The Assigned (20 page)

The eccentric woman the others call Prophetess, continues her battle prelude as she marches around us. “Now, as you hath experienced, each of you possess abnormal levels of strength, stamina, and agility. Warfare methodology has even been imputed into each of your DNA for such a time as this. Now you must learn how to harness this power into one simple maneuver that temporarily disables the enemy.” Her eyes find Gloria. “Especially those whom can be won back. The Rebuke.” Anna stands beside Tre. “I think you may remember, my child.”

“Oh, you mean when you threw me across the room?” Tre smiles. “So that’s what it’s called. The Rebuke?” Anna nods. “That’s kind of cool though,” Tre continues. “Sounds like an old-school wrestling move. The
Rebuke.
”

“I’m glad you favor it, my child. I was hoping you would once more help me demonstrate.”

“Sure—wait!” Tre steps back. Now this is actually funny.

“You mean, you wanna throw me back across the room?”

“C’mon Tre,” I say, egging him on. “You won’t feel a thing.”

“You do have the Gift of Healing, my child.”

“Yeah, you guys need to learn this, Tre,” grins Gloria.

“Fine,” Tre sighs. “Just hurry up and—”

Without warning, Anna gently thumps Tre with her fingertips. He flies twelve feet before crashing to the ground. Gloria and I do our best not to laugh. Laugh loud, that is.

The training exercises continue past midnight. Hunger and fatigue set in as we exhaust our physical, mental, and as Anna says, our spiritual reserves. But the more I try to dive in this thing head-first without over-thinking it, the more power I feel. Some of the stuff she’s teaching us really does work.

***

Ahhhh, the last morning for lemon-in-a-cup. But at this juncture, I’d drink anything. Surprisingly, everyone is kind of hyper today. Guess our bodies are finally getting used to the lack of food. The day before was consumed with several intense hours of training and some new meditation drills. Not sure if I’ve lost any weight but my pores feel opened up, eyes are whiter. Come to think of it, I haven’t had a cigarette since …
the day
. I’m still not sure of everything, this life-changing experience, this new revelation of God, of demons. But I’d be lying if I said meeting Anna and the others hadn’t changed my life … for the better.

“So what you got for us today, Prophetess?” asks a bouncing Tre.

“There are no training exercises this morning,” says Anna. “My children, you have done well.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” says Tre, high-fiving me and Gloria.

“Although there is one more task you must complete.”

“But I thought you said—”

“This task is not a training exercise, nor can I instruct it.”

“What is it Anna?” asks Gloria.

“Each of you has faced turmoil and tragedy,” starts the Prophetess. “Although you have survived your personal storms, debris still lingers. As I have stated before, some of you have not forgiven others. Some of you have not forgiven yourselves, maybe even God. You must make peace with whatever unresolved issues are in your life. Just like a physical impairment, the enemy will use this against you. Take this day to free yourself of any bondage that currently encases your heart.”

No words are needed. We each know all too well the rubble that remains in our lives.

I haven’t been to church in weeks. Prophetess Anna’s words run through my mind as I pull up to the gothic building.
Make peace.
And that’s what I’ve come to do, though part of me is afraid of what I may find out. If I can jump off buildings and fight superhuman tax collectors, surely I can handle a talk with my …
father
.

Adrenaline courses through me, although not the feeling I get when a fight is imminent. This feels more like the sensation I got as a child when I knew I was about to get in trouble, although this time I can’t have possibly done anything wrong.
Okay, take a deep breath. You can do this.

The smell of the hundred-year-old building brings back memories.
Looks like nothing’s changed.
What am I thinking? I haven’t been gone that long. But considering I’ve spent half of my life here, the time away does seem like an eternity. I walk past a couple of the classrooms. They’ll be full in a few hours. After-school care, tutoring, the art class I used to teach. I wonder who’s been filling in.

“I didn’t fully grasp how much you did around here until you were gone,” says a familiar voice. “How did you keep all of this together?”

