Roland Yeomans's Blog, page 26

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

 

Major Richard Blaine thought he was dying to save his men, but instead is rescued by an angel whose perfume was that of his lost love, Helen Mayfair.

Was it her ... and what does it mean for Helen's fate? Is there a future for a human and an angel?

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

“Life is the tumultuous duetbetween the murmuring light within and the riotous light without. It revealsthe world, its materiality, and its mystery. It is up to us to discern themelody and make it our own.” 

- Helen Mayfair

 

I was lying on tickling grass. Ididn’t open my eyes. I had seen more than I wanted in that hellish tunnel. Thedarkness of closed lids was comforting.

Sentient huffed in my mind,

‘There is only one world. Thingsoutside only exist if you go to meet them with everything you carry inyourself. As to the things inside, you will never see them well unless youallow those outside to enter in.’

‘I am sure that is quiteprofound, but I am simply too battered to parse it out. Was that Helen just now… with wings?’

‘I do not respond to nonsense.’

Taylor, being Taylor, intrudedwith a question asked of the world in general, “What the hell was that?”

Link said, “You just answeredyour own question, Stew.”

Rough fingertips prodded into myneck. From a distance, André asked, “Is he alive?”

Doc Tennyson said, “His pulse iserratic but still there.”

“Good, that means I can killhim!”

There was a sound of a blow andthe thud of a body hitting the grass beside me as Cloverfield snapped, 

“Getover it, mate! Stone the crows! We all just went through hell. The Major didn’tcause it. He saved our hides from it.”

“Your Major dragged me into thathell! I want to kill him.”

Above me, the Rabbi, Lt. Stein,sighed, “You dragged yourself into this mess when you became a warcorrespondent.”

Opening my heavy eyes, I weaklypropped myself up on my right elbow, and to derail all the hostility withconfusion said, “Vita contin gi. Vive cum eo.”

Nurse Reynolds, despite extremewobbliness, moved with her inerrant grace up to me.

“Life happens. Live with it?Rather I would have said: Stercus accidit. vive com eo.”

Refusing to be outdone in eruditeobtrusion, Dickens smiled wearily and translated, “Shit ….”

He saw Theo’s glare and hastilyamended, “Sorry, ah, lady present, dung happens, so live with it, right?”

“Too right,” I sighed and then, Ispotted André working himself up to lunge at me.

I plucked up a hefty stone thatjust fit my left hand and squeezed.

There was a crunching groan, andI opened my throbbing hand to pour out the powdery corpse of the rock from my palmonto the grass between me and André.

“You really want to see wherethis dance leads?”

He wisely edged away, and I said,“This living moment … in which we touch life and all the energy of the past andfuture is precious. Don’t throw it away on foolish rage over something you havealready survived.”

Nurse Reynolds scowled at me. “Youwanker! Why did you sling your rifle back over your shoulder?”

“Because that Thing was acreature of Darkness just as the rifle was a weapon of Darkness. Bullets fromit would have only strengthen that monster.”

She looked as if she didn’t buymy explanation. “Well, you scared bloody hell out of me when you did it.”

“Don’t worry,” I smiled back ather. “There’s plenty left.”

Glaring at André, Cloverfieldhelped me to my shaky feet and whispered in my ear, 

“We all saw that angelwhisk you away to safety and seal that tunnel behind you.”

Ashamed at my not noticing theclosed tunnel, I flicked a quick glance and was stunned to see no indication atunnel had ever been there.

“Yeah, mate. We ain’t nowherenear Omaha Beach anymore.”

I turned to Theo, “Are thesurroundings safe?”

My loyal sergeant breathed a sighof long-suffering from my not ever expressing myself as a trained officer.

“Yes, Major, theperimeter is secure. I was waiting for you to recover before I had the men formup against that knoll and recon the area beyond and behind.”

Cloverfield whispered next to my ear.“I would rather have you as my officer than any textbook cadet. You sure youtaught at West Point for a year?”

I shook my head. “Have no memoryof it, but I’ve been hit on the head a lot.”

He drawled a lean smile. “Me,too, but I remember all too well things I’d rather not.”

Cloverfield leaned in closer. “Weall saw that angel hoist you out of that tunnel, but only I saw that sketch ofyour Helen Mayfair you did for Rommel.”

“So?”

“That angel’s face was a twinimage for your Helen. Do you think that means she’s dead?”

I squeezed my eyes shut tight.“Merde, I hope not.”

Link loped up to the two of us.“Haven’t either of you boys been to Sunday School?”

I forced my face to be stone.“Sunday School wasn’t exactly on the curriculum at St. Marok’s.”

Cloverfield shook his head. “Mumwas afraid to send me as it might give me an idea or two for sins I hadn’t yetcommitted.”

Link said, 

“Well, angels werecreated before Man. They’re a different breed entirely from us. When we die, wedon’t become angels or demons. We become citizens of the Hot Spot or the NiceOne.”

André sneered, “And of course,you know exactly how we get to either locale, right?”

Link’s face brightened, “Youreally want to know?”

The rest of the Spartans made hisface fall when they unanimously shouted, “No!”

I clamped a friendly hand onLink’s shoulder. “You have to let each person find their own way to theafterlife.”

Cloverfield chuckled, “That waythey have no one to blame for the scorching but themselves.”

Link glumly nodded. “That makessense I guess.”

He turned to me. “Well, at leastyou know your Helen can’t be an angel since she had a human father.”

My stomach sank at his words, andI shook my head. 

“Her father, the police commissioner of New Orleans, adoptedher from St. Marok’s when a mobster tried to kill him and insteadmortally wounded his wife.”

I drew in a deep breath. 

“On herdeathbed, his wife made him promise to adopt a girl so as not to become a monsterout of grief, not knowing he already was one.”

Earning a glare from Evans forhis friend’s ignoring my unease, Taylor frowned, “Where to from here, Major?”

I made a face as Sentientmurmured the answer to me.

“Oradour-sur-Glane, the MartyredVillage.”

Cpl. Sam Wilson snorted, “Oh,that tourist attraction.”

 

DUEL IN THE DARKNESS

 

Major Richard Blaine has led his Spartan 300 into a deathtrap, a realm between worlds. How will he save those who trusted him from an alien hell?

DUEL IN THE DARKNESS

“Don’t fight the darkness,Richard. Simply bring in the light, and the Darkness will disappear by its verynature.”

– Helen Mayfair

 

What had Helen whispered to me inthat French Quarter alley after death had silently crept by us on clawed feet?

“Ships that pass in the night,and speak to each other in passing, only a signal shown … and a distant voicein the darkness. 

So, on the ocean of life, we pass and speak to one another,only a look or a voice, then darkness again and deep silence.”

“Pain! Who brings me pain?”

It was an eerie, gruesome voice …as if an unclogging drain had been granted speech.

The volume of it was immense, asif a Titan or Fallen Angel squatted wetly in front of me. I remembered Helen’swords about light versus darkness and slung my rifle back over my shoulder.

There was more than one kind ofweapon. And you used the right one against the proper enemy … or you suffered.

The men and nurse behind mesquirmed on their feet as if in agony. What was wrong with them?

‘They are being mentallyassaulted by images so foul their minds will soon fracture and shatter.’

I turned my head to the Spartansand hissed low, 

“Fill your heads with the brightest memories of childhood youhave. If you want to keep your souls, do it now! Now!”

I stepped closer to the tentaclednightmare that filled the opening that had to have been forty feet high andwide if it was an inch.

Some instinct, or perhaps themurmuring of Sentient, kept my eyes from looking it full on.

“More Pain! You! You spinedmaggot. You bring me pain?”

Time and times are but cogwheels,unmatched, grinding on oblivious to one another. 

Occasionally … very rarely … thecogs fit; 

the pieces of the cosmic wheel slip then snap together momentarilyand give men faint glimpses beyond the veil of this everyday blindness we callreality.

The majority of people go past thosedoors that are half ajar, thinking them closed, 

and fail to notice the faintstirrings of the great curtain that hangs ever in the form of appearancesbetween them and the world of causes behind.

I know I would have passed bythis door if the lives of those who trusted me had not been at stake.

‘You can speak to thisabomination if you will endure the agony of it.’

I nodded and immediatelyregretted it as my throat, lips, and tongue seemed to spasm in impossible, fearsomeways.

“I bring you death if you forceme.”

“Your words. I understand them.How?”

