General Ishii stood at attention before the desk of the Commander of the Kwantung Army and shadow ruler of Manchukuo, General Jiro Minami. The commander glared across the desk at his subordinate, the sun rising over his shoulder through the large window behind him. Ishii averted his eyes from that searing gaze.

Minami was a man of the old order. A samurai by birth, a patriot by blood, and an officer by duty, he was a seasoned warrior who had seen action against Tsarist forces in the Russo-Japanese conflict and served as a cavalry officer in the Great War. He came from a generation of soldiers who had led Japan to greatness establishing her as a great power through modernization and sheer audacity. After the sacrifice of so much blood, he would brook no act that threatened the Tenno’s future glory.

“You have done much to upset our position in Manchukuo,” Minami stated. “The loss of a battalion. The destruction of a covert facility. Word already spreads of our defeat as do rumors concerning the discoveries found within. Your incompetence emboldens our enemies and has brought much shame upon the Kwantung Army and your benefactor, Baron Araki. You and your damn experiments.” Minami grabbed a collection of papers from his desk and shook them at Ishii. “Do you know what these are?” Ishii remained rigid, hesitant to hazard a guess. “These are reports of a growing rebellion to the south.” Minami scattered the papers in disgust. “You are lucky that I do not have you executed.”

Ishii swallowed and choked out, “Permission to speak, sir.”

Minami crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Do you truly have anything of value to offer? Your actions have threatened our very position in Manchukuo itself.”

“Have you read my report?”

The commander’s eyes narrowed. “Yes I have. It is a nice piece of fiction.”

His honesty questioned, Ishii found the nerve to meet Minami’s gaze. “It is the truth, sir.”

Minami hammered the desk with his fist to quiet Ishii. The Kwantung Commander rose and rounded the table. His weathered face came within inches of Ishii’s. “Do you expect me to believe a tale concerning oni? Perhaps your work has finally cracked your mind.”

“You have not seen the site.”

Minami circled Ishii. “Zhongma Fortress is already compromised. A local garrison was ambushed as it attempted to secure the area. It seems that you failed to properly destroy Zhongma’s weapon stocks.”

“I did my best-”

“Your best wasn’t good enough! These blasted Shina fired on my troops with my own weapons.” Minami cursed under his breath. “Other garrisons have been attacked following your debacle. Manchurian forces have thus far been unable to quell the rebellion. I have been forced to send reinforcements south including an armored company. These farmers will learn the futility of resistance.”

“I do not believe it is simply partisans attacking our forces, sir. I have also seen the reports. These garrisons that have been attacked feature evidence of something more dangerous than guerillas. Our men were torn apart. Butchered. That is not the act of farmers with rifles.”

“The savagery of these attacks does not surprise me. After Zhongma, many want to see us suffer. Furthermore, the survivors do not speak of a beast.”

“Many of them do not speak at all. You must send more men.”

“And why is that?” Minami asked over Ishii’s shoulder.

“Because this beast is nigh unstoppable. It will take an army to bring this creature to its knees.”

“For something so dangerous, there is surprisingly little proof of its existence. Many of your own men are uncertain what happened that night. Where is your evidence of this creature?”

“Lost,” Ishii muttered. Minami snorted in disdain and turned his back on Ishii before returning to his chair. “I am telling you, you must dispatch more troops south. Reinforce Harbin. Send out brigades to find and isolate this creature. Piecemeal efforts will all be crushed in its wake. A concerted effort must be made.”

“I have too much to worry about to entertain this absurd notion of yours. Puyi arrives tomorrow for the ceremonial transfer of the Chinese Eastern Railway from the Soviets to Manchukuo. If there is a monster in the whole of this land it is that insufferable man.”

“All the more reason to prepare for an assault. With such important men in danger-”

“As I told you, forces have already been sent south to crush this fledgling rebellion you have sown.”

