Enoch's Ghost

by Bryan Davis

  “You are such a fool! It is not because I cannot move that I have spared your life.” His glow suddenly brightened, creating an electric shock wave that blasted Walter off the generator and sent him flying. Gabriel swooped down and grabbed him right out of the air. Beating his wings madly, he settled both of them into a soft landing on the turbine room floor.

  Walter stood on wobbly legs and picked up the guard’s coat. “Thanks. That was close.”

  “Sorry I took so long.” Gabriel pushed Walter toward the exit. “Come on. I think I figured out what they’re up to.”

  Chapter 16

  Heaven’s Shield

  Angel spun away from Timothy and Abraham. Stiffening her body, she spoke into the air, directing her speech to no one in particular. “The law is clear about this, is it not?”

  Abraham glanced at Timothy before focusing on Angel again. “When two companions show affinity, we know the man and woman are to join as one, but I don’t know if that union between companions survives your Adam’s death. It seems clear that both of you are eligible, but I will have to give it some thought.”

  With a drop of sweat trickling down his back, Timothy looked at Abraham. “Uh … Father, I think we are straying from our purpose, aren’t we?”

  “It depends on which purpose you’re referring to.” Abraham held out his hand for Angel. “My dear lady, your desire to follow our statutes is laudable, but this man is not yet comfortable with them.”

  Angel turned toward him, her head drooping slightly and her hands folded at her waist. “I understand. I assumed too much. Perhaps I do not please his eyes.”

  “No!” Timothy said, lifting a hand. “That’s not it! You do please my eyes. I mean …” He stared at her. What did he mean? She was definitely beautiful, but her straightforward manner seemed so odd. And how could he even consider a marriage arrangement when he wasn’t completely sure of his own marital status? He let out a sigh and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  A soft voice whispered in his mind. Wait for the light. Then you will understand.

  Timothy winced and stared at Abraham. “Wait for the light? What do you mean?”

  “Wait for the light?” Abraham raised a finger. “Ah! Your companion must have spoken to you.”

  Tilting his head to the side, Timothy rubbed his ear. “I think you’re right. This is going to be hard to get used to.”

  Abraham walked into the shaft of radiance. “I hoped to see if the tunnel would restore your memory, and your companion has confirmed my thinking. Not only that, this gives us the opportunity to defer this rather awkward legal matter to another time.” He waved toward the mouth of the tunnel. “Come. There will be pain, but it is the pain of relief, the massaging of inflamed memories.”

  Timothy leaned toward the light. “That sounds bad enough.”

  Taking Timothy’s wrist, Abraham guided him closer. “It is frightening, to be sure, but you will come out refreshed and renewed, and if you go a second time, there will be no discomfort at all. All of my people have bathed in its cleansing flow; it is a rite of passage of sorts for our young people when they come of age.”

  Glancing down at the murderer’s bones, Timothy edged into the tunnel’s beam, his companion hovering near his chin. The light tingled at first, raising an ocean of goose bumps. Then, the tingles seemed to seep into his mind. Every thought, every inkling of brain activity, raised a tiny jolt, like touching a low-voltage fence. Trying to ease the pain, he relaxed his thoughts, and it seemed that the fingers probed deeper, reaching far within and grasping for long-lost memories. One of the fingers pulled back, as if dragging something up to the forefront of his mind.

  A memory streamed into his inner vision—alive, vivid—a movie that enveloped his thoughts and swept away all else. Voices accompanied the images, and he felt himself melding into the body of one of the players on the screen.

  With the tires popping against gravel on the sloped mountain road, Timothy raised his voice as he swung the car into the final bend. “Are you sure of the number? I stopped counting after about four thousand years.”

  “You’re such a romantic!” Hannah scooted close and snuggled. “We passed through our covenant veil exactly” She paused, her brow furrowing deeply. “Something’s wrong.”

  Timothy pressed the brake and slowed to a crawl, looking for any sign of trouble in the trees that lined the road on both sides. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s so strange.” She clutched his arm tightly. “I … I sense danger. I have never felt this way in human form, but it’s so strong. I’m sure of it.”