I turn to see Deacon Nichols’ tall, slender frame. He’s cut his hair since the last time I’ve seen him. “Not sure. Guess I never had the time to actually think about it. I just did.”

“Well, you did great.”

“Thanks. How has everything been? I know I haven’t—”

“It’s okay. We’ve managed. I told everybody you were taking a leave to help with your mother.”

“Isn’t that kind of bordering the truth?”

“Well …” smiles the Deacon. “… I figured there were some things you guys needed to work on.”

“Yeah, but she’s not the only one, Deacon.”

“Call me David.” I’ve never heard anyone call the Deacon by his first name, let alone spoke it myself. “And you’re right,” he says. “But she is your mother, first and foremost.”

“You almost say that like—like the rest doesn’t matter.” For some reason, these words in particular strike a chord with the Deacon—David. His eyes water, but surely he’s not about to cry? Fumbling with his hands, he looks around, now drawing closer. Words burst from his mouth. “I called you—I came by, your mother wouldn’t open the door–”

“Did you know?” are the only words I can get out. Deacon Nichols takes his time speaking. At first, it reminds me of that night. But something’s different. “Gloria,” he starts. “I had no idea you were mine. You have to believe me.”

I discern honesty in his words. Not sure if it’s due to my training or just something in my heart, but the words are true. He awaits my response. “I believe you.”

“Oh Gloria, if I knew I had a child, I would have never walked away from my responsibility.”

“It’s okay Deacon. I believe you.”

“David.”

“
David
, I believe you. A’ma used me to get back at you.”

“I never intended to hurt your mother. She was a beautiful woman, much like the one that stands before me now. But I was conflicted with whether I should become a priest. Your mother couldn’t understand what I was going through, so she left me. I thought she had moved on with someone else.”

“I never knew why she would drop me off at this church, religiously, every Sunday. But I guess in her own, twisted way, she wanted me to know my father.” Tears run down as I look up at the tall, slender man. “And I did just that. I got to know a wonderful man.” Fiddling with his fingers, his height is shortened as he hunches over. This time I step closer. “I don’t blame you or A’ma. We can’t agonize over the past. We have to move forward. There’s so much work to be done. To have you in my life in any capacity is a blessing.”

Deacon Nichols raises his head. “You are something else. What have you been doing the last few weeks?”

“Learning how to fight for the ones I love.”

-----------T H E A S S I G N E D-----------

Today’s grayish outcast is a perfect replica of the 807’s exterior as it finally arrives to its stop. No chopper today. I opt for public transportation, seeing that I’m carrying precious cargo. Christina. “Hold Daddy’s hand,” I smile as the sliding doors of the bus swing open.

“Daddy, am I sick again?” Chrissy asks as she sees the familiar sight. Her words nearly sadden me. Not sure if she or I will ever look at a hospital any differently.

“No baby. Of course not. We’re just here to see an old friend.”

Everyone’s face at St. Jude lights up as they watch a healthy, smiling Christina skip by. Nurses and crew approach as they marvel at the sight of my precious daughter. Like most children, Christina loves the attention. Alicia took extra time fixing her hair. My baby girl wears a blue dress and white patent leather shoes. Thankfully, Alicia dressed her too. I probably wouldn’t have picked such an elaborate outfit. Mine, of course, is the usual. Jeans and t-shirt, albeit clean, accompanied by my favorite black leather jacket.

I too approach several nurses and thank them for their assistance with Christina. Some seem hesitant at first to shake my hand. Guess I wasn’t the easiest person to work with. Vivid memories come to mind as we walk by several of the rooms in the children’s ward. Christina and I observe children affected by cancer and other diseases. Some of their heads are shaved. Others sleep as tubes protrude from their small fragile bodies. As we pass room 413, emotions spring up. I can’t help but to peek into the deathly cold room, a major part of our lives just a few short weeks ago. Now another child rests in the bed recently occupied by Christina. And another parent sleeps in the chair seated next to the bed. A well known voice adds to the surreal moment. “And what do we have here?”

