Authors: David Morehouse

Psychic Warrior (6 page)

BOOK: Psychic Warrior

12.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

We bivouacked in a large hangar, all of us together in
one big swarming mass of humanity. When that many men get together and snore in an open hangar it's tragic. We slept on the floor, which at least was softer than most of the rocks I'd pulled from under me in recent months. To pass time we watched movies on an old projector someone had borrowed from our hosts. All in all it was a good time: the last of the mail was handed out, and the best of the remaining rations were consumed, and hot showersâwell, sort of hotâwere taken. But most important, we were going home.

The battalion chaplain was Captain George Duffy. Duff and I had always supported one anotherâthat is, I encouraged my men to attend his services and he always gave me good advice and counseling when I needed them. I needed them now. We sat together behind the hangar watching the C-141 Starlifters that would take us home as they landed one after the other and taxied to their parking spots. We talked casually of home and wives and of our lonesome men, until well after dusk. I tried to find some place to throw in my questions, but as time wore on Duff started talking at a pretty good clip, and getting a word in became more difficult with each passing minute. Finally I jumped in with both feet.

“I know you believe in God, Duff, and I assume you believe in angels, but do you believe in ghosts and demons?”

Duff rambled on for a few seconds until the question sank in. He stopped talking for about five seconds and looked at me with the biggest grin I'd ever seen on his face. When he saw I wasn't kidding he burst out laughing and picked up the conversation right where he'd left off.

“What the hell's so funny about that?” I interrupted. “I know it's not the first time you've heard that question, so why all the chuckles?”

“I just never thought I'd hear it from you, that's all. I mean it's not what we've usually talked about, is it?”

“No, it's not â¦ . But there have been some things â¦”
I stopped before I said anything I'd be sorry for. “It's just something I want your thoughts on.”

He pulled his cap off and scratched the top of his head. “If I can believe in God and His domain, and in His angels, then I guess I'd have to believe in the other guy's team as well. Wouldn't I?”

“Probably,” I answered. “But that means you believe only in good and evil as man defines themâyou believe that there's God and his angels, and Satan and his angels, nothing more or less. Is that right?”

“Yeah, that's how I see it. I mean, they didn't give classes in seminary on any other options.”

“Don't you think it's possible there's something else?”

“Like what?”

“Perhaps something in between, or maybe yet something parallel?”

Duff looked at me carefully and then laughed again. “You're really scaring me, you know that?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Since when did you become a philosopher?”

“Look, I'm not calling myself a philosopher. I simply believe there has to be something else out there besides what religion outlines for us. Why does everything have to be good or evil, black or white?”

“Because that's the nature of all things in this world. There is good, and because there is good there is evil. There must be opposition, or there can't be any good. There'd be no purpose in it, don't you see?”

“No, I don't. Are you telling me that good and evil exist for balance?”

“Not balance â¦ choice,” he said quietly. “They exist so that you have a choice. You're talking to a chaplain”âhe smiledâ“so I'm gonna tell you that salvation lies only with the pursuit of the good. But the other way is there to explore if you choose to. People do it every day.”

“Well, I'm making a choice right now,” I said, patting him on the back. “A choice to go watch the rest of that
movie with the boys and then hit the sack. How's that for picking the good from the bad?”

“That's an excellent choice.” Duff grinned. “But your question isn't answered, is it?”

“It is and it isn't. I guess I'm looking more for an explanation than an answer.”

“An explanation of what?”

“Of something I saw.” I hesitated. “Let me put it this way. Would one of these people, these beings, visit somebody? Say, somebody who wasn't dead?”

“Sure! I mean we hear about it all the time. Of course there are skeptics, and events are often disproved or explained away, but I believe it happens. Why not?”

“Okay, then, why would they visit this person?”

“Who knows? It could be anything. They might be trying to warn him of some impending catastrophe, or protect him, or maybe teach him.”

“Teach him about what â¦ God?” I said, more sarcastically than I meant to.

“That could be it. They might also teach him about himself, about his fellow man, about his calling and election or about life in generalâhell, I don't know.”

“Yeah, I guess that would make more sense. Thanks!” I shook his hand. “Thanks a lot. You always help, even when you don't mean to.”

On our way back to the front of the hangar Duff stopped before we got within earshot of anyone. “Something tells me this won't be the last time we have this conversation,” he said. “Why is that?”

I must have had a shocked look on my face, because he reached out and grabbed my arm just above the elbow and hung on. Finally I told him, “It probably won't be, but I can't talk about it right now. I need to think, okay?”

He released his grip, trading it for a touch on the shoulder. “You know where I am, and you damned sure know I'm available whenever you need me.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. Come on, let's see if there's
any soda left.” We disappeared into the hangar, closing the night behind us.

The next morning I joined my officers for tea outside the hangar. Several of the Jordanian officers were present, saying good-bye to their new friends and comrades. The Jordanian colonel glanced at me over his cup of tea and excused himself from his conversation with Duff. “Good morning, Captain Morehouse.”

“Salaam aleikum
, Colonel,” I said, bowing my head slightly.

He smiled broadly. “
Aleikum salaam
, my friend. I trust you slept well, out of the desert for once.”

“I slept like a child, sir. And you?”

“Well, thank you.”

I took another sip of tea. He'd never approached me like this. There must be a reason.