  He stopped the car. “Then we will trust what you feel.” Opening the door quietly and getting out, he whispered, “Let’s walk through the woods and come up from the back.” His gentle breath raised puffs of white in the cold night air.

  She slid out through the driver’s side. Leaving the door open, they padded through the sparse forest between the road and their home. When the dark house came into view, they stopped. “No lights,” Timothy said, his voice barely a wisp.

  “Whose car is that?” Hannah asked.

  “Where?”

  She pointed. “Behind the rear window. Next to the propane tank.”

  “I see it now. Not a normal place to park, is it?”

  “We wouldn’t have seen it if we had come in from the front.”

  As they sneaked around the side, Hannah’s grip tightened around Timothy’s arm, but she said nothing. Shadows moved about within the house, a profile sweeping past the window, then another. Timothy bent down and removed his shoes. Hannah followed suit.

  “Stay here,” he whispered.

  Her steely eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Would you leave a warrior behind when going to battle?”

  He sighed and gestured with his head. “Come on.”

  Since the chilly breeze masked their barefooted steps, they hurried to the front door and stooped, one at each side. Timothy sniffed and raised his brow. Gasoline fumes tinged the air. Hannah inhaled, then pinched her nose and nodded.

  Rising slowly with his back to the wall, Timothy twisted his body and peeked in the living room window. Two hunched figures stared out, apparently unaware of his presence. He gazed past them, searching for any sign of Ashley. Nothing stirred.

  He slid back down and showed her two fingers, then punched them with his fist. She nodded, biting her lip. Next, he kissed his fingers, pressed his hands together, and leaned his head against them, symbolizing his assumption that Ashley was asleep. She nodded again, but this time fear widened her eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, he reached for the knob and turned it slowly. Giving Hannah a three count with his fingers, he threw the door open and charged inside. As he rushed for the prowlers, he grabbed an aluminum bat he kept in a corner. With a mighty swing, he lunged toward one of the dark forms, and Hannah leaped for the other, but after a metal-on-metal clang, his bat suddenly felt light as it swept through empty air. Somehow it had been cut off near the handle.

  While Hannah scratched and clawed at her victim, a sharp blow to the chin knocked Timothy backwards. He rolled and jumped to his feet, ducking under a swinging object just in time. The moonlight reflected on a metal blade as it swept past. Staying low, he landed a punch that sent the attacking shadow crashing into a table. Breaking glass joined the cacophony of gasps and grunts. When his victim lay motionless on the floor, he grabbed the other prowler’s hair and pulled as hard as he could, dragging him away from his wife.

  Hannah rose to her knees. Something small lay limp over her fingers. “A doll!” she cried out. “What did you do with my daughter?”

  His clothes reeking with the odor of gasoline, Timothy jerked the man to his feet and slapped at a light switch, but the lamps stayed dark. He slammed the man’s head against the wall, and as he crumpled to the floor, he grabbed Hannah’s hand. Yanking open a bureau drawer, he snatched up a flashlight and flicked it on. They hustled together to a room
down the hall where a toddler’s crib sat empty near the back window. He threw open the closet door and guided the flashlight’s beam inside. Nothing but hanging clothes and three pairs of shoes.

  They dashed to an adjacent room and found another empty bed. An open window poured cold air through flapping curtains.

  Still holding Hannah’s hand, Timothy stomped back toward the living room. “Where is my daughter?” he shouted.

  A car engine roared to life. Tires spun away, shooting gravel that pecked against the back window.

  The odor of gas again assaulted his nose. He pointed the beam at the front door. “Run!”

  A flash of light blinded him, and a rush of heat flooded his skin, burning torture that ripped through his limbs, torso, and face. A sensation of melting collapsed his legs, and he dropped to his knees. All he could see was his fiery hand clutching Hannah’s and her pleading, pain-struck eyes. As flames leaped all around, he pulled her close, and they melded into a single human torch.

  Timothy stepped out of the shaft of light and toppled over, gasping for breath as he scratched the ground with both hands. “Hannah!” he wailed. “Oh, my darling Hannah! Why couldn’t I stop those murderers?” Weep, a gentle voice whispered in his mind. Cry out to your heavenly Father, and he will soothe your soul.

