![\"The_Worship_of_Walke_Cover_for_Kindle](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/strubbe-wittenberg.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/12\/The_Worship_of_Walke_Cover_for_Kindle-11.jpg?resize=199%2C300\")
<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nChapter One: Walker<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nYears of hard-slog on foot to thank, he called himself Walker…and Judson because the saying created a most pithy tang. Walker Judson\u2015the vibrations formed nicely in his mouth to move smoothly over tongue and lips. Walker Judson<\/em>\u2015he liked to say it. And renaming himself had been a thing of great comfort.<\/span><\/p>\nWith no further need to walk, countryside speeding by, on this day he drove a big rig. Country-and western\u00a0tunes blaring, sky dropping rain \u00a0whump-shump went the windshield wipers as Walker whistled away. Yet with each passing mile, his chest crimped tighter.<\/span><\/p>\nRounding a bend, spotting a seersucker-suited man in the roadway, he swerved, eased the rig on past, parked, jumped out and ran back to ask, \u201cYou OK?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nThe fellow tried to point; his arm, half-lifted, twisted, oddly. \u201cHelp! I can’t. Someone\u2026,\u201d the gent mustered.<\/span><\/p>\nEying the curve, Walker envisioned a vehicle barreling round it. \u201cIt\u2019s not safe here.”<\/span><\/p>\nGood arm raised, the man indicated a smashed guardrail; skid marks ranged over its top. Down the embankment, chrome glinting, a car lay on its side, wheels spinning.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI’ll go check,\u201d Walker said, returning, \u201cbut first, you must move.” The man failed to budge.\u201cOK then…\u201d Walker dragged him from harm. \u201cI\u2019ll be back.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nRain thumping earth, guardrail vaulted, branches smacking his face and ribs, Walker crouched to avoid taking a tumble, but slid out anyhow.<\/span><\/p>\nChug-a, chug<\/em>,the\u00a0car\u2019s engine rattled. He scooted over to peer inside. Nobody within. Mud sucking his boots, rocks shifting, giving way underfoot, he skidded further, grabbed an upturned root and glanced about.<\/span><\/p>\nBlood scenting the air, legs cocked at immodest angles, there she lay.<\/span><\/p>\nFull-up with dread, moved adjacent, Walker shed his coat to cover her thighs.<\/span><\/p>\nLips, arms, legs\u2015all flesh a perfect match to the indigo of her dress; with his ear to her mouth, he could not detect breath. Fingertips at her neck. No throb, either.<\/span><\/p>\nGlass embedded the woman\u2019s skin and hair. A fist-size shard nearly cleaved her throat. Blood gushed around it. Given the extreme bend of her neck, it appeared broken.<\/span><\/p>\nGuidance whisked his ears\u2015take her pulse.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\nSo he gripped her wrist and felt the tiniest flicker. Faint, waning flutterings trickled beneath flesh: the woman hovered at death\u2019s lip.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cLord,\u201d he implored, \u201cwhat next?\u201d He sat back on haunches to wait.<\/span><\/p>\nAs if an epileptic, his body took up with the shivers and quakes. Try as he might, he could not contain them. Tremors intensifying, he shut his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\nEyes open again, inquiring hand upon the woman\u2019s chest; still no breath.<\/span><\/p>\nBut then…spasmodic articulations, barely perceptible, sparked beneath his fingertips.<\/span><\/p>\nLight visible to his eyes now\u2015mostly at the woman\u2019s elbow and knee joints, thin murky streamers leached out.<\/span><\/p>\nWalker pulled back. Is this the egress of her life force?<\/em><\/span><\/p>\nDeep inhale, then exhale, calm descending, filament-like tentacles trickled from his spine’s base. As if he’d taken root, they sunk, twisting, wending, to anchor him within the soft spongy earth.<\/span><\/p>\nSomething primal birthed within, heat passed upward, to fill every cell and crevice of his being, but then spewed, mightily, out from his skull’s top. Overtaken by a rolling surge, breathless, amazed, Walker gazed down from above. Palms, fingertips aglow, no longer himself, but something other, he metamorphosed into ethereal mist to comprise All that Sees and Knows, All that Has Ever Been.