The Calling

by Jeffrey Hancock

  “Don’t worry, Nathan. I’ve got your back, and I brought some friends,” came from another familiar voice.

  Six Marines, all in dress blues materialized around me. This alone caused the mugger to stop in his tracks. In unison, all the Marines began running at the man. The mugger dropped his weapon and broke the world record for the mad dash.

  The Marines chased him for a bit but finally gave up the pursuit. They returned with a couple of them stopping to assist the woman helping her friend. The Marine I had helped all those months ago stood before me.

  “Thank you for your help. How did you know I was in trouble?” I asked.

  “We heard you call for help. I’m sure you could have handled him, but it has been a while since my friends and I have gotten out.”

  One of the other Marines brought me the mugger’s weapon. He commented, “Crude, but effective.”

  I hefted the sock, and it jingled. Reaching down the sock, I found it had been filled with pennies. I pulled out a few and touted, “Cool, I can feed my daughter’s piggy bank.” The comment caused a couple of the Marines to laugh. “Thank you, men. Semper fi.”

  All the Marines snapped to attention, then in unison, shouted, “Oorah!” Then they all faded and were gone.

  If I am going to keep doing this rescuing crap, I need to keep my gun and sword on me every time I leave the house. Too bad, I can’t summon them like Thor’s hammer. I called the police and an ambulance. I gave all the information to the police, minus the ghosts. They gave me the usual speech about calling for help instead of intervening myself. I cannot stand by and do nothing. I don’t believe the mugger was only interested in the lady’s purse.

  Things seem to be getting bad in America’s Finest City, for example; increases in street crime, children thinking of suicide, cursed dolls, and one hell of a headache I packed away in salt. All of these are not decent signs. Someone needs to do something, and I’m just the idiot to do it.

  I thought about getting home, and voila, Tony appears in his trusty cab. Somehow, I made it back home before the gang. Maybe they stopped for a snack? I marched to the place I keep my katana and removed it from its holder. Someday, I have to come up with a name for you, I thought to myself. I promptly left the house. I told Tony where I wanted to go, and we were off.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tony pulled the cab up to One America Plaza. It is the tallest building in the city at five-hundred feet. It was late, so the office building was quiet. While still seated in the cab, I peered through the front doors’ glass. I don’t believe I can walk right by the security desk, then I had a thought. I could hear Moiraine in my mind saying, “Daddy, did it hurt?”

  “Tony, you up for a little fun?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Nate. What do you have in mind?” I gave Tony the low down on what I wanted him to do. “Okay, Nate, I can do that.”

  We exited the cab, and it soon disappeared. After building up his courage a bit, Tony took off at a full run straight to the stairwell.

  “Hey, you stop!” the security guard shouted. Tony paid him no heed and pushed through the door leading to the stairs. I wondered for a moment how far he would make it in before the aura of my ectomancy power would end. The security guard spoke into his radio, “Charlie, we have some crazy guy bolt right through here to the stairs. You get to the stairwell and block him from getting any higher. I will chase him up from here.” The guard pushed something on his desk. I heard a click.

  Once the guard entered the stairwell, I tried the doors. They were locked. I feared that was what I had heard click. I pushed at the doors a little harder, but I backed off. I didn’t want to bust them. Wanton property damage is not my thing. There was a keypad by the door. I could try to hotwire it, Han Solo style. I immediately dismissed the idea because it didn’t work out well for him. I looked around in a vain effort to find a way in. Ticktock, time is running out.

  As I cogitated over how to break in, I found Karma standing next to me dressed up as a cat burglar, with ears and all. “Karma, don’t you ever sleep?”

  “Only after a ‘make you all relaxed and sleepy orgasm.’”

  “Were I unwed, I would take you in a manly fashion.”

  “’Cause I’m pretty?”

  “’Cause you’re pretty.” Turning, Karma began working the keypad. Several tones filled the air.

  “You know this is a bad idea. Hurry! He’ll be back in a moment,” Karma urged.

