Authors: David Morehouse
Psychic Warrior (16 page)
My mind wandered for the rest of the afternoon, poring over the issues we'd discussed. Time travel had its limitations, and the science fiction writers were all wrong. It wasn't like the movie
Back to the Future;
you couldn't change past time to affect future time. The past was locked and the future was an untethered fire hose, rocking and swaying, constantly changing, infinite variables affecting it as time crept forward.
Back to the Future;
you couldn't change past time to affect future time. The past was locked and the future was an untethered fire hose, rocking and swaying, constantly changing, infinite variables affecting it as time crept forward.
Weeks passed and the long hours of lecture rolled on. I never tired of hearing Mel talk. He would often anchor unusual ideas by tying them to American Indian lore or legend. He was the wisest man I'd ever met, and I was thankful for the opportunity to know him. I often wondered what my life would have been like had I passed him by and returned to the Rangers; but that wasn't possible. I'd come to believe, more than ever, that I, like each of us, have a destiny. Mine had brought me to Sun Streak for a reason.
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One night in June I awoke with a sharp pain at the base of my neck. Rubbing it, I stumbled out of the bed and into the hall; then something shot up the length of my spine, locking me in place, fixed and rigid. I was turned like a doll on a stick, looking this way and that as the house filled with shadows and strange light.
I heard the children calling me, frightened by the lights and the presence in the hallway.
Is it me they're afraid of?
I thought.
Is it me?
I decided to call out to quell their fears, but the voice of a beast left my mouth. The children screamed louder and louder, waking their mother. Debbie ran toward me, pulling on her house coat. She approached and horror filled her eyes. She screamed. A hand, not mine,
came into view as if it were attached to me, an extension of me. It grabbed her by the throat; I watched helplessly as the beast I was a part of dragged her to the stairs and flung her to the bottom. Through foreign eyes I watched blood flow from her mouth and ears, forming a small pool beneath her head. Spitting and wheezing, she choked on the blood in her lungs as she lay there. Whatever had taken me over moved with me to the bottom of the stairs, floating effortlessly, like an apparition. Those hands grabbed Debbie's neck and snapped it. The children wailed above me. My form moved again; it was growing in evil, and with each heartbeat I was becoming more a part of it. I entered Michael's room and shook him by the throat, feeling his body grow limp and heavy in my hands. I dropped the child and turned to the screams of the others. Out of the bedroom and down the hall, homing in on the sound, I tasted what evil tasted and felt the power and hatred that drove it: the vileness of living flesh and the welcome feel of death. I clutched both living children in my hands and crushed them, dashing death to the floor, welcoming the silence and peace. The stillness and beauty of death and its light and song. I was at peace with my power. I understood the necessity to kill.
Is it me they're afraid of?
I thought.
Is it me?
I decided to call out to quell their fears, but the voice of a beast left my mouth. The children screamed louder and louder, waking their mother. Debbie ran toward me, pulling on her house coat. She approached and horror filled her eyes. She screamed. A hand, not mine,
came into view as if it were attached to me, an extension of me. It grabbed her by the throat; I watched helplessly as the beast I was a part of dragged her to the stairs and flung her to the bottom. Through foreign eyes I watched blood flow from her mouth and ears, forming a small pool beneath her head. Spitting and wheezing, she choked on the blood in her lungs as she lay there. Whatever had taken me over moved with me to the bottom of the stairs, floating effortlessly, like an apparition. Those hands grabbed Debbie's neck and snapped it. The children wailed above me. My form moved again; it was growing in evil, and with each heartbeat I was becoming more a part of it. I entered Michael's room and shook him by the throat, feeling his body grow limp and heavy in my hands. I dropped the child and turned to the screams of the others. Out of the bedroom and down the hall, homing in on the sound, I tasted what evil tasted and felt the power and hatred that drove it: the vileness of living flesh and the welcome feel of death. I clutched both living children in my hands and crushed them, dashing death to the floor, welcoming the silence and peace. The stillness and beauty of death and its light and song. I was at peace with my power. I understood the necessity to kill.
I sat up in bed, gasping for air. Debbie's hands were on me.
“David! David, are you all right? It's okay, you're all right now. I'm here.”
I kept gasping for air, my throat closed off as if it had been clutched by the form in my hallucination. Drenched in sweat, I began to shiver. I could not speak, only gasp and moan at the horror and pain of what I'd done. My mind was clear and alert, chiming over and over: “You murdered your family ⦠. You murdered your family ⦠. You murdered your family!” In dismay and fear, I wept uncontrollably as Debbie held me; she too was weeping and crying out to God for help. I heard her pray aloud: “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to depart. I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to depart!”
