Psychic Warrior

by David Morehouse

  “Carbon monoxide poisoning, ma’am,” the captain answered. “At least, that’s what it looks like.”

  Debbie looked curiously at me. “How could that happen?”

  “I don’t have any idea,” I said. “Unless the wind blew the gas back into the house.”

  “Where’s my baby?” Debbie’s voice quivered. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “Ma’am, the paramedics are looking at her. She was pretty sick, nearly comatose, when we got here. She should be okay if we can get some oxygen in her. The problem is getting the carbon off her red blood cells.”

  Debbie, being a critical care nurse, understood what he was talking about. I knew carbon monoxide was deadly, but I had no idea exactly how. “What do you mean, get it off her blood?”

  “The carbon molecules stick to the blood cells and don’t let any oxygen molecules attach themselves, so you slowly die from lack of oxygen. She was nearly comatose, and that’s the last step before death. We were real close.”

  The radio in his hand crackled. “Captain? The paramedics think she needs to be medevaced right away. They want to take her to Children’s in D.C. and run some tests … . If she’s as bad as it appears then they’ll get her to Georgetown to the hyperbaric chamber. Right now, though, she’s starting to respond to the oxygen.”

  “I’ll ride with her,” Debbie said. “I work at Children’s, in the neonatal intensive care unit.”

  Two firemen took Debbie’s arms to escort her across the frozen lawn to the ambulance. At the doorway she turned to me. “Find out what happened. I’ll give you a call from the hospital as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.” But I felt helpless. I couldn’t imagine what had happened.

  Some firemen attended to Michael and Mariah, while others brought huge fans into the house to blow out the poisonous gas. They also combed the house from top to bottom, taking no chances of leaving someone behind; they knew we weren’t completely coherent yet. I began to shake, from the cold or from nerves, I don’t know which. I tugged at the blanket, pulling it tighter around me.

  Two young firemen approached the captain, flashlights in hand. They mumbled something to him I couldn’t hear. The captain turned to me, shining his light in my face.

  “What the hell is your generator doing running in the garage?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come here and we’ll show you,” one of the other men said.

  I gathered my blanket around me and walked to the front door with the men, the captain leading the way. We stopped in front of the door, which was raised completely. The generator was sitting in the middle of the garage.

  “The door was closed, too.”

  “No!” I said. “I know better than that. I put it right here.” I pointed to the spot on the driveway where I had set the generator several hours earlier. “That’s why there’s no car in the driveway, because the generator was sitting right here. Look, the grounding rod is still there.” I pointed to the copper rod I’d pounded into the ice when I set up the generator. “I wouldn’t have put it in the garage. I’m not stupid!”

  “Well, somebody picked it up and moved it for you,” said the captain. “You got any pissed-off neighbors?”

  There in the snow and ice were two sets of footprints. Whoever made them had picked up the generator and put it in the garage, quietly closing the door behind them. A shiver ran down my spine.

  “I’ve seen something like this before,” the captain said. “Somebody gets tired of hearing your generator run and they try to retaliate in some way. But whoever did this could have killed you all. Fucking idiots.”

  Anger began to swell inside me. “They weren’t idiots.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a long story. But whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. All we had to do was go to bed, and their troubles would be over.”

  “You mean you’d all be over! If you’d gone to bed, nobody in that house would have gotten up tomorrow morning. Your youngest almost died as it was.” The captain’s voice was chilling.

  Another fireman put in: “And you know what the headlines would have read, don’t you? ‘Family of Five Dies in Generator Mishap.’ Dozens of people die that way every winter.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair.

  “We can call the police if you want,” the captain said. “You may want to make an official report about this, although I don’t know what would come of it.” He turned his gaze skyward. “It’s starting to snow right now; in fifteen or twenty minutes all this will be covered.” He pointed to the markings in the snow. “I don’t think this gives them much to go on, anyway. These footprints have been out here in the wind for hours.”

  I was learning fast. Whoever was trying to shut me up had just given it his best shot, and nearly succeeded. I decided that after I heard from Debbie I’d call our policeman friend, David Gould, and see what he thought I should do.

  I went back into the house with Michael and Mariah while the firemen cleared away their fans and power cords. The entire street was afire with red lights and crackling with radio talk. Finally they were all gone, and the house was dark and quiet again.

  Almost six hours had passed when Debbie called me to ask me to come and pick her and Danielle up. When I pulled up to the front door of Children’s in D.C., Debbie looked like a ghost, tired and frightened. I decided not to tell her what I’d learned until she’d had some rest and hot food.

  It turned out that Debbie had a story of her own. The ambulance she and Danielle rode in had mysteriously died just past the District of Columbia border, and they’d waited by the side of the road for nearly an hour and a half before another one showed up. Debbie’s hands shook as she relived the details for me. “I was sure she was going to die while we waited. I was just sure of it.”

  I tucked her into bed, combed her hair, and pulled the cover up over her. Danielle slept next to her; neither would let the other out of her sight. Debbie’s arm rested over Danielle, keeping track of her while she slept.

  Michael brought our fully recovered cat, Ranger, into the room. He gently tucked him into bed next to Danielle. After the initial scare, Ranger seemed to have fared considerably better than the rest of us. I think he used up at least one of his lives; but his warning, intentional or not, saved all of ours.

  Later that afternoon, as my wife relived the event in her nightmares, I called David Gould.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  “I have to be honest with you,” David said, “not a whole hell of a lot. If the government is behind this, who would the police go after? I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Suppose the Prince Georges County Police Department calls the FBI, what are they going to say? ‘A guy in our jurisdiction decided to tell the world about a classified program, and he thinks the government just tried to kill his family to stop him from doing it. Will you begin an investigation?’ I don’t think we can count on them to be of any help.”

  “So I’ve basically got no options?”

  “Well, you can decide not to tell the secret, and maybe they’ll go away and leave you alone. I wish there was something else I could do or say.”

  “I know. And thank you for looking out for the family while I’ve been gone all these years. I really would appreciate it if you’d keep an extra close watch these days.”

  “You can count on it!”

  A few days later I had to get back to Fort Bragg. Before I left, I made sure that Dave was looking in on Debbie and the kids every day and that everyone knew how to reach me at all times. I will never forget that night, or the pain I felt in having to leave my family to face further indignity from the army. I turned off the capital Beltway and began the journey south to Richmond. It was eleven-thirty at night and traffic was light. I was happy to be making good time through the most congested area. But the weather reports were forecasting heavy fog along the coastal waterways. And sure enough, I hit the fog.

  The last worldly object I remember is the
sign for Fairfax, Virginia, but I must have pulled off the highway for a brief rest to let the fog lift. As I waited, I fell into the ether.

  I stood alone in darkness, in a place so black I could not see the ground. I was afraid to take a step, afraid that I might step into an abyss. In the distance of this place I saw a glow, so faint that I had to look at it sideways to see it. When I looked at it directly, it seemed to fade into the darkness. I moved cautiously toward it. A wind began to blow—softly at first, then with increasing ferocity until I had to lean into it to make my way toward the dim glow on the horizon.

  The darkness subsided as I came closer to the glow, and I could see a horizon very clearly now. Leaving the darkness behind me, I passed into a vast open space, perfectly flat and completely empty. I turned to look behind me and saw the darkness swirling there. Before me was a dimly lit landscape. I stood on the border of light and dark, able to see both with equal clarity. I was at a crossroads of sorts. The light appealed to me. The darkness behind was frightening.

  I turned toward the lighter world and walked deeper into it. Then a portal opened in front of me, and I looked into a foul and horrible wasteland. Frightened, I spun away and ran toward the darkness. I ran deep into it, looking back at the portal several times to see if it remained. At last I slowed and caught my breath. In the blackness another portal opened, revealing a beautiful garden filled with flowers and shrubs of all kinds. Their scents wafted out of the portal and into the darkness where I stood. I inhaled the sweet smells of the garden deeply and felt its warmth on my skin. But as I moved to step into the opening, it quickly closed, leaving me in darkness once again.

  “David,” a familiar voice called from somewhere around me. I turned, but didn’t see the angel anywhere. “What have you learned from this visit, David?”

  “Where are you? Why can’t I see you this time?”

  “Answer my question and you’ll know the answer to yours. What did you learn here?”

  “I learned that there is darkness and light and neutrality in the world.”

  “There is no neutrality. Everything is a choice; you cannot stand in the world without choice.”

  “Then I learned that there is darkness and light, and that each represents some aspect of the world … I think, of my world.”

  “You knew that even before you came here. Search deeper—what did you learn?”

  “I learned that darkness is not always evil and that light does not always represent goodness. I learned that perceptions can mask the truth.”

  “Very well. Then how do you know the truth of your world?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You do! How do you know the truth of your world?”

  “In the words of the holy, in law, in Scripture … in physical laws … I don’t know.”

  “When you know the truth of something, where does it touch you? Where do you feel it?”

  “Here!” I touched my chest. “Inside me.”

  “You feel it and know it in your heart.”

  “Yes, that’s where I feel it! Why is that lesson important to me now? I haven’t any problem feeling love.”

  “It is truth you seek, not love; it is truth that evades you now. All that you believed, all that you wanted, all that you once were is now lost in a haze of deception. You must battle it, just as I foretold. How will you know the truth? How will you guide your family to the truth? How will you bring the truth forward? How will you know it is the truth? How will you gauge it and know it among the deceivers?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must follow your heart; it will not deceive you; it will not let you be deceived. But you must learn to listen. You will soon find blackness where you once thought there was only light, and light where you once saw only darkness.”

  “Is the light God?”

  “It is, for some; for others it represents life, purity, power, and spirituality, among other things.”

  “And the darkness within the light, what is that? How can it exist there if the light represents those good things?”

  “Light and darkness exist within you on many levels, and the veil separating them is often thin. The truth lies beyond the veil, but you haven’t the time to search beyond, living each existence in each level one after the other until the truth confronts you. The spirit and voice of your heart reach through the many levels to the truth. Those who refuse to listen experience each level, each veil, with all of its tricks and false light; however, those who listen find answers in light and in darkness. They can exist in the presence of pure evil because their heart has touched the truth, and evil has no power over those who know truth. Its power dominates only the confounded, the complacent, those who live in the light but do not know truth.”

  “I understand … I think. But why did you call me here to learn this? Why do I need it?”

  “All humanity needs it; it is a part of the gift. There are those around you who possess this knowledge; one sought you out long ago. He is your friend, and you will need him in your life.”

  “Who is he?”

  “You know him well. One day you will call on him to strengthen you with his wisdom in this world. You will be weak and broken. You will not listen to what you have learned here until your past life is over; only then will you humble yourself and ask for what is needed. I warned you long ago of this ending.”

  “You never told me why I must endure this torture, this failure.”

  “Consider it a cleansing. You are not yet what you are supposed to be; you are only walking the path. You have much to experience.”

  “But what if I don’t want to do this? I want to go back to what I was; I’m tired of this, I want to just be me again, like I was before the bullet.”

  “It was all decided long before the bullet.”

  In an instant the voice and the world in which I stood were gone; my eyes focused on a small building in front of me. A man walked toward me, turning left before he got to my car; he headed down the path, got into a car, and slammed the door shut. I opened my door to the brisk night air and walked to the building. A large man was attached to the wall inside. The “You Are Here” arrow pointed to a small rest area just south of the West Virginia border. I was on I-77 heading north out of Virginia and into West Virginia. I had no idea how I’d gotten here or why I had stopped. I returned to the car, poured myself a cup of hot coffee from the Thermos, and quickly scribbled some notes before I forgot the details of what had just happened. Then I slammed the notebook shut and checked the time.

  I’d been at the rest stop for three and a half hours. As morning slowly crept across the horizon I called the office on the car phone to let them know that I would be late.

  In March 1994 the government convened what is referred to as an Article 32b hearing. This is a gathering of prosecutors and witnesses for the prosecution, and of defenders and witnesses for the defense. An appointed officer from the division hears both sides of the story and makes a recommendation to the court-martial convening authority as to whether the case ought to be tried. I arrived at my lawyer’s office about an hour before the hearing was scheduled to begin.

  “I’ve decided not to present anything in your behalf today,” he said as he shuffled through some papers and crammed them into his briefcase.

  “Why not? Wouldn’t it be to my advantage to shoot down their case in front of the hearing officer instead of at trial? You have enough to kill at least three quarters of what they’re suggesting.”

  “I don’t want to tip our hand just yet. I think it’s wiser to hit them with everything in court, when they don’t have any idea what our case will be. I think it will make a bigger impact if we do it that way. Okay?”

  “So what do we do, just sit there and let them peel my skin off in front of the investigating officer?”

  “I’ll have a chance to cross-examine their witnesses. They’re calling the woman who claims you had a sexual relationship with her. And the division’s systems automation officer,
to have him testify that the computer in question was indeed a military computer. By the way, they extracted all the information from the hard drive, even stuff that had been deleted.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s just as you said. Everything was military-related, nothing personal or civilian.” He grinned. “Let’s go to court!”

  He did a wonderful job on cross-examination and, in my opinion, cast considerable doubt on the prosecution’s case. After the meeting, I called Mel. “They’re going to court-martial me.”

  “Dave, we can quit any time. We don’t have to do this.”

  “No. We’re doing it no matter what! It’s destiny, Mel, remember?”

  “Be careful, Dave. Sooner or later it will be all right.”

  “I think later rather than sooner.”

  Three hours later I was on the road to Washington to see Debbie. But the pressure had taken a toll; I fell back into the ether. When I awoke it was to Debbie’s comforting voice. She held my hand, her face creased with stress, her eyes wet.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re home. You’re in the front yard, but you’re home.”

  She tried to help me to my feet, but I staggered and fell to my knees. Finally, together, we walked into the house.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “It’s five-thirty.”

  “I must have made good time; I think I left at one o’clock.”

  “David, everyone has been looking for you for three days. This is Tuesday morning; you left Fort Bragg on Friday afternoon. Where have you been?”

  I rubbed my throbbing head. “I don’t know. I remember leaving, that’s all.”

  “David,” she said softly, “this has gone on for too long. You’re sick, David. You need medical attention. Please let me get it for you. You can’t do this alone anymore. You aren’t under the care of the unit, you don’t have Levy, or Mel. You’re dying, David.”

  I looked across the room and saw my image in the mirror. An old man looked back at me. “Okay.”