The Warrior's Beckoning Read Online Free Page B

son was not yet possessed. But why? What did they have planned for him? Whatever it was, I could not allow it.
    I slung my rifle over my shoulder, tied my ammo pouch around my waist, and slid a knife into my boot. Outside I found an unusual trail…ice. The demon’s path was covered in frost, and I ran to follow it before it could disappear. I moved quickly yet silently until I spotted them ahead, a group of ten shadowy figures, and beyond them the encampment that appeared to include hundreds of others. Were they all demons? I could not tell. From a distance, some of them looked human.
    I lay flat on my belly, hidden under thick scrub. From my vantage point, I watched as they placed my son on an altar, black and lined with skulls. A living fog began to surround him, seemingly trying to absorb him or be absorbed by him. I left my cover and leaped up, rifle at the ready, and started to run toward the altar, several hundred yards away.
    You cannot stop this
! I heard the voice distinctly in my mind.
Flee
!
    Yet I knew that there was a way to stop it. I had to kill my own son to prevent the…whatever it was…from possessing him, too. I ran down a small slope toward the camp, making no effort to conceal myself—yet no one seemed to notice me.
    As I neared the crowd, a clear path through the dark figures opened up between me and the altar, like a parting of the seas. I ran straight through. The air grew colder as I approached, slowing me. When I was just a few feet away, I halted, drew a bead on the figure looming over my son, and fired, striking the wispy figure in a broad area I assumed to be his chest, and the figure fell to the ground, motionless.
    Drawing my bowie knife, I jumped for the altar and drove the blade through my son’s heart. “Daddy!” he said softly. “Thank you.”
    I trembled.
Oh, God, what have I done? Did I have a choice?
    The hooded figures closed in on me. My time had passed.

Reconnaissance
    AFTER READING THE third log entry, I sat the book on the table. The events were so intense and so familiar. “The book—I wasn’t just reading it. I was living the events, feeling them,” I said to the priest.
    “It was intended that way. You see, feel, and experience the entries as if you were there,” Daniel said.
    “How…?” I asked softly.
    “The power of God,” Daniel replied. We all looked at each other. Eventually, our gazes settled on the soldier; he would be on the forefront of the physical battle, while Daniel would be on point for the spiritual war. Accepting his role, David raised his rifle and walked to the heavy door that separated the bunker from the tunnel system.
    Daniel turned to face me. “Ghost hunter, you’re with David. Frank, with Jason, Rick, with Joel. I’ll take up the rear.”
    The door opened like a hatch. David and I each turned the heavy wheel with one hand and pulled the door open. Cold, stale air rushed past, and distant whispers beckoned to us. Shadows darted in the distance, and we felt a presence. David nodded. With my pistol in my right hand and the EMF meter in my left, I followed right behind him as he entered the tunnel.
    My head lamp was on, as was the flashlight on David’s rifle. Still, the darkness seemed thicker, almost impenetrably heavy. There werefaint EMF readings, but nothing definite. The voices continued, but I could not tell whether they were really faint whispers or just my imagination.
    The other five men followed behind us. The tunnel was surprisingly well kept with fresh concrete. Someone had been there recently. But whom?
    The tunnel split, branching left and right. As I stood wondering if we should split up, my EMF meter spiked. Something moved through the intersection, something quick. A shadow?
    “We’ll split into two teams. We have no radio contact, so meet back here in ten. Move!” David ordered. Frank, Rick, Joel, and I turned right, peering into the dark tunnel ahead. Jason, David and Daniel took the left. The temperature became