  Pushing on the door, I found it had been unlocked. I’ll ask later. Racing to the elevators, I saw two of the six were on their way down. Opening the far elevator, I jumped in and pressed for the roof. If I am lucky, the guards won’t notice this elevator going up. The doors opened on the top floor. I hoofed it to the stairs and climbed the last flight to the roof. The observation deck spread out before me. Finding the right place to do what I came to do took only a moment. Up close to the railing, which jutted out in one point of the star-shaped platform, I stood. The view at night was spectacular. All the city lights twinkled like stars. If you looked hard enough, you could see the city’s reflection in the still waters of the bay. The wind here blew strong. I wished I had brought a kite. The song “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” from the Disney musical Mary Poppins began playing in my mind. “Let’s go fly a kite. Up to the highest…” I listened for a moment. The song brought back the memory of seeing the film with my mom and dad at a drive-in. It is one of only a few decent memories I have of my dad. I dismissed the song and memory with a casual thought. Distractions are something I don’t need right now. I am on a mission.

  Taking in my will, I conjured a thought. I gave the thought a form in my mind. Pouring even more of my will, the thought built. Next, I took memories of evil, as I saw it, and poured it into the thought as well. Sweat was running down my face, and the wind gave it a frosty feel, and still, I continued to let the thought build. Finally, I took all my sexual frustrations, which had the most power of all, and fed it to my thought. Wavering in the wind, I could not stand much longer. I began to sing. It’s a little song I wrote during the cab ride here. It goes something like this. It is sung to the melody from “Man of la Mancha.” Drawing my sword and holding it aloft, I began the song. As I recited each line, a pure white light began to emanate from my blade. It was faint, almost imperceptible at first, but it grew. When the song reached its crescendo, the radiance from the blade was brighter than the sun.

  Hear me now shiny city that sits at this bay

  Thou art gripped in a time of despair

  And this man with his faults and bravery shall shield

  And defend all who call out for aid.

  I am I Nathan Embers, a guard for this city.

  Let all who do evil despair:

  I shall march down this path that shows mercy to all.

  I will stand the watch of the night.

  Hear me demons and devils and all who wish to destroy.

  A man stands before you and bars the way.

  Though my watch just began with my sword in my hand forever, I stand at the call.

  Collapsing after my effort, I felt weak as a meowing newborn kitten. My tube of glucose tabs was in my pocket, it took a great effort for me to retrieve it. Laying there chewing on orange tabs, I began to feel less rung out like a dishrag. Shaking, I tried to stand and was helped by Karma. “Thanks.”

  “Tell me, Nathan, what do you think you accomplished by doing that whole (challenge the world) bit?” Karma asked, sounding too much like Charlene.

  Putting it simply, “Strategy.” Karma kept looking at me with eyes that said, do you know how stupid you sound. Continuing, I said, “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. It is a quote by Sun Tzu.”

  “You warned everything and everyone you will be there to stop them,” Karma said with exasperation.

  “If I am the chosen one, I can’t make it too easy on myself. Where’s the fun in that?” I asked.

  Karma started laughing hard and with great glee
. Gasping for breath as she said, “Stop it. You’re going to make me pee.” After her guffaws died down, she said, “Who said anything about you being a chosen one. This is life, not some high fantasy novel where you are destined to save the world.”

  “You said I was your little investment.”

  “Yes. I want you to help people and bring some hope to those you interact with daily. This challenge you laid down is going to mark you as a target.”

  “You forget one thing, Karma. I also lit a beacon of hope to the hopeless. I know my song was a little heavy-handed and trite, but the sentiment is true. Much as in the law, the intent is everything.” Then with a wicked madness in my eyes, I said, “The light of but a single match has the power to dispel the darkness.”

  “Yes, let’s hope you don’t get snuffed out!”

  “True, there is that.” After our short conversation, I left for home. It was strange how much easier it was to leave the building than get in it.

