Chosen
A Spiritual Battle of Epic Proportion
Written By
Edward R. Murphy
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
Chosen
A Spiritual Battle Of Epic Proportions
By Edward R. Murphy
All Rights Reserved.
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 Edward R. Murphy
v2.0
Cover Photo © 2011 JupiterImages Corporation. All rights reserved - used with permission.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Dedication:
Special thanks to my wife Michelle. You are my everything.
Chapter 1
He came in like the wind. Appeared in the shimmering heat waves off the burning Arizona sand. His bare feet sliding into it. The mid-day sun was scorching, but it was only warm on his bare skin. No clothes were draped over his thin frame. No hat sat atop his head to protect it. Yet, he walked with purpose. His dark blue eyes never wavered from his path.
In the distance, north east of the John the Baptist Mountains, he could see his destination. It was a small service station across the highway…
***
Inside the station was an Indian man named Reggie Ironhorse. He was a large man with golden brown skin. His 6’3 frame was packed with well-defined muscle. He was a photographer that had dreams and ambitions. One day he hoped to touch the masses with his pictures. Hopefully, in the process, he would gain fame and fortune. Maybe, the emptiness in his heart would be filled. Maybe, he would even feel comfortable in his own brown skin.
Reggie felt that his people appeared weak. He told everyone outside the Reservation that he was Apache. The Apache were cousins, but they were a tribe with a reputation for being strong and ruthless. He liked the idea of being looked at as a great warrior. Navajo was Reggie’s real heritage. And despite his perceived affliction, he lived in the southern border of the Navajo Reservation.
Once a month, in the summer, he liked to travel down past phoenix to the edge of the Sonoran desert and take pictures, usually toward Yuma and the Fortuna Foothills. If enough rain fell, the area would be beautiful and full of wildlife.
This time, he had traveled farther south into the Organ pipe National Monument. A friend had suggested he give the area a look. It had paid off. The photos he had taken were incredible. The scarred landscape and wildlife were a tribute to the wonderful creation of The Great Spirit. Both the artistic design of life and the balance between good and evil were in perfect order.
Reggie was almost distraught that the trip was over. There was a twinge of sadness at the reality of going home.
One last stop at this station for gas and a drink, and he would be forced to watch from the road, as it all faded into his familiar surroundings.
The man behind the counter was short, overweight, and white. His bald head had beads of sweat popping out in the failing air conditioner.
Reggie placed two bottles of water on the counter and laid a credit card down.
“I’ll be back in a minute, gonna get some gas,” he said.
The man behind the counter gave him a squint-eyed stare from small narrow eyes and nodded. He dabbed the sweat from his forehead with a stained hand towel.
Reggie walked back to his Jeep. It was hot, but it would get hotter. He wiped the sweat from his face with his large hand and pulled the gas nozzle out of its cradle.
His brown eyes peered out over the deserted highway. His free hand was up, blocking the sun. Reggie knew he was somewhere between why and Ajo on Highway 85.
As he gazed out across the sand, scrubs, and cacti, he noticed a figure moving in the heat waves. He eased his grip on the squeeze handle, returned the nozzle, and walked out to the edge of the road.
He shook his head and answered his own question out loud; “No way that’s a man.”
Yet while he watched with an unshakable stare, he realized it was indeed a man. The man was unclothed and appeared to be in no hurry to cross the scorching ground.
Reggie went back to his Jeep and pulled his sunglasses from the visor. He positioned them on his face and returned to his previous location, watching with amazement.
The man was closer now and almost to the edge of the road.
“Are you okay?” Reggie called out. There was no response.
When the man crossed the highway, Reggie noticed that he looked familiar, but he was sure that he had never seen him before.
The man was bleeding from all the scratches on his body, and his feet were torn up badly. He crossed the highway and walked right up to face Reggie, who was stunned beyond belief.
“Reggie,” the man spoke, “I will require some clothes.”
“You ain’t lyin’, man.” Reggie laughed. The guy must be high on peyote or something. A look of wonder broke over Reggie’s face. “wait, how did you know my name?” he asked.
“I will also require water and food, if I am to sustain this body long enough to help you,” the man added.
“Help me?” Reggie half laughed. “Listen, let’s get you inside, and you can cool off. we can try to put something on your cuts. You want me to call someone?”
The man ignored the question and started walking toward the station, his feet leaving crimson footprints on the concrete.
Reggie followed him, stopped at his Jeep, and snatched a bag from the back floorboard. He reached in and retrieved a first aid kit from the passenger seat. when he looked up, he saw that the man was almost to the building. Reggie jogged up ahead of him and opened the door.
As soon as the man behind the counter saw the unclothed man entering his store, he raised his hand and said, “No way. Get this guy out of here.”
Reggie said, “wait, he’s been lost in the desert. He’s hurt and needs water. I have clothes in my bag for him, and I’ll buy the water. Just give us a minute, and let the guy cool off.” A quick thought about the failing air conditioner and the luke warm water in the cooler flashed through his mind.
“I don’t give a crap,” the bald man behind the counter said. “Look, I’m not asking you to leave. I’m telling you.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a Remington twelve-gauge shotgun. The beads of sweat on his forehead turned into streams down his puffy face.
“Wait. wait,” Reggie pleaded. His hands were clutching the bag and the first aid kit, but he raised them in a submissive way. He was backing up, until he caught sight of the credit card lying close to the register. “Okay, we’re going. Just give me my card, and we’re gone.” His hands were coming down as he walked forward, closer to the bald man.
The unclothed man extended his hand toward the shotgun and said, “Henry, lower the gun.”
