken my leave to perform my evening devotions alone, and to prepare for the assault. I pulled out the collapsible baton from my bag and waited for the assault to begin. Once the noises from the others had quieted down, I slipped out of the room and made my way as quietly as I could out into the main meeting room, baton held down to my side and out of sight. I then slipped into a small nook next to the locked door into their small armory. I knew this would be the place that the young men would rush to once the raid started, and I wanted to limit the number of combatants who would be armed. I knew that Abu Mahmoud had an assault rifle in his possession, but that he didn't trust for all of the men to have such weapons handy with the small children also present.
Once the alarm sounded, the cries of the young men to get to the armory arose. I stepped out from the shadows as Majid and three others made it to this hall. Gunfire and explosions could be heard outside. Women and children were calling out in fright.
Majid stepped forward, eyeing my now extended baton in my right hand.
"You must stand aside, the enemy has found us out! We must go down as martyrs!"
"Not tonight my friend. Just stay back and wait for my friends peacefully."
He glared at me with hate in his eyes. "You betrayed us, you infidel dog." He motioned for the others, "Let's take him!"
The others hesitated just that one nearly fatal second, as my baton crashed into his shoulder, breaking his clavicle. He dropped like a stone. The remainging three tried to bull rush me, but a couple of quick, hard slashes with the baton ended in two broken legs and a severe concussion. They were all moaning or crying in pain as Abu Mahmoud came around to see what the delay way. He had his AK47 ready, and let go a quick burst of rounds that pushed me back against the door for a moment, before I sprang forward and smashed his trigger hand with a powerful swing. A second swing broke his jaw, his eyes wide at seeing me still standing after his 5 round burst had hit me square in the chest.
As quick as that, the assault squads had secured the perimeter, and blasted in the front door. The resistance had ended without much further fighting, since the men left in the cabin had been largely left without assault weapons. In the end, only three of the four sentries had been killed, and everyone in the house remained alive, if not whole. Luckily, none of the children were harmed in the assault, and only one minor injury occurred among the females.
John Red Bear had led one of the assault teams, and he seemed to be genuinely glad to see me when the teams assembled in the cabin, after everything was secure. Other agents were just looking at my fresh bullet holes and looking away again nervously, avoiding having to talk to me. Drake came in after all was secure and beamed with pride to room as he exclaimed what a success his project had been. The bastard treated me like a damn asset right there in front of the assault teams!
Well, I ignored him, and took John aside. "I think I would like to learn about that spirit walking you spoke of before, as soon as we can arrange a time."
He smiled, and gripped my hand in a firm grasp, "We shall make the time soon my friend. Until then, take this."
He had placed a small leather pouch attached to a pair of long, narrow, leather ties in my hand, which I opened to look at.
He closed my hand around it before I could get a good look at it, and he whispered to me, "It is powerful medicine my friend, and will help you until I can show you how to help yourself. Wear it around your neck for now."
I put the pouch and ties into my pocket, and shuffled off to my room to get my things. Drake wanted to take me back to the based camp and debrief me on the hours leading up to the assault.
Back at basecamp, I woodenly answered all of the questions I was asked, and wrote up my reports, but my mind was busy thinking about what it might be like to walk as a spirit...
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Spirit Walking...?
My apologies for the delay in posting, I was unaware that I would be in so remote a location as to lack even cellular service for my new laptop computer.
However, I am now back at our current base camp, and things are much more tech-friendly here.
I am serving with a task force in a remote Western state location. I cannot yet reveal the details of this mission as it still ongoing, and any premature disclosures could bring unwanted attention to our current anti-terrorist activities.
I have however met some remarkable people here. One of the most remarkable is John Red Bear(as usual his name is changed here to protect his identity), a medicine man among his poeple and a very talented scout. When we first met, he was one of the first people to not visibly flinch when he saw my face in the daylight. After the team briefings, but before we left on our assigments, he approached me and asked for a moment of my time. I gladly agreed to speak with him. Once we were alone, he was very blunt.
"Your body and your spirit are no longer one."
I was taken aback for a second, "Yeah, I suppose that would be a good way to describe me right now."
"This body you use, no longer functions well, why do you stay?"
"Hey buddy, this is what I have to work with, what other options do I have?"
He looked at me with deadly serious eyes that seemed to pierce through my body worse than any bullets, "You could leave this clumsy shell and walk free among the spirits. You should be free to roam the lands of the three worlds."
"Look, I don't know anything about your religion, your beliefs, or even what was really done to me to keep my 'spirit' around after I died. Shit, I didn't even belive I had a spirit until they woke me up."
He smiled. "It is not my religion that tells me of the three worlds and roaming of spirits, but my experiences. If you want, I can show you how to free yourself from the shackles of this shell and teach you to walk as free spirits are supposed to."
"I don't know man, this 'shell' is all I got, and I'm not sure I want to leave it anytime soon, I doubt the Pearly Gates would open up wide for my heathen ass."
He shifted his balance and looked me up and down, "Where you would travel is up to you, but I can also show you how to come back to this body and I think I can show you how to be in better control of yourself when you are there."
"Really? You can show me how to set me spirit loose form this body, and to return to it with better control than I have now? How can you be so sure?"