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\nShrunk to dot size, imperceptibly small, he entered the woman’s psyche to witness the crash replay itself. Rubber screeched. He felt the car flip, dive into free-fall, hit rock with an immense whump<\/em> as metal crumpled.<\/span><\/p>\nA body, hers, suspended, weightless\u2015soft woof<\/em>, thudded back to earth. Air sucked inward, chest imploded, breath gone, she departed her body.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cGod, a little help here!\u201d Walker called out.<\/span><\/p>\nMotes of confusion whirring about, inexplicably foreign to his usual self, he heard himself coo and burble.<\/span><\/p>\nTouch her head and then her heart<\/em>, came the command.<\/span><\/p>\nHis hands obeyed; her body sparked slightly.<\/span><\/p>\nRush, rush. Intuiting the precise means to create a circuit, he touched the woman\u2019s neck, arms, and chest. Hands roving, he massaged her temples, stroked her chin, brushed fingers through her hair\u2015anything to gain purchase\u2015to call back a life.<\/span><\/p>\nBlood gush ebbing, the woman’s pulse throbbed softly. Heartbeats rippling hair follicles, gradually those pulsations expanded outward in layers, steadily strengthening.<\/span><\/p>\nWalker gripped the woman’s head, positioned her neck, and yanked, grinding bone against bone, twisting. Gagging, he wretched, then leaned back, applying steady traction.<\/span><\/p>\nEyes blurted open, the woman convulsed, then flailed. Walker tapped her brow. She lay back, becalmed.<\/span><\/p>\nLong suck of air, pain\u2015her pain\u2015swept through to overwhelm. Yet, never had he known such joy.<\/span><\/p>\n##<\/span><\/p>\nStink of mud swarmed round as Walker paced the hospital corridor.<\/span><\/p>\nDoors swung open, a doctor emerged, scruffing his chin to announce, \u201cWe\u2019re treating the gent for a broken arm and for shock. The woman has cracked ribs. She bled so bad, the trauma alone could\u2019ve killed her. Don\u2019t know what to make of it; she also suffered a recent spinal fracture that seems to be on the mend. Judging from its location and severity, she should be dead, but isn’t. And\u201d\u2015he eyed Walker\u2015\u201cher companion claims you slid his ulna and radius back inside and closed up the hole with a flash of light. Likely, trauma and shock altered his mind.\u201d The doctor paused, expectant.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cImagine that,\u201d Walker muttered, noncommittal. Inwardly, however, he grinned.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n
Chapter Two: Young Walker<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nMany a time the boy spied Ma, lips moving, soundless, sniffing air as if an apron-wearing hounddog. His take, this meant she\u2019d departed and…that she kept secrets.<\/span><\/p>\nWould she disappear altogether?<\/em><\/span><\/p>\nOften, he feared she just might.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cDoes Ma plan to leave us?\u201d he’d once asked Pa.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cAsk yer Ma,\u201d Pa practically hollered, \u201csee if she\u2019ll say!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nThe boy had a secret of his own\u2015a pretty good one. He saw things invisible to others; light emanated from and surrounded folks. First time it happened, Pa caught fire. No one else saw. Not Pa, nor Ma.<\/span><\/p>\nLate one night, just turned ten, he came upon his parents, faced-off in the kitchen. \u201cYou lost your mind?\u201d Pa hissed, barely audible. \u201cWhere’d you put it, then?\u201d Sorrow, confusion, permeated the question.<\/span><\/p>\nMa jutted her chin. \u201cI cannot tell, Hollis.\u201d Air highly charged, sparked and sizzled.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI suppose you’ll say,\u201d Pa growled,\u201cAlmighty God gave you the right? But, I say, go git it!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nAn expectant hum clung in the air as Ma shifted, warily. \u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d Pa made fists.<\/span><\/p>\nTiny pricks stabbing at innards, closer, the boy inched.<\/span><\/p>\nPa tried a pleasant tone,\u201cWho\u2019d you give it to, then?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nMa\u2019s eyes darted, blinking fast. \u201cIt’s not like that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nPa tensed again. \u201cGit it back tomorrow, first thing. Hear?”