  Timothy sobbed, clutching dirt. He threw it to the side and clutched more handfuls. “I failed you! I couldn’t keep you or Ashley safe!”

  A hand rested on each of his shoulders, one a strong grasp and the other a light touch.

  “He has lost his Eve?” a tender voice asked.

  “No doubt Hannah was as dear to his heart as Dragon was to yours.”

  “Who is Ashley?”

  “A daughter, perhaps. … Yes, that would make sense, if he is here to fulfill the prophecy.”

  Timothy spread out his palms and pushed away from the ground. The two hands helped him sit upright. Angel stood and, after unzipping her jacket, mopped his brow and cheeks with the tail of her shirt.

  He sniffed and cleared his throat. His voice cracked with every word. “I apologize … for my outburst.”

  Angel knelt again at his side. “No need for apologies. Your love is a beautiful gift to behold. I know your passion and loss all too well.”

  “The tunnel of light,” Abraham explained, “enflames the passions of your heart. Since you grieve, your laments have become cries that make the angels in Heaven weep. If you feel love, then it becomes so overwhelming, even the shadow people are beautiful in your sight, and those you already loved are the greatest treasures in all Eden.”

  Timothy nodded. “I know what you mean. My heart hurts so much, I just want to die.” He took Angel’s hand and pulled her close, then put an arm around Abraham. “But my love for both of you is so strong, I want to stay here forever.”

  Abraham patted him on the chest. “It seems that our heavenly Father has brought you here to live a new life, perhaps better than the one you had before, much like the children who sojourn here.”

  Angel nuzzled his arm. “We have each risen from the dead. Though the longing for your Eve may never pass, I will do my best to ease your pain.”

  Abraham reached over Timothy’s shoulder and gently caressed Angel’s cheek. “While emotions are running rampant, there is danger in making hasty decisions.” He rose and extended a hand to each of them. “Let us finish what we have come to do, and we will discuss your potential union tomorrow.”

  “As you wish, Father.” Angel bowed her head and edged away from Timothy, smiling.

  “What is left here to do?” Timothy asked.

  Abraham tapped a finger on his head. “Do you think that your memories are fully restored?”

  “It’s hard to know for certain.” Timothy laid a hand on his head. “My memories are so many, it might take time to sort them all out and piece them back together.”

  “If you are the prophetic stranger who weeps, then it appears that you have two daughters, one who is rebellious and one who is lost in some sense, a wanderer.”

  Timothy angled his head upward. “My memory of my daughter Ashley is clear. If she and her grandfather escaped the slayers, she might still be alive.”

  Abraham’s brow arched. “Slayers, you say?”

  “Dragon slayers. They were trying to kill Hannah and me, because we were once dragons.”

  Angel gasped but quickly stifled it.

  Abraham stroked his chin. “Go on, Timothy. This is very interesting. What was your dragon name?”

  “Makaidos. My mate’s name was Thigocia, before she became Hannah.”

  “Makaidos and Thigocia?” Angel repeated. “You were named after stars?”

  Abraham raised his finger, silencing her. She folded her hands in front of her waist and lowered her head.

  “Stars?” Timothy glanced back and forth between Abraham and Angel. “What does she mean?”

  “I will explain at another time. Did you have any dragon daughters who might be part of the prophecy?”

  “My firstborn daughter, Roxil, was rebellious, but she was killed by the same slayers centuries ago. Before I died, I heard that Hartanna, another dragon daughter of mine, was still alive, but she was devoted to me in every way. I also had a son, Gabriel, who has been missing for many years, but I don’t see how I could have another living daughter who would be considered rebellious.”

  “I see,” Abraham said slowly. “You were dead, but now you live. Perhaps Roxil has found the grace to live again as well.” He leaned close and whispered softly, “And let us remember that Hannah is not exempt from such a miracle.”

  Timothy nodded. “I understand. As you said, it is unwise to be hasty.”