"I can see your spirit even now, and I can see how ill at ease it is within this shell. I can also see that if you do not free yourself from this prison, at least some of the time, your spirit will wither and die, and what remains will be truly dead. I would not see you, or any other spirit, suffer this fate."
I took this in, and felt the truth of his words in the hollowness of my existence since I had been brought back. "What is it like to walk as a spirit, have you done it?"
"I have walked many of the trails of the three worlds since I was a youth. Yes, you can feel things in ways that are beyond my command of your language to describe. Our time now is short, but I will come to you again when there is time to start teaching you what you will need to know."
With those words, he turned and left to rejoin the team that he had been assigned to. My mind was reeling from the conversation that we had just had. It is weird enough to be walking around in the body of an unfeeling robot, but think about being free to walk around as a spirit, or as a ghost!?
My ex, Katherine, was really big into spirits and tarot cards, and all of that New Age crap as I called it. She would probably understand what the heck this guy was talking about, but I had done my best to avoid reading any of the books or the magazines she always left laying around. She was always searching, she said, for her true path. I don't think she ever found it while we were living together, but she sure read alot and experimented with things. Maybe I should get back in touch with her and borrow some of those books. I can just imagine that phone call now, "Hi dear, this is your dead ex-husband, do you still have that book on Native American Shamanism laying around? Yeah, I could sort of use it now..." No I don't think that would go too good. I'd hate to freak her out. I think she has probably suffered enough because of me, although she might have been pleased that I never took her off of the life insurance policies that I had...I did do one thing right, and made sure that Drake made sure she got her settlements from my death.
I am hoping to get together with him again before we head out on the next mission. I don't know how long it will take for him to teach me this stuff, but I am beginning to consider that it might be worth a try.
More reports to follow as time and the mission allow.
However, I am now back at our current base camp, and things are much more tech-friendly here.
I am serving with a task force in a remote Western state location. I cannot yet reveal the details of this mission as it still ongoing, and any premature disclosures could bring unwanted attention to our current anti-terrorist activities.
I have however met some remarkable people here. One of the most remarkable is John Red Bear(as usual his name is changed here to protect his identity), a medicine man among his poeple and a very talented scout. When we first met, he was one of the first people to not visibly flinch when he saw my face in the daylight. After the team briefings, but before we left on our assigments, he approached me and asked for a moment of my time. I gladly agreed to speak with him. Once we were alone, he was very blunt.
"Your body and your spirit are no longer one."
I was taken aback for a second, "Yeah, I suppose that would be a good way to describe me right now."
"This body you use, no longer functions well, why do you stay?"
"Hey buddy, this is what I have to work with, what other options do I have?"
He looked at me with deadly serious eyes that seemed to pierce through my body worse than any bullets, "You could leave this clumsy shell and walk free among the spirits. You should be free to roam the lands of the three worlds."
"Look, I don't know anything about your religion, your beliefs, or even what was really done to me to keep my 'spirit' around after I died. Shit, I didn't even belive I had a spirit until they woke me up."
He smiled. "It is not my religion that tells me of the three worlds and roaming of spirits, but my experiences. If you want, I can show you how to free yourself from the shackles of this shell and teach you to walk as free spirits are supposed to."
"I don't know man, this 'shell' is all I got, and I'm not sure I want to leave it anytime soon, I doubt the Pearly Gates would open up wide for my heathen ass."
He shifted his balance and looked me up and down, "Where you would travel is up to you, but I can also show you how to come back to this body and I think I can show you how to be in better control of yourself when you are there."
"Really? You can show me how to set me spirit loose form this body, and to return to it with better control than I have now? How can you be so sure?"
"I can see your spirit even now, and I can see how ill at ease it is within this shell. I can also see that if you do not free yourself from this prison, at least some of the time, your spirit will wither and die, and what remains will be truly dead. I would not see you, or any other spirit, suffer this fate."
I took this in, and felt the truth of his words in the hollowness of my existence since I had been brought back. "What is it like to walk as a spirit, have you done it?"
"I have walked many of the trails of the three worlds since I was a youth. Yes, you can feel things in ways that are beyond my command of your language to describe. Our time now is short, but I will come to you again when there is time to start teaching you what you will need to know."
With those words, he turned and left to rejoin the team that he had been assigned to. My mind was reeling from the conversation that we had just had. It is weird enough to be walking around in the body of an unfeeling robot, but think about being free to walk around as a spirit, or as a ghost!?
My ex, Katherine, was really big into spirits and tarot cards, and all of that New Age crap as I called it. She would probably understand what the heck this guy was talking about, but I had done my best to avoid reading any of the books or the magazines she always left laying around. She was always searching, she said, for her true path. I don't think she ever found it while we were living together, but she sure read alot and experimented with things. Maybe I should get back in touch with her and borrow some of those books. I can just imagine that phone call now, "Hi dear, this is your dead ex-husband, do you still have that book on Native American Shamanism laying around? Yeah, I could sort of use it now..." No I don't think that would go too good. I'd hate to freak her out. I think she has probably suffered enough because of me, although she might have been pleased that I never took her off of the life insurance policies that I had...I did do one thing right, and made sure that Drake made sure she got her settlements from my death.
I am hoping to get together with him again before we head out on the next mission. I don't know how long it will take for him to teach me this stuff, but I am beginning to consider that it might be worth a try.
More reports to follow as time and the mission allow.
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