The Calling – Chapter 9 – Back from the Abyss

The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

John 1:5

Awake

Wade’s eyes fluttered open, his vision swimming in and out of focus as the world gradually reassembled itself around him. The first thing he registered was the stark, antiseptic scent hanging heavy in the air – a fragrance he had become all too familiar with over the past…

How long had it been? His mind felt clouded, adrift in a disorienting fog as memories ebbed and flowed in fragmented vignettes.

He tried to move, to sit upright, but a lead weight seemed to permeate every fiber of his being, anchoring him to the cot. An I.V. line trailed from the crook of his arm, the steady drip of fluids replenishing his dehydrated form.

Carefully, Wade turned his head, squinting against the harsh glare of overhead fluorescents. The space around him resolved into the hazy medical bay, rows of cots arranged in tight formations with privacy curtains providing a modicum of seclusion.

He was in the Ramsey Station infirmary, the pieces gradually slotting back into place like tumblers in a lock. The harrowing final sprint through that forsaken alien wasteland, driven by a spiritual force to report in before the deadline…

A gruff chuckle from the adjacent cot roused Wade from his reverie. “Figured you’d be coming around sooner or later, brother.”

The gravelly timbre was unmistakable, and Wade felt a surge of relief crest through the lingering disorientation as he recognized the familiar silhouette beside him.

“Briggs…” he rasped, his throat feeling as raw as if he’d gargled with shards of glass. “What…how long was I out?”

Wade shifted, the creak of the cot’s frame accompanying his movements as he propped himself upright with a wince. In the sterile glow afforded by the overheads, Wade could make out the harsh lines etched into Briggs’ features, broadcasting the toll their odyssey had wrought. He was still in his Marine dress uniform having paraded in the graduation ceremony two hours prior.

His eyes shone with a quiet intensity, the gleam of a tempered soul that had been scoured clean and reforged amidst the crucible. He looked all the part of a Marine.

“Three days,” Briggs replied, offering a wan smile. “Doc said you were pretty far gone when they found you – dehydrated, malnourished, man you were delirious as all get out.” He shook his head in a mixture of awe and concern. “They’re not sure how you managed to keep going, let alone finish. We all put money on you, that somehow you would find a way to march with us today. It didn’t feel right not having you there. But they did mention your name as one of the distinguished graduates anyway. Staff Sergeant Reyes made that happen.”

A fleeting bout of disquiet interrupted Wade’s swelling pride. Phantom images flickered across his consciousness as half-remembered visions resurfaced – feverish spectors stalking him across the seared barrens, tormenting him with visions of his failures, his deepest insecurities laid bare.

But through the lurking shadows loomed a single, brilliant radiance – he had made it, he had overcome the demons to be reborn as something…more.

“I don’t know, man.” he said at last, the words feeling leaden on his tongue. “Some…force just kept driving me forward. Kept me from quitting, even when every instinct was screaming at me to lay down and let it end.” His gaze drifted across the infirmary, alighting on the other occupied cots with a pang of regret.

“What about the others? How many…” He trailed off, unable to vocalize the question that weighed so heavily.

Briggs seemed to register the unspoken query, his expression sobering further as he cast his eyes downward. “We lost eight more in those final days,” he said, each word carrying the weight of mourned comrades. “Heatstroke, injuries, lost and dying of dehydration…the planet itself picked ‘em off one by one.”

A profound silence stretched between them, a reverent acknowledgment of the sacrifices rendered to attain their shared objective. Wade felt a lump form in his throat as the shadows of their fallen Brothers in Arms materialized, ghostly sentinels keeping their solemn vigil.

“Twenty-four of us made it through the gates, Wade,” Briggs continued, his voice hushed yet edged with a fierce pride. “Out of the company that entered the Zoo, only twenty-four have earned the right to graduate as Marines and continue our journey to be Rangers.”

“Alex?!” he ventured, suddenly conscious of the glaring absence of their stalwart brother.

As if conjured by the mere mention of his name, the burly figure of Alex emerged from between the curtains, his obsidian eyes glittering in the half-light. A faint hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he regarded his squadmates, brimming with pride and a serene confidence in his Marine dress uniform.

“The conquering hero returns to the land of the living,” he rumbled in that deep baritone that could soothe or unnerve with equal efficacy. “Welcome back, hermanos.”

Wade felt a sense of profound peace settle over him as the trio was reunited, their unbreakable brotherhood transcending the boundaries of the nightmare realm they’d so recently been submerged within.

Yet even as the joy of their deliverance washed over him, nagging tendrils of a harsh reality once more asserted themselves. For not all would be able to bask in this first light of glory. He missed Mike. He ached for his fallen brother. He wished it was four of them…together… enjoying this moment of comradeship.

