Dove Strong

by Erin Lorence

  And what had I done with the spiritual armor God equipped me with? My armor to withstand this type of attack?

  Nothing, that’s what. The Armor of God wasn’t something I could misplace. Stupidly, I’d forgotten to use it.

  I nudged Melody with my shoe.

  No response.

  Slow and clumsy in the atmosphere of doom, I slid my fingers an inch past my sweat-drenched hairline to where the gold tattooed outline of the Helmet of Salvation hid. My helmet. The piece that protected my head from believing Satan’s lies.

  I clambered to my knees. My hands lifted skyward and plucked an invisible helmet, a reminder of God’s gift.

  Thank you.

  After shoving it over my hair, my hands traveled down to my Breastplate of Righteousness. I yanked at the neckline of my shirt and located the rolling swoop of silver against my skin that marked its top edge.

  “Lord, it is Your righteousness—Your perfection and not my own fumbling attempt at it that protects my heart from Satan’s blows.” I mimed, slipping the impenetrable—but invisible—breastplate over my head. Then, I smoothed it over my chest and stomach.

  My hands paused in the area of my waist where my Belt of Truth was fastened. I began re-buckling the spiritual one, cinching it tighter around myself. Because I hadn’t used it at all.

  Truth! Ha! I’d let the father of lies fool me into thinking I was too weak to carry out my mission—that my failure was a done deal. But now I remembered the truth. It wasn’t by my strength I’d carry this through, but by the Lord’s supreme power.

  My damp feet, encased in mud-caked cloth, were next. Under these layers, words etched in gold to form sandals spelled out Shalom—Amhebran for peace.

  But I didn’t need to readjust this piece of armor. Hadn’t I traveled into unfriendly territory without lashing out against the godless? I stayed peaceful. As much as anyone could expect.

  I brushed through to the next—my shield and sword. Had I attempted to protect myself with my Shield of Faith?

  My cheeks burned. I’d doubted God’s ability to protect me. I snatched another shield from above, this one wide and sturdy enough to withstand Satan’s flaming darts. Never again would doubt sneak past and touch me.

  And I wouldn’t let my Sword of the Spirit grow rusty again, either. The last few days I hadn’t kept His promises in the forefront of my mind, and during the assault I hadn’t parried the blows.

  Invisible sword in hand, I cut the air and sliced between garbage bags.

  Melody, chin to knees, watched me.

  “Just strengthening my armor.” With a last grunt, I side-scooted and parried, denting the cardboard under my shins. “How’s yours?”

  Couldn’t be in too great of shape. Since you passed out.

  Still jabbing, I ducked to hide my grin.

  Melody hissed.

  I pivoted to face her. My sword and shield arms stayed out.

  The hissing grew, accompanied by a rustling-rattle of plastic.

  Her face and throat hadn’t twitched. Either she was a genius at this animal sound business or...

  I scanned the shadows behind her until I found it. A light brown coil with black markings. It stayed wedged in a crevice where the tower of stacked bags brushed the lid.

  Venomous rattlesnake or non-venomous Oregon Bullsnake? I couldn’t make the call without a head or tail in sight.

  Another sinister sound came from under me. Faint rustling under the chair hinted it was still buried deep. A rustle...or a rattle?

  Blood thundered in my ears, drowning out everything else.

  Two snakes? Even more impossible we’d slept with them. But I didn’t doubt the malevolent energy had woken them, riled them, and excited them to carry out their master’s job.

  A finger of movement made me look up. Another eased itself down through the largest crack over Melody’s head.

  Number three was a monster. As if on purpose, it kept itself crooked into the shadows so I couldn’t see its head shape.

  “Hey, Melody.” My bored tone clashed with my adrenaline-surging body. “Shove over my way a little.”

  How brainless of me to hope she wouldn’t have heard the snakes and registered the threat. In her complete, paralyzing, shutdown mode, her deer-eyes stared over my head.

  Soon that monster would drop down on her.

  I could grab her. If I moved slowly enough, I could pull her out of the way without precipitating an attack.