I drew in a breath to steelmyself for renewed agony. “You will have to pay to find out.”

“Pay? Here in śāpagrast, it is Iwho make souls pay not pay tribute to spined maggots.”

It laughed like a clogged drainfighting the attempts to be cleared. My Spartans whimpered. My advice was notworking.

Sentient hissed within my mind. 

‘Do something, Blaine, or they will soon be drooling caricatures of what they oncewere.’

The Monstrosity kept on, 

“Thesands of the realm of   is not as the sand of other realms, for śāpagrastlies nearest of all to the world’s rim.  

Andstrange winds, blowing from a gulf no learned creature may hope to fathom, havesown its ruinous fields with the grey dust of corroding planets, the blackashes of extinguished suns.”

It laughed again, and all my Spartansfell to their knees mewing and holding their heads with both hands.

“Here in śāpagrast, lie in waitfor prey emancipated  demons lefthomeless by the destruction of their antiquated hells. Pay! Pay what, spinedmaggot!”

“You … will … let … my … People …GO!”

“Thy audacity offends me! Onlyone could speak so to me … AND YOU ARE NOT HE!”

My Spartans fell to the sands ofthis accursed cave and howled.

I asked Sentient for a miracle …and she granted it.

“I am STILL he!”

I waved my left hand with anintricate flourish. The image of the English Channel parting for the charge ofmy Spartan 3oo filled the cavern.  

It wasaccompanied by the strange echo of the roaring of surging waters protesting theabeyance of Natural Order.

“No! It cannot be!”

“Yes! LET … MY … PEOPLE … GO!”

“No!”

“Then, let this be on your head!”

I had always wondered where thetons of water of the dammed English Channel had gone.

I smiled. I suddenly knew where. Ithad gone where I had willed them now.

Tons of sea water crushed down uponeither side of my Spartans, sweeping the hundreds of the unseen demons awayfrom those who trusted me. 

Those scaled things wailed and choked and thrashed.

“NO!”

I twisted and roared to my Spartansstruggling to their feet. “Run! Run for the outside. Now!”

They ran.

The Old One, as now I knew it tobe, roared also. “No! I will consume them one and all!”

“Not if you die first!” I yelledat it, rushing straight at him, both palms open to touch its repellant fleshwith my artificial hands.

I almost stumbled as I smelledHelen’s strange, exotic perfume and heard her murmur in my left ear …

Left she always told me was herfavorite side, for it was the side in which the heart beat.

“The Valiant fight alone.”

Oh, how I wished I had kissed herthat time before Mr. Morton interrupted us.

Just once.

As my palms touched the loathsomeOld One, I whispered, “Helen, I love you.”

The Old One screamed as if inagony. Not blackness, but purest white enveloped me.

For a heartbeat, I felt soft, featherywings enveloping me … lifting me as if my body weighed nothing.

And for a precious heartbeat, myhands no longer throbbed.

Then, there was blackness …but not before a light kiss pressed down on my lips.

A WALK INTO DARKNESS

 Evil has a way of attracting evil as Major Richard Blaine discovers, along with the lesson that it is never wise to wool-gather when others depend on you.

A WALK INTO DARKNESS

“The oldest and strongest emotionof mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of theunknown.”

- H. P. Lovecraft

 

My life was odd, even to me whohad experienced it day by day. You would think the strangeness of it would havebecome commonplace.

It had not.

I saw the jarring differencebetween my existence and that of all those around me.

 I, myself, was both observer and observable,and so a possible object of my own stunted awareness.

But there was the rub: stunted.

I was within the picture.The only true way to appreciate a painting was outside the frame of it.

There is another world.

 But it’s in this world  … or the doorway to that world is inthis reality. Wherever you are in this world, life is always and necessarilylived in detail.

Especially, the leaving of it …that is: dying.

“I am afraid,” said beside me in the near darkness, the glow of thetunnel’s walls having ebbed to mere will-o'-the-wisps of illumination.

“Ignis fatuus” theancient Roman legionnaires had called it. “Foolish” or Ghost Light.

I felt both foolish and almost aghost, slipping through this mouth of shadows.

We had been marching against thatstrange resistance for nearly an hour, the now mostly silent Sentient had toldme but moments before.

In literature, the will-o'-the-wispmetaphorically refers to a hope or goal that leads one on but is impossible toreach. In that sense, this meager illumination was fittingly called will-o'-the-wispby me.

Of where we were headed, Sentientwould only tell me: ‘Your destiny.’

That was frustratingly,maddeningly vague … as Sentient intended. I had gone against her wishes withMissy, and she was punishing me.

It was unknown the place anduncertain the time where death awaited you, so you had to expect death to findyou, every time, at every place.

‘Cheery thought’ mockedSentient, then slipped away before I could retort a fit response.

 There were things known and there were thingsunknown, and in between were the windows of perception.

‘Yours need cleaning’ cameSentient again. And once again, I could feel her leave my consciousness.

I felt the light hand of NurseReynolds on my shoulder from behind me.

“Being at ease with not knowingis crucial for answers to come to you, Major.”

As Helen Mayfair’s words had sooften done for me in New Orleans, the wind of peace filled the slumped sails ofmy confidence.

“At ease?” André scoffedincredulously. “I have not been so afraid since I was with that platoon of the45th Division attacking the small village of Venafro.”

“Where?” grunted Reese.

The ever-knowledgeableCloverfield said, “ A quaint little death-trap near Monte Cassino.”

“Oh, there,” drawled Sam Wilson.“Remind me never to visit.”

I hissed low to the photographer,“Have you seen any of the Spartans killed? Have the men on either side of youbeen shot and killed or maimed?”

“But there is this damnableskittering all about us!”

“What skittering?” I asked,suddenly feeling the fool for the thousandth time.

“It is all around us. If youcould wrench your mind from its aberration, you would hear it!”

“Uh,” gasped André.

Behind me, I heard Theo whisperharshly.

“That, Mr. Renowned Photographer,is the point of my knife. Speak like that again to Rick, and I will leave yourtwitching body here for whatever those beasties are out there.”

Amos grunted, “You think hehasn’t been hearing them like the rest of us?”

I hadn’t. I no longer feltfoolish but ashamed.

“Wh-What are they, Major?”shakily asked Taylor.

And since Evans hadn’t cuffed theman, I knew that Eric was more than a little unsettled himself and wanted toknow.

Sentient murmured the answer tome, and I just as soon not have known.

“Not beasties,” I whispered. “Theclosest thing they resemble are insects.”

“Insects!” howled Taylor. “Butthey sound huge!”

There was a sound of a cuff, andEvans said low,

 “Quiet, fool. This is why the Major didn’t tell us. He didn’twant you wailing and drawing them to us. Fear draws in the wolves, don’t youknow that?”

“W-Wolves? But the Major said ….”

Another sound of another cuff.

“When they were handing outbrains, you must have thought they said ‘Rain,’ and you wanted to stay dry.”

Evans whispered to me, “Major,why did you pick, Stew, anyway.”

“Because when he shoots, he nevermisses. Never.”

Out of the darkness, I felt NurseReynolds’ soft pat on my shoulder.

“That was just what he needed tohear … both of them.”

Well, I had done at least onething right. Maybe. Merde. Every victory of mine seemed to be a will-o'-the-wispof “maybe.”

Maybe.

For as we have candles to lightthe darkness of night, so my “maybe’s” were candles to keep the darkness aflamein my mind, my doubts.

The library at St. Marok’s hadtaught me one thing only: to wake up. To join by words, my thoughts, my mind tohuman culture, to think myself alive.

There is nothing that man fearsmore than the touch of the unknown. He wants to see what is reaching out towardshim, and to be able to recognize or at least classify it.

 Man always tends to avoid physical contactwith anything strange.

I knew I wanted to avoid contactwith the skittering bodies that clicked all around us, the smell of somethingacidic and ammonia-like coming from them.

Reese growled, “Give me astraight-on firefight not something like this.”

Theo said low, 

“You should knowthis war by now. The enemy always changes. One day, it’s the lousy weather. Thenext, your commanding officers that don’t know their ass, ah, butt from a backscratcher. The day after that, it’s a cliff that can’t be climbed but has tobe. This is just another enemy, Reese. Deal with it.”

“But I can’t see this one,”muttered Taylor, who needed to see an enemy to shoot it.

“You can’t see a sniper,neither,” groused Mercer. “You just wait for your chance to spot him by hismessing up.”

I whispered, “And they may not bean enemy until we make them one.”

“Ant” Vincent huffed, “The waythey’re circling us can’t be good.”

“You’re right,” I nodded thoughhe couldn’t see me now that the light from the walls was nearly non-existent.

I continued, “I get the sensethat they are confused. Sentient is telling me that the devices all throughthis tunnel are … bringing us into and out of focus with their … dimension. Oneheartbeat they can … taste our sweat ….

“Aw, geez,” went Knight.

Theo snapped, “Don’t interruptthe Major.”

“The next, we … slip just farenough away from their … realm that they know they can’t touch us. This fadingand focusing has an erratic rhythm to it that they are trying to parse … tofigure out ….”

Dimitri said, “The right timingso’s as to attack us. Why aren’t we getting into a circle or something?”

Kent, a student of ancientwarfare, snorted, “That very act might trigger an attack from them.”

Theo added, 

“Can you see to shootthem? No, just hear them. We’re in a tunnel. We miss them with our shots, andthey will just ricochet off the walls and just as like hit us.”

Predictably, Taylor, our foreverquestioner, said, “Then, what do we do?”

Evans didn’t cuff the man, so Iknew that question had been on the tip of his tongue as well.

I had been loathe to tell theSpartans, for it would reveal a new enemy.

“We slow our marching ….”

“What?” yelped Taylor, whoimmediately got cuffed by Evans.

“Eric.” I whispered. “No moresudden moves.”

I spoke a little louder. 

“Strainyour eyes a bit, Spartans, and you’ll see a glimmer of light ahead of us,indicating a bend in this tunnel and our exit. No!! Keep it slow.”

The skittering around us got morefrantic as those creatures sensed possibly losing their prey. Merde. Thescratchings sounded so loud. Those things had to be huge.

“Prepare yourselves, Gentlemen. Ibelieve their … leader will be standing between us and the exit. Don’t panic athis silhouette. It will not be pretty. Let me and Sentient deal with him.”

Nurse Reynolds’ voice was barelya murmur, “What will you do?”

“Improvise. My whole damn lifehas been one long jazz gig. This is just another tune in it.”

Floyd husked, “This ain’t real.Can’t be. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen in the real world.”

Link said, “I keep telling youguys. These are the end times.”

Vincent groaned, “Oh, give us abreak with all the Revelations talk.”

Link kept on, 

“This centurystarted with the whole damn world at war. Then, the stock market tanks. Themiddle of America became one huge bowl of flying dust. The world went back tobutchering itself. Now, this. End Times I tell you.”

‘Your Spartans have interestingperspectives of reality.’

‘Can you blame them?’

‘Yes. Your species is blind eventhose of you with functioning eyes. It is blind to its folly, to its ignorance,to its history, to the future that they will make for themselves. A future bornof self-loathing.’

‘You’re trying to make me not soafraid of being killed by whatever is ahead of us.’

‘It plans to do much worse thankill you, Blaine. It plans to feast on your soul.’

‘Oh, just that. You forget Iplayed chess with Mr. Morton.’

‘You still are and do not realizeit.’

To answer her, I said, 

“Link, theBible is filled with intriguing stories about complex and flawed human beingswho pondered immense moral questions and engaged in colossal clashes with evil.”

I unslung my Sig Saur Spear rifle. 

“Butif they remembered they were not alone, they made it to the finish line. Sowill we … if we do the same thing.”

I stepped away from the group andwalked to the towering, many tentacled monstrosity waiting for me … for mysoul.

 

FINAL VICTORY OF BASTARDS

 Bleeding from Sentient's ire, Major Richard Blaine returns to his Spartans to an uneasy reunion.

FINAL VICTORY OF BASTARDS

“The best a Spartan can lookforward to in this war is the lonely pleasure of one who stands at long last ona chilly and inhospitable mountaintop where few have been before, where few canfollow, and where few will consent to believe he has been.”

– Richard Blaine

 

Where once soft carpet, now hard,unyielding stone. It made for an unpleasant pillow.

“Ow!” I manly said.

Porkins cried out, “He’s back!”

Of course, it would be NurseReynolds to reach me first.

She kneeled over me, her tinyfists grabbing fingers-full of my blouse front.

“You lied to us!”

“I misled you. There is adifference.”

“Not to me, mister!”

She drew back her right hand, notto ladylike slap me, no, she was about to belt me.

Rachel glanced at her hand andwent pale. “You’re bleeding!”

I would have been hard pressed tosay who reached me first: Amos or Theo.

They both seemed to appear oneither side of me at once.

“What happened?” they both askedat the same time.

I smiled. I had a new GreekChorus.

“Sentient punished me for healingwithout hearing a ‘Yes’ from her.”

“Who?” Doc Tennyson asked,“Roosevelt?”

“No, she wanted me to heal him.”

“Heal?” frowned “You can heal people?”

I nodded. “If Sentient approves.If not ….”

I jerked my chin to my bleedingleft arm. “Mommy spank.”

“Who, then?” frowned Amos.

“Marguerite Alice"Missy" LeHand.”

Cloverfield whistled, “TheGatekeeper?”

I nodded. “Private secretary toPresident Franklin  Roosevelt  for 21 years. She eventually functioned asWhite House Chief of Staff, the only woman in American history to do so.”

I sighed, “She was quietly dyingwithout letting Roosevelt or any other of the other staff know of her pain orillness so as not to add to the President’s burdens.”

Theo shook his head. “Sentientwas against you healing her?”

“No. She was against me rushingto it. But I had to.”

Reese snorted. “Let me guess. Youinsulted the President.”

“Nope. His uppity wife.”

Rachel groaned, “Of course. Andnow, you bleed.”

I shrugged with a grunt of pain.“I’ve lost count of the mornings I awakened to find my body covered with clawmarks of oozing blood.”

Reese frowned. “I thought yousaid that orphanage of yours didn’t let you keep pets.”

“Big claw marks.New Orleans is the most haunted city in America.”

Evans gripped, “Major, thisdam….”

Theo glared at him and thennodded to Rachel.

 “Ah, darn SR300 won’t stop ringing. And I haveto tell you, Major, this backpack radio makes for a lousy pillow.”

I groaned, “The mule’s stillalive. Flog him another mile.”

I got up with the help of NurseReynolds, much to my embarrassment. I walked stiffly to Pvt. Evans who had thehuge blocky radio on the seared smooth stone floor of the tunnel.

He handed me the telephone-likereceiver. I scowled.  Its range was approximately3 miles, but varied considerably with terrain, location of transmitter and receiver,and antenna used.

We were in the center of a stonecliff. How was it still receiving?

Rachel wouldn’t let go of mybleeding. “Why is Sentient so cruel to you?”

I repeated what Sentient told me,“Cruelty is a mystery to her and a waste of pain. She considers it merely gettingmy attention as the plank to the side of the head to  that mule.”

Theo grunted, “And she’s been inyour head how long, and she still doesn’t know you any better than that?”

“She is alien, Theo.”

I heard a buzzing in the receiverand snapped, “Major Richard Blaine, here.”

Major Laska’s exasperated voiceshouted at me from the receiver. “That’s not proper radio etiquette, and youknow it!”

But that was the sad fact: I didnot know it. Sentient had piloted me through boot camp and all of Sicily. Therewas so much I didn’t know in how to be soldier, much less an officer.  Evans smiled wide, thinking I was outragingthe supercilious officer on purpose.

“You’re supposed to say ‘Over,’Over.”

“That’s just sounds like a bunchof round-robin nonsense to me, Laska.”

‘MAJOR Laska, over.”

“Are you truly over ‘cause I’mbleeding here, and I like to tend to it.”

“So, you are meeting resistance,then? How many Germans have you killed? Over.”

I sighed, not wanting to lie infront of the Spartans. “If you stop to count the dead bodies you’ve made, youend up becoming a dead body yourself.”

That answer appealed to Evans’sense of humor, and he laughed out loud.

“Are you laughing at me? Over!”

“It was one of my Spartans.”

“Give me his name! Over!”

“No.” And that made Evans laugheven more.

And then, Sentient told mesomething that made me yell into the receiver. “Duck!”

I heard the tinny retort of amuffled ricochet. “How did you know? Don’t bother answering. You’d just lie.”

Evans snorted, “You forgot to say‘Over,’ Over.”

“Who’s that?”

“Over,” I added for the major.

“Damn you, Blaine!”

I decided to have mercy on theman.

“Why are you and some of thesoldiers not in here with me? I plowed the field for you. You had enoughtime to get in here before the tunnel opening collapsed. Over.”

“I didn’t trust you.  And with good reason, I would have beentrapped in there with you now if I had. Over.”

Sentient murmured to me again,and I yelled, “Hit the dirt!”

Then was a sound of a bodyhitting the sand, and an explosion near deafened me even over the receiver.

Laska started crying, actuallycrying. “I’m going to die out here. Die. Die!”

“No, you won’t.”

‘He was going to murder you inyour hospital bed, and you want me to show him mercy?’

‘I’m not Laska, and neither areyou. Please.’

‘It is the madness of folly, toexpect mercy from those who have refused to do justice. And even mercy, whereconquest is the object, is only a trick of war. The cunning of the fox is asmurderous as the violence of the wolf.’

‘Yes, or no?’

‘Yes. But tell him to expectbodies of the Germans turned inside out raining down on him.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, never mind. It is done.’

“Oh, God, Blaine! This is anightmare! What have you done?”

“Saved your life … over and out.”

André stormed up to me. “Theothers have told me what that man has tried to do to you: betrayal, lies, andeven murder! Why save that man’s life?”

Amos loped to my side. “BecauseRick is not Laska.”

Rachel looked like she wanted tohit me, but only said, “The final victory of bastards is that they turn youinto them … if you let them.”

I looked to my Spartans and said,

“The best a Spartan can lookforward to in this war is the lonely pleasure of one who stands at long last ona chilly and inhospitable mountaintop where few have been before, where few canfollow, and where few will consent to believe he has been.”

André shook his head at me. “Youare insane.”

“I never claimed otherwise.”

NEITHER MONSTER NOR SAINT

Like the cat who romanced the skunk and enjoyed himself as much as he could stomach, Major Richard Blaine has lost his temper and told off the First Lady in front of President Roosevelt.

NEITHER MONSTER NOR SAINT

“Success is not measured by whatyou accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the couragewith which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds.”

– Helen Keller

 

“That, Major, was my wife!”

“I understand, but you were youngwhen you proposed. No one sees clearly when infatuated.”

Missy shot to her feet. “That,sir, was impertinent!”

I turned to the President,putting back on my Spartan Helmet.

“I would apologize, but thatwould be a lie, sir. Yet, I do regret that I have been aghast in your house.”

The Major General growled, “Beingwitty will not buy you anything now.”

“I expect you will want me toleave now without hearing my request.”

Dorothy, the stern judge’s evenmore stern wife, snorted, “You, sir, have the gall of …”

“De Gaulle?” I quipped. “Anotherguest with more arrogance than manners.”

“Not funny,” sighed Louise.

‘Sentient, let me heal Missy. Isee with the eyes you’ve given me that she is close to death.’

‘Oh, certainly, why not? You havebungled this so badly, why shouldn’t I reward you?’

I decided to gamble and walked toMissy, who put out her palm. “You stay away from me!”

“If I did, I couldn’t do this.”

I reached out and lightly touchedher forehead with the bandaged fingertips of my left hand. I sagged. I suddenly feltlike a rag doll with all its sawdust leaking out of it.

“Wh-What have you done to me?” she gasped.

I blinked my blurring eyes. Herface appeared twenty years younger than just moments before. Her hair glowed,it was so dark and lustrous.

“You were close to the deathyou’ve had the doctors keep from everyone. One last gift before I ….”

The strength left me. My kneesbuckled. Sentient hated when I forced her hand and always made me pay somehow.

I should have expected somethinglike this.

I leaned against the white marblewall and slid down it. Suddenly, my left arm felt terrible.

“My god, he’s bleeding!” criedLouise.

“You won’t get any sympathy fromus!” snapped the Major General.

Fala scurried to my side. Ismiled weakly at him.

“Fala, old chum, there are threekinds of intelligence: the intelligence of man, the intelligence of dogs, and much, much lower: military intelligence.”

 I patted his black head with a trembling hand.“In that order.”

Missy raced to my side, kneelingand crying. “One minute, you are a monster. The next, a saint. Which are you?”

I smiled, “Neither … maybe both.”

Roosevelt shot to his feet andwithout thinking walked stiff-legged  tomy side. Then, he froze, realizing what he had done.

“I’m … I’m walking. Walking!”

He collapsed beside me. “How?Why?”

“America … needed you to be thereto shepherd it from war to peace, much as it did with Lincoln and Wilson butnever got it.”

‘Besides, his mate would haveenjoyed playing the noble widow much too much for me to allow it.’

Curtis arched an eyebrow. “I sawit on your face. You just thought something nasty about Grandmother, did younot?”

“ I don’t lie to Spartans … so Ithink I will just ask for a glass ….”

“Of whiskey?” frowned Roosevelt.

I shook my head. “I get intoenough trouble sober, sir.”

Louise snorted, “We’ve noticed.”

“I was just hoping for a sip ofGinger Ale, if you have it.”

Harry Hopkins raced to the barand came back with a full glass.

“Hardly seems equitable. You healme of cancer, and I give you a glass of ginger ale.”

“D-Didn’t do it for reward, sir.”

Missy asked me, “Then, why?”

“Because I could, when in NewOrleans I so often could do nothing.”

Roosevelt fixed me with a hardstare. “Will I still be able to walk?”

I nodded. “In a few months, evendance again. I heard you were a fine dancer.”

He looked off in the distancewith such a forlorn look, it unsettled me.

“Dance,” he muttered. “Dance.”

He frowned at me. “Why didn’t youtell us you were wounded?”

Sentient, for the first time in along while, took control of my mouth.

“Didn’t realize it at first. Thisblasted uniform is supposed to be bullet-proof.”

Harry sputtered, “Bullet proof?Where did you get it?”

“Where I got my artificial hands.That will teach me to trust something I get from a future where the Nazis won.”

I suddenly realized that theglass of ginger ale was empty without me knowing I had been drinking.

My mouth was suddenly mine again.

‘Hey, Sentient, you did betterthis time.”

‘I have observed you in actionlonger.’

I weakly set the glass down. 

“That tasted good. Never had it before. Come to think of it, I haven’t had asteak either. Does it taste as good as everyone says?”

The President pounded me on theright shoulder. 

"You’ll find out for yourself. I will have the kitchen prepareit now.”

I shook my head. 

“I have to get back to my Spartans. It wouldn’t be right for me to eat steak when they are hungryin that dark tunnel within those cliffs.”

He fixed me with that eagle stareof his. “What was that request you brought up earlier?”

“Have you heard of Merrill’sMarauders?”

“I believe so.”

“They are a deep pene….”

I looked at the women all around meand could feel the blush burning my cheeks.

The President laughed thatbooming laugh of his.

“You have no problem in offendingmy wife, but you blush at perhaps making a remark in front of these ladies thatcould be misconstrued and offend them. You amaze me, lad.”

He shook his head. 

“Yes, son. Ican see your thinking on this. I will contact General Marshall and have himcommission your Spartan 300 as ….”

He smiled wide at the assembledladies, 

“A deep penetration unit for Overlord. Heaven knows the Nazis deserveto be f….”

Missy exclaimed, “Sir!”

He chuckled like a happy wolf.“Harry, help me up and let me see if I can walk behind my desk.”

I held my breath. But though hewalked a bit wobbly, he made it back to his desk as the Major General glared atme.

I got up just as wobbly. “I haveto get back to my Spartans, sir.”

Curtis ran up to me, wrapping hisarms around me. “Do you have to go?”

I started to tousle his hair,then remembered how it made young men feel as if they were thought of as boysstill.

“The mule is still alive, so,flog him another mile. I have monsters to slay and maidens to save.”

Sentient had me fade from sight. 

But I could still them though they, too, were fading from before my eyes.

I saw Curtis stumble without my body to support him. He looked around for me,his face falling.

He looked towards Missy. “W-Willhe come back?”

The President said, 

“There areheroes, Curtis, then, there are legends. Heroes get remembered, but legendsnever die.”

 

HOPE, WRITING, AND BLOOD Happy 12th IWSG!

 

Twelve years!

I've been here since nearly the beginning. 

So much has changed in the world, in the world of writing, in the lives of my fellow writers.

It seems like the world I knew has turned on its axis.

 On its ear.

How about you?

I see my earlier selves asdifferent people, acquaintances I have outgrown. I wonder how I could everhave been some of them.

I still deliver rare blood.

After a year and a half stalldue to 4 hurricanesand a massive heart attack, I am back to writing.

I've lost blog friends through death

Ann Best

Jeremy Hawkins

Some by the natural attrition of bloggers walking away from blogging.

VR Barkowski

Inger Wiltz

D G Hudson
Fortunately, all of us still have the founder of IWSG.
Alex Cavanaugh https://www.alexjcavanaugh.com/

The more time passes in yourlife, I think the greater you understand perspective. 

Time flies over us, but leavesits shadow behind.

The clock is ticking,the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilitiesdecreasing, regrets mounting.

What has IWSG brought into your life?

Let me know.
I really would like to hear from you.

WHEN THE MONSTER IS YOU

 

The formidable Eleanor Roosevelt clashes with the officer to whom she feels superior, Major Richard Blaine.

WHEN THE MONSTER IS YOU

“Stand up for what is rightregardless of who is committing the wrong, even if it means you are standingalone.

All through the ages, one lonevoice of courage was the hinge which opened the door to a brighter path thatnever would have been walked had it not spoken up.”

 - Richard Blaine

 

I turned to face the indomitableEleanor Roosevelt.

As sometimes happened with myquirky mind, I saw the image of her in a bathing suit (modest, of course)diving into her own reflection in the pool of public acclaim, becoming “sealed”in that reflection of adoration, rising from the pool, wearing that “seal” everafter.

Louise murmured, “Major, yousuddenly look so sad.”

“Louise, be quiet,” snappedEleanor.

Curtis gulped, “Now, Major, youlook mad.”

She turned to me, and again mymind bled the image of a disapproving Queen Victoria over her.

 “You, sir, are covered in grime and dirt. Howdare you bring it here to an invalid like my husband?”

I gave her my best wolf smile,telling what little was left of my better self that murdering the First Lady infront of the President was probably poor form.

“I just came from within thecliffs bordering Omaha Beach. Alas, there were no showers available.”

She waved a dismissive hand.

”Oh, I see that Spartan Helmet,Major Blaine. I, unlike my mystery loving husband, do not believe for aninstant all the lurid tales spun of you in that doctored dossier.”

I winked at Curtis, gesturing tofirst, Eleanor, then to the Major General, and said, 

“See? I now have my ownGreek Chorus.”

The President tried and failed tohide his grin.

She wheeled on him. “Of course,you approve of his insubordination.”

Curtis started to speak, but shecut him off. “Buzzie, you are here to be seen AND not heard.”

I said low in a tone thatsuddenly scared even me, for I knew of what I was capable when I fully lost mytemper.

“He prefers to be called ‘Curtis’now that he is a Spartan.”

Louise tried to defuse whatobviously she saw in my eyes. “Eleanor, the young boy has the right to choose….”

Eleanor snapped, “And you, mydear, are here at my deference ever since that unforgivable broach of etiquetteon your part.”

I lost my temper.

 “Of setting thedamned table when she was supposed to know you wanted to be in charge?”

Eleanor stormed right up to me,her nose arching up as if to reach mine. “You, sir, do not take that tone to meor use such coarse ….”

A huge roar of thunder rumbledloud so close overhead it sounded as if it were inside the White House. ButI’ll give the First Lady this: she had sand.

“Oh, I know what General Eisenhowercalls you: Spawn of Satan.”

I shook my head. “No, ma’am, Iplay for the Other Team.”

Her face became a living smirk.“Then, I have nothing to fear, do I?”

A blast of lightning struck soclose, the mahogany floor shuddered beneath my boots, and I smiled with all thewolf exposed.

“But I never said I played by therules.”

Sentient overstepped as usual asshe took possession of my left hand, sweeping it up and over in an intricateswirl.

Eleanor backed up a step.

The ladies squeaked; Curtisyelped; and the men swore.

A misty image billowed and filledthe center of the room. I saw it out of the corner of my left eye. I did notturn to view it full on.

I had lived it once.

I needed no encore presentationof the nightmare. I didn’t need it when asleep, but then, I had no control ofwhat I saw.

I still felt the iron fingers ofthe four boys holding me over Headmaster Stern’s desk. Still felt the stingingagony of the bamboo cane as it splintered across my back over and over and overand over and over.

“Scream, damn you, Blaine!Scream!”

Louise whimpered, “Oh make itstop, Major. Make it stop.”

Missy husked, “He is not doingit. Are you, Major?”

Out of the corner of my eye, Isaw the blood begin to splatter and fly through the air.

“Scream, damn you!”

Dorothy gulped wetly, “I-I thinkI’m going to be sick.”

Curtis ran up to me and tugged onmy left arm. “Please. Major. Make it go away.”

I flicked tears filled eyes tohis own. “I’m not doing it, son. But for you, I will ask Sentient.”

No sooner had I said that thanthe image flickered away to slither and crawl into the shadows to eagerly waitfor my nightmares later that night.

I blinked back the tears. I don’tknow who I spoke to just then. “I don’t intimidate worth a damn. I never screamed.”

I turned to Eleanor.

“First Lady, these friends ofyour husband gather here nightly to try and give him a half hour of laughter so asto strengthen what hold on his sanity he has left.”

I drew in a deep breath.

“You disapprove of the drinkingand the slurred laughter because of your family’s struggle with alcoholism.”

I sighed with old hurts, deaddreams, lost love.

 “Your husband has more on him than any one man should haveto bear.”

My eyes flicked to where thatnightmare image lived for no one but myself.

“But, ma’am, you know this lifedoesn’t care a whit for should’s. They just squat on our shoulders likeSinbad’s Old Man of the Sea, refusing to let us go our own way … until we throwthem off.”

I walked slowly up to her as sheedged to the back of the door and could go no further.

“You beg off these nights, sayingyou have too many important things to do to attend.”

I shivered with coiled muscleswanting to do things I refused to let them.

“So … ma’am … ma’am … please …please find those other things to do. Now. Please.”

Eleanor Roosevelt left withoutanother word.

"The truth is, we all face hardships of some kind, and younever know the struggles a person is going through. Behind every smile, there'sa story of a personal struggle." 

- 

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

"Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by theopposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintainedthe struggle against overwhelming odds."

- Helen Keller

ATOMS WITH AWARENESS

 

Once again, Major Richard Blaine finds himself forced to beard the mighty in their center of power.

ATOMS WITH AWARENESS

“Without reflection, we goblindly on our way, creating more unintended consequences, and failing toachieve anything useful.”

– Marcus Aurelius

 

After my question, there was a long moment ofsilence from Sentient, the alien entity who shared my consciousness, 

and then, as she so often did, sheanswered incomprehensibly:

‘This life of yours which you areliving is not merely a piece of the entire universe, but it is, in a certainsense, the whole of it. Yet, sometimes it is hard even for me to remember thatyou humans are merely atoms with consciousness, capable of music and of murder.’

‘I repeat: what have you done?’

‘What I said I would do: healthat tribal chieftain.’

‘How?’

“Have you not been payingattention? Repeatedly, I have told you how your body has been altered, itsbiochemistry enhanced, your very atomic structure bolstered and reinforced.’

‘And?’

Her sigh breezed through thecorridors of my mind like a misunderstood ghost . 

‘And your saliva isno longer sterile nor chemically neutral. Your spit acted as a catalyst totrigger a healing cascade within that tribal chieftain’s body.’

‘He’s healed?’

‘Not immediately, of course. But withinweeks, his legs, his heart, his lungs will begin to reassert themselves. Pity thepoor maidens to whom he becomes attracted.’

‘Pity his poor wife, you mean.”

“No. That one has brought most ofher grief onto herself by enlarging the normal isolation of a Gilded Agechildhood and minimizing her reasonably required duties as a mate and mother.’

I quipped an echo Harry Hopkins’ earlier comment.‘But do you like her?’

The President’s personal physician,HowardBruenn, jumped up and glared at me. “What did you do to him, Major?”

“Nothing, doctor,” 

wanly smiledthe President, showing the patience, fortitude, and humility that he had slowlylearned over his long years trying to recover from the polio that was not poliobut was really Guillain-Barré syndrome.

Dr. Bruenn produced a stethoscope likea medical Houdini and began listening to the President’s heart while Roosevelt’ssecond physician, Dr. Draper took his pulse.

Buzzie, his pale young face mostly wideeyes, asked me, “Is Grandfather going to be all right, Major Blaine?”

I nodded. “Yes, he is.”

The Major General snapped, “Youcan’t make promises like that, soldier!”

I winked at Buzzie. “I do it allthe time, and I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

He bobbed his head in anenthusiastic “Yes.”

I dug into my left blouse pocketand drew out a glowing Spartan Helmet pin. “As long as this glows, you will knowwe of the Spartan 3oo still live.”

“Another promise you cannot possiblymake true,” said the Major General.

I wrinkled my nose at the boy. “I’mbeginning to think he doesn’t like me, Curtis.”

I was pleased how the boy’s chestswelled when I called him by his given name. I had guessed correctly.

Called nicknames by adults often make the young feel devalued, not worthy of respect ... inferior.

Roosevelt laughed along with theboy. I pulled a folded piece of heavy bond paper out of the same pocket and slipped it into Curtis’sleft jacket pocket.

“Here is the address of the firstyoung man I gave this Spartan Helmet pin to.  He lost his father at Dunkirk. I think hewould appreciate you as a pen pal. His mother and he were mighty thin when I firstsaw them. The mother more than her son, Richard Widmark.”

Curtis frowned. “Why was that?”

Louise sighed, “She was givingmost of her food to her son, wasn’t she, Major?”

“Yes, ma’am. But no longer. I gaveher a leather bag that never runs out of silver dollars that were minted ….”

“On the year of Major Blaine’sbirth,” finished the President.

I looked shocked, and PresidentRoosevelt gave an almost back-to-normal chuckle. “Major, I read Agent Cloverfield’sdossier on you every night.”

“Why every night, sir?”

“I have quite a fondness formysteries as you might know, and your dossier is the most puzzling mystery, I haveever stumbled upon, for it keeps changing night after night.”

Curtis swallowed hard. “I-Itdoes?”

Roosevelt’s chuckle was normal. “Itdoes … Curtis. I can hardly wait to read the new section tonight.”

Fala padded to me, and I felt a weightlift from my chest as I petted him. I was going to get a dog if I survived thisdamn war. 

I turned to the boy, no, young man.

“A dog teaches a boy fidelity,perseverance,” I winked at the President, “and to turn around three timesbefore lying down."

He rumbled, “You, sir, are incorrigible.”

“That was one of the kinder wordsHelen Mayfair had for me, all right.”

His face saddened. “I would nothave sent those F.B.I. agents to her had I known she was still grieving foryour apparent death.”

“It’s done and over, sir.”

His eyes grew hard.

“From what I have read in your dossier,I would not have been so lenient to General Eisenhower as were you had ourpositions been reversed.”

“I always thought of him as KingSaul to my David, sir.”

“Do not lay hands of violence onGod’s Anointed, is that it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are a hero, Major,”murmured Louise.

“No, ma’am. But, just so youknow, Sentient has healed your husband of cancer.”

“Why would she do that?”

Roosevelt looked at me oddly. “Becausehe asked it of her, Louise.”

Curtis cleared his throat. “Ah,what were your orders for Spartan Widmark?”

“That he obeys his mother and standwatch over her.”

“That’s it?”

“Trust me: in bombed out London that’senough.”

“A-And what are my orders?”

I smiled. “That you obey your motherand stand guard over your grandfather and keep him safe from Cerberus.”

“Who?”

I smiled, “Your grandmother.”

Roosevelt almost choked on hislaughter and managed  to get out,

“The hound of Hades, a three-headeddog guarding the gates of the Underworld to prevent the dead from leaving.”

His eyes were wet with tears oflaughter. “You, sir, are quite the character.”

I shrugged. “St. Marok’seither built character in you or made you one.”

I smiled at Curtis. “I guess youknow what it made me.”

Roosevelt gasped through hislaughter, 

“And once or thrice this past week, Curtis, your grandmother has more than earned that particular sobriquet.”

Photograph by Oscar Jordan.August 1932

The entry door swished open. Ilooked up. I had never before seen a door swished open. But the doughty EleanorRoosevelt had managed it.

With the two doctors still at hisfeet, the President looked up and beamed a beatific smile.

“We were just talking about you, mydear.”

UNINVITED TO THE CHILDREN’S HOUR

 

"Doctor President Roosevelt's martini" demands Sentient, the ancient alien entity. What has Major Richard Blaine gotten himself into? 

UNINVITED TO THE CHILDREN’S HOUR

“A tough lesson in life that onehas to learn early on is that not everybody wishes you well.”

– Julius Caesar

 

I have a taste for solitude, andsilence, and for what Plotinus called “the flight of the alone to the Alone.” 

Ihave a hunger for the silent horizon of inner contemplation.

A yearning for the lightless edgewhere the slopes of knowledge dwindle, and love for its own sake, lacking anobject, begins.

Where you walk light as a handfulof Aurora borealis.

Unfortunately, as Major of theSpartan 300, I had to force myself to command. And part of being a goodcommander was knowing just how much of the truth to tell your men.

I realized that I had shared toomuch truth with my men just then when Amos shook his head. 

“You know, Rick, mytime with you has been so wild and bizarre, I just don’t know when you’rejoking.”

“And after that, I intend to tossdown a few glasses of vodka with Stalin,” I said.

Agent Cloverfield laughed, “Now,I know you’re telling the truth.”

“All right, gentlemen and lady,nap time.”

I caught Nurse Reynolds eyeing mesuspiciously as if not buying that I had been joking about President Roosevelt.

Still, she lithely curled aroundher backpack and closed those magnetic eyes. I noticed she’d chosen Lt. Steinfor a march mate. 

It was a prudent choice: not only was he a rabbi, but he wasdeeply in love with his wife, Rose.

Theo, who would have ratherchosen Nurse Reynolds, prudently and jealously chose “Doc” Tennyson who wasresponsible for his love being here in the first place.

Cloverfield had chosen Dickens.At least, he was erudite enough to understand the university professor.

The others had chosen friends:

Reese with Porkins, Johnny Knightwith “Kit” Carson, Evans with Taylor, Wilson with Stevens, Floyd with Mercer,Vincent with Lincoln (who insisted on Micheal never Mike, though he wouldanswer to “Link.”)

Dimitri and Kent weren’t friends,but one had the saved the other so many times in Sicily that they were family …“distant, aloof cousins family” but there for each other when the chips weredown.

I could feel Nurse Reynolds’ eyeson me through cracked lids.

‘No matter. In moments, she willslip into a coma with the others.’

‘What?’

‘I am quite impressed with yourperformance just now. They believe it was König, not I, who lined the walls ofthis tunnel with his devices.’

‘But ….”

“But me no buts, my champion. Our“Dance Card” as you might say is quite full. We must be off on our firstmetaphysical entanglement.’

As quick as a revolving door takesyou from inside to outside and without the accompanying dizziness, 

I foundmyself in a shadowed hallway, standing upon a lush red carpet, facing a well-waxedmahogany door.

‘The second story of the WhiteHouse. Listen to that deep laughter beyond that door which has fooled naïve maidensand jaded journalists who should have known better than to be seduced by it.’

‘Not a fan, huh?’

‘He is but another tribal chieftainof a long line of them which I have been forced to observe.’

Sentient sighed in my mind.

‘This one and his mate are thelast vestiges of the extinct Gilded Age where sheltered wealth, good manners, eloquence,and hypocrisy reigned. Sadly, all that is left of that age is the hypocrisy.’

‘No more sheltered wealth?”

“Oh, still naïve, are we? Wealthof that magnitude will always be sheltered.’

‘Good to be King, huh?’

‘Not if you are half-paralyzed …which we are here to correct.’

‘What?’

‘Besides, his paralysis is a fourthpsychosomatic, born of his guilt over his affair with Lucile Mercer and the attendanttailspin of depression to which his mate suffered because of it. The twain ofthem could benefit from decades of therapy.’

‘How am I supposed to three-fourthsheal the President?’

‘Just surreptitiously take a sipof the martini he is currently swilling, and I will take of the rest.’

‘Sure. I’ll just walk in thereand ….”

‘What a splendid idea. First, I willhave you walk through the door and “get the lay of the land” asyour Cloverfield puts it.’

Like a Zoom lens of a camera, I spedthrough time and space to find myself unnoticed smack in the midst of a laughinggroup of adults, one boy, and one Scottish terrier.

Well, the Scottish Terriernoticed me. But who pays attention to dogs?

Sentient gave me a rundown of thesituation:

‘The tribal chieftain alwayschanges his suit for the evening, putting on a clean shirt and a different tie.Then he is wheeled into the handsome oval study that is conveniently locatedright next door to his bedroom.’

An ill-looking man whom Sentient informedme was Louis Howe, Roosevelt’s personal secretary. In fact, that was hisofficial title.

To this day I can smell the SweetCaporal cigarettes he was smoking. They were pungent. The ashes from hiscigarettes fell down the front of his shirt.

Sitting opposite Roosevelt’s desk,Louis Howe laughed, “Want to hear what the Chicago Tribune says about yourlatest radio speech?”

Roosevelt boomed a hearty laugh. “Thatrag? The only thing it is good for is the mulch Eleanor makes of it for herroses.”

“It quotes William RandolphHearst who said ….”

“That man? He has the intelligenceof a hillbilly evangelist, the courage of a rat, the fairness of aprohibitionist skirt chaser, the education of a high school janitor, and thehonor of an ambulance chasing lawyer.”

A thinner, more ill-looking manSentient identified as Harry Hopkins snorted, “But do you like him, Franklin?”

To which the group gatheredaround the President’s desk all laughed.

I liked the man at first sight. Hisslanted but engaging smile made it seem as if he was on the edge of laughter orabout to make a sardonic comment.

Slouched, leaning forward, aslightly cynical expression on his face and a cigarette dangling from thecorner of his mouth—

‘That one is dying of cancer.’

‘‘Can I heal him, too?’

‘If you must, sentimentalist. Butfirst, drink from the President’s glass and arrange that he drinks from itafterwards.’

I inwardly groaned. ‘Surething. Piece of cake … Devil’s Food cake … which I have never had, by the way.

‘Duly noted.’

The elegant woman in the satin, sleekdress sitting next to him … Louise “Louie” Gill Macy … was his new wife. Shelaughed gaily and said,

 “Louis, you never read that paper. How do youknow what it said?”

Louis Howe waved a lazy hand ather.

“It was on the radio. You knowthis city. The radio stations here have such fun requests: ‘This is forBetty … I’m sorry I stabbed you’.”

Amidst new peals of laughter,Louise groaned, “Oh, Louis, you are too much.”

“What can I say?” he quipped, “I’min the prime of my senility.”

A somber looking man with a disapprovingwoman hanging on his arm … Judge Samuel Rosenman, the President’s chief speechwriter Sentient told me … huffed,

“As with most of the senators inthis city. There ought to be one day – just one day, mind you, when it is openseason on those scoundrels.”

Dorothy, the judge’s wife, slappedthe arm she was draped upon. “Samuel!”

A no nonsense woman … Sentientinformed me she was Roosevelt’s secretary, Missy LeHand, who coined the title“the Boss” for her employer.

Having worked for FDR since hiscampaign for the vice presidency in 1920, and having lived as part of thehousehold after Roosevelt contracted polio, she had a special place at thecocktail hour.

Missy chided the man’s wife. “Dorothy,you are much too hard on poor Samuel.”

Roosevelt looked as if he wantedto take the spotlight off his friend, Samuel. He lifted his martini glass high.

“To the gallant lads even now stormingNormandy beaches!”

Sentient knew a cue when sheheard it. The room’s clarity intensified around me as if I were tightening thefocus of a camera lens.

Dorothy shrieked, “Oh my goodLord!”

Glasses thudded to the richcarpet. I turned to Louise who had managed to keep her martini glass in herfingers.

“Sorry, ma’am. It is impolite tokeep your hat on in the presence of ladies. So ….”

I took off my Spartan helmet as Louisegasped, “Has anyone told you that you are the spitting image of Tyrone Power?”

Dorothy shook her head. “What areyou saying. He looks like Ronald Coleman.”

Missy frowned. “Are you all blind?He looks just like Gary Cooper.”

Roosevelt grunted,

 “I read it in thatMI6 report on you, Major Blaine. But I didn’t believe it. Your face looks differentto different people.”

He frowned at me. “What do youmake of it, Major?”

“I believe it is a metaphor fromthe Father teaching me that none of us are seen as we truly are.”

Roosevelt’s military aide, MajorGeneral Edwin Watson, grunted, “The Father is it? Being an orphan, you don’t knowyours, do you? So that makes you ….”

Missy snapped, “That is enough, sir!”

I flicked eyes to the suddenlypale twelve-year-old boy whom Sentient told me was called “Buzzie” and smiled, 

“WhatI am is an accident of birth, General. But you, sir, are ….”

Missy glared at me, and Ifinished “… a self-made man.”

Roosevelt boomed in delightedlaughter. 

“Bravo, Major. Bravo! You defended yourself while protecting aninnocent at the same time.”

Louise said, “Isn’t that whatheroes do, Mr. President?”

“I’m no hero, ma’am.”

The Scottish terrier came outfrom behind the desk and sniffed at my right hand.

The President frowned, “I gaveyou a Silver Star, young man, because I was told you had lost your hands inbattle.”

“Oh, I have hands like a bald manwith a toupee has hair.”

“But the fingers move?” murmuredMissy.

“I got these 413 years in a terriblefuture where the Nazis won because I wasn’t here to act as a needed catalyst.”

The Major-General growled, “I don’tbelieve you.”

I winked at Buzzie. “Me and deadowls don’t give a hoot.”

The boy and Roosevelt both laughedout loud.

I bent down and petted the dog andwhispered, “Fala, Murray the Outlaw of Falahill.”

My eyes welled with tears.

“I always wanted a dog, Mr.President. But St. Marok’s Orphanage didn’t allow orphans to own pets. And evenif Headmaster Sterns had allowed me to have a dog, it would have just been sohe could kill it in front of me to see the look on my face.”

Louise gasped, “What kind oforphanage was this?”

I smiled of salt. “The kind where….”

I looked to Buzzie. “Put yourfingers in your ears … and I will give you a gift that only one other boy has.”

“P-Promise?”

I nodded solemnly. “Promise.”

He quickly plugged his ears asthe President smiled sadly. “That bad, son?”

“Yes, sir. Headmaster Stearnssupported the orphanage and his … habits by selling the attractive girls and handsomeboys to the surrounding houses of … prostitution.”

Louise shook her head. “No!”

“New Orleans is the most corruptcity in Louisiana, maybe even the whole country.”

Buzzie couldn’t take it anylonger, and he took out his fingers from his ears. “Can I?”

I nodded “yes” as theMajor-General gruffed, “I don’t believe you.”

I winked at Buzzie. “Jimmy crack corn,and I don’t care.”

Buzzie laughed, but this timeRoosevelt did not.

The general huffed, “Soldier, youwere not invited here!”

“That’s exactly what the Germansscreamed at me and my Spartans when we charged upon Omaha Beach. Can youbelieve it? They actually shot at us.”

The President scowled, “So wehave secured that beach?”

“Not so you’d notice, Mr.President. Tomorrow afternoon, General Bradley would have recommended we calloff the invasion as Omaha was impossible to secure. It was pretty much a deathtrap.”

I took the glass from the President’slimp fingers and held it high.

“To the doomed second charge ofthe Light Brigade and the thousands of widows, orphans, and weeping mothers itcreated."

I took a sip and almost spit itout. “Oh, merde! You drink this for the taste?”

The President smiled this time. “Itis an acquired taste.”

“It would take me a decade toacquire the taste, sir!”

“I don’t recall it tasted that bad.”

He frowned, took a sip, and smiledwide. “Why, this tastes brilliant!”

The President actually downed therest of the martini in one gulp.

Missy exclaimed, “Do not!”

He smiled. “I promise not to makethis a habit … but, oh, my! The room is spinning.”

‘Oh, Sentient, what have you donenow?’

MARCH OF PERSERVERANCE

 

With the collapse of the cliff tunnel behind them, Major Blaine and his Spartan 300 face asphyxiation. 

It is not the worst way to die, but the Spartans would rather skip it, thank you very much.

MARCH OF PERSERVERANCE

“If all difficulties were knownat the outset of a long journey, most of us would never start out at all.”

 - Ulysses

 

Of course, Stew Taylor hadanother question. “Ah, Major, are we going to run out of oxygen?”

“Doc” Tennyson chuckled,

“Asphyxiation is not so bad a wayto die. Shortness of breath, quick breathing to get the oxygen that isn’t there,dizziness, and then loss of consciousness. As dying goes: a piece of cake.”

Reese snorted, “Doc, your bedsidemanner stinks.”

“Wh-What he said,” gulpedPorkins.

Sgt. Savalas snapped, “None of usis suffocating to death.”

‘Are we?’ Imind-asked Sentient.

No answer. Long heartbeats ofsilence. Merde. We were on our own it seemed. Why was I not surprised?

Lt. Stein, sounding worried,asked, “Are we, Rick?”

“Sentient didn’t lead us here todie. We march until we get to the end of this tunnel.”

Floyd asked, “Is that aguarantee, Major?”

Sgt. Savalas huffed, “You knowbetter than to ask for guarantees during a battle. The only guarantee in war isdeath.”

“How long will the march … OW!”yelped Taylor.

Eric Evans growled, “So help me,you ask one more dumb question, and you won’t have to worry about suffocating.I’ll strangle you myself.”

“Here, here,” laughed JohnnyKnight.

“And I’ll sell the tickets forthe show,” added “Kit” Carson.

Friedmanleaned in close to me and whispered, “This is the oddest unit I have evermarched with. You are not the typical officer to allow this bickering.”

Lt.  Stein, directly behind me, whispered, “Rickisn’t a typical anything. But he got all of us back alive from Sicily.”

I didn’t say anything to that.There was nothing to say. It was Sentient who had gotten them and me homealive. And Sentient was elsewhere for the moment.

But I had gotten myself throughSt. Marok’s alive by myself. I would just have to do it again … and bring theSpartans alive with me.

And my next miracle would beestablishing world peace.

To face the question of whatmakes us who we are with courage, lucidity, and fulness of feeling is to face,with all the restlessness and helplessness this stirs in our meaning-hungrysoul, the elemental fact that in giving us free will, the Father couldn’t staytrue to His Word and still send plays in from the sidelines.

For all intents and purposes, wewere in the scrimmage of life alone … mostly.

But I wasn’t above praying for amiracle right about then.

Yet, prayer was a dangerousendeavor.

When you pray, your soul goes outto the utmost rim of life … thought … existence. Who knew if your soul wouldmake it back or stay within the endless wonders of the Gateless Realm?

Amos whispered at my back. “Theseshadows are getting denser. Gehenna, you never feel safe when you have tonavigate shadows which are completely directionless.”

On nautical charts you see thesymbol for shoals and beside it the letters “P.D.” The initials stand for“Position Doubtful.”

In my mind, I placed “P.D.”beside all of us on this march into darkness.

As always, when shadows intensifyin my life, I thought of Mr. Morton.

Nobody can fall so low unless hehas a great depth. That depth corresponded to a former height, his utterdarkness to a lost light.

And as always when I thought ofMr. Morton, things got worse.

It felt as if I walked into aninvisible wall of gelatin. I rocked back on my heels and stumbled, regaining mybalance with an effort.

André hissed low, “What is this?”

I whispered back, “I only looklike I know everything, mister.”

Apparently, it was more of a wavethan a wall as cries of alarm and surprise swept down along the ranks of mySpartans.

Taylor’s voice was muffled by ahand as Evans snapped, “Don’t you dare! If the Major knows what this is, I’msure he’s about to explain. Right, Major? Right?”

Sentient thankfully chose thatmoment to slide back into my mind, bringing answers I knew would not lightenthe hearts of anyone … me included.

I was right.

Merde. How was I going to explainthis without lying to them?

I gave them the bad news first asI, myself, always wanted to hear about surprises.

“It’s going to get worse.”

There was an explosion ofprotests that was cut short by Sgt. Savalas’s curt, “Quiet! Let the Majorfinish.”

I continued trying to sound likethe officer I wasn’t, “This is war, gentlemen. Accept the fact that nothing iscertain, and no hour is guaranteed.”

I drew a deep breath, wonderinghow politicians weaved a basket of truth out of the unpleasant threads dumpedinto their laps.

Maybe they didn’t, but I wouldtry.

“In a world filled with chaos,uncertainty, and change, we must cultivate the ability to be adaptable,resilient, and in harmony with the ever-changing currents of life.”

“Just spit out the bad news,Major,” groaned Reese. “We’re big boys. We can take it.”

I hoped so and said, “There was aNazi Wunderkind scientist, Reinhardt .”

“Was?” quavered Taylor whogrunted as Evans popped him on the side of the head.

“Yes, was. As the quaint villageof Oradour-sur-Glane is past tense. Both it and he are victims of his hubrisand experimenting in areas even demons are intelligent enough not to touch.”

“A francba,” muttered André.

“One among other things König wantedto do was alter the human body so as to make Hitler’s Master Race a reality.”

“Doc” Tennyson frowned, “Surely,he did not do it?”

“He came close, but he was impatientand eager to prove his theories true to the older, established scientists ofthe SS.”

I sighed, “Too eager. He cut cornersin logic and advanced mathematics, rushing ahead when a cooler, more sane headwould have run double-checks.”

Lt. Stein narrowed his eyes. “Whatdoes this have to do with this invisible force pushing back against us?”

“Not a force … but anotherdimension all together, generated by the circuitry, devices, and mechanisms – allof König’s design – lining the walls of this tunnel. Fortunately, Sentient has alignedthem properly.”

The Spartans all exploded incries of alarm. Not all. Nurse Reynolds remained icy calm as if she suspectedwhat I would say all along.

She pulled off her diminutiveSpartan helmet in a fluid jerk and snapped at the immobile men around her.

“Did you not hear the machineryhas been fixed? Would you show some measure of composure? Theo has told me howrepeatedly Major Blaine has led you out of one death trap after another inSicily.”

She stamped her tiny boot. “Doyou think he left his ingenuity and cleverness back there across the ocean? Doyou?”

She turned to me royally like aSpartan Queen. “What do you suggest we do, Major?”

“You follow me as we marchstraight ahead, enduring the pain, lightheadedness, and discomfort until you canbear it no more. Then, take off your packs, use them as pillows and sleep untilI awaken you.”

André said, “I have no pack.”

“You’ll use mine.”

Theo eyed me narrowly. “What willyou be doing all that time, Rick?”

“I’ll be standing watch. Rememberwe are deep in enemy territory.”

Theo said, “We’ll take turns.”

I shook my head.

“Sentient has … fortified me whenshe gave me these artificial hands. By the time, all of you have drainedyourselves, I will still be able to stand guard while none of you will be in theshape to do so.”

They grumbled, but I hushed them.Actually, I think it was Nurse Reynolds' glare that did it.

And so began our long trek intohell.

My eyes watered; my legstrembled, and my breath was a fire in my lungs as the very shadows seemed to becooking me alive.

On and on and on our feet trudged.

My hands began to feel as if I haddipped them into bubbling lava.

‘Sentient, what is wrong withthem?’

‘Within your hands and fingersare devices, mechanisms, and components which can monitor fluctuations in ionicactivity, magnetic fields, and biometric flux.’

Taylor groaned, “Major, I can’tgo no more.”

I heard the smack of fleshagainst flesh as Theo rasped, “You hear a sound out of Rachel? Do you?”

Rachel snapped, “Spartans youdare to call yourselves? Look at your Major’s hands. They are trembling withagony.”

She rushed to my side. “Come,Richard. Lean on me. Let me do what your Helen would do for you. It’s what shewould want me to do. You know that.”

I looked down at her and feltshame. Perspiration beaded like liquid pain and exhaustion under her hollow eyes andupper lip.

She was the true Spartan amongus.

I wished Helen might somehow getto know her … maybe even become friends with her. Helen had been so alone inNew Orleans.

I also desperately wished to letRachel support me if only for a minute, but I merely lightly kissed the top ofher Spartan helmet and stepped away on legs I no longer felt.

“I also know that if I did that Helenwould give me a good swift kick in the … rump when next we met.”

I staggered away from her.

“Gentlemen, it is time we actlike gentlemen and let our valiant nurse rest. And you might as well take theload off your tired feet yourselves.”

Rachel drew herself up in herbest Head Nurse outrage. “You can barely stand. What kind of watch will yougive your men?”

I stiffened as Sentient murmuredto my mind, and I sighed, “My Dark Passenger agrees with you. So, I am called elsewhere.”

Theo and Amos both turned to me, alarm plain on their exhausted faces.

Theo managed to get out. “You’renot dying on us, are you?”

“No. Ah, though I might just getshot where Sentient is sending me.”

Cloverfield frowned, “And wherewould that be?”

“To doctor President Roosevelt’smartini.”