Alex interrupted his thoughts, “We are shipping out tonight. Sorry to leave you high and dry.” Pointing to Wade’s I.V. and they laughed, very conscious that they might be disturbing other injured Marines around them. “But I’m sure you’ll catch up to us on Rinart 3 for Dropship Insertion School.” Briggs clasped hands with Wade. “Get well and quit taking a break, Marine!” They laughed again, Alex gave him a fist bump and the two strowed out of the infirmary with a noticeable swagger in their step. Wade closed his eyes and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Armless

Wade’s eyelids slowly peeled open, his vision blurry as he blinked away the haze of deep sleep and disorientation. The stark, clinical atmosphere of the infirmary gradually came into focus around him with rows of cots occupied by other Marines.

As Wade attempted to move, he felt fatigue like a heavy cloak hanging on him and the I.V. line still dripping beside him. His mind was foggy, memories trickling back in fragments of their final days in the Zoo and the farewells with Alex and Briggs.

“Morning Marine!” A sympathetic voice of a corpsman beside him, startling Wade. He turned to see the combat doc attending to his meds and adjusting the pillows beneath Wade’s head. The sight of the occupied cot next to him caught his eye – a Marine laying deathly still, most of his features obscured by bandages except for the jagged stump of his left arm.

“Private Baringger,” the corpsman supplied, following Wade’s line of sight with a somber nod. “Caught the wrong end of a Skravak claw during the first engagement. Docs did what they could, but…” He shook his head slowly, the import of Baringger’s plight evident in his silence.

As if roused by the murmurs of their conversation, the prone form stirred, eyes opened to reveal a pair of haunted yet determined eyes. Baringger regarded them each in turn before focusing on Wade, his expression a rictus mask of anguish and resolution.

“Doesn’t matter,” he rasped, the words grating from a long time under the influence of anesthesia. “Made it this far…further than most.”

Wade felt his chest constrict as the magnitude of Baringger’s sacrifice crystallized. Even having lost a part of himself in the most visceral sense, the Marine Recruit had persevered until the bitter end of his training – that is the end that Skravak scout inflicted on him denying him of the ultimate prize that they aspire to.

“Hey, Baringger,” Wade ventured, his voice hushed with solemn respect. “What…what are your plans now? After…”

The ruined Marine regarded him for a long moment, something hauntingly inscrutable flickering behind those dark hollow eyes. Then, with tangible effort, he lifted his remaining hand, clenched his fist and pumped in the air.

“Still want to be a Marine,” he growled, every syllable carrying a universe of intestinal fortitude. “Just…taking a detour. Got an appointment next week to start getting fitted for my ‘loaners’.” The ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, mordant humor undercutting the grim reality awaiting him. He would be fitted with a cybernetic arm and be offered a medical discharge. If he still really wanted to be a Marine, he would have to start bootcamp all over again as a Marine Regular. His chances of ever being a Deep Space Ranger were slim to none.

“Gonna show those meatbags how a cybernetically-enhanced Marine gets it done.” His gaze shifted, tracking across the assembled remnants with an intensity that seemed to burn straight through to Wade’s soul.

“This ain’t goodbye, brother,” the armless Marine vowed, his voice filled with grim determination. “Just a reassignment while I get my new kit squared away.” His jaw set in a hard line. “Then I’ll be rejoining the dance, you can bet your mom’s peg leg on that.”

Wade felt a surge of admiration for the Marine’s incredible resolve in the face of such a devastating injury. To lose a limb in battle yet still be focused on returning to the fight – it spoke volumes about his strength of spirit.

However, the corpsman tending to the wounded Marine turned his head toward Wade, giving him a look of skepticism and pity. The corpsman’s expression seemed to say that while the Marine’s tenacity was admirable, the reality of his situation may be more dire than he was letting on.

Wade could only nod slowly in response, hoping against hope that the Marine’s fortitude would see him through the difficult recovery and reassignment process. He knew all too well the relentless demands of their duty – a robotic arm was not all this young Marine would need to face the future. The Marine’s only path forward was to adapt and overcome physically, mentally, and spiritually.

Alone

The oppressive silence was suffocating Wade from all sides, like a heavy fog draining the life from everything around him. He lay perfectly still on the infirmary cot, staring blankly at the empty rows of cots with their starchy linens pulled taut in crisp hospital corners.

Alex and Briggs had shipped out four days ago for the next phase of their training on Rinart 3. All the other wounded or injured Marines had been shipped out for assignments as a Marine Regular, further medical treatment or the worse, discharged back into civilian life. Without them, the infirmary felt like a gaping void, empty of any camaraderie. The steady cadence of life support monitors and the intermittent squawk of the med-staff’s comms provided the only ambiance, sterile white noise underscoring the vacancy and the penetrating loneliness.

Wade turned his head, exhaling slowly as he looked at the sickly glow filtering through the reinforced windows. Even the blazing twin suns of Carthis 7 seemed dim and gloomy, casting a depressing pall over the entire outpost.

He’d tried distracting himself with virtual reality simulations and brain-computer training programs, but they all felt hollow and artificial, making him itch for the grit of the real world. The staff encouraged him to get up and move about, so he would do laps around the small infirmary, carting the I.V. pole in one hand and datapad in another. The boredom of lap after lap became unbearable in itself.

