“Alright, who is at the observation post right now?” Peter asked Jesse. Peter had with him a large heavy-duty, dark green duffle bag and a game cart that enabled hunters to bring home deer that had been killed. Except this time the cart would be used to bring Kirk’s body back.
“I think right now Justin and Tracy are over there. The Happy Twins.” Justin and Tracy, twin brother and sister, had earned a reputation in the church of always being happy and telling jokes, even during stressful times. “Not that you guys are going that way, right?” Jesse asked Peter and Kathy.
“No, we’re going the back way.” Peter said. “The hiking trail. And don’t worry, we will make sure to leave it all covered up. I was just curious who was up at the observation post.”
“Oh, OK.”
“By the way,” Kathy said, “is this duffel bag and game cart all you could find to carry Kirk’s body back up here?”
“Yeah, that’s all I could find. And like I said, I will handle the body.”
“Hmm, good.” Kathy said. Kathy rested her right hand on the black nylon gun holster that was connected to her belt.
“OK, let’s go,” Peter said, turning around.
“Peter, wait a minute,” Jesse said. “We have some more entrails for you to drop off at the roadblock.”
“What, like it’s not smelly enough down there?”
“Not yet. Here,” Jesse said, handing over a heavy black plastic trash bag to Peter.
“OK, thanks. Give us about an hour and we should be back with Kirk’s body.”
Jesse started walking away. “Alright, I’ll get someone to start digging a grave, and maybe we can ask Lawson to get ready to say a few words. It’ll have to be quick.” He stopped himself and turned back. “Wait. We should say a prayer before you guys go.”
The three of them bowed their heads and held hands. Jesse began, “Heavenly Father, we thank you for the life and friendship of Kirk, and we thank you for his brave example. We ask that you bless Peter and Kathy, and hide and protect them from the evil men who killed Kirk. We ask that you make this a good excursion, keep them safe, and keep their spirits up. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Peter and Kathy both said, “Amen.”
“Stay safe you two,” Jesse said as he gave a short wave and walked back towards to center of the compound.
“We’ll be back soon,” Peter said.
*****
Peter and Kathy began to walk into the woods, almost immediately disappearing into the dense forest. The hiking trail, more of a deer path, was covered with thick bush that was intentionally not cleared. It was hard to keep sight of the trail that they were walking on.
“Kathy, I noticed you brought your gun. Did you fill the magazine?” Peter pushed aside a few branches to walk on the trail.
“Yes, my Glock 45. I hope we don’t need it, but I want to have it just in case.”
“Just remember that a gunshot make a lot of noise. Those 45’s are very loud. But a single gun won’t protect much us from those thugs who killed Kirk.”
“That’s true, but it sounds like the guys who killed Kirk drove up here real fast. I just want to be ready in case they return.” Kathy said. “Hey, slow down.”
“Oh, sorry. I have just made this trip so much lately. It seems like,” Peter bent over as he walked so that he could walk beneath a thick tree branch that hung over the trail. “Lately it seems like I have been the garbage man around here. Not only deer entrails like these here, or that bobcat that someone killed and tried to eat a couple weeks ago, but also with just about any trash that might make the roadblock any smellier. I get sent down there to drop off whatever stinks.” Peter paused and walked slower, thinking that what he was about to say was funny. He tried to smile. “I came up with a name for this trail: ‘the Entrail Trail.’ Of course not many people think that’s very funny.”
“Probably because most normal people think entrails are gross.”
“Could be.” Peter resumed his hike. “Well I think it’s funny anyway. The entrails keep coming, and I keep bringing them down to the roadblock. And it is getting pretty smelly. In fact, smellier than we had hoped. That’s part of what makes it a great roadblock.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the smell’s pretty bad.”
“That’s for sure. The roadblock all started with a couple of tank traps, you know, those steel x’s that screw up trucks or tanks that might try to drive through.”
“Yes, I was nearby when Jesse ranted about getting overcharged for those things.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard. $150 apiece for some pretty simple welding jobs. Jesse would have bought more but he was still paying off one of the camping sheds at the time.”
The two walked in silence for a while.
“Those tank traps weren’t very solid in the ground there. I think they were stuck there just with a couple of tent stakes, so we started throwing tree branches and trash onto it, then deer entrails and dead animals,” he paused. “And that is the roadblock we have today.”
“Well, it’s occurred to me that because that roadblock is on a cliff road, we could always just blow up the road,” Kathy said. The two followed the trail as it took a sharp turn left. “I think someone up here has a few sticks of dynamite. We could also make some more.”
“That’s kind of a big deal, but I guess it is do-able. Do you know if anyone up here has ever done something like that before?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that might be a good last resort. Of course we would also have to get the Mormons up the road to agree. The Alexes. This road leads to their place too. So we would have to powwow with them first.”
“I never knew why they are called the Alexes. Are they all named Alex or something?”
“No, but there are three or four of them named Alex, hence the group name. We just call them all Alex. It seems to fit.” Peter paused to catch his breath. “Another issue about blowing up the road: I would hate to have someone try that and hurt themselves. Or blow themselves up.”
The trail straightened out but a few low branches blocked the path ahead. “Oh well, let’s face it, who am I kidding?” Peter added. “I would be the one who gets volunteered to do it.”
