A hero From The Grave

Copyright 2022

Self- published by C.E. Metcalf

ISBN 978-1-387-76220-0

A Hero From The Grave

Everyone needs a hero. There is no strength stronger than love. Even from the ones that are no longer with us. Some stories say that hero’s never truly die that their souls remain amongst the living to protect the ones they love. Whether that is fact or fiction know one truly knows. But in this case…….

Chapter 1

The last thing I remember I had just returned home after a tour in Afghanistan. I came home to a loving welcome home from both my son and my wife. My son David had just turned twelve and was as tall as me. My wife Cathy the love of my life was expecting our next child within the next month. I was so glad to be home at last. My tour lasted twenty- eight months. If I never see sand again it will be too soon. Cathy prepared a fantastic meal that night it was fit for royalty. Our son David wanted to tell me what went on in his life all in one night. He didn’t have school the next day, so we just let him talk until he fell asleep on the couch. Cathy and I headed for bed. As I was getting undressed, she could see the battle scars on my body. I couldn’t help but notice she was starting to cry. Why do you keep putting yourself through this she asked? I fight for the things I love I said. I love our country and most of all I love you and David.

I know sooner got the words out of my mouth and I heard a noise that made my skin crawl. Like hell I said to myself as I jumped up and grabbed my pistol from our nightstand. Our bedroom door open and four masked people came through. I shot one in the forehead dropping the person to the ground. The second attacker tried to kick me in the face and missed as I drove my fist into his kneecap. As the second attacker fell to the floor screaming my chest exploded in pain as a bullet went into my chest killing me.

Two years have gone by since that night. Through the darkness I could hear a faint cry for help and soon realized it was my son. In the coldest of my coffin, I could feel my heart slowly start to beat. One beat and then another my strength was returning. How can this be? I’m dead? Or am I.

The next thing I knew I was standing on the ground looking at my gravestone.

Edward David Steel

1980- 2014

Loving husband and father.

I heard again that cry for help and this time I asked where are you, David? A force that I had never experienced before was telling me what I had to do. A power greater than myself was pulling me away from my grave. The power of Love. My son needed me, and I would search through Hell to find him if necessary.

As I walked through the city of New York I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window. I couldn’t help but notice I looked dam good for a dead man. My clothes were even clean. When I looked at myself closer, I was much younger than my death age. I didn’t look much over thirty. I kept hearing a voice in my head telling me to prepare for war. War is worse than anything I have seen before. A war against good and evil whatever that meant. I always knew the difference between the two or at least I thought I did. I could feel the force inside me, pulling at my soul and taking me away from the store window.

For some reason I had a compulsion to run. My legs didn’t even feel like my own. I started running faster than I ever did in my life. I jumped over a parked car like I was jumping in a mud puddle. I passed a moving taxi as if it was sitting still. What have I come back as? At this point I didn’t care. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of my old address. The house was dark and run down. The grass in the lawn was knee high. I walked up the five steps to the front porch and listened. I heard nothing. The door had been locked from the outside with a padlock, and crime scene tape was across the front. The memories of that night were rushing back into my head. The anger burned in my soul like fire.

I took hold of the padlock and squeezed, and I watched it crumble like dust as it fell to the floor. My hand didn’t even have a mark on it. Hoping it was still there, I had built a secret room off the bedroom where I kept my military stuff.

I opened the door and stepped inside, and it was like stepping back in time. The downstairs was just like I had left it. Everything was in its place even though it was covered with dust. The upstairs I knew would be different. Taking one step at a time I headed to the second floor. When I got there, I found our bedroom door wide open, and it looked like hell had broken loose. There was blood everywhere along with things smashed. The one thing that hadn’t been moved was our dresser. I slowly moved it off to the side so I could get to the hidden door. At the time I built the room, I was hoping I would never have to use it. We had even wallpapered over the door. Taking my fingertips, I felt for the edges of the door feeling for the hidden button that opened it. When I found it, the door popped open ripping the wallpaper around it. The room I had designed was only six-by-ten feet in size. Hanging on every inch of the walls were weapons of every kind. I was highly trained on every one of them. I had put a small safe in one corner where I stored and hid special documents.

I didn’t bother turning the combination lock. I just grabbed the handle and pulled. When the door broke loose, I threw it to one side. Laying inside I had a large envelope with every ID I needed. The thought of my son needing me kept swirling around in my head. How can I help you if I don’t know where you are? You know what to do the voice said. And then there was silence. The silence before the storm.