  Clapping his hands, Abraham continued. “So, tell us more about your untimely death.”

  “This might sound crazy, but after I died the first time …” Timothy paused and smiled, waiting for a response to his odd statement.

  “How many times have you died?” Angel asked.

  He held up two fingers. “After the first time, Roxil and I built a village called Dragons’ Rest, an afterlife haven, of sorts, for slain dragons. I left that place and was restored to Earth as a human. I never learned what happened to her or to Dragons’ Rest.”

  Angel clutched Abraham’s sleeve. “Father, would Enoch’s Ghost know?”

  “Perhaps.” Abraham leaned into the shaft of light. “But the tunnel might very well tell us now.”

  Timothy leaned in with him. “How so?”

  “I have ventured inside. The light is so brilliant, even when I close my eyes, it blinds me. I had to stagger out and feel my way to Albatross. I couldn’t see for hours. So I came back wearing a thick, dark garment wrapped around my eyes. Even then, the light was blinding, but I came to a wall that felt as smooth as a crystalline face. When I touched it, I heard a quiet female voice that said, ‘What do you seek, dear Abraham?’

  “I didn’t know what to ask, so I just blurted out, ‘Who are you?’

  “Gentle laughter filled her voice. She said, ‘I am an Oracle of Fire. I reside at Heaven’s altar.’

  “‘If you are an oracle,’ I said, ‘Can you tell me the meaning of Enoch’s hymn?’

  “‘The one he sings at dawn?’ she asked.

  “Of course, I was thrilled that she knew the hymn. ‘Yes! Yes!’ I shouted.

  “Her gentle laugh filled the tunnel again and echoed all around. ‘The meaning is reserved for the two men who will come to fulfill it.’

  “I bowed and backed away, longing to look upon her, knowing that her radiant beauty must have been beyond compare. I assumed that gazing upon her would likely burn holes in my eyes forever, but the memory of her glory would be worth the pain.”

  “But you can see,” Timothy said. “What happened?”

  Abraham sighed. “As I was taking the garment off, I stumbled and hit my head on the wall. That blow knocked some sense into me, so I bade farewell to the oracle and hurried o
ut.”

  Timothy pointed at himself. “So you want me to go in there and see if she’ll tell me the meaning of the hymn.”

  “Exactly. The very reason I brought you here.”

  Timothy unzipped his jacket, raised it above his head and over his companion, and rezipped it. “Will that be enough?”

  “You will soon find out.”

  Timothy felt a hand taking his, and he followed its lead. “I will guide you to the entrance,” Abraham said, his voice muffled as it passed through the jacket, “then you will have to feel for the walls. The way is straight, and the path is narrow. You shouldn’t find any obstacles.”

  Another hand rested on his elbowAngel’s now-familiar touch. “I will stay at your side as long as I can and meet you on your way out.”

  Ashley sat up and zipped her jacket. “Thank you,” she said, nodding at Sapphira and Karen. She swiveled her head toward Roxil. “And thank you for the dry clothes.”

  “It was the least I could do.” Roxil bowed her head low. “I was most impressed by your sacrificial act, and I apologize for my initial harsh reaction.”

  Ashley reached for Sapphira. “Maybe my sister will offer us a ride out of here.”

  “What’s that on your hand?” Sapphira pulled Ashley to her feet and turned her palm up. “Look!”

  Ashley touched the edge of a wound on her palm, a rough hole with a copper colored stain encircling it. Blood oozed from the exposed muscle under the punctured skin. “My penny!” she whispered.

  Karen caressed the heel of Ashley’s hand. “That looks awful! Does it hurt?”

  “Yeah. A lot.”

  “We don’t have any antiseptic,” Karen said, “but maybe we can make a bandage.”

  “I don’t want a bandage.” Ashley dug into her pocket, withdrew the remaining dime and penny, and displayed them in her other palm. “I feel like I’m supposed to keep the wound in the light, but I’m not sure why.”

  Sapphira rolled Ashley’s fingers over the coins. “Jehovah reveals mysteries only at the proper time and in the proper place. For now, we should go and see if Walter and Gabriel need help.”