“Chappy Brynint!”
yells Christina as only she can. She runs into the arms of the waiting Chaplain Bryant. “My goodness, look how big you’ve gotten! How old are you now, ten?”

“No Chappy,” laughs my tickled child. “I’m five!”

“Wow! Well go say hi to your old friends. They’ve missed you.”

Christina runs off to play with the other kids. Although fully dressed and healthy, she doesn’t seem to notice the state of the sick children. They don’t see condition or illness. Only friendship.

Chaplain Bryant makes his way over. “Mr. Myers,” he cautiously nods.

“My friends call me Zeek.”

It takes a moment for the Chaplain to process my statement. “Okay,
Zeek
. And how are you, sir?”

“Everything’s great Chaplain. Pretty great.”

His eyes watch me until they finally believe what they see. “Well that’s good. You look like a new man.”

“You have no idea,” I chuckle. The Chaplain joins in on the laugh.

“Well, you don’t know what it does to me and the children to see Christina so full of life.”

“Well we owe a lot of it to you.” An awkward look spreads across the Chaplain’s face. “You do? Why do you say that?”

“You gave my baby hope. Even when her stubborn young father couldn’t do it, an even more stubborn Chaplain did.” Chaplain Bryant’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “You taught her not to give up. And I’ll never forget that.” As I extend my hand, a tear rolls down the preacher man’s face. Instead of a hand, a tight squeeze greets me as the Chaplain hugs me with all his might.

The visit lasts for another fifteen minutes or so before Christina and I make our way downstairs. Chaplain Bryant walks us out. “Sometimes you think what you do doesn’t make a difference but then you see a miracle like Christina and it makes everything worthwhile.”

I can’t help but pick the faithful man’s brain. “Chaplain, I know you’ve seen Christina come a long way and all, but there’s so much evil in the world, so many people dying. How do you know any of it’s real?”

“You mean my faith?”

I nod.

“Well that’s just it, son. It’s
faith
. It’s believing in something you can’t see. And I choose to believe. That’s all I can do. That’s all any of us can do.”

He’s right. It’s my choice. It’s always been my choice. “Of course every now and then,” he continues, “we’re blessed with things we can see that encourage our faith.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I say, smiling down at Christina as we head for the exit.

“And looks like you kept that new stride, Mr. Myers, or shall I say, Zeek,” the Chaplain says, referring to my limp, or rather lack thereof.

“Like I said, Chaplain, you have no idea …”

-----------T H E A S S I G N E D-----------

I pull up to the cemetery right before the heavy rain. Memories of Martin’s funeral are just as fresh as the smell of raindrops falling to the ground. No liquid poison needed for this trip. Nope. I’m done with that life. Just me, my God, and my brother.

I remember the exact location of the tombstone with little effort. As I kneel, my fingers run across script chiseled into a massive granite block. They read,

Martin Luther Turner
Son, Brother, Friend
1994-2013

“Man, I never thought it would end like this. I know we weren’t the closest, let’s face it. We were so different. You wanted to be a gangster. I wanted to be the ladies man. I wanted to fit it, you wanted to be a rebel. I liked Jay-Z, you liked Pac.” A soft smile holds my face as the words continue to flow. “But I figured, later in life, I’d be successful, you’d finally sow your oats, and we could kick it. Take our families on trips, do cook-outs—you know, the things brothers are supposed to do.” Thunderous beads of rain now fall, masking the tears of a wounded sibling. “But I guess it didn’t work out that—Martin, I’m sorry! I didn’t know. I DIDN’T KNOW!!!” My clothes drenched, I look to the sky. “Oh God! Forgive me!”

I sit silent for a moment. Just the melodic patterns of rain. No one answers. Not in the heavens, on the earth, nor in the ground. Or do they?