After what seemed like hours, I began to breathe more normally. Michael, Mariah, and Danielle had awakened; they came to our bedroom and stayed until dawn.
“Is Daddy going to be okay?” Mariah asked. “Did Daddy have a bad dream?”
“Yes, honey, he'll be okay,” Debbie replied, still holding me and stroking my hair.
I lay there in shock, the images still clear in my mind as I relived each chilling second over and over. The children held my hands and helped their mother rub my head. They had never seen me cry before, and they didn't quite know what to make of it.
We rested together for seven hours. Debbie didn't let the children go to school, and she called in sick for me. By afternoon, I could speak.
“Why did you call the name of Christ?” I asked Debbie.
Tears fell from her eyes, and her lip quivered. “Because I was frightened, and that's what I was taught to do whenever I was frightened. Why?”
I was covered in a blanket. I pulled it closer at the neck, clutching it from beneath. “I don't know. I've just never heard you do it before, that's all. It was strange. Did it help?”
Debbie looked at me, troubled. “Strange? You think calling on the name of the Lord is strange? David, have you forgotten everything you were taught in school, in church? What do you think was happening to you last night?”
“I don't know.”
“Well, you were flopping around like a rag doll, screaming and crying. I didn't know what was happening to you, or where you were, but it didn't matter: I needed some help. I believe that the Lord is there to help in times like that. That's why I called his name, because I knew He'd be there to help. Don't
you
know that?”
you
know that?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know? You don't know if you believe in Him any longer, is that it? He's not current enough for you,
all of a sudden? If that's what's happening, you are going to be lost. I don't know what your life will become.”
all of a sudden? If that's what's happening, you are going to be lost. I don't know what your life will become.”
“I'm not giving up on Godâdon't exaggerate.”
“You disgust me!” Debbie cried. “I don't know you any longer. You aren't my husband. I don't know what you areâbut you aren't my husband.”
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I went to work the next day, still a bit shaken. I didn't speak to anyone, but quietly made my way to my desk with a cup of coffee and tried to settle in to my lecture notes. Throughout the lectures I'd been preparing essays, as required by the training protocols. Each essay was reviewed by every operational member of the unitâthat is, everyone but Judy Kessler, who was still in training. My work had passed the test and I was only a few short weeks, at most, from graduating into Stage One training.
“Ready for the day's bombardment?” asked Riley, poking his head into my cubicle.
“Sureâyou want me now?”
“Yup! But is something troubling you, buddy? You look a little peaked; maybe we should sit this one out, since you were sick yesterday.”
“No, I'm all right, really. I want to work. I'll be there in a few minutes.”
“See you there.”
In the latrine, I splashed cold water on my face and stared at the stranger's face in the mirror. Debbie was right; I was changing quickly, and perhaps not for the better. I made my way to the garden room where Mel was waiting.
“I have some good news,” he said. “Levy likes your progress in lecture. He wants to bump up your Stage One training. I figure you have about three more weeks of lecture, but we'll start your first Stage One session next Monday. How's that sound?”
“I can't believe itâthat's terrific. Who's going to be my trainer?”
“Kathleen. You'll like her, she's a neat girl.”
“Man, that's great!” But the excitement left my face as
I remembered what had happened two nights ago.
I remembered what had happened two nights ago.
“There's that look again,” Mel said. “What's the matter? Is everything all right at home?”
“Yeah, everything's fine.”
“Except?”
“Except that I had another hallucination the night before last. A terrible one!” My hands began to tremble. “Mel, in my vision I killed my entire family. What kind of man envisions that? I love my family more than life itselfâhow could I see myself killing them in cold blood?”
“Whoah.” Mel put his hand up to stop me. “I know you're shaken up by this, but get a grip; there's an explanation. You might not like it, but there
is
an explanation.”
is
an explanation.”
“I'd sure like to know it.
Debbie
would sure like to know it.”
Debbie
would sure like to know it.”
“Well, it's not that simple. I'm not going to sit here and feed you the answer to the problem. I'm not certain I could, but even if I could, I wouldn't. You'll find it out for yourself eventually. All you have to do is hang in here until that time comes. Don't start beating yourself up because of this. I know it scared the hell out of you, and you think you're scum for even imagining it, but you aren't. We're going to drop this topic for now, but remember: you will soon find out that nothing in this world is as it seems. There are parallel worlds that touch and intersect with ours constantly, and there is a world of deceivers. You're dealing with them now! Just chew on what I've said and forget about anything else for now. You have a long way to go. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks for the counsel.” I was relieved to learn there was an explanation for all this, but I was frightened by the thought of an actual group or world of beings responsible for my illusions.
