Only a few steps behind my father, I could not find a sense of safety in his shadow. He stopped within an arm’s reach of this creature and I nearly ran into him, distracted and confused. I tried to form a discerning thought, but felt as though my senses were ablaze. I sidestepped slowly in a single motion to see around my father’s shoulder and quickly found myself in full view of this beast. There was little evidence of anything related to human form except for the jerky movements from the two gnarled and boney appendages jutted outwardly and reaching. The sporadic movements lacked a rhythm and reminded me of an eight millimeter film that blinked and skipped frames. Through the surface I could see traces of a scarlet substance that suspended seemingly injected into the slime beneath giving the gathering blob a hue of pink. From the ends of the arms was a single claw, yellow and razored, that the monster was using for its awkward mobility.
There did seem an obvious direction for its movement as it traveled in a straight line toward the trees; not hindering from its path. In my mind I was hearing the distant call to turn from this and run backward to the truck, past the old shack and beyond the forsaken path and forget what I have seen. I knew that I could never forget and I realized that I could not run away. The evil that ebbed and pulsed before us seemed to pull us ever closer into its rank stench and unbearable sight.
My father placed his hand in the center of my chest and pushed me directly behind him as I peered out from around his shoulder. Doubt simmered in my mind and threatened a rolling boil. Why hadn’t my father taken the gun offered to him by the old man? I would have felt more confident with anything between us and this atrocity then just our fear and apparent reluctance. Scratching. Searching in the hard dirt. Pounding steadily. It moved as if compelled with a purpose. My bones ached as I clenched my fist, frightened by the quickness and authority of my father’s words.
“You beast from Hell, by the power of Heaven you must stop!”
My father’s words echoed through the field’s opening and settled beyond clearing. His right arm forced instantly in front of him, and aimed unswervingly at the beast as the veins atop his tightened muscles pulsed beneath the tightly stretched skin. His right hand opened wide showing his palm to the ghastly subject as if clutching the air. The beast paused but seemed unthreatened by this command - perhaps waiting; sensing; gauging us. The adrenaline raised higher into my throat as the blood rushed from the reaches of my brain. Stronger and more commanding, my father spoke again in a tone of authoritative ruin. It was a tone of unrefined hate. His voice was now full of salt and gravel.
“Beast of Hell! I order you back from where you came, in the name of all that is good and Holy…in the Blessed name of our Lord!”
The beast still did not move and appeared unaltered. The words shot through me like a blast and compounded the seriousness of this situation. My Catholic upbringing caused me to feel threatened by these words and fearful of the repercussions. These words were not to be spoken in jest or whispered carelessly. These words were powerful and compelling; dangerous and provoking. Angered further, my father raised his open palm to the sky curling his fingers in rage as if ready to throw an unseen fastball through the engine block of a Mac truck. Again, loudly he proclaimed;
“Beast of Hell I compel you…”
His words were stopped in his throat by the abrupt changing of the beast into an altered form. In a quick jerk, a face came forward from the side of the monster closest to my father. The suggestion of a head was a disfigured protrusion of tightly wrapped skin that seemed to radiate heat evident by the curled vapor as a hot summer highway of an open road. Eyes extended beyond a jagged forehead and were cast in a black gloss such as polished marbles. There was no nose; no ears or hair, but merely the idea of something earthly or an imitation of human familiarity. As its form of a head swayed forward and back atop a growing and shrinking neck; it spoke. It spoke in a voice distressed and angered and with a resonance of a desolate sewage. The voice was neither male nor female and there rolled an ethereal growl beneath its grisly hissing. I stepped back immediately as my father was confronted by the fiend.
“I know your words, Chaser. Leave me!”
“Damn you back to Hell! I compel you back from…”
“Damn you Chaser and your ignorance. I have championed you in the past if only for my amusement. Are you so arrogant that you think you can push back Hell?”
The beast’s voice weakened as it seemingly tried to speak and its face lost more of its shape, now resembling a sketch that had been poorly erased. The body began pulsing quickly as its arms reached forward, clawing faster at the earth while throwing clods of the polluted ground into our faces. The flickering head turned away from my father and focused toward the ground while it continued to speak without looking.