  Unless she panicked. Or screamed.

  So that plan was out.

  She continued to stare at a spot above my head until a prickling raced over my scalp.

  I tilted my head back. My gaze slid across the black, cracked plastic. They stopped at the silent viper whose triangular nose came a yard from my hair.

  Slit eyes.

  Not a bullsnake.

  A rattler.

  Melody’s scream shook the bin.

  I spared a glance her way—in time to see the monster free falling onto her arms.

  Light flashed. A sonic boom shook me. The Brae girl was still upright and shrieking, but the snake had vanished.

  I didn’t question the miracle. The enraged rattling above my head told me my threat hadn’t appreciated the noise and bright blast. I squirmed away with nowhere to go.

  My eyes darted between the shivering cardboard and the strained crack above, where the muscular body glided deeper into the heart of the garbage bin.

  A second miracle. Oh, Lord. Let there be a second miracle.

  The creature above disappeared—but this time without a flash or bang or a vapor puff. The thing left the way it came. In a smooth, lightning-quick reverse.

  I still gaped at the spot of the second miracle when sunshine blinded me.

  Light flooded the garbage piles and rusty metal. Squinting, I made out black-rimmed fingernails on a scratch-scarred hand holding the bin’s lid ajar.

  I reached a hand toward the silhouette of a ragged, bearded face. “Help.”

  A long stick thrust straight at me drove me cringing to the side, dodging the forked end that seized the newly emerged rattler. The spear flicked up in a blur, flinging the long, writhing body away.

  After the stick plucked another snake from behind Melody, I escaped. Catapulting over the metallic side, I crashed onto hot blacktop.

  The stranger tossed the lid open behind me with a reverberating bang.

  Four snakes peppered the tar—a couple were smallish in size, but two were freaky giants. The flapping boot stepped down on the head of a live one, immobilized between the stick’s prongs.

  He bent to speak to it. “He will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.” His boot twisted.

  The rattling died.

  I backed against hot metal. “They’re dead, Melody.” I attempted the same tone my aunt always used with little Jovie. “Come on out now. It’s safe, from the rattlers. C’mon. Do you need help?”

  I glanced inside. Eyes closed, her head rotated back and forth.

  “Hey. No more of that.” I snapped my fingers. “Get out. Now. If you don’t, I’m leaving you in there.”

  While I waited for my threat to sink in, I kept tabs on the guy messing with the snakes.

  I’d never met a filthier human. Even my six male relatives weaseling out of the once-a-week bathing couldn’t compete. But I’d never before seen a beard so stained I couldn’t guess its original color. The only way the shredded gray cloth covering his wiry limbs stayed together was because of the splotches of gunk coating it.

  From under the shaggy brows I received unexpected eye contact. Intense gray. My dry throat spasmed in a swallow.

  Maybe he wasn’t Satan’s agent since he’d helped us, but then who? Who was he?

  Without blinking, he made another crunch sound under his boot. His grip on that lethal stick turned his knuckles white under their tan and grime.

  I needed Melody’s help to make this safety call.

  As I squirmed up, balancing my hips on the bi
n’s edge, I felt a tickle way back in my subconscious. Of something I should know. Something I couldn’t remember. A piece of information connected with this stranger.

  Yet, I didn’t know too many people. How could I have forgotten if we’d met? Had my grandma told me a story about a ragged stranger? Or had I seen his picture? Pictures plastered the walls of Wolfe’s and Jezebel’s home.

  I dragged Melody up the bin’s side with a couple new rib bruises that took my breath away. I let go too soon and her backside hit the asphalt while I held my side.

  “Crush the serpent’s head, and he will strike your heel.”

  Was this code? Him asking us to help him, or warning us to stay away? Whatever. I was keeping my distance from this snake genocide going on here.

  I retreated a yard, dragging along the frozen Brae girl. “We should get going. And that was great, what you did. I’m...” I cleared my throat. “Uh, thanks—”

  Melody shrieked and collapsed at those wrecked boots, trying to hug them while he retreated out of range. “Thank you, sir. Thank you, thank you...”