“This is more dangerous than farmers. Commander, I am speaking about something capable of slaughtering thousands with its bare hands. When I first found evidence of it, I sent out small patrols only for them to vanish. I failed to prepare for its attack. This creature destroyed my facility and killed an entire battalion single-handed. If it were to reach here…”

“This city is safe from whatever the enemy could possibly offer. In that I am certain. As for you, orders have arrived for your return to Tokyo. Prince Saionji demands your presence. He is most distressed concerning your research. He requests a debriefing. I suggest you do not further shame yourself. It could prove most fatal. Dismissed.”

“Commander, you must hear me-”

“I said dismissed. You have already embarrassed yourself. Do not further compound the error.”

Ishii clicked his heels, nodded his head in a shallow bow of contempt, and spun on his heel to leave.

***

Wrapped tightly in his sheets, Chris woke with a shudder in the dark. Still groggy and disoriented, he took an unsteady breath and sat up. Donner found himself in a hospital room softly lit by a stream of light sneaking through the slit beneath the door. William rested by his bedside lightly snoring, a copy of Astounding Stories in his lap. Chris’ shifting woke the old doctor.

William yawned and stretched, the magazine flopping from his lap to the floor. “You’re awake.”

“How long have I been out?”

“A little over a day. Do you remember anything?”

Chris’ thoughts turned inward. “I remember everything.”

William’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed.”

Chris haltingly glanced over at the old man. “Why was I out for so long?”

“I had to use a strong sedative to calm your seizures.”

Chris’ eyes widened. “I was having seizures?”

“I thought you said you remembered.”

“I remember…” Chris trailed off as the shadows began to encroach once more blotting out his vision and an ache crept into his bones. Donner quickly abandoned any attempt to recollect the episode afraid of dredging up those memories of despair that had overwhelmed him. “I guess I don’t remember.”

“That’s not uncommon. Many patients fail to remember their episodes, though yours was particularly violent.”

“And you’ve been waiting by my bed all this time?”

William shrugged. “Not all the time.”

“But just about.”

William nodded sheepishly. “I’m a doctor. I’m also very protective.”

“Dedicated.”

“Well, there was some self-interest on my part.” William leaned forward. “Witnessing what you did during your seizure. And the Reynolds’ girl. She was terminal. I should know. I examined her. To see her up and walking…” William brought his chair closer. “How did you do it?”

Chris pulled his blanket up to his chin. “I don’t know how I do it. I just do.”

“Instinct.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah.”

“Indeed.” William scrutinized Chris’ angular face. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I spoke to Mike. He said you haven’t always been like…this. Something had to have changed you.”

“I’m still the same person,” Chris huffed.

“No,” William ardently disagreed. “You’re something else.”

Unnerved, Chris climbed out of bed and searched for his boots. “I should be going. What do I owe you?”

A wry grin impishly wrinkled William’s aged features. “The way things are these days, I’ve fallen out of the habit of charging my patients.”

“I can’t not pay you,” Chris argued. “I hate debt.”

“Isn’t gratitude enough?”

Chris frowned. “I’d rather pay my bill.”

William quietly pondered before speaking. “Because you offer…how about a favor?”

Leery, Chris asked, “What is it?”

“There are many sick here.”

“I know.” The memory of their pain prickled through Chris’ pores making him shiver involuntarily.

“Some of them I can help. But some…some are beyond my ability to save. Like Stephanie. I wouldn’t ask otherwise. If you can, will you help them?”

After what happened following Stephanie’s healing, Chris was more than cautious to go through such an episode again. “I don’t-”

“Will you at least see them?” William pressed, rising from his chair. “Please.”

Chris nodded. William waited patiently as Donner put on his boots. Tying his laces, Chris noticed William’s copy of Astounding Stories still lying on the floor. “Aren’t you a little old for that?” he asked, motioning to the magazine.

William picked up the magazine and tucked it beneath his arm. “I was using it for research.”

“On what?”

