Resurrection

I woke up with a hangover again. I know how that sounds. But this wasn't from a night of binge drinking at an all night party. No this was from a life and death struggle with the forces of darkness. The battle was won, not by me, but through me, and my body bore the scars.

Sitting up, I gingerly rubbed my head. At least there was no concussion this time. The demon inside the 5 foot 2 girl had fought viciously but her true will to be saved made the difference. She was nowhere in sight. Probably for the better. I didn’t know what happened to the people who were released from the dark hold of the Enemy. Hopefully they went about their lives as if nothing had happened.

I took stock of my surroundings. I was tucked behind a dumpster in an alley. Actually it was a better situation than I've had before, believe it or not. I wasn’t likely to be spotted and have to explain why I was here. I'd had too many encounters with the police as it was. Fortunately I'd never been hauled to the police station. I still looked respectable despite the rough life I'd had of late. Running from my destiny was tough and it wasn't like I could stay in 4 star hotels... or even the worst motel. I'd mastered the trick of a free introductory gym pass so I could use the showers as I made my way city to city and state to state. It seemed I'd burned another place on the map and it was time to move on.

Cautiously, I made a quick reconnaissance of the alleyway and the portion of street I could see. It was just after dark on a chilly September night so there weren't a lot of people out. With a groan, I stood up and started walking. I'd lucked out. There was a 24 hour gym across the street so I could get cleaned up before clearing out of this city.

The desk attendant gave me a dubious look, obviously noting that I didn't have a gym bag, but gave me a visitor keyboard to the locker room anyway. I'd acquired dozens of fake IDs and felt no anxiety over turning one over to be held as collateral to make use of the shower.

There wasn’t anyone in the locker room thankfully. I stripped off my clothes and turned the water as hot as it would go. I always felt chilled to the bone after an encounter with the darkness. The idea of Hell being a hot place is surely a myth. Since this strangeness had started happening, I devoured every theological book I could get my hands on. In only one did the theologian state that Hell was actually a very fridged place because of the rejection of God's radiant life giving love. Unfortunately the author hadn't given any clues to how I could get myself out of my affliction.

I looked at my arm which held my mysterious, supernatural tattoo. It throbbed slightly at the touch. I had no idea where it came from. I had lots of tattoos for sure but none of them glowed. Of course it didn’t glow all the time, only when I was about to have an encounter with the darkness. The thing glowed so brightly that I could see it even through a thick leather jacket. I remember the first time it happened I thought I was hallucinating.

I'd woken up in a similar situation as I had this time, in an alley on a pile of cardboard boxes. I wish I could say it was unusual for me but the truth is I had been on a downward spiral since getting dishonorably discharged from the army. I'd gotten involved in trying to rescue a girl from being raped however the assailant had been her husband who was also the son of the prince of the country and it'd caused an international incident. Unofficially, I was commended by my commanding officer. Officially, I was sent home in disgrace to satisfy the needs of peace. To say I was disillusioned at the integrity of military justice is an understatement. It's not an excuse for crawling into the gutter of drinking, just the circumstances behind it.

I only had vague fragments of memory leading up to waking up in that alley. I remembered a man approaching me and offering to do a tattoo free of charge and, being inebriated, I readily agreed. His shop was a hole in the wall. His artwork of tattoos was impressive though which made me agree to let him have free reign on the design. Even with the sting of the needle, I passed out in the chair. Before I did, I remembered him saying, “This will remind you of who you are.”

The next thing I knew, I was in an alley. My forearm stung with a new tattoo. It was an elaborate celtic cross that strangely seemed to glow in the fading autumn light. I put it down to my hangover but I pulled the sleeve of my shirt down all the same. I looked around for my leather jacket and swore. That bastard had taken it. Gritting my teeth, I went in search of the shop. When I got to the spot where it should have been, my jaw went slack. The shop was gone. There wasn’t even an empty space where it had been. I folded my arms across my chest, suddenly chilled.

That had been my first clue that something weird had happened. Even six months later as I showered here in a random gym four states away from where it'd happened and a dozen plus encounters with the darkness, I still didn't know what had been done to me. The only thing I'd learned is that the tattoo looked normal until something was about to happen and then it would blaze in a supernatural glow.

And I was the only one who could see it.

Turning off the water, I grabbed a couple of the complimentary towels. I frowned at my clothes. They weren't too bad all considering, but there was a new rip in my jeans on the left knee. Pull it off as a fashion statement? I didn’t even know if that was a thing anymore. Oh well, my bag was stashed at the bus station. I could change before catching the next bus out of the city. I'd learned it was best to be prepared to leave at any time.

I ran my fingers through my hair and grimaced as I examined the scrapes and fingernail gorges on my chest. Fortunately my extensive tattoos hid most of them. I needed to buy some peroxide to clean them out though.

I put on my tee-shirt and turned around to see a man watching me. I was instantly on my guard but I made my voice casual. “Can I help you?”

“Those are some wicked tats, dude. Who's your artist?”

“No one in particular.” I shrugged.

“What are you going to put on that space on you forearm?” He pointed directly at the space the cross tattoo was.

I shrugged again. “Dunno. Something.”

“Man, I'll introduce you to my guy. He'll come up with something sick to match your other tats.”

“I'm actually just heading out of town. Thanks for the offer though.” I picked up my jacket from the bench and what happened next took me by surprise.

As I made to walk past the man, he grabbed my forearm over the cross tattoo. It suddenly lit up and the man flew backwards as if flung by some superhuman strength. His limbs shook like a rag doll's and his head jerked forward to his chest. Then he hit the row of lockers and slumped to the floor unconscious.

I wasted no time trying to figure out what happened. I took his wallet and watch before making my way quickly, but casually out of the locker room. For once I had some luck and the desk attendant was away. My luck held as I got several blocks down the street without anyone coming to chase after me. I ducked into an alley and emptied the wallet of cash. I debated about keeping the ID, but I was sure it would end up getting flagged at some point. I threw the cashless wallet and watch in the nearest dumpster.

Seems like I had an affinity for dumpsters. I was always waking up in or around them or else trying to hide incriminating evidence about me in them.

Time to high tail it out of this place before something else could happen.