  Her complete trust jarred me. But I shook with silent laughter. Because whatever fear the snakes hadn’t been able to stir up in this stranger, this girl’s sobbing gratitude did the job. Keeping his distance, he threw her a wary glance. Then went back to shuffling between snakes.

  He threw back his head at the cloudless sky. Then he bent down and scooped up the two biggest rattlers—both headless. They dangled from his scarred fists as he neared, giving Melody extra space.

  He thrust them at me. “If you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom will be like the noonday.”

  My mouth opened in surprise. His words...that was pure Bible talk. He spoke in Bible verses.

  Right then, I caught sight of the tattoo on his neck’s sun-browned skin, half-covered by beard. It showed the true, sacrificial Lamb of God. Blood and thorns...and beautifully inked. The work of an artist. A genius.

  Homesickness pierced my heart. Oh, Trinity. I miss you.

  My stomach lurched in anticipation of the meat that’d soon fill it. No doubt this guy could use all the snake meat himself, but I was too starved to be a martyr today.

  Stepping forward, I trod on another rattler’s carcass as I grabbed the offered food. “Yeah. This will help keep us going a while longer on our way to—”

  “Oh! You should come with us.” Melody held out both hands to him. “Please, please come. Though, we’re heading to Mount Washington first because, well, Dove here says someone’s waiting for us there...a warrior, she thinks, but we’re not sure which way to go to get there because we got turned around last night running from—”

  I squeezed her wrist for quiet.

  His lips moved, struggling to speak.

  What if he was a prophet? This could be a message from God.

  My lips twitched too, impatient for his words.

  “He waited another seven years and then released the dove again.” He sighed as if he’d won a battle and then squinted at me. Expectantly.

  I felt my face fall. He’d picked a random Scripture that included my name. Dove. He’d even messed up the words. It was supposed to be seven days, not years.

  This guy was no prophet. Only a Christian who wandered around pagan territory because his brain couldn’t figure out somewhere to hide like the rest of us. Even if he could kill snakes like that.

  Melody patted his arm in pretend understanding. “Even so, that’s good, fresh meat laying there on the ground. And we shouldn’t leave it there to rot, right Mister, Mister, uh, what’s your name?”

  “Then Samuel said to all the people, ‘This is the man the Lord has chosen as your king. No one—’”

  “So, you’ll grab them then, Mr. Samuel?” When he didn’t respond, Melody motioned to me. “Or Dove can? You want Dove to? Oh, wait. Is it Sam? You want me to call you Sam? Is that it?”

  I let my shoulders rise and fall in answer to his beseeching look. What?

  “You!” The shout ripped across the clearing.

  Melody and I whipped around. But Samuel—no way was he a Sam—didn’t even glance at the church’s glass doors where the bald man shook his fist at us.

  I recognized the head. Although this time it wasn’t semitransparent, and it had a body of snowy robes attached. They rippled behind him when he moved out of the arch’s shade. The red dot in the center of his forehead glowed like an extra eye, while the gold symbols of his necklace shone mirror-like.

  “Don’t play deaf. I know you can hear me.” His face morphed from red to violet. “I told you never to come back here, you bum! It’s illegal to harass people who come to seek spiritual healing. And I don’t want you digging in my dumpster either. The cops are on their way.

  “Girls. Come away from him. He hasn’t bothered you in any way, has he?” He recoiled a step, perceiving our earthy clothes. Our coiled hair. The bloody snake corpses dangling from my fists.

  He stumbled backwards until half-hidden behind the arch. “Oh, ho ho! There’s three of you now? Having a little powwow?” Sunlit white flecks shot out from the shadows. “A powwow in my parking lot? You all stay right there until the cops arrive.”

  Stay right here? How dumb. He was terrified and wasn’t holding a weapon.

  Samuel scooped up the snakes, shoving them inside his frayed shirt. He slipped between the nearest trees.

  I followed him. Stepping onto the pine needles was a comfort to my rubbed soles.

  Soon we couldn’t hear the shouts. He led us through the increasingly dense groundcover until we passed between two huge lodge pole pines. More pavement sprawled ahead.