“On you. I gotta say you are proof that truth is stranger than fiction.”

Chris couldn’t help cracking a smile. “Brother, you got that right.”

The pair exited into the hall where Chris gawked at the deep clefts in the walls. “Did I do that?”

“I’m afraid so, though it was worse before I cleared the debris. You even managed to scare off the only nurse I had on staff.”

Chris spied the empty desk at the end of the corridor. “Sorry.”

“She was useless anyway,” William admitted. “Absolutely horrid with the patients. I should be thanking you for saving me from having to fire her.” He glanced up at the sagging ceiling. “I had a devil of a time explaining all this to Dr. Hansen.”

“What did you end up telling him?”

“What could I say? Act of God?”

“Does he know about me?”

“I thought it smart not to speak too much about you. They’d probably have me committed. This way.” As they approached a door, William pulled two surgical masks from the pocket of his lab coat. “You’ll need this.” He gave the one to Chris. Donner accepted the mask and put it on while William did likewise.

The two men entered the sleeping patient’s room to the sound of labored breathing. William gently closed the door before guiding Chris over to the man’s bedside. The doctor gestured toward the frail figure. “This is Paul Wilmot.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Tuberculosis. He and his family came out here roughly five years ago hoping the climate would be good for his lungs. He improved somewhat for several years but things have gotten worse over the past six months. His family left Elkhart a month ago. Went out west.”

Chris examined Paul’s gaunt, pallid face and frowned. “They just abandoned him?”

William could only shrug. “Sometimes it’s easier to avoid the problem rather than face it.”

“But to just leave him when he needs them.”

“The world isn’t always as noble as we’d like it to be,” William solemnly replied. He took a knee next to Paul’s bedside and touched the man’s withered bicep. “Paul. Paul, it’s Dr. Tucker.” The man stirred with a thick series of coughs, his swollen red eyes blinking awake.

“Who’s this?” Paul wheezed when he saw Donner.

“Someone who may be able to help you,” William told him.

Chris turned his head, unable to meet Paul’s hopeful stare.

“Can you help me?” Paul asked Donner.

Chris’ right hand trembled. “Why…why do you need my help?” he demanded from William. “You’re a doctor. Can’t you-?”

William rose. “Tuberculosis is incurable. There is nothing more I can do for Paul that I haven’t already done. You’re his last chance.”

“If you can do something mister, do it,” Paul rasped.

Chris refused to look at Paul. “I can’t help him.”

William’s face twisted in confusion. “But-”

“I said I can’t help him,” Chris repeated, the words sour in his mouth.

Paul feebly grabbed Chris’ wrist in desperation. “You gotta help me. I’m dying. My wife and kids-”

Chris pulled his hand away when the tingling began and hurriedly left. William ran after him out into the hall. “What is wrong? Won’t you help him?”

“Why should I?” Chris demanded as he strode down the corridor, stripping the mask from his face and discarding it on the floor.

“Because-”

Chris spun around. “Because what?”

“Because you can.” William shrugged. “Isn’t that enough?”

Chris clenched his fists. “Don’t try to guilt me into helping these people.”

“But it’s in your power.”

“So what!” Chris shouted angrily. “So what if I can help them. Do you even realize what it does to me?”

“Then why did you help Mike?”

Chris looked back down the hall to Stephanie’s former room. “I had my reasons.”

“And this is any different? This ward is full of people who need you just as badly.”

“Well I don’t need them. I never asked for this,” Chris stated thumbing his chest. “All you people keep coming to me as if I am the answer to your problems. Maybe I’m just like you. Maybe I am just as confused and as lost as you are. Why do you all think I am the solution? Why do you want to put another burden on my back?”

“Because you can-”

“I can’t!” Chris exploded. “I’m not some savior. I’m a freak. Do you think I want this?” he asked tracing a nailless finger along the sharp contours of his ashen face. “This was forced on me.”

“Why waste a gift when you could use it?”