He looked out at the desert, nodding his head slightly as if he'd answered a question for himself. “Ah â¦ Captain Duff and I were talking about something that may interest you.”

“What might that be, sir?” I asked, glaring at Duff.

“The
jinn
,” the colonel said.

“The who?”

“The
jinn
, evil spirits, ghosts and demons. Creatures that plague mankind. Ghouls who devour the bodies of the dead.”

“Sir, wait. I apologize for anything Duff might have said about all this. I don't want you or anyone else to thinkâ”

“Think what? That you are crazy? I assure you, Captain Morehouse, that is not the case. I will also assure you that Duff said nothing to me about you except that you had an interest in this sort of phenomenon. Do you?”

“Well, no â¦ at least, not until a few weeks ago, in Baten el Ghoul.”

“Ah.” He seemed relieved. “So you saw something, did you?”

“Yes, sir, I saw something. At least I think I did. It may have just been a reaction â¦ .”

“To the bullet.”

“Perhaps.”

“Yes, perhaps it was just that, a reaction to the bullet. Perhaps it was not. Perhaps you were given a message?”

His words sent a chill down my spine. How the hell did he know anything about a message? “What do you mean, a message, sir?”

“Many men receive messages here. They go into the hills to ponder their fate, much as Muhammad did in pondering the fate of his people. It is here that the angels speak to them. It is not odd.”

“I'm sorry to disagree, sir, but I find it very odd. Speaking to angels, that is. And I'm obviously not Muhammad.” We both laughed at that.

“No, you are certainly not Muhammad, my friend. Regardless, I think something unusual happened to you out there. Maybe one day you will share it with all of us.”

“Yes, sir, maybe one day.” I took a long pull on my canteen. “But not today.”

He patted me on the back. “Fair enough, my friend, fair enough.” He turned to walk away.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Do you believe the valley is hauntedâI mean, like your men do?”

“No, I don't believe it, I
know
it. My father knew it, as did my grandfather and his father before him. The truth of a place like that doesn't wander. The truth may be built upon, or the interpretation of it may change. But it never vanishes. It is unchangeable, as your spiritual ideal should be. The world that spoke to you is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” He turned and walked slowly away. After a few steps he turned and said, “Unless your mind is fixed on Allah, the giver of all things, you may find yourself chasing shadows in your search for glory.”

“Wait a minute â¦ . What does that mean?”

“It means you have a purpose, and I think it is being made known to you. Listen to the message or chase shadows all your life. I must go now. I have a battalion to command.
Salaam aleikum
, Captain.” He saluted and turned away.

I returned the salute. “
Aleikum salaam
, Colonel.”

We jumped back into Savannah with all our families watching. Those were great homecomings, almost circuslike. After the standard formalities of equipment and personnel accountability we released the troops to visit for a few minutes with their families. First on my knee was Michael, followed by Mariah. I stood there anchored by my loved ones while Debbie approached me carrying Danielle. She had a troubled but eager look on her face.

“Oh, thank God.” Still holding Danielle, she flung an arm around me. “I'm so glad you're home. I was really worried this time. I just knew something was going to happen â¦ . How's your head? Captain August from Regiment called the other night to tell me about it. He said you were fine.” She slapped me on the arm. “Why didn't you let them tell me about it when it happened?”

“I'm fine, honey. We didn't want you to worry. Look, it just put a big hole in the helmet, that's all. Sergeant Hanley has it; I'll show it to you later.” I said nothing else, just hugged her and kissed my babies. “I'm glad I'm home, too, honey. What's for dinner? And please don't tell me, Goat.”

After a weekend with my family it was almost as though I'd never left. I didn't bring up the topic of spirits or God or any of the paraphernalia that goes with them for a long time, and I didn't have any visions either, at least not like the first three. Life seemed pretty much back to normal.

And yet â¦ things were not the same. Most nights I would dream lucidly; faces and images of distant friends would come to me even though I knew they were thousands of miles away. I began seeing things in my mindâimperfectly
at first, but with increasing clarity. As the months passed, I actually came to believe that I could see forward in time or predict the outcome of certain events. It was an odd feeling having my mind's eye open all the time. I began referring to it as the television in my head.

One night in June of 1987, I couldn't sleep. The visions were too fierce and rapid. I got up and went into the living room. I sat there for hours trying to rid my mind of the images darting endlessly in and out. As I rocked gently back and forth, I was startled by a presence in the room, and a hand clutched my shoulder. I snapped around, chilled and frightened.

“Honey? What are you doing up so early? It's two-thirty in the morning.”

“Christ, Deb, what are you doing sneaking up on me like that? You scared the living daylights out of me. Don't do that.”

“I didn't sneak up. I've been calling your name out loud from the doorway for five minutes. I thought you had headphones on or something. What's wrong?” She sat down beside me, held my hand, and pulled me to her shoulder. “What's wrong, David? I've never seen you like this.”

I took a deep breath. “I'm scared, honey â¦ real scared. That bullet did something to me, something strange. I can't turn it off. I can't stop these goddamned images from coming into my head, and they're driving me out of my mind.”

“What images? Images of what? You never mentionedâ”

“I know, I know. I haven't said anything to anyone. I don't want to end up in a psycho ward.”

BOOK: Psychic Warrior

12.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads