Marker of Faith

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 32

John trudged down one of the paths through the cemetery, not paying particular attention to his surroundings. His mind whirred with questions and he was angry; pissed off at the world in general, his situation, even the fact that he'd lost control of his own life. Even though there weren't any lights on, the moon's soft glow illuminated enough of the path for John to avoid pitfalls; pot holes or loose stones that could trick his feet and send him tumbling into the bordering hedgerow as he stomped along, muttering wildly to himself.

John followed the path into a clearing, an area set aside for a freshly dug grave with dirt mounded next to the gaping hole. Fatigue and melancholy washed over him, and dropping to his knees on the grass next to a gravestone, John sobbed deeply. The smell of the fresh dirt, earthy and clean, tickled his nose. Though it marked a recent death, the scent carried the promise of new life. Something would grow there, a flower or green, healthy grass nourished by death below. Silvery moonlight hung on the tombstones like hoarfrost, and John looked around at the other graves, at the passage of time marked in stone tablets, suddenly feeling insignificant. He shuddered as a cloud drifted in front of the moon, snatching away the light and casting the monuments in shadow.

Sitting down hard on his butt, John wiped away a train of snot dangling from his nose. His sobs died down, and John just sat there, hiccups warring with his ragged breaths. He looked at the freshly dug and unmarked grave with his mind reeling about Dave. Who was taking care of the burial? Dave didn't have any family, and John was preoccupied with the shadow business now.

"I'm letting you down, buddy," John said miserably. "You're all alone."

With a sad realization, it hit him: they all were alone. Dave, John and Roddy had all made their work their lives...no time for a family. What about Rattle? The old man was also alone. His friend, Lem, was now a puddle of possessed shadow goo on a motel room floor. Did Rattle once have a life and a family? Minerva's friend at the shop was dead, too. Another victim of the Old Ones. Sorrow and regret knifed through John and he howled. The lament echoed through the deserted cemetery, carried on the warm night breeze. The moon reappeared, bathing John in its gossamer light, and he noticed he was sitting in someone's shadow.

With a yelp, he scooted backwards quickly, staring wide-eyed at the towering figure standing in front of him.

"Hello, John," Dave said.

John covered his mouth, stifling a sob trying to escape. He stared at his friend, little whimpers slipping out between his fingers, and rocked forward.

"It's all right, John...don't be afraid."

"Dave." John's sobs erupted and he pushed himself up, using a headstone for purchase. Dave glided over and leaned against the stone next to him.

"I'm...I'm so sorry," John stuttered, reaching out to touch Dave's shoulder. John's hand passed right through, and a chill painfully raced up his arm. John jerked his hand back.

"I don't have much left in me," Dave said sadly. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, brother. My body is just an empty suitcase. Don't matter anymore."

"Oh, Dave. This is so messed up." John wiped his face and slouched down to the ground. "I can't take much more."

"You've got to be strong. You have to lead them, Roddy and Rattle need you." Dave let a ghost of a smile cross his lips. "Hell, boy. The world needs you."

John laughed hollowly, staring at his best friend. "Damn it, Dave. Nothing like a little pressure. What did you get me into?"

"Your destiny."

"Bullshit. I'm losing my mind." John rubbed at his face. "Is this really happening?" he shouted at the moon. An icy chill on his arm made him look down, and Dave's shimmering hand was hovering above his forearm, the numbing cold seeping into his blood.

"John, all this is for real. You were chosen for this long before you were even born...never had a choice in the matter. It's what you are meant to be. Rattle and Roddy, too."

John cinched his eyes closed against Dave's words.

Dave smiled sadly at him. "You are like a brother to me." His voice trembled, a laugh like rustling leaves hanging at the end. "A skinny little white brother with chicken legs, but I love you, John, and I have faith in you. You can fight the Old Ones and win."

John whispered, "I can't believe you're dead."

"I'm okay, bro. I did what needed to be done. Now I'm moving on to greener pastures." Dave sounded wistful despite the sentiment.

"Listen to Minerva. She'll guide you, teach you about being a Guardian," He said sternly. "I know it's been hard, and it's gonna get a lot harder." Dave was starting to shimmer in and out of focus, his features blurring and becoming fuzzy.

"God damn it, Dave!" John yelled. "Don't leave me yet. I need answers!" John grabbed at his best friend's arm again, but only passed through the specter, the momentum carrying him through towards the ground. As John fell, Dave's form enveloped him, plunging him into an icy darkness. John hit the ground shivering, like he'd slipped into an ice bath, and slowly looked up to see Dave standing over him with moonlight shining through his friend's hazy form.

"I really can't come back again. This is it." Dave's voice and body were fading. "You've got to be strong, John. There are bad things coming." Dave took a running leap and dove into John's body. The living man tensed, expecting another freezing blast from Dave's touch, but instead felt a surge of adrenaline like a warm blanket over his body.

Dave's voice rang out in John's mind. "It's all that I have left."

A wave of pure power, of pulsing light, roared through John's body and set his mind on fire with knowledge. Ancient images and information were downloading rapidly to his brain, filling him up to the brink of madness. There was so much! All of the answers to the questions of the Light and the Old Ones settled into the folds of John's brain, tempering the fear and anger, and soothing his aching soul. The intensity held him in thrall, unable to move as the power kept rushing in to the point where he thought he might rupture, on the verge of inspiration; a super nova of consciousness.

This must be what a star feels like before it dies. The thought flitted through his brain just as the power ebbed, locking Dave's gifted information away for a later time, coiled and camouflaged behind other memories.

John lay there in a daze, reeling from the experience. He knew everything now and nothing at the same time. The knowledge would come when he needed it, John knew that somehow, but he still had to accept his destiny and come to terms with the fate laid out for him. His life wasn't his anymore, never really was according to the destiny speech Dave gave him, and the realization made John miserable; anger still simmered below the emotion. He looked up at the night sky, at the stars blinking light from eons ago, that's what I am now, and put a shaking hand to his chest where Dave made the final sacrifice: the last of his power given in love.

John drew in a deep lungful of the sweet night air and looked back over at the empty grave. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I hope I won't let you down."