“I found out who did it, Martin,” I say, more composed. “And I’m gonna make it right. You always said I’d be a preacher. Well, I don’t know about that, but God’s definitely got something for me to do.” I look down at my pulsating hands. “He’s given me these Gifts. This power. And I guarantee you one thing.”

Again my fingers rub across my brother’s name. “THIS … won’t be in vain.”

***

I receive a text from Prophetess Anna reminding us to be back at the suite by sundown. I never pictured her as the type to text message. I can still hear the King James voice even through the words on the screen.

Everyone has already arrived by the time I show up. The room is filled with so much laughter, they hardly notice my presence. Even
Mr. Sternface
—Zeek, is smiling ear to ear. “Knock, knock.”

“Oh there you are Tre,” smiles the Prophetess. “I was about to get worried about you. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great. I see you guys are having a good time.”

“Oh yes. Ezekiel was sharing of his days as a rodeo clown.”

“Zeek? Rodeo clown? C’mon man. Really?” Zeek raises his hands and hunches his shoulders.

“Hey man, I’ve worked all kinds of jobs. But that one takes the record. Three hours. That’s it. When the bull came after me, I jumped over the railing and kept on running. I ran past concessions, past the restrooms, past the front door. That was it!”

This is the first time I can recall Zeek being …
funny
. And that’s when it hits me. We’re finally a family. Which makes my surprise all the better. “Man, that’s crazy! Well since everyone is in such a good mood, I guess this is the perfect time to give you these.” I pull three boxes from my gym bag, handing two of them to my partners. “One for you, one for you, and one for me.”

“What do we have here, Tre?” asks Zeek.

“Well, you guys are always kidding me about watching too many movies and all that, but growing up I always wanted to be the characters I read about. You know just some kind of superhero. And now, crazily enough, God has given me that chance. And what does every superhero have in common …”

“Super … powers?” shrugs Gloria.

“Well yeah, you’re right. But what else?”

Zeek and Gloria shrug again.

“A costume.”

“Hey man, I’m not wearing any tights,” puffs Zeek. “Forget about it.”

“And I’m definitely not wearing some skimpy bikini,” says Gloria, rolling her eyes. “Or some tight latex bodysuit. Hmph. Please.”

“Will you two just open the boxes?”

After a few stubborn moments, Gloria goes first. Enclosed in tissue paper is a black, ribbed, sweater-like garment. A small black emblem is sewn on the right sleeve. “See, not so bad, is it?” I ask. Gloria’s eyes are still affixed to the trendy pullover. “Definitely not what I had in mind,” she grins. “Thank God.”

“Your turn Zeek.”

He mumbles as he opens the sealed white cardboard box. “You see what they’re trying to do to me, Anna?” he says, pressing his way through tissue paper. “They want me to look like Justin Beiber. Now if that’s how you get down, fine. But as for me, I’m not—Hey!” Zeek finds a black leather vest resting in his box. A bit more sleek than any I’ve seen him wear, but his reaction denotes approval. A raised triangular symbol is embroidered on the back. Three grooves perforate the side with a circle resting inside the top of the triangle.

“Now THIS is what I’m talking about!” shouts Zeek. Everyone laughs at the familiar words. “Thanks man.”

“Yeah, thanks Tre,” says Gloria. “I like it.”

“No problem guys.”

“So what’s in your box?”

“Just a v-neck T-shirt.”

“Tight, I’m sure,” says Gloria.

“Tight? Never. It’s called fitted. I can’t help if the guns jump out!”

“Black as well?” asks Prophetess Anna.

“Yep. I figured since Bale and his boys love to wear white, we’d let the good guys wear black.”

“And what’s with the symbol?” Zeek asks.

“Well seeing how Bale has his mark, I figured we could have a logo. You mind?” I reach for Zeek’s vest. “See the triangle represents God and the three grooves represent us, the Three of Three. And the circle at the top is for you, Prophetess Anna.”

“Wonderful, Tre,” smiles the Prophetess. “Very creative. Such symbolism. And here I perceived it to simply be a fancy ‘A’.”