Instantly, Henry let the Remington drop to his side. The unclothed man spoke another word. “Peace.”
Henry turned around and walked to a chair in the corner of the room. He sat down, gun in hand, and stared into nothingness.
The unclothed man dropped his arm by his side and turned to Reggie, who was standing by the counter dumbfounded.
“Brother, I’ll have those clothes now, please,” the man said.
Reggie handed him the bag and the first aid kit.
“Listen.” Reggie examined the man and his thin frame. “The clothes and hiking boots will be somewhat big on you.” He glanced at the man’s bloody feet. They were leaving wet blood prints on the floor. He continued, “But they’ll do until you can get something else.”
The man walked to the restroom, and just before the door closed Reggie said, “I’ll get you some water.” The man disappeared inside without saying a word.
Henry, if that was his name, Reggie considered, was sitting with a peaceful look on his face and continued to stare into nowhere.
“What’s wrong, man?” Reggie asked.
The man said, “Nothing.”
“Is your name really Henry?” Reggie furrowed his brows.
“Yes,” he replied. “My name is Henry Walters, but everyone has called me Walter since I was a child.”
Reggie walked to the cooler and pulled out two more bottles of water and brought them to the counter. He placed them beside the other two he had left from before.
“Have you ever seen that man before?” Reggie motioned with his head to the back.
The door to the restroom opened. The stranger was wearing a pair of baggy blue jeans and a long sleeve button down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, and the boots on his feet kept the bottom of the pant legs off the floor. He held the bag and the first aid kit in his hands and walked up to stand by Reggie at the counter.
“Henry,” the man said. “would you mind putting that gun down and helping your customers?” he asked politely.
Henry obediently stood, walked to the counter, stuffed the shotgun underneath, and rang up the water and gas. His hazel eyes were full of emptiness. He grabbed Reggie’s credit card and ran it through.
Reggie could not believe what was happening. He turned to the other man.
“What do I call you?” Reggie was dazed, not knowing what to say or do.
“You may call me Joshua,” the man said.
“Is that your real name?” Reggie was curious.
“I’m terribly afraid that you would not be able to pronounce my name as it is spoken in my native language.” The man smiled. “So, for the sake of our interaction, I feel that Joshua will suffice.”
Reggie looked at Henry and back to Joshua.
“Reggie, Henry will be fine. when we leave he will be back to his usual unsavory self,” Joshua said, with a look of disgust creeping across his face.
Reggie’s mouth opened, but nothing came out, and he stared into Joshua’s piercing blue eyes.
“The answer to your other question is no, Reggie. Henry and I have never met.” He smiled serenely.
Joshua walked outside and made his way to Reggie’s Jeep. The way Reggie saw it, watching Joshua from the doorway of the store, he had few options as to how to handle this situation. He could stay in the store and take his chances with Henry, or Walter, or whatever his name was. The way Joshua handled the shotgun being pointed at him came to mind. Or he could call the police. His cell phone was in the Jeep, the knowledge registered in his brain, as he watched Joshua climb into the passenger seat and close the door. He swallowed hard. Besides, he knew without looking that he did not have a signal on that phone.
Reggie was so confused. He was frightened and intrigued at the same time, but he had to know more. curiosity was getting the better of him, and he now fully understood the meaning of the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat.’
Mechanically, his legs carried him through the ever-increasing heat toward the Jeep.
One last thought hit him while reaching for the door handle. He could always run, he reminded himself. A quick look up and down the deserted roadway, a few streams of sweat later, and he was inside the Jeep with the motor running. The air conditioner was spitting out hot air, and Joshua was staring at him.
“Henry,” Joshua said, “would do you no good. He is a very sinful man. As we speak he is making his way to the small room in the back to search for child pornography videos to watch between customers. Although he has never molested a child in his life, he longs to do so. He commits sins against his body and defiles himself while viewing magazines and videos.
Indeed if he were taken with a demon, he could be helped. Instead he chooses a path of iniquity and self-pleasure. He is a truly disgusting man, and the stench of his vile ways is enough to burn the nostrils. You do not need the police, and running in this heat would certainly be an unpleasant experience. Besides,” Joshua continued, “if you were to leave me I would have no one to take me to Apache Junction.”
“Apache Junction? why would you want to go there?” Reggie suddenly realized that he was asking a question about Joshua’s destination but had failed to question the man’s obvious ability to read minds.
“Reggie, it is true that I can read your mind. Do not despair. do not be frightened or confused. Simply begin driving, and I assure you, all will be revealed in due time.” Joshua leaned back in his seat and sucked in a deep breath.
Reggie shifted the Jeep in drive and pulled out onto Highway 85. He drove north toward Interstate 8. There was silence for a few minutes as Reggie played with his thoughts. Joshua could be an angel or devil. He was no doubt supernatural. Maybe he was the spirit of one of his ancestors. He glanced over at Joshua and noticed that his eyes were closed and his head was leaned back. “Please, if you don’t mind, Reggie,” Joshua’s eyes never opening, “would you mind keeping your eyes on the road while you think?” A slight chuckle slipped past his lips. Next he said, “Go ahead and ask what you want to know. I will try not to cut you off. It would be simpler for you if I interacted with you as normally as possible.”
“Sure,” Reggie said. His eyes went back to the road. “Are you going to kill me?” Fear suddenly overwhelmed him. “I mean what are you anyway? You show up in the middle of nowhere with no clothes on and ask me to drive you to a place that seems to have no significance whatsoever. You obviously controlled that man at the gas station and made him do what you wanted. You read my mind.” He pursed his lips and continued. “The way I see it, you must be…”