“You… not contain me, Chaser. Greater men… failed than you and you too will. Not Tonder… want you. Not… Tonder, Tonder in me…you see…soon you see!”
With these words the shape of the beast shifted back. It appeared as when we first approached it and its disjointed words showed a loss of strength in the monster as if it was made weary by speaking to my father. The claws began digging faster into the earth as if trying to produce a hole big enough to contain it. My father and I stood there helplessly watching the creature shovel its way deeper into the ground. My father appeared beaten by the creature as his brow creased heavily and his lips drew upward revealing his tobacco stained teeth. He dropped to his knees as his arms fell to his sides and a blank expression overtook his face. His entire appearance seemed pale and unwell, as I became more concerned of him than of the sacrilege before us. For the first time, I forced the swollen words from my throat.
“Dad? Are you o.k.?”
He did not answer, but remained motionless as if entranced. From behind, I placed my hands upon my father’s shoulders, but instantly and quickly removed them. My father felt as if encased by an extreme heat and a brilliant shroud of white light illuminated around him. His body, framed in radiance, jerked as if connected to electric shock. I feared that the beast even in its weakened state was killing him. My feet were filled with lead and welded to the steely earth below as my knees served as a mere sign post for my fear. My body was locked and my hearted pounded as if searching for an exit from my chest. The words formed again and my eyes began to roll backward.
“Dad! What’s going on! Stop this! Please stop it!”
Upon saying this, an overwhelming calm came over my body as I felt filled with a sense of serenity. My mind cleared and I immediately felt a focus and clarity that I have never experienced before this moment. I was no longer in control of my body and my mind was giving me a distinct direction. My once leaden filled legs were abruptly strong and vibrant. I wondered if I was dying, but the thought was very quiet and peaceful as if my direct thoughts were being pushed into my subconscious; into a place I had never been. My mind was freed to go anywhere that it wished without my power of thought or remembrance. I could go away from this place if I chose to go; I knew that. With confidence, I knew that. I could go back to my mother’s kitchen or the hazy heat of a summertime playground where baseball and friends waited for me to bring my bat and glove. I could even go back to the comfort of my living room television. I could simply go.
I also felt a greater purpose of the moment. My surroundings were real. The trees were a beautiful blanket of lush green foliage and the ground as soft as cotton. The once overcast sky was now vibrant and alive, painted in a color of blue that I could not remember. I felt as a blind man that was seeing a brand new world. I felt alive and suspended in time. In this moment, there was nothing but now. In this mind, there were no kitchens, living rooms or televisions. In this instance, there was only my father and me as one with a single voice telling me to go forward and do as my destiny has placed me. The vision of the world was clear as I turned my attention to my father, now encased in light and gloriously decorated in a multitude of colors. For the first time I was seeing the world as it truly is and I knew this for certain. I was more certain of what was around me than ever. I was awake and alive.
The look of the beast was unchanged except that from my new point of view I felt its evil in all of its simplicity. Still pulsing and clawing it continued its trek downward into the ground; now one third of the way hidden from sight and rhythmically digging as a malevolent pickaxe. My father’s lips were moving and forming the sound of chanted verses. He and I were reciting in a dronish gurgle the repetitive chorus.
“Tonder, Tonder, Tonder, Tonder..."
The chanting continued as time paused until the beasts slithering movements began to slow to an eventual stop. It laid there as if lifeless; its wicked claw curled under its body that was now pulsing only occasionally. It was not dead but contained. As if shook from a dream, the putrid aroma of stench polluted my throat and soured in my stomach. My body trembled as the world melded back to its familiar form. The trees dimmed into their tattered bareness and the ground hardened beneath my now outwardly swollen feet. My eyes burned as I tried to regain focus on the lucid creature before me. The radiance that once surrounded my father had subsided while he rested on his hands and knees in front of me as we both struggled for breath. For a moment the air was poisoned with reality and being. I felt as if I had been wrecked as my mind and body cried with pain. My father gasped and choked to find his words.