  Epilogue

  Before Tony took me back home, I considered going back to the cast party, but parties are not my cup of Earl Grey. The house loomed dark and quiet as I approached the front door of my home. As I started to put the key in the front door, I noticed a note had been placed there. It read, “Moiraine is spending the night with my father.” The note is written in flowing calligraphy. Char knows how to print in calligraphy. Wow, even after all these years, I am still learning new things about my wife. Opening the front door, I saw the soft glow of candles. I took a step in and closed and locked the door behind me. While the candles did give a warm feeling to the living room, I could not see clearly by the candles’ illumination. Not wanting to stub my toe, I flicked on the light.

  Right there a step from the front door hung another note suspended by a string from the ceiling. It read, “I hope you have an appetite. Bring the surprise in the refrigerator with you to bed.” This note had the flowing letters of calligraphy also. Setting everything in my arms down on the kitchen countertop, I couldn’t get a handle on everything. Charlene is not normally like this. My eyes beheld the surprise when I opened the fridge. There, in the glaring light cast by the refrigerator’s single bulb, my surprise awaited. She left me a can of Diet Pepsi with a red bow around it. Along with the carbonated delight, a small plate of strawberries and a small ramekin containing some kind of dark brown sauce sat next to my beverage. I stole a taste. Yep, chocolate deep, dark, and slightly bitter. I found another note here written in the flowing script as well. I am beginning to see a pattern. The note read, “I am waiting for you. Hurry!” Grabbing the can and plate, I began my journey to the bedroom.

  Not three steps from the kitchen, there hung another note suspended from the ceiling. This note read, “Kick off your shoes and leave them where they fall.” This is unheard of. Charlene instructing me to leave my shoes where they fall. Char has a place for everything, and the middle of the living room is not the place for shoes. It was one of the first things I learned from Char as we began our relationship. Well, I had no need to argue with her this day, so I kicked them puppies off and let my aching dogs free. I could see other notes in my path. I approached the next one, and it read, “Go back and turn the lights off.” Hastily and still carrying the plate and soda can, I went back to turn the living room lights off. How did she know I would leave the lights on?

  I carefully made my way back to the fifth note and then approached the sixth letter from my wife. It would be too dark to read the note except for the fact she wrote it in glow-in-the-dark ink. This note read, “Good things come to those who wait.” I couldn’t believe Charlene misspelled the word “come.” It is such a simple word too. Continuing along my path, I came upon the next note written in glow-in-the-dark ink. This note had the words, “Knock and wait for me to answer.”

  I reached the door to the bedroom, no note. It had been replaced with Char’s sexiest bra hanging from the doorknob. Searching my memory, I found the last time I saw Charlene wearing it. It was so long ago. This memory became a distraction, and I must be about my task. I knocked on the door.

  I heard Charlene say, “Come in,” with a little giggle afterward. I opened the door, and what did my eyes see? The room had lit candles all about. My ears heard soft jazz playing. The canopy bed’s curtains were drawn closed. The silhouette of my wife was projected onto the gauzy yet opaque drapes. Her silhouette showed her sitting on the bed leaning back on her hands. Her back is slightly arched. Her hourglass figure was clearly defined. This image reminded me of the mud flap girl depicted on so many big-rig trucks. Did Char model for the mud flaps before I met her?

  I noticeably swallowed hard. Char giggled again and asked, “Like what you see?”

  Swallowing again. “I have always enjoyed taking you in with my eyes.” I squeaked a bit as I said, “Charlene, is what I think happening going to happen?”

  In a soft and gentle voice with many undertones, she said, “Shush. No more talking.” She turned off the light casting her silhouette. Candles were the only light remaining. I could not see clearly, but the scent of Charlene’s favorite perfume wafted around me. The aroma filled my nose, and I became intoxicated. The form of my wife followed the scent as she loomed out of the darkness. My wife stood undressed with no shame or embarrassment. Pride surrounded her like an aura. The scar no longer tasked her. It had become a part of her. No longer did it keep her from her desires, and her desire is me. The glow from the candles cast intriguing shadows upon my Charlene’s curves. They gave me the desire to explore those shadows. Perhaps I would discover some new lovely asset to reconnoiter around. She reached out and took the plate and soda from my hands. Turning her back to me, she exaggerated the motion of bending over to set the plate down on the nightstand.