So he just lay there, alone in medical purgatory as the days blurred together monotonously. The med staff came and went, checking his vitals and adjusting his nutrient I.V., but they said little, their businesslike manner as emotionless as the bland supplement drips.

Wade found his mind turning inward with increasing frequency. Replaying the crescendo of violence and mayhem from their trials in the Zoo, unpacking every traumatic vignette in an endless loop of self-reflection. The faces of the dead materialized vividly – Smith getting torn apart…Torry exploding in a ball of fire from his own grenade…

He could almost smell the reeking carnage on his armor, taste the acrid plasma burns in his throat. The sensations were so intense, like living nightmares blurring reality and his psyche into one.

Sometimes, he thought he saw ghostly shapes in his peripheral vision, swirling half-formed silhouettes of the brothers and sisters who had fallen. These phantoms accusing him with their death rictus faces: You failed us. You’ll always be a failure. Sometimes he even thought he saw Mike, mouthing empty words Wade could not understand as much as he tried.

Wade squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, trying to block out the haunting voices eating away at his sanity. But they wouldn’t stop, that inner Greek chorus mocking him from the depths of his shame and regret.

A Welcome Visitor

Wade jolted awake from a restless sleep to a deep, steady voice. “You look like you could use some company, son.”

Blinking, Wade sat up straight to see the calm, friendly face of Chaplain Bronson. “Chaplain,” Wade croaked out. He wasn’t used to using his voice for several days. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

The older man smiled warmly as he took a seat on the cot next to Wade’s. “Heard you were stuck here recovering awhile. Thought you could use a friendly face to break up the monotony.”

Wade understood the chaplain wanted to comfort his troubled mind and spirit too, not just keep him company. There was no criticism in the man’s voice, just an open offer of support.

Over the next few days, Bronson visited daily at 9am sharp with stories from his years in the Marines and Deep Space Rangers. He told tales of tough battles on distant worlds where unexpected heroes emerged through great courage and sacrifice. But the chaplain focused less on the violence and more on the inspiring acts of bravery and compassion that shone through the darkness.

“The universe holds more evil than most admit,” Bronson said solemnly. “There are only two kingdoms. The kingdom of darkness and the kingdom of light and they’re at war with one another.” He paused, looking intensely at Wade to let the words sink in.

“Unfortunately, we’re all born into the kingdom of darkness and the king is Satan, the devil, pure evil. But Satan is a liar. He tells us that we don’t have to serve him but we can serve ourselves. But, in the end, Satan and his kingdom only leads to darkness, destruction, and death. On the other hand, there’s the kingdom of light, the kingdom of God. His Son, Jesus Christ is the King. God the Father loves us so much that he sent His Son Jesus down to the earth, He lived a perfect life and He died on a cross for everything we’ve done wrong. Our selfish rebellion against Him. The Bible calls this sin. Jesus was buried but then three days later he rose from the dead, proving that He is the King over everything, including death. Now, if we turn from our own selfish ways and accept Jesus’s forgiveness and serve Him as our King, we can enter into the kingdom of light. In God’s kingdom there is light, love, and life for all eternity.

Wade nodded with understanding, his mind drifting to the evil he had experienced in the Zoo. Wade hung on the wise chaplain’s every word.

The chaplain continued, looking Wade square in the eyes as though he were looking into his soul. “So we live in this little bubble we call life and when it pops, when we die, whichever King we served is where we will spend all eternity. If we serve ourselves and ultimately Satan, we will spend all eternity in darkness. If we serve Jesus as our King, we will spend all eternity with Him in the kingdom of light.

Once again the chaplain paused to let the truth sink in…”So here’s my question Wade, which King do you serve?”

Wade was caught off guard by the question. He had become so engrossed in the story that he failed to realize he was an integral part of one of these kingdoms himself. It didn’t take long, however, for the stark realization to dawn on him – his entire life had been a pursuit of self-interest. Even his military aspirations stemmed more from personal ambition than a desire to serve others. With a resigned sigh, he muttered, “I think we both know I reside in the kingdom of darkness, chaplain.”

Bronson broke in, “Wade, what would keep you from choosing the kingdom of light? Choosing Jesus as your King? Do you believe God loves you?”

Wade, squirmed uncomfortably on the cot. “Chaplain, I want to believe…but I just don’t know.”

“Well, Wade, it’s the most important decision you’ll ever make. Give it some more thought.” Bronson gave Wade a friendly clap on the shoulder and started to make his way out of the infirmary. He looked back at Wade, “Same time tomorrow?”

Wade stood to his feet, assumed the position of attention and snapped a salute. “Yes sir!” his voice stronger than it had been in weeks.

“Good, see you tomorrow!” Bronson returned his salute.

Over the next few days, Chaplain Bronson continued to weave his thought-provoking stories into the circumstances of the young Marine’s life. Wade’s depression started to lift. The older man imparted such profound truths – Wade was understanding more and more the difference between light and darkness, good and evil, and the spiritual struggle within him was more real than he could have ever imagined.