“We could drill some holes into the middle of the road with the post-hole digger, then drop down a few sticks of dynamite. I don’t know. You’re the Marine. Isn’t that how it is done?”
“Yes, that’s the way to do it. Hey, watch your head.” Peter let go of a branch that would have hit Kathy’s head but she ducked in time.
“Thanks.”
“Kathy, I was wondering. Hey, watch this root.” Peter stepped over a tree root that came up about seven inches from the trail floor. He pulled the game cart over the root.
“Wondering about what?” Kathy stepped over the root.
The two continued down the trail. “Well, I know it is none of my business, and feel free to not answer this, but what happened between you and Kirk? I mean, I worked for him in his machine shop until I enlisted. Then I hear you started going out with him. You know, I was in Iraq and I got one of those letters with all the news from home. I read that you guys were getting pretty close, maybe even getting married. That’s all I heard. Next thing I knew, Kirk was getting married to Jackie and people were collecting money to help pay for the honeymoon.”
“Well, you’re right. It’s none of your business.”
“Alright. Forget I asked. I’m just doing some 20-20 hindsight here. I figure that if you were still with Kirk, he would be alive right now. But never mind. None of my business.”
“No, that’s OK. I guess I still have feelings for him. That’s probably pretty obvious. I know it’s been a few years. I still resent Jackie busting us up. Kirk never knew what hit him. Some women are good at that.”
Peter, trying to change the subject, said “Hey, did you notice how, when the news came out that Kirk was killed, it seemed like everyone looked at us. At least that is how it felt for me. I think you and I were his closest friends up here.”
“And Jackie…”
“Ho boy,” Peter sighed. “She really blew it.”
“Yeah, you got that right.”
The two walked in silence some more, rounding another turn to the right. One of the wheels of the game cart started to squeak slightly.
Kathy said, “If I ever start to take the Mark, you have my permission to kill me.”
“I think there is more to it than that.”
“How’s that?”
“Look, I’m not a theologian, but I do know this. The Mark is something that you don’t just choose to take. We are already marked by God. Anyone who takes the Mark has already, whether they know it or not, chosen to follow Satan. It’s an act of worship. The Mark just finalizes it. And there is no turning back.”
“Wait,” Kathy paused. “So you’re saying … are you saying the Mark is more like a symptom of some other problem? Something that comes along and happens when you have already made the decision before it?”
“That’s the way I understand it. There’s no turning back. See, if you are really saved, a real Christian, then you can’t lose your salvation. That was in 1st Corinthians I think. Your faith can grow dormant, but you will always be a Christian. So,” Peter got quiet as he saw a clearing up ahead. “That means that a real Christian will never take the Mark. You can’t. You’re already marked by God.”
“So anyone who takes the Mark was never a real Christian in the first place. That sounds kind of Calvinist. Like anything un-Christian that happens to a Christian means that the Christian was never a Christian to begin with.”
“Yeah, I know, it sounds kind of circular. But it is real. That’s how it is. A real Christian sins but will never take the Mark. By the way, I am always nervous about this clearing up here. I try to walk around the edges, closer to the forest, so I don’t stick out so much.”
“You are a well-trained Marine.”
“Oh right. I learned about hiding in thick forests when I was in Iraq,” Peter joked.
“I wish I could keep my wits about me in the middle of bad news like you can. You have had a pretty good attitude about all this.”
“Thanks.”
“As for me, I have been going from shock of our current situation, to sadness, and now to anger over the killing of my ex-boyfriend. For me, laughing or even trying to crack a joke is impossible. I’m not like the happy twins, Justin and Tracy, you know. Or, to a lesser extent, you. Laughing for me right now is a totally foreign concept. And it has been that way for me since that peace conference in Jerusalem. I haven’t had a big laugh in who knows how long. At least a month.”
The two followed the trail back into dense forest. “I thought that was smart of Jesse to tell us all at that meeting a few days ago to encourage jokes and laughter,” Peter said. “Even corny jokes. It lightens things up a little, and I think it works.”
“Not with me. I find it impossible to laugh or be happy when I’m in a stressful situation, or in a setting where I feel like I don’t belong. We’re in this retreat, and I know I have to be here, but it doesn’t feel like home. I can’t laugh. Laughing would imply that I am comfortable where I am.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Or, like today, when I’m nearby someone who gets killed. I’m too shocked to even think about anything funny.”
“Well, I remember the shock I had in Iraq. I had just finished training, then I flew to Iraq and within a day or two I started seeing real killing. I mean, killing that was right in front of me.”
“What did you do?”
“I started reading my Bible. And it wasn’t a casual thing. I read the Bible so intensely that I felt like I was almost memorizing it. I would dwell on a whole sentence at a time. I would read a sentence and wonder, ‘why did God have that sentence put there?’ I would think about it and then go on to the next verse. Anyway, they say that there are no atheists in foxholes, and they’re right. I was never in a foxhole but being so close to all the carnage there brought me straight to the Bible. There is something completely soothing about reading the Bible. The ‘peace that passes all understanding.’ That kind of thing.”
The two hiked for a while in silence.
“OK Kathy, we are getting pretty close to the road up here. When we get there I just need you to look out for me while I get Kirk’s body and load it up into this cart.”
“OK. Oh, this is disgusting. Here is the smell people have been talking about.”
“More like bragging about.”
****