Magical Object

The breath saws in and out of my lungs as I watch my foot step over the red rocks. The burn in my legs is pleasant, lowkey. My lungs feel strong, my body limber.  God, I love hiking. The humid, sweet smelling wind gently washes over my sweaty forehead, bringing some blessed cooling relief.

“Ellie! Did you want a picture of the tank?” Jordan yells back at me. His blond hair has been bobbing up and down the red dirt hills as we make our way down to lower sigua falls. He likes to run ahead and sprint up the tall hills and then back down them- a bit like my 6 year old cousin who can’t sit still.

Jordan smiles that wide, white smile at me that crinkles his blue eyes. We’re hiking buddies, friends. Co-workers. I’m hoping for more but I’m pretty sure Jordan is pretending blissful ignorance to not hurt my feelings. It’s not working.

I glance over at the rusted out husk of an old tank from the 40’s, when Japan occupied Guam during WWII. The Chamorros (the locals) underwent such horrors when the Japanese came. The tank, while kinda neat to look at- has always given me such an ominous, creepy feeling from it.

I look back at Jordan who’s looking at me kind of impatiently now. “No, thanks. The first time was enough.” I pull out my water bottle as we come to a stop next to each other.

“Aw Come on. The sky is such a neat back drop right now.” He cajoles. Jordan loves taking pictures, but gets bored without a subject in them. I look up at the ominous dark gray clouds that are rolling in on the horizon. They aren’t over us yet, but if they catch us when were down at lower sigua, getting up the muddy hill will be treacherous.

Jordan raises his eyebrows at me expectantly. My stomach does that flutter thing as my face heats up (I hate blushingbut can’t control it) and of course I cave. I huff a bit and start climbing the dirt mound the tank laying sitting sideways on. As I settle on top of the tanks side, sitting crisscross to make the big sky behind me look even more dramatic against little ol’ me, I glance down at the inside. The clouds move overhead in the wind and the sun briefly flashes out, blinking off something metal just under the rusted edge of the tank that’s sitting in the red Guam dirt.

“El, what..?” Jordan trails off as I carefully lower my upper body over the edge. At 5’9, I have arms juuuust long enough to grasp whatever it is. I grab what feels like a chain and pull a bit. It’s partially buried so I use the tips of my fingers to grab at clumps of dirt around it until its loose enough to come free. A very ugly, crusted chain is pulled up with very old dog tags attached.

I peer closer at it, my excitement mounting. From World War 2? Jordan and I look at each other, dumbstruck, as I hold it up in front of me. Goosebumps cover my arms and legs. My hands are a bit shaky as I bring them closer to my face. The name seems to be a bit blurred out (dirt or rust I’m unsure just yet) but the year for date of birth is listed as 1915. It’s end of October in 2015, so this person would’ve been 100 years old this year. If they’re alive.

I blink out of my thoughts as Jordan tries to take it from me. I pull my hand back.

“No. I don’t want anyone touching it.” I don’t understand why. But the certainty settles deep in my stomach as Jordan’s eyes widen a bit incredulously.

“I just want to look at-” He starts, “No.” I say, more firmly than normal. I put it in my camelback pocket. I need to keep it safe. There’s a niggling, confused feeling in the back of my head. I’m not very assertive normally. I don’t completely understand why but I know if I let Jordan hold the tags, he won’t give them back. They’re mine now.

“Let’s go back to the car. It looks like that storm is going to be too vicious to be out here.” I say/demand. He looks at the clouds. “Nah, they’re too far just yet. We have time.” He starts off down the path, a bit faster than normal. HE avoids my eyes for a bit, annoyed. I stare after him for a second before my I look at the ground and start to follow. I trip a lot on hikes.

The air is a bit strained those first few minutes as my mind wonders. Wanting to know who the tags belonged to, if he lived, and if these needed to be in a museum. The thought of handing the tags over makes my stomach clench uncomfortably. I found them, so I don’t think I’m going to give them up.

After a bit, as we cross a creek and begin the final-steepest and muddiest descent into lower sigua waterfall. Jordan starts chatting away again, his earlier peevishness seemingly forgotten. He looks back and starts pointing out the most slippery parts to avoid, like he normally does. I’d say he does it to be a gentleman, but I think it’s more self defense because if I trip here I’ll fall on top of him (not something I’d dislike too much, honestly. But with where we’re at we’d tumble down this hill and break some bones at the least).