  Char lingered with her back to me. Still bent, Char looked over her shoulder and with the same alluring voice once more she said, “Let me serve you, Husband Mine.” The music changed. The song “When I Fall in Love” by Nat King Cole began playing. Next, I heard the pop of my soda can opening. She turned and placed the coldness of the can to my lips. It began to tilt, so I took the refreshing beverage into my mouth and drank. I drank only a small swallow’s worth. She removed the can from my lips. A moment after she took the soda away, she placed a chocolate dipped strawberry into my mouth as she placed one to hers. We bit through the fruit and sauce in conjunction with one another. The strawberry tasted crisp and clean. The sweetness and tang of the fruit enhanced the chocolate. Delicious. Her face showed delight as she tasted the fruit and chocolate. Chewing slowly, the emotion of eating the decadence filled her face.

  After we finished our taste, Char reached up and cupped my face in her hands. Pulling me down to meet her lips, she stretched to meet mine. Softly our lips touched. We kissed with the love of our hearts, not the passion of our bodies. Slowly we let the passion build rhythmically, naturally, and organically.

  Desire and passion started to build in me to an uncontrollable level. I tried to undress, but Charlene stopped me before I started. “This is for me to do,” she said in the sexy voice. Without haste, she began to unbutton my shirt. Slowly and deliberately starting at the top, she pushed the buttons through their holes. At the third button, she began to, I can only describe it as purr in a guttural and pleasing way. When she finished unbuttoning the shirt, she pushed it aside without removing it. She caressed my chest and ran her fingers through the hair there. It felt electrifying. As I missed her touch all these months, she took me to the edge of my endurance. Char started to walk around behind me. With ease, she pulled my shirt free tossing it aside. Okay, who are you, and what did you do with my wife? Next, she reached around me and began working my belt free. As she did this, she pressed her breasts against my back. It sparked such longing. Does she know what this is doing to me? Based on the fact she is lingering at her mission, Yes, she does.

  She focused on my zipper. Slowly to the extreme, she pulled down my fly. She opened the flaps of my pants and began to pull them down. As she reached m
y feet, Charlene guided them through the legs. She tossed my pants aside too. I felt a tugging on my skivvies, and soon they disappeared as well. I stood there in a state of undress with Char at my back. Soon, I felt Char’s hands going up and down on my back, caressing me. Her touch had a gentle strength. With a playful giggle, she cupped and squeezed both cheeks of my tushy.

  This build-up has been enjoyable, but a man can only delay satisfaction so long. I reached out with one hand and swept aside the curtain of the canopy bed. I took ahold of Charlene by the waist and carried her to our bed with strength and ease. I placed her down on the bed.

  Charlene looked up to me and said in a guttural and animalistic tone, “Nathan, I love you and WANT you!”

  After her words, I parted her gate and entered her glorious kingdom.

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this novel to my wife Barbara and my daughter. Maybe one day my daughter will read these novels, but right now she is at the stage where she says, “How can I enjoy anything my father wrote? It can’t be fun.” Their patience with my endless prattling on about this story and the future adventures of Nathan Embers has given me the strength to put fingers to keyboard. At last, the goblins in my head have hushed their voices.

  Acknowledgments

  There have been many people who have helped me in this endeavor. Thank you, Linda Nagy. Your help in this project has been invaluable. I have learned a great deal. Tracy Johnston, thank you for the insight you gave me on this project. I give my thanks to Christian Bentulan who did the cover artwork. He can be reached at coversbychristian.com. I also extend my thanks to all my clients at The Men’s Room Barber Shop. You gentlemen have heard all these tales and gave me encouragement.

  In my travels, I have met Jim Butcher several times at signings. (His not mine.) His demeanor and insights about the craft of writing gave me courage to try.