“You did it, Sutter. You came through and you did it.”
The broken words were too much for him and he did not try to speak again. Instead, he rested his forehead on the ground beneath him as sweat dripped from the ends of his tasseled hair. I did my best to respond to him but could not speak. The words lodged in my throat and I collapsed to the ground crying silently. With my hands on my knees I sat there motionless in that forsaken field, sobbing now uncontrollably as my reality settled upon my shoulders, heavy like the searing heat above me. I had no understanding of what had just happened and questioned if I wanted to. My father rose to his knees and fell down beside me on his back staring into the sky. His breathing returned to normal, but his words were still stirred with depletion.
“Son, I’ve got a lot of explaining to do and I hope that you will listen. Trust me; I will explain what I know once we finish up here. We have one more thing to do before we can rest and that's to get this thing back to the shack. Then we can sit down and talk.”
I watched my father lift himself to his feet and then extended his hand down to me. I looked up to him through teary eyes and placed my hand in his. The strength in his hands brought back a security and confidence to me that told me we are again safe. He pulled me to my feet and embraced me tightly.
“You are the man that I knew you were. I always knew.”
“I’m ready to go home now.”
“Me too, Sutter, let’s start dragging.”
We each raised an appendage of the beast and the stench intensified. The feel of this creature was as cold as ice and the consistency of its skin reminded me of a rotted potato peel, yet the coolness of it brought a certain relief to our sweat soaked bodies. The weight of the monster was not great but amount of space that it consumed made our task more demanding. My father and I were forced to walk backwards while pulling the creature. The elastic skin seemed to stretch to the point of breaking but failed to do so. Only a few feet into dragging and we stopped twice to catch our breath. The dragging of the beast was cumbersome and took quite some time through the now brutal heat of the late summer morning. I wondered how long that we were out in this field. I had no gauge of time as my watch had stopped at 9:37 a.m. I am guessing that to be the time of contact with my now altered destiny. My father spoke in an “as a matter of fact” fashion to me.
“She’s sleeping.”
“What do you mean she’s sleeping?”
“Well, for lack of a better term we’ll just say she’s sleeping.”
“Why do you keep calling this thing a she?”
“Well, I can’t remember ever lockin’ horns with anything this ornery that wasn’t female so we call it a she.”
“So you’ve done this before?”
“Once about twenty some years ago I tangled with her. She wasn’t near this mean though. She should’ve been a lot weaker than she is according to Tonder. After being held for this long, she shouldn’t have had the strength that she did. It scares me a little bit that she got out. It scares me a lot really.”
“And what is this Tonder that you and the hillbilly have been talking about?”
My father stopped dragging and I followed his lead. The sun now burning my skin brings back many memories of cutting hay for my Uncles as sweat rolled down the back of my neck while dirt adhered within the creases of skin giving it a grinding sensation of pumice. My mind could not help but feel jealous of any man that was cutting hay at the same time that we were dragging this creature across the forsaken earth.
“Good question. I don’t know how to explain that to you and I guess you will just have to experience it for yourself.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know that you had a taste of it back there. Tonder is for sure a higher power. Sent to a handful of chosen folks on Earth to keep the evil at bay. Tonder has never really said for sure, but I figure it to be some sort of an angel; maybe bigger, I don’t know. I do know that Tonder has used me to catch this evil mess beside us here on more than one occasion. I just do what I am told and in return Tonder keeps us safe.”
“What did you call that guy at the shack?”
“Balsavoy? That’s the name that Tonder gave him. Nobody else calls him that so I figured it was a good time to use it. Ya know with a gun pointed at you and all. Far as I know only Chasers know him by that name. They’re the only ones that would understand.”
“This is way too much info for me right now. Seems like God is watching out for us through Tonder maybe? I can get my head around it. If it were God, wouldn’t you know that without a doubt?”
"Well, Sutter, I suppose it is not so obvious sometimes. Sometimes he whispers and sometimes he shakes mountains. I am just trying to listen as hard as a can and do what I am told. Let’s hold up on the questions for a while and get her back to the shack. Still got a ways to go.”
We continued pulling the beast as not another word was spoken between us. When we reached the backyard area my father found a seat upon a rotted stump. The sweat now beaded off of his skin as if he were covered in glass. My muscles ached and cried for rest and my mind pounded in agony with every pulse of my heart. While we were gone, Emmett had gathered the stones and piled them beside the rubble of what was once a rock column. He had begun mixing mortar and started laying up the walls of the foundation. Emmett brought my father and me a glass of water and we sat quietly for a few moments gathering our thoughts and ourselves. Questions raced through my mind in fiery synapse; one after the next, most times not waiting for the previous to finish. There were so many questions that I could not contain them all and they were spilled out of my mind silently upon the ground and forgotten. Something had happened that I wanted to understand but could not begin to question. Although still fresh in my memory, the images began losing their sharpness and I found myself forgetting details; hideous details that were burned into my subconscious thought now being painted with imagination.
“Wee-haw, Chaser! Knocked the wind outta ‘er this time! Pasty old nothin’ deserved it too, I bet! Put up much of a fight? How’d tha boy do up there? Did you talk to Tonder?”
My father, with eyes closed, extended his hand halting Emmett’s words.
“Emmett, too many questions."
He stifled the old man as if protecting me from remembering the details that were already fading from my mind; slowly but still present. I wondered at what point I would forget until the incident appeared as a movie in my head and my father and I as actors. The old man lowered his head as he received my father’s response and looked as a dog that had been badly beaten. But much like the abused dog, the old man found a renewed interest as my father gave him more details.
“Sutter saved me up there, Emmett. That demon has not gotten weaker; she is stronger and I don’t think I could have taken her. Not even in my prime. Tonder used Sutter to save us. He is eklektos”
There was a blank expression on Emmett’s face as he stared at me in surprise, his jaw seemingly unhinged.
“Mercy me, boy. You lektos?”
I felt the familiar confusion overtake my mind as I was not sure how to answer his question. His voice bounced in my head ricocheting from the corners of my mind like a caged animal begging for release. Again and again the words were repeated in my conscious as I tried to embrace the terminology and understand that I could not explain it. My father, now familiar with my uncertainty, spoke in my behalf.
“Sutter, Emmett is trying to say eklektos. It is Greek for “chosen” and Tonder has chosen you. Like I told ya before, I’ve been called by Tonder in the past to retrieve these demons and most times I have been successful. There have been times when I haven’t been strong enough and I simply can’t run ‘em down; Tonder made me a Chaser. There has always been talk of the Chasers eventually being ineffective as evil in this world gets stronger and people care less and less about themselves and others. That’s where a chosen one, eklektos, will battle stronger than the others. I believe that is you, Sutter. ”
“I’m not sure what I experienced up there, Dad. I’m a little freaked out right now.”
“Jeez Louise, Sutter. You are gonna do big things I just know it. Chaser, could he really be the one?”
“Let’s not talk about this right now. We got a cage to build. Grab a trowel Emmett and let’s get busy. It’s been a long day already and I know that Sutter’s bushed.”
My father and Emmett worked their masonry for hours, placed the creature inside, and sealed it shut. By the time that they had finished, the sun was going down and I fought to stay awake. They talked mostly of ordinary things throughout the remainder of the day and never once mentioning what happened or what would happen. Perhaps a grasp at normalcy for all. Although tired, I felt a new bond between my father and I that was unmistakable. My father gathered himself and escorted me to the truck by dark and we drove home. The rosary was returned to the rear view mirror to swing between the radio knobs and remind us of an age old convenant. I slept most of the way although light and nervous. The hypnotic swaying of the crucifix rocked away some of my edginess although uneasiness was still resting heavy upon me as I listened to Johnny Cash singing over the radio waves.
“On a Sunday mornin’ sidewalk, I’m wishin’ lord that I was stoned. But there’s somethin’ in a Sunday, that makes the body feel alone…..”
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