The Seventh Mountain Read online

  Chapter 2

   

  The Day of Twelve

   

  Fate, Destiny, Happenstance, Luck. What’s the difference?

   

   

  That night, Mark knew that he was dreaming. The dream seemed real again. It was like he was awake, only he knew he wasn’t. This time, the desert looked bleak but felt warm and somehow inviting. A goliath of a man stood beside him, silhouetted against the sky’s piercing sun. Before him, a terraced, wedding-cake like mountain was a stark contrast to the flat, sandy, rock strewn, desert floor. The wall was behind him encircling the land for as far as he could see. It didn’t seem hot this time.

  The huge man gestured toward the mountain with his hand. “This is The Seventh Mountain.” He looked back at Mark. “You have been chosen to go to school here. Most students are just called to go here. They have a choice. You can leave if you want, but no one has ever wanted to.”

  “Why me?”

  “It is a part of who you are and who you will become.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Tim.”

  Mark turned to look at the man again. Tim stepped out from in front of the sun. Royal blue eyes glowed in his boulder face. His ebony hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his well-groomed beard hedged his beaming smile.

  Mark felt that he should know this man. It was more of a feeling than a knowledge. There was something familiar about him, something familiar, yet distant, eroded by time, hidden in the shadows of his mind. Was this man friend or foe?

  “There is something else that you need to see.” Tim waved his hand and the scene changed. “This is what happened the day that you were born.”

  He watched his parents walk in the park, hand in hand, to the horse stable. The events that followed held him, mesmerized, waiting, hoping that it would be all right in the end.

  “When you tell your parents about this dream, I want you to say something to them. Say, ‘Only the best people are born in stables.’ You tell them that, you hear.”

  Mark sat bolt upright in bed. The second part of the dream had been surreal. He had watched the events unfold as a spectator. It hadn’t been a normal dream. He wasn’t part of the action. Mark tried to remember if his parents had ever told him the story of his birth. He had never heard the tale.

  Steak and eggs, the aroma beckoned Mark to join his family downstairs. That was his favorite breakfast, after all. Today was not just any old day, either. This very day he became twelve years old. Today he embarked on the journey from childhood to manhood. His family would be waiting for him to emerge so that they could commence the celebration.

  His dad was right where he expected him to be, reading the paper at the table, acting like today was just any other old day. His mom was cooking breakfast. James was nowhere to be seen which meant that he could tell about this new dream without being taunted by his older brother. Mark sat in the chair across from his father.

  “I had a scary dream last night. I mean, it wasn’t scary for me; it was scary for you guys.” He pointed at his parents. “I dreamed about a storm. This horse tried to kill you. Only the horse wasn’t trying to kill you. It wanted to kill me.”

  James had tiptoed down the stairs behind Mark. No one had noticed him. He sat down on the stairs to listen to Mark tell about his dream. James had an unusual dream, too. That was what had kept him upstairs this morning. He had to check on some things. Things that seemed too far-fetched to be true, yet…

  Steve laid the paper on the table. “That was the day that you were born.”

  “I know. That was in the dream, too.”

  “Come over here and sit down. I’ll tell you the story.”

  Mark got up and sat on the same side of the table as his dad. “Okay. The guy in my dream said I should tell you something. He said that the best people are born in stables.”

  Crash! — Shirley dropped the plate that she was carrying. Ceramic fragments scattered over the hardwood floor. “What did you say?”

  “The guy in my dream, Tim, said for me to tell you that the best people are born in stables. What does it mean? Did he mean me?”

  “I don’t believe it. This is not happening. It can’t be.”

  “It was just a dream, Mom. Get a grip.”

  “That’s no way to talk to your mother, son.”

  “Yes sir. Sorry… but it was just a dream, Dad.”

  “Let me tell you the story. Then you tell me what you think.”

  “Okay.”

  “Twelve years ago, today, your mother and I were walking hand and hand through that park up on the east side. We were just there yesterday. That’s funny; I can’t remember what it’s called.”

  “White Oak.” Shirley was busy cleaning up the shards from the plate she had dropped.

  “White Oak Park. That was one of my last days at home before I had to ship out.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Middle-East, so, you see, I wanted to spend as much time with your mother as I could.”

  Mark looked at his mom. She smiled.

  “Your mother was almost ready to give birth to our child. That would be you.”

  “I know that.”

  “I thought, even as much as I wanted to, I wouldn’t be home for your birth. A lot I knew.”

  “I was born right there in the park.”

  “That’s right. I was so wrapped up in just being there with your mother. I remember thinking of how bright her blue eyes were. Your mom loves horses, so we strolled over to the horse corral and stables. I hadn’t noticed the clouds forming over head.”

  “I like horses, too. Can I learn how to ride?”

  “We’ll see. Your mom couldn’t ride then. I guess you already know that too.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Even though she couldn’t ride, in her advanced condition, she enjoyed just being around them. I remember... she smiled at me, you know, the kind of smile that says ‘I know something that you don’t know.’”

  “Yeah, she does that a lot.”

  “I remember that day like it was yesterday, the pleasant cool breeze, and the warmth of the sun. I wanted to savor every moment before I had to go.”

  “How long were you gone?”

  “Almost a year. I wasn’t back long either before I had to ship out for somewhere else, not a nice place either.”

  Shirley began setting the table. “He made sergeant after that. He got to stay home more then, because of training.”

  “All right, back to the story. Your mother said, ‘I wish that you could be here when your son is born.’ I barely noticed when a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.”

  “The storm’s getting ready to start.”

  “Let me tell the story… I said, ‘What makes you so sure it’s going to be a boy. The doctor didn’t let it slip, did he?’ I think that some doctors might feel that it is important for the parents to know the gender of the child before it’s born, so that they can prepare. Your mom and I had agreed that we wanted to be surprised. We would love and cherish you, whichever you were.”

  “I’m glad I was a boy.”

  “Your mother looked at me with a sly smile across her lips, ‘Oh, I just know. Nobody told me.’ The breeze was picking up. It had the heavy feel of rain.

  “Your mother pointed at the horses and said, ‘The horses are acting strange.’ She had a touch of apprehension in her voice. ‘Look at that bay over there. It’s scared. You can see the white in her eyes. She wants to bolt, but there is no place for her to run. All of the other horses are doing short circles. They want to run away, too.’

  “I looked up when I felt the mist on my face. The clouds seemed menacing. I was just about to speak when, BOOM! A bolt of lightning struck a pine tree not fifty yards from where we were standing. That tree, every bit of ninety feet tall, exploded straight down the middle. The thunder rattled our bones. Small shards of wood pelted us. I grabbed your mother to keep her from falling over.
The concussion from that blast was that strong. I placed myself between her and the tree while I scanned for some place to take cover.”

  “That’s when you went in the stable.”

  “Not quite yet. Another bolt struck another pine tree not ten yards from the previous one. It reminded me of taking incoming artillery fire. Our bones quivered and splinters peppered us again. The tumultuous downpour started. We needed cover, now. We were caught in a microburst. I knew it. I’d been caught in one before.”

  “What’s a microburst?”

  “It’s like, well... imagine blowing on an anthill through a straw. Now imagine yourself as an ant caught in that blast. Add rain, hail, lightning, and gut-wrenching fear. That about says it all. That’s what a microburst is like. It’s not fun.”

  “Like a tornado?”

  “Kind of, some people call it a straight-line tornado.”

  “That’s scary.”

  “Yeah, it is. The three-sided stable didn’t offer much cover but it was all we had. I nodded toward the stable. I grabbed your mother. Without hesitation, we both made our way through the corral fence and into the stable. You might say we were well motivated.”

  “I bet.”

  “Lightning flashed again. Thunder pounded. I couldn’t see where it had struck. It had been very close, too close. I felt the tingle in my legs.”

  “You were struck by lightning?”

  “No, but it was close. The wind started. I knew it would. Every single treetop that we could see snapped right off in a straight line as if some giant, invisible flying saucer had flown through the tops of the trees. The stable shook. Large sheets of metal roofing were being torn off and flying away. Your mom and I huddled in the corner of a stall. Lightning flashed about every ten seconds. Objects exploded with every flash. Every thunderclap penetrated us to the very core. I thought that the wind might blow us away. I had to work fast. I took my wet shirt off and tied one end of the shirt to a stall post that was set into the ground. The other end of the shirt I tied around your mom’s ankle. I lashed my leg to the post with my belt. Your mother sobbed. I thought it was fear, I hadn’t realized that she had started childbirth.

  “I knew that a microburst was a short-lived event, less than twenty minutes. At most, we had less than fifteen minutes left to tough it out. Fifteen minutes can be an eternity when you’re under fire. We were relatively safe in the corner of the stable. Well, as safe as we could be anyway, all things considered. I remember praying, ‘Father be with us now, cover us, and keep us safe.’

  “The wind ended. It had seemed like forever, but it had been only about ten minutes. The lightning was still striking but nowhere as near as close or as frequently as it had been. The rain had quit altogether.

  “I straightened up and started to look around. The first thing that I noticed was that the stable was still mostly intact except for the roof at the far end. I turned to look and came nose to nose with that bay colored horse. Her eyes were wide with fear. She whinnied and reared.”

  “I know. I saw it in my dream.”

  “I tried to dodge her hooves but my leg was still lashed to the post. I couldn’t move much. I knew that I had to keep the horse’s attention on myself and away from your mother. I heard your mother sigh a little. The first hoof hit me on the right side of my chest. Broken ribs. The second hoof hit my shoulder. I heard my collarbone snap. I went down. The horse reared again. I managed to loosen the belt and free my leg. I was thinking that if I moved to the side the horse would follow me and not see your mom. I tried it. The horse didn’t follow me. She was fixed on your mother. It was about then that I noticed two hooded figures just outside the stable. I dove toward your mother to protect her from the hooves. I called out, ‘Help me.’

  “Your mother had looked just in time to see the bay horse rearing and me diving toward her. She scrambled to back away. The hooves came down on the back of both of my legs. Both of my femurs snapped. I felt the pain. I saw in that instant your mom’s predicament. She was still tied to the post. She couldn’t get away. I managed to get my pocketknife from my pocket before I lost consciousness.”

  Shirley sat the platter of breakfast steaks and scrambled eggs on the table. “I remember it like it was yesterday. The horse started to rear up again. I reached for the knife. One of the hooded figures entered the stall. I quickly opened the knife. Another contraction hit me. The hooded figure interposed himself between the horse and me. I heard him yell ‘Burn it now!’ I remember that because I thought it was very odd. What was he supposed to burn, the stable? Lightning struck just outside of the stable.”

  Mark exclaimed, “Yeah! It hit the fence post right where Tim was!”

  Shirley continued. “The hooded figure hopped around in front of the horse with his arms waving. He was saying something that I couldn’t quite make out. Smoke started to come into the stable. Evidently the last lightning strike had started a fire.”

  “It did! Tim was burning something.”

  “It stunk, like fish burning on the grill. The horse cried out, crumpled down onto its front knees and rolled over onto its side. It let out a long sigh then lay still, like it was dead.”

  “It wasn’t dead. In my dream, I saw it leave.”

  “The hooded figure turned toward me, and then toward your dad. He looked at me again and pulled back his hood. He was a young man, barely eighteen I guess. He had long, flowing, blond hair and deep green eyes. He said, ‘My name is Gerod. Don’t be afraid, we’re here to help you.’

  “Another huge hooded figure came into the stable. He pulled back his hood. He was an older man with thick black hair and a full beard. This was very much in contrast with his intense, very blue eyes. ‘My name is Tim,’ he said.”

  “That’s the guy in my dream!”

  “Another contraction hit me. I must have grimaced at the pain. In two strides Gerod, the blond kid, was at my side. He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Don’t worry, the best people are born in stables.’ With that, he gave me a smile and a wink. ‘You just lay back. Everything is going to be all right.’”

  “That’s why Tim said that I should tell you that.”

  “I was worried about your dad. I saw what that horse had done to him. ‘What about Steve?’

  “Don’t you fret one bit. Tim is going to take care of him. You just lie back, and let’s bring this baby into the world.”

  “There was something about his voice that I just trusted him. I can’t explain it.

  “He reached deep into a pocket of his robe. He took out a small bottle, put some of the liquid on his finger and rubbed my forehead with it. I felt a deep reassuring peace settle over me. When I woke up, I was cradling a newborn baby boy in my arms. Your dad was kneeling at my side.

  “I was dumbfounded. His legs had been broken. I looked at his legs. They looked all right. I said, ‘Your legs!’

  “He said, ‘Shhh… I’m all right.’ I found out later that he was baffled, too.

  “Just then a park ranger jeep pulled up outside.

  “The ranger called out, ‘Hello! Anyone here?’

  “Your dad called to the ranger, ‘We’re over here.’

  “The ranger strode over to the corner stall where your dad and I were. ‘Well, well, well, what have we here?’

  “Your dad said, ‘Well, there were only two of us in here before the storm.’

  “The ranger looked at you, your dad and me. He smiled while saying, ‘I hear tell that the best people are born in stables.’”

  Steve looked at Mark. “That’s how it happened. We never saw the two strangers again. We never figured out who they were. When I woke up, that horse was gone too. We’re still baffled about the whole thing. I don’t think that we’ll ever figure it out.”

  Mark looked at his dad. “That’s exactly the dream I had last night, only, I was up in the air watching the whole thing. In the first part of the dream, Tim, the big guy, with the blue eyes, was in it. He showed me a mountain. He said that I was chose
n to go to school there. I had to go there, I didn’t have a choice. He said that the school was a part of who I am and who I will become. What do you think it means?”

  “I don’t really know, Mark. Tim told me the same thing. I came around a little, while he was working on me. He told me that it would start to happen when you were twelve years old.”

  “Wow! That was some story.” James stood up and stepped off the stairs. All eyes turned to James. No one said anything. James walked up and handed Mark a piece of paper. “Happy birthday, misc.”

  Steve said, “What’s a misc?”

  “You know. It’s like when you’re sorting stuff. It’s the things that don’t fit into any other category.”

  James felt more like the misc after the dream that he had last night. He knew that his dream had been significant, not like any other dream that he had ever had or even heard of, until today.

  He had sat on the stairs and listened to the story of Mark’s birth. Mark had dreamed about his birth and it had been absolutely accurate. James was almost certain now that his dream and what he had found out as a result was probably true as well; he just didn’t want to believe it.

  Mark looked at the slip of paper. It read, “FREE HINT  DIG.” He recognized it immediately as an anagram.

  Steve said, “What is this?”

  Shirley was setting the rest of breakfast on the table.

  Mark said to his dad, “James likes games. I suspect this is a clue to where my birthday present from him is.”

  Shirley said, “James! That’s not very nice. How would you like it, if I made you clues for you to find your breakfast?”

  Mark interrupted, “It’s okay, Mom. We do this kind of thing all the time. James loves anagrams.”

  James said, “It’s part of the present, Mom. It’s just a short treasure hunt.”

  Shirley said in a half scolding tone, “All right then, sit down. It will have to wait until after breakfast.”

  Steve looked at everyone around the table before he bowed his head and asked the blessing.

  After breakfast Mark went and got the Scrabble® tiles and went to work on the first clue. Unscrambled, the first clue, “FREE HINT  DIG” was an anagram for “IN THE FRIDGE.”

  Mark went to the refrigerator and retrieved the second clue. The second clue read, “OUCH   CREED HUNT.” After a few minutes and several wrong answers, Mark had deciphered the second clue as “UNDER THE COUCH.”

  He looked under the couch and found another slip of paper that read “YONDER  U  BO.” It took a little longer and much more careful thought for Mark to decrypt the message into “ON YOUR BED.”

  Mark returned with the brightly wrapped present in his hand. He was surprised to see a brand new bicycle standing in the kitchen.

  Mark laid the present from James on the table and examined the bike. “Wow! A freestyle… with all the extras! Wow! Thanks Mom! Thanks Dad! This is awesome!”

  Steve said, “Well, you have another present here. Go ahead and open it so you won’t be late for school.”

  James and Mark said in unison, “Today is Saturday!”

  Steve looked a little embarrassed. “Oh… I guess I forgot.”

  Mark opened the other present. It was obvious what it was before he had half finished tearing the paper off.

  Shirley cried out softly, looking mildly horrified at James. “Oh, honey! That’s yours. You can’t give that away. That’s meant for you.”

  It was the family Bible. It had belonged to Steve’s great, great, great grandfather. He had brought it with him when he came over from Germany. It was even written in German. His instructions, written in English, in the front of the Bible, were to pass it to the first born on their eighth birthday. James had received it from Steve on his eighth birthday just as Steve had received it on his eighth birthday.

  James said, “It’s okay, Mom. It rightfully belongs to Mark anyway.”

  Shirley’s mouth dropped open and she looked over at Steve. Steve looked at James and said, “What makes you say that, son?”

  “It’s okay, Dad. I know the truth. It’s okay.”

  “What truth are you talking about?”

  James started slowly, “I had this dream. The guy in the dream is, well… kind of special. He has long blond hair, green eyes and when he talks you just know that everything is all right. His name is Gerod. I think he’s the same guy from when Mark was born. I knew when I heard the story of Mark’s birth that I was doing the right thing.”

  “In my dream he waved his hand in front of me. Then I could see you, Dad, holding a baby. You were talking to the baby and I heard you say, ‘It’s going to be okay, James. It’s going to be okay. Your momma and your poppa have been killed. You are going to stay with me and be my son. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. You’ll be my son.’ I knew the baby was me.”

  Steve started to speak, but James held up his hand. He was having trouble believing that it could be true. After all, he was Mark’s older brother and had always been as far as he could remember.

  “There’s more.”

  James reached for the Bible and opened it to the family-tree section. His hand was a little shaky. If what was happening was true, he didn’t want to believe it.

  “The guy in my dream told me to look here. He said that my name was not recorded here, but that Mark’s was. He told me that this Bible was supposed to be Mark’s. That it was part of his providence.”

  James paused and waited for a response that never came, so he continued. He was hoping that someone would say that it was all just a dream.

  “He waved his hand and I saw him helping mom in the stable, just like you and mom just said. I didn’t understand that part of the dream until now. His friend was helping you. You looked dead at first, but then you were all better. Then he told me, ‘The best people are born in stables.’ I thought that was strange until I heard the story. I really felt weird listening to you describe it and all, after I had just dreamed it too.”

  It seemed the longest time before anyone spoke. Steve took a deep breath and broke the silence.

  “James, your father was my best friend. We were in the Marines together. We were in the same squad. We were in Africa at the time. Where we were was not a nice place to be.”

  Steve spoke matter-of-factly to quell the emotion that flamed in his chest. “Your father, his name was James too, got a message that your mother, Tiffany, had been killed in a car crash. His chopper had just taken off to start his trip home to be with you when a rocket-propelled grenade hit it.”

  Steve frowned hard and gave a short sniff. His eyes began to water. His hands clenched together tightly and he took another deep breath.

  “There were no survivors.” The pain of the memory furrowed his brow. He bowed his head and paused.

  James looked at Shirley. She sat across the table from him, her eyes beaming a mother’s love at James. Those events had scared her too; leaving a wound that could only be healed in the dusty shadows of faded memory. James had been a little over a year old just then, much too young to be told. Since then, there had just not been any right time to tell him and she supposed that there never would be. She so much wanted to hold him and make the pain go away.

  James glanced toward Mark. Mark was standing with his eyes wide and mouth open.

  Steve looked back up at James. “I had the radioman work a telephone patch to Shirley. I told her what had happened. She went and got you from the center that you were in. When I got back home, we adopted you. Tiffany, your mother, was Shirley’s best friend, too.”

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!”

  “You’ve been our son ever since, never anything less.” Steve held his arms out to James.

  He looked at Steve for the longest time before accepting his embrace.

  Shirley stepped up and pried James from Steve’s arms, clutching him, trying to protect him with her love. Tears were still streaming down her face.

  “Honey, we didn’t
tell you because it hurt so much.”

  Mark stood where he was, mouth open and breathing hard. The fact that James wasn’t his brother hit him brutally. He felt like he was ready to fight but there was nothing to fight. James was his older brother and nothing was going to change that.

   * * * 

  Later that day, Steve and Shirley sat at the kitchen table. The boys were outside, trying out the new stunt bike. Mark was excited about it. He had been working on a new stunt that no one had ever done before and he wanted to show James. James’s opinion meant a lot to him.

  Steve said, “Deep inside of me, I know what is starting to happen has to be part of some bigger plan. James said that Bible was part of Mark’s providence. James doesn’t use words like that.”

  “Hon, listen to yourself. You sound as if you are resigned to the fact that Mark is leaving home tomorrow. You don’t even know if what this Tim said is true.” Shirley didn’t want to believe what was happening was any more significant than rain on a Tuesday morning. If what was happening was true, then it was the beginning of the breakup of her family. Her whole purpose for living was her family.

  “Things are starting to happen. I wish I knew more,” Steve said.

  “It’s just a lot of coincidence and wishful thinking, if you ask me.”

  Steve sighed, got up and walked to the refrigerator. “I don’t know for a fact that what Tim said is true, but look at the evidence.” Steve poured himself a glass of tea. “Would you like anything from the fridge?”

  “No, thanks… I have looked at the evidence. I’m still not convinced. There are other possible explanations, you know.”

  Steve came back and sat down at the table again. “A freak storm when you were eight and a half months pregnant.”

  “Weather happens.”

  “A horse gone mad, down-right possessed if you ask me, trying to kill you. And, oh yes, it was after you, not me. I was just in the way.”

  “Panic caused by the storm.”

  “Two guys, dressed like monks straight out of the twelfth century, show up out of nowhere. One of them acts as midwife for you and you sleep through the delivery. The other guy heals me of two very badly broken legs, a shattered collarbone, busted ribs and internal injuries. I wake up as if nothing had happened to me.”

  “It’s possible that you weren’t injured as badly as you thought you were.”

  “Okay, how did they calm that horse down? I don’t have a clue. I was totally out of it at that point.”

  “Some people have a way with animals.”

  “When he told me about Mark, it was nonchalant just like saying the rain had stopped. But I got the feeling that they were there for Mark. We were just incidentals.”

  “Some people are strange.”

  “Then… then James with his dream. Dead on, one hundred percent accurate. There are no ifs, ands or buts about it.”

  “He probably saw the family tree section in the Bible. Even if he didn’t notice it consciously, his subconscious could have figured it out. That’s why he had the dream.”

  “What about Mark? He didn’t get that information from us.”

  “Maybe he heard bits and pieces, here and there. You know, just enough for him to put it together.”

  “No. It’s too much. Whatever is starting to happen is very real and very mystical.”

  “You could be right. I could be right, too.”

  “As I see it, there are only two possibilities about this. It’s either good or evil. I, for one, don’t believe that it’s evil. If it’s good, then we have no place in standing against it.”