“A gift?’ Chris repeated aghast. “This is a curse.”

“Please-”

Chris shoved William against the wall. “You keep your distance,” he warned the doctor, pointing threateningly at the old man before continuing down the hall. Chris did his best to avert his eyes from the spirits he saw flickering through every diaphanous door he passed. They pleaded sorrowfully for his divine touch from either side, but he would not listen as he headed for the exit.

Despite his haste to escape the hospital, Donner’s steps slowed as he passed one of the rooms. An unnatural cold emanated from within. Morbidly drawn to it, Chris touched the door and a flash of recognition jolted up his arm and images erupted in his mind. The sun crashing into the earth. The crimson conflagration. He jerked his hand away when he heard the lamentable screams ending the vision. Was this the source of the dream? Vacillating, he finally pushed the door open and entered. Inside Chris saw two beds covered with sheets, the mounds of bodies underneath. He approached the nearest bed and removed the sheet. Beneath were the badly burned remains of a man. Just looking at the corpse reminded him of the dead of Chipilly Ridge. “Save us,” echoed the cries of those fallen soldiers.

“He died last night,” William said from the doorway. “Both of them did.”

Chris didn’t turn around as he hoarsely asked, “What happened?”

“An explosion at the Ulysses refinery. These two men were caught in the inferno.”

“Inferno,” Chris whispered to himself. The dream sparked through his mind again of the crashing sun. Steel towers warped by flame. Screams. He had seen it. It was a premonition. He had seen these men’s fate.

William stood beside Chris. “I did what I could, but they never had a chance. I could only ease their pain with morphine.” The doctor shook his head. “Their families came, but I had to turn them away. They didn’t need to see these men like this.”

A tear spilled down Chris’ cheek. “It’s my fault. I saw this. I saw this and did nothing.”

“Would you have done something?” William asked.

Chris went to answer but couldn’t speak. The realization that he and he alone could have saved these men and instead he stood by and let them die tore into him. Rage, frustration, shame, sorrow: so many emotions roiled through his heart. “They’re dead because of me.” Chris turned to face William, eyes gleaming. “I’m sorry.” Consumed with guilt, he pressed past the doctor and disappeared down the hall.

***

Chris wandered aimlessly, his heavy steps kicking up dust along a lonely strip of road snaking into dusk. The lit buildings of Elkhart gradually thinned around him and fell away taking with them the warm glow of civilization as the Great Desert opened up ahead. Evening came and Donner found himself lost out there on the highway striding a crumbling road leading into barren Purgatory. Soon the mournful winds brought lavender clouds that eclipsed the somber moon overhead and the world was plunged into complete darkness.

Out there in the nothingness, the insubstantial lined Donner’s path. Turn back, the voices begged. Save us. Their pale, haunted faces emerged fleetingly from the periphery only to dissolve upon notice.

Thunder warned of a coming storm. In the heavens above, lightning coursed through the clouds before striking the earth with raw, illuminous bolts. In the flickering chimerical light the spectral battle of Chipilly Ridge raged anew all around Chris. Artillery mutely churned up the cratered ground while phantom comrades charged and collapsed in the carnage as Donner continued forward untouched, their bloody hands clutching at his retreating figure.

Chris’ thoughts dwelt on those suffering in the hospital. He could have helped them. He should have helped them. But he hadn’t. That decision weighed heavily on his soul. Why did he have to make such a choice? Why had he been chosen for such power? “Why?” he yelled to the nebulous sky.

“My son,” a voice called from the void.

Shafts of moonlight cascaded through the clouds down upon the plains. Chris found himself back at the farm, a thin layer of mist covering the earth rolling out from the horizon. A vaporous apparition approached from the east out of the fog. Lambent shimmers played through the revenant as he neared, the wraith gradually attaining the shape of a man.

“Pa,” Chris said in recognition.

Donner’s father smiled warmly at his son. “I have heard your prayers and watched you brood over your past. There is so much pain inside you.”

“Sometimes I don’t know how I will go on,” Chris choked out.

“I know.”

Chris looked hopefully to his father. “Why must I suffer so, pa? Why has my life turned out like this?”

“You suffer because you choose to.”

Chris’ face fell. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do. You must let your pain go if you are to ever find peace.”

“I can’t let it go,” Chris confessed.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve earned it. What have I done with my life? Nothing. I’ve wasted every day I’ve been given. Look at me. I’m just a busted up, broken down bum who never accomplished anything. When my friends needed me, I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t even save the farm. I’ve squandered my life chasing dreams until all I have left are memories. And they haunt me. They haunt me because I know things didn’t have to be this way.” A lump formed in his throat. “I’ve failed.”

“So you hide and wait to die? Do you think by not making choices you are any less culpable?”

“I don’t know, pa. Nothing makes sense anymore.”

Chris’ father touched his son’s shoulder. “None of us are perfect. We are born ignorant but that is not a sin. To learn we must fail that we understand and grow. It is loss which teaches us the value of all things. The sin is failing to learn the lesson.”

Chris winced with the explanation. “Why am I still alive, pa? There has to be a reason.”

“You must find your own answer.”

“But what if there isn’t one?”

Chris’ father smiled benevolently. “There is always an answer.”

“Then what is the answer to this?” Chris asked motioning to his alien face. “Why have I been chosen for this burden?”

“You have been given a gift.”

“A gift? I am not worthy of this.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I cannot do what I feel must be done. These powers were meant for a noble man. The world cries out to me, but I can’t stand to listen. They beg me to save them, but I can’t. The suffering of the world is so great. Too great for any one man. Too great for me.” Chris wiped at his eyes. “I can’t save them all.”

“You don’t have to save them all. Only inspire them to save themselves. Search out those who need you. Take solace in them. Listen to them. Draw them to you. Do not resist-”

“I must resist!” Chris hissed. “I cannot open myself. It is too much for any one man to take. All that pain. All those voices...” Chris trailed off.

“Look at that house,” his father sternly ordered. Chris turned toward the dilapidated structure looming across the field. “For too long you’ve hidden from the world within its walls. That house has become your tomb. You say you want to know why you still live. Then go find your answer. Live.”

“I want to,” Chris grudgingly admitted. “I just don’t know if I can. What if I fail?”

“At least you tried. Chris, a dark pall has fallen over the world. Everyone is as lost as you. This gift has been granted to you that you may become the spark of hope that lights the darkness. But to guide them, you must join them. You’ve been lost a long time. Maybe these voices can help you find your way back. Open yourself to them. Listen. See. Feel.” Chris’ father nodded at his doubting son.

Chris closed his eyes. With trepidation, he let his insular barriers fall. The voices flooded into his soul and he went adrift. It was like drowning, the vast consciousness of Creation crashing in on him forcing him to his knees. Reflexively he resisted the incorporeal tide and began to tremble, gasping for air. But then he willed himself to remain open and calm. He surrendered to the tide and allowed it to flow through him. Soon the crushing darkness lightened and the clouds did part. Spread before him were millions of stars, each representing a life. Their once discordant voices merged into a single song that enervated his dull being until his countenance did blaze blindingly bright.

When dawn broke, Chris left the farmhouse for the final time. He turned to look at the ramshackle structure. The gloom that formerly hovered over the property had dissipated. All that remained was a building condemned. Raising his hand, Donner focused on the house. He reached into the core of that rotten structure and tore it down with a splintering crash.

Stopping on the road, Chris allowed himself one last glance at the deserted plains. Childhood memories of running through green fields toward the golden horizon filled his thoughts. Pulling his fedora low, he turned and started west in search of tomorrow.

***

From the holy heights of his sanctuary the shadow of Hesiod beheld the Earth, and therein the chosen, and was content.

Next Chapter: Chapter 13