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I could hardly contain myself through the weekend. It was difficult to stay emotionally in touch with Debbie; I wish I'd been able to share the excitement I felt, but she wasn't ready to hear it yet. I went to work early on Monday.
When Mel arrived he came immediately to my desk with a cup of java. “Are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late to turn back.”
“No way! After sitting through your boring lectures, you think I'm gonna miss the best part? When do we get started?”
“Well, I haven't talked with Kathleen yet, but you're on the board for Room Two at 0830 hours. That gives us about forty minutes to get you hooked up and ready.”
We walked over to the other building and Mel put the electrodes on my head. He took me to the CRV room and wired me into the monitor board. “I'll be in the monitor's room after Kathleen arrives. How you feeling, nervous?”
“Nervous as hell!” I replied. “Absolutely, nervous as hell.”
Kathleen arrived ten minutes before the start of the session. “I'm going to let you cool down for about ten minutes before I come back in. I'll be in the monitor's room with Mel; if you need me, just ring the call button. Any questions?”
“No, I don't think so, at least not right now.”
“Good. Go ahead and cool down, I'll be back in a few minutes. Oh, and good luck! You'll do fine.”
I listened to one of the focus tapes I'd been given to help me relax. The tape carried both audible and subliminal messages; certain tonal frequencies on it were specifically designed to help merge the brainwaves of the left and right hemispheres of the brain. This helped the viewer to achieve an altered state. As I was cooling down, I could hear the tones in my biofeedback mechanism sounding the current wavelength of my brain. The target was theta wave; I was now functioning in beta.
Kathleen came in precisely ten minutes after she had left. “Adjust your chair for the session.”
“Christ!” I thought,
I've been in here ten minutes and I've already screwed up.
I fumbled with the adjustment handle for a moment, setting the chair in the position I thought I wanted. But as I squirmed in it, I concluded that
I didn't like it. “Goddamn it!” I exclaimed.
I've been in here ten minutes and I've already screwed up.
I fumbled with the adjustment handle for a moment, setting the chair in the position I thought I wanted. But as I squirmed in it, I concluded that
I didn't like it. “Goddamn it!” I exclaimed.
“Is that how you want the chair?” Kathleen asked.
“I don't know if I want the damned thing lying back, sitting up, straight, or jacked up higher than the table. Where the hell
should
it be?”
should
it be?”
Kathleen laughed. “Just make it comfortable. Make it high enough that your arm rests lightly on the table. That will help you with your ideogram.”
As I fumbled with the chair, Kathleen placed a stack of white paper near me. She pulled one sheet off and carefully centered it directly in front of me.
I dimmed the lights slightly.
As Mel had explained, I would be given a set of coordinatesârandom numbers assigned to the target. When I received the numbers I would write them down as they were given, and after I had written down the numbers my hand would produce what we called an ideogram. An ideogram was nothing more than an autonomic response to the target in the matrix. In other words, the ideogram came from the unconscious mind and was somehow descriptive of the target. How this worked was all part of Riley's lengthy and cumbersome lectures.
“Whenever you're ready,” Kathleen said.
“How will I know when I'm ready? I mean, I feel ready now.”
“You'll know you are ready when you feel a peacefulness, a warmth come over you. When you feel that, place the tip of your pen to the paper, and I'll read the coordinates to you. Got that?”
“I've got it. Thanks.” I tried to count down in my head, as I had been taught. I closed my eyes and relaxed. The audible tones of the biofeedback machine sounded, rapidly at first, then slowing, slowing ⦠changing tone to alpha waves. Slower ⦠slower ⦠slower ⦠finally, the flat tone indicating theta waves. Within seconds, I felt as if I had no arms, no legs; it was a centered and peaceful feeling. I was aware of nothing in the room, only Kathleen's breathing. I heard her heart beating, and the blood coursing
through her veins. My head dropped forward and my hand slowly lowered the tip of the pen to the paper. As soon as it touched, Kathleen announced my first set of coordinates. I repeated them to her as I wrote them. As I reached the last digit, I waited ⦠and waited ⦠and waited.
through her veins. My head dropped forward and my hand slowly lowered the tip of the pen to the paper. As soon as it touched, Kathleen announced my first set of coordinates. I repeated them to her as I wrote them. As I reached the last digit, I waited ⦠and waited ⦠and waited.
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