<\/span><\/p>\n“It\u2019s gone. I\u2026\u201d Ma wavered. \u201cI won\u2019t\u2015can’t\u2015get it. Not now\u2015not ever.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cDo as I say!\u201d Pa’s balled fist shot out, colliding with Ma\u2019s jaw.<\/span><\/p>\nMa flew backward, but kept right on, in the exact same tones she used to calm the chickens, “You can’t make me obey.”<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cHush, Ma!\u201d the boy blurted.<\/span><\/p>\nMa whipped round. \u201cGet to bed, son. This is no matter of yours.”<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cShow you who\u2019s in charge! Sure as hell, it ain\u2019t your God!\u201d Grin insanely wide, arm unfurled, Pa whapped Ma\u2019s belly. Ma doubled over, then stumbled.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cPa don\u2019t!\u201d the boy yelped, wrung his hands.<\/span><\/p>\nPa punched again. Ma teetered, then toppled, tangling legs in a chair as she went. Pa kept coming. Quick, hard kicks. Boots collided with Ma’s bones, teeth, and skull.<\/span><\/p>\nDespite darkness, the boy saw all. Drops of sweat laced Pa’s brow. Spray arced from punches. Ma\u2019s flesh took blows, then caved in. Smells\u2015hot, rank\u2015sickened.<\/span><\/p>\nMa tried to stand. Pa slammed her to the wall.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cStay down, Ma!\u201d The boy pushed between them. \u201cStoppit, Pa!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nScooted back, Ma cast her son a quick, wild glance.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cMind me, woman,\u201d Pa menaced. \u201cReturn what\u2019s mine. Else, I pound you to bits!”<\/span><\/p>\nFull-up with feeling, unable to catch breath, the boy saw himself charge, headlong, pummeling with windmilled fists. Heard himself howl, saw himself grab the frying pan, swing it, braining Pa a doozy.<\/span><\/p>\nHands at his sides, feet glued to floor, he emitted a mere puny croak, “Stop knocking Ma!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n“Git outta here, son!\u201d Pa gave him a shove. The boy stumbled, cracked his head on counter\u2019s edge, tried to stand, but his legs slid out.<\/span><\/p>\nSlumped, dazed, blood whooshing his ears, he looked to Ma.<\/span><\/p>\nNightgown hiked up, moonlight illumined her thighs as Pa loomed above her. “No more prayin\u2019 to your Almighty God. If he knows all, no need botherin\u2019\u2015is there? Like I said,\u201d Pa enunciated real slow, \u201cgit it back tomorrow, else I’ll whup you good.”He then swiveled to bark, \u201cYou try my patience, boy!”<\/span><\/p>\nFumbled upright, the boy stepped out of reach.<\/span><\/p>\nThen it came…<\/span><\/p>\nSoft flames, comprised of light and variegation, drifted up, then off from Pa\u2019s hulking frame.<\/span><\/p>\nBlink, blink\u2015the boy worked to clear his vision.<\/span><\/p>\nThose flames remained.<\/span><\/p>\nMouth shaped to give warning, instead the boy stared transfixed.<\/span><\/p>\nPa smoothed hands down his shirtfront; smoky puffs unfurled from his fingertips.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cClean up this mess,\u201d Pa directed Ma; murky streamers blurted forth from his lips. \u201cThen come to bed.\u201d Pa hadn\u2019t noticed anything amiss.<\/span><\/p>\nBlink, blink<\/em>\u2015the boy stared again.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cGit a move\u00a0on!\u201d Smoke frothed out Pa’s nostrils.<\/span><\/p>\nEven this, Pa failed to catch. \u201cWhat’re you starin\u2019 at, boy?\u201d Vaporous trail retracted, it then disappeared.<\/span><\/p>\nHad Ma seen?<\/em> The boy checked.<\/span><\/p>\nEyes looking dully out from swelling flesh, Ma slumped, panting. No, she couldn\u2019t have.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\nPa yanked Ma to her feet. Then they leaned together as if to whispering endearments; the boy hoped they might make up.<\/span><\/p>\nPa grunted, then gave Ma a shove. \u201cSecond thought, don\u2019t bother comin’ to bed. I\u2019m sick of the sight of ya.\u201d Ma stumbled, let out a yip, then gripped the sink rim.<\/span><\/p>\nSenses swarmed the boy: murder, rage, prominent amongst them. Yet, feet smarting on floorboards, off he scurried to bed.<\/span><\/p>\n##<\/span><\/p>\nSunup next morning, Ma shuffled about, painfully slow. Care taken not to bang pots, she shut cupboards with most deliberate intent, and seemed scarcely present at all.