As the roaring sound of the waterfall reaches my ears, I look up to see the sun shining through the jungle trees to bounce off the pool of water the falls collect into. I set my camelback on the big rocks that make up the edge of the plunge pool. It’s beautiful here, always, but the gray clouds lend a surreal quality to the day. My arm hair stands on end as I look around at the rippling water. Jordan, of course, heads straight to the rock wall the water falls over and begins to climb the slippery rock face. He always wants to jump off a ledge about half way up, but it’s a risky climb with rocks sticking out of the water below him. When he gets to the ledge there’s enough room to run jump out, but not until he’s there.

I sit down on a large rock sticking out of the small stream that leads into the plunge pool and pull out my snack of beef jerky and the dog tags. My legs feel like noodles. As I chew, I rub my thumb over the flat of the tags to start wiping away 75 years’ worth of grime. I wonder about the soldier it belonged to, who he was, if he had a family that grieved him. My mind turns to my family, half a world away in Texas. I joined the Navy to see the world, to discover myself. It’s exciting but also incredibly lonely sometimes.

The roaring of the waterfall fills my ears as my eyes focus down on the tarnished metal. A tingling in my fingertips starts to vibrate down my arm. It spreads across my whole body as I raise my eyes to where Jordan is on the rock wall. He’s just a few more steps away from the ledge. The vibrating spreads across my chest, my collar bone, chest, down my stomach and legs. My eyes seem to narrow and sharpen on Jordan.

 A large cracking sound fills the lower valley. It echos around us, making the air feel heavier. Jordan startles and looks up just as a huge boulder detaches itself from the rock face above him. I stand and scream out for him to jump, but it smashes into Jordan’s head before the first syllable leaves my lips, caving his skull in with a crunching sound. His body falls with the boulder and the smaller rocks raining down around it, splashing into the water. Jordan’s body goes under with the largest boulder on top of him. My breathing lunges in and out of my lungs as I stare in disbelief.

…I don’t know how long I watch the rippling waves before my tunnel vision seems to waver. The air around me wavers and becomes quiet once again. MY attention is drawn back into myself as the vibrating seems to get stronger. It’s similar to how your body shakes dut]ring takoff on an airplane. The feeling reverses it’s course and lessens in my feet first, then up my legs, stomach, chest, collar bone, and across both arms.

           Suddenly, I’m sitting on the rock again, with the taste of jerky in my mouth and Jordan at the rock wall, about to pull himself up to that first step. My mind clicks the impossible together faster than I’d think. I don’t know if I just traveled back in time or if it simply gave me a glimpse of the future, but somehow I’m certain the Dog tags clutched in my now sweaty palm just showed me what was about to happen.

           “Jordan!” I yell in a complete panic, jumping to my feet for the second time. He looks sharply over at me.

“Yeah?” He asks. I open my mouth to explain… but he won’t believe me. It sounds ridiculous. It’s insane. I look around confused about what to do next. I know deep in my bones what just happened was real. I lived it. So, I do the next best thing I can.

I grab my ankle and start crying crocodile tears I perfected when I was younger.

“I twisted my ankle! Oh god it hurts so bad.” I grab it and start hopping around. I just need to keep him away from the wall in time to see the boulder break off, and then we’ll be able to leave. Otherwise he’ll insist on jumping at least once before we leave.

Jordan comes over to check it out. My mind is spinning as he checks it over, moving my ankle this way and that and asking questions. I watch the wall, waiting for the telltale crack. I keep looking over and drinking in Jordan’s features to make sure he’s really still here, and then looking at the rock wall in fear, terrified. I know I’m acting pretty out of it.

           Jordan seems to be getting irritated. He can tell I’m not really hurt. “What’s going on here Ellie?” He asks sharply. I pull my gaze away from the waterfall, still seeing the vision of his head caving in on repeat. I think I have PTSD. I start to really shake, from adrenaline? Shock?

I look over at him to lie again when that same crack crashes through us. I flinch as we watch the deadly boulder break off- again- and fall beneath the tumbling water. Much faster this time, it seems.

“Omigod!” Jordan stares at it with wide eyes. “ Omigod- Omigod I would’ve been on that wall in 2 minutes!” He looks over at me, his blue eyes wide and a little excited. Like he just escaped something. I just stare at him, scared. This isn’t neat. This isn’t fun. He really died. His HEAD CAVED IN.

“I think we really should head back now.” I grab my pack and begin the climb back, my hand clutching the dog tags the entire way.

One thought keeps circling my mind on the way back, both of us quiet and lost in our own thoughts. They’re magic. They can let me live a future briefly, and then come back to a moment in time to change something essential.

I squeeze my hand around the metal as rain begins to fall into our eyes. My car comes into view through the trees. I have magical, life-saving dog tags.