  Melody and I hesitated at the road’s outer white line, but Samuel strode forward until he straddled its blazing yellow one. He thrust his stick at the horizon—at Mount Washington’s sharp peak. Dwarfed by a nearer hill, it loomed over the treetops in the distance. Dark, twisted, and larger than I’d ever seen it.

  In all our blind running through Satan’s obstacles last night, God had kept us perfectly on course.

  The blacktop under my feet hummed the warning. We made it back into the protection of the trees before the silver pickup rounded the bend.

  “Samuel!” Next to me Melody made a noise like a strangled cat.

  We watched through the gaps of a berry bush, helpless to save Samuel still in the middle of the road.

  The truck sliced past, blaring its horn. A white container flew out the window. Its contents—liquid pink—nailed him in the torso and thigh.

  While the mess dripped down his body, he wandered down the yellow line, pointing.

  I breathed again and darted into the road, catching hold of his arm. “Samuel. You can’t stand in the open like that when cars come. You’ll get hit. Killed. Get to cover next time.”

  He shook his walking stick at the horizon.

  “Yeah. I see, I see. Mount Washington.” I released his arm and scrubbed the pink stickiness onto my pant leg. “Now get off this road.”

  He followed me onto the coarse pebbles to Melody.

  “Oh, Samuel. Please. Please come with Dove and me. There’ll be people at Mount Jefferson— people like us, like you. Christians, you know? They’ll help you. Give you food. Take care of you. Right, Dove?”

  The smoky irises flickered to mine.

  I shrugged. Then worked at some sap I’d discovered on my wrist. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sure. You could come.”

  Melody sighed. She sounded exasperated.

  Although I appreciated what this guy had done with the snakes, if I talked him into tagging along, he’d likely lead us to the nearest group of Heathen, for the simple reason he didn’t know any better.

  In the distance, a police siren wailed. I forgot the sap and stepped for the bushes.

  But Samuel traveled the road again, shaking his fist at the horizon. “Jesus replied, ‘Now is not the right time for me to go, but you can go anytime.’”

/>   Whew. Not coming.

  Melody tossed up her hands. She strolled closer to the ditch where I’d seen some decent water.

  I contorted my shoulder for my bottle. “Well if you change your mind and decide to get some help for yourself, Samuel, head for Jefferson.” I finished checking for possible garbage sludge. “That’s where we’ll end up. Do you know…”

  A frenzy of rustling to my left froze my tongue.

  Melody emerged from the bushes, one palm cradling a few maroon-colored berries. She raised her other hand to her lips.

  “Drop them, you idiot!” I reached her in four steps and knocked the small pile onto the ground. “They’re baneberries—heart stoppers. Did you eat—”

  “Hawk-a-bubbees.”

  “Out! Spit them out!”

  She swallowed fast. “But...but...huckleberries? They’re huckleberries. Not poisonous. I swear. We had a bush of them next to our pond entrance back home once. I promise.”

  “You’d better be right.” I turned on my heel and marched back to the road.

  Dumb Gilead and all his stupid warnings about everything. About lethal baneberries—whatever those were. He had me all paranoid.

  I stumbled to a halt.

  The road stretched empty. Both directions. I scanned the still woods on either side of us. “Uh. Melody? Where’d he go?”

  She paused in her hunt for scattered berries. “Samuel? Samuel!”

  “Forget it. He’s gone.”

  “What? But—”

  “Yeah. How did you like that? Him leaving us right when you’d ingested poisonous fruit. Not hanging around to see if you died or not.”

  “Huckleberries, Dove.”

  “Whatever. My point—we’re better off.”

  I scooped up ditch water too fast and ended up with silt. Then I marched back into the pines. We’d parallel the road, I decided, until the trees thinned enough to see the range. Or at least a horizon. No point in getting lost again.

  “Super weird, though.” She spoke through her mouthful, trailing me so closely she came down on the back of my shoe.

  “Mmm?” I concentrated on the distant siren that had started up again but now faded.