<\/span><\/p>\nPa hovered at the radio, absorbing the weather report as he chomped away at his grits. Coffee slurped down, he stood, wiped his mouth, and went out.<\/span><\/p>\nOn her way to the sink, as Ma caught his stare, crimson blotches swept up from her collar to overtake her cheeks.<\/span><\/p>\nHeart jolted at sight of the night’s ravages, the boy too went blotchy.<\/span><\/p>\nIf asked, she\u2019d claim a wayward hoe fell off its peg, whacked her up-side the head, gashed her cheek, swelled her eye and split her lip.<\/span><\/p>\nBut he knew different.<\/span><\/p>\nWhy\u2019d she defy Pa? And why not just go get It<\/em>?<\/span><\/p>\nIt<\/em>\u2015he guessed, referred to one of their cows, sheep, goats, or chickens. Ma could fix the problem if she wanted; easy-peasy. Go get It<\/em> back, and peace would be restored.<\/span><\/p>\nNapkin fretted to tatters, he hoped she\u2019d do just that.<\/span><\/p>\nBut Ma never left the farm that day. Never shed her apron, never combed her hair, or donned her town-going hat to fetch back what had gone missing.<\/span><\/p>\nMa did<\/em> grope her way onto the porch to sit in her rocker. Occasionally, she moaned, swayed, and clutched at herself. The boy couldn\u2019t tell if she prayed or wept, but there she stayed till day\u2019s end.<\/span><\/p>\nAnd It<\/em> stayed gone. As if arm or leg had been hacked off to leave an ugly scar, always, the boy felt Its absence as a familiar clench in his heart.<\/span><\/p>\n##<\/span><\/p>\nSubsequent months, voices\u2015high, pressing, insistent\u2015mostly Pa’s, echoed the house.\u201cCan\u2019t trust you, Bethel,\u201d Pa liked to shout. \u201cYou betrayed me!\u201d He pounced, pounded. \u201cAnd I can tell you how to keep the peace\u2015just stop praying.\u201d Heedless as to consequence, grainy whispers frothing from lips, onward Ma communed.<\/span><\/p>\nNaturally, this provoked Pa all the more.<\/span><\/p>\nAs if blows were kisses, Ma permitted Pa\u2019s fists to meet her face, ribs, thighs, shins and gut. Yells, silence, followed by a thud; repeatedly she fell undefended. Pa near-to killed her.<\/span><\/p>\nOne episode, Pa smacked every tooth clean out from her head. Caved in about the cheeks and mouth, she seemed kin to a wizened apple-headed doll. Although still young, Ma wore ill-fitting dentures ever after.<\/span><\/p>\nFormerly ramrod straight, she grew stooped. Her hands trembled as if volts of electricity ran through them. A black eye or a gashed cheek was common. Bruises purpled her neck where Pa\u2019s fingers indented.<\/span><\/p>\nDespite abuse, Ma seemed ever so smug. Chin up, nostrils flaring, arched poise to her neck, she leaned in to the blows. Each split lip, every bruise (all wounds seemed treasured)\u2015unspeakable illumination, outright joy, arose from her suffering.<\/span><\/p>\nFascinated, repulsed, the boy\u2019s breath came ragged from watching.<\/span><\/p>\nInwardly fuming at being forced to witness, he tucked away his colossal hatred of Pa and his yearning for Ma. See, he understood enough to keep such matters hidden.<\/span><\/p>\nDaily, he walked off his fury and guilt for his impotence. Trudging through pastures and into ravines, he hurled vile oaths at Pa, promised to wreak vengeance, contrived diatribes and affronts, and imagined acts of extreme violence.<\/span><\/p>\nNo violence on his part ever did transpire. Yet his heart cleaved with anguish. And his exertions allowed him to pass through days without the public humiliation of tears, howls, or vomiting.<\/span><\/p>\nOutwardly, he tried to help. Raucous, quick,darting movements made Ma flinch. So he spoke in low tones and moved with slow, fluid grace, careful not to bump, trip, or tumble\u2015manners unlike lads his age. Always he came when called, did chores when bidden, and never lollygagged or sassed.<\/span><\/p>\nHoping a tidy appearance might organize his inner tumult, the boy traded natty coveralls and work shirt for a moth-eaten business suit and yellowed dressshirt found in the attic. Untroubled that his limbs shot out from the cuffs several inches;\u00a0by his estimation he looked downright snappy. Moreover, without the garment’s tight, press of snugness to swaddle him, he feared he might sproing apart, going every which way.<\/span><\/p>\n
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<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n