I strapped a knife holster under each pant leg along with a pistol holster under the back of my shirt. Next, I put on a bullet proof vest. Around my waist I put on a belt with two more holsters. My belly pack had more than enough rounds for a small war.

I took one last look at my hidden room and shut the door. This will be my last visit to my old home. Home is where the heart is and mine wasn’t there any longer.

My son’s voice called out for me again, sounding louder each time. I felt like a magnet being drawn by force in which I didn’t have any control. I stood in the middle of the street facing one way and then another. Just waiting for something or even a sign telling me what to do next. Sometimes the signs are right in front of you, and you don’t even see them. So many people overlook the obvious and I don’t want to be one of them. Not this time, not ever.

Visions of Cathy and David were going through my head. Cathy was crying at the top her lungs while two men were raping her. Another man had my son David bent over a table and he was about to screw him in the ass, and someone said like hell you will. That voice was mine. I was standing in the same room they were. How I got there I had no idea. Who the fuck are you? Said the man who had my son. Like lightning I had a knife across his throat. I’m the man from hell and that’s where you’re going as I drew my knife across his neck. Just before he fell to the floor he looked into my eyes, and he knew who I was. You son of a bitch one of the other men screamed. I just held my ground and laughed. Are you two just a couple of pussies? The only way you can get laid is by raping innocent women. You blow buddy and are just a sick bastard that deserved to die the man said.

One of them through a knife at my head and I grabbed it in midair and threw it back planting it between his eyes. The last one came at me with his bare hands and said I’m going to kill you mother fucker. I don’t think so because I’m already dead. I made my fingers into a point thrusting into his chest. As I held his still beating heart in my hand, I asked him how it feels to get your heart ripped out. I squeezed every ounce of blood from his heart and threw it on the floor beside him.

By this time David had his pants pulled up and was sitting on the floor in a ball. His face showed no emotion and not a sound came from his lips. I knew he was in shock.

Cathy was still lying on the bed with a face full of tears. Her clothes were ripped and there was blood between her legs. I softly took hold her hands and sat her up. When I looked into her eyes, she knew who I was. I had just turned thirty when we were married. She couldn’t help but remember my eyes. The eyes that loved her so much. How can this be she asked? I watched you die and then be buried. She put her arms around me and squeezed me so hard my eyeballs almost popped out. I turned my head and David was standing beside me. Not a word came from his lips. I slowly put my arms around him and gave him a hug. Everything will be ok, I promise. I could see the tears forming in his eyes. With a broken voice he asked is it really your dad? Yes son, it is. I don’t know how, but I know why. Your voice was calling out to me through the darkness for help and here I am.

But how Dad? You’re dead? Some soldiers never truly die their souls remain here to protect the ones they love. When needed they come to help. Why son, I really don’t know. That’s been a story that has been passed down through the centuries. Will you been leaving again? asked David. Probably when I know you’re safe. But no matter where you are I will be watching over you and guarding you from harm. You might say I’m your guardian angel. That’s cool, said David. Cathy on the other hand still couldn’t believe it.

I stood there and listened for a minute as the sirens were coming. Somehow, they received a report that something went down here. You will be OK now, I promised as my image faded away from their eyes.

Cathy spoke my name and said thank you, but I didn’t answer. I was still there but they couldn’t see me. My soul was just there. I could see the tears in Cathy’s eyes as she said I love you. In a soft voice like a whisper, I said I love you too.       

Once the cops and the EMT’s showed up, I faded away into nothingness.

There I stood once again in front of my grave staring at my headstone. A mysterious force began pulling me downward. I laughed a little and grinned as I slowly was lowered back into my resting place. As I laid in my coffin, I could feel my heartbeat slow down like a battery that was dying, one beat at a time until it stopped. And then there was nothing.

Normally when you die your body rots away in your casket, and all that is left is bone. Most of the time I would agree but not this time. Somewhere in the world another soldier is rising from his grave and the cycle continues. Just like it has for hundreds of years. No one ever knows how it happens. Some people won’t even admit it even when they see it happen. Usually, it’s the ones that do and think to themselves they must be going crazy. Then again, maybe some are. We truly know don’t whether it is fact or fiction.

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. You never know who yours might be.

C.E. Metcalf