Garden #9 and Dude #4

Everything is generic, here. It's as if the 'worldly nomenclature' has 

been stripped and torn away from everyone who inhabits this space.

And ya know what? At first, I thought these bastards were crazy.

I really did. But it seems like they genuinely understand what they

are doing here and why they are doing it.

Every morning at tent meeting, Dude #4 (I just call him that because

although he is in a tight-knit group of dudes who all follow Guy

around, there are usually four other dudes between him and Guy)

steps out from the line of dudes, gets down on his knees and

recites a Psalm in the original Greek (with Hebrew mixed in)

and sort of wails it out in a semi-rhythmic and melodic fashion.

The first time I saw him do it, it made me think of a passage from

the bible I remember from sunday school where a man was

possessed with an evil spirit and screamed a lot while he cut

himself with stones.

But Dude #4 belts it out. Every morning. Rain or shine (although

it barely ever rains here). There's something about it that is real

and refreshing. No American accent. No pulpit. Just the words.

After Dude #4 is done, he usually weeps for a bit and Guy sits

beside him and consoles him. From there, Guy usually speaks a bit

about how we are 'preparing for the harvest' and that 'we are

the field workers of Jesus'. Afterwards, we eat a massive breakfast 

of fresh grown fruit of the valley, custards, jellies, pastries and

always (obviously) a healthy portion of our own homegrown coffee.

Sometimes I step away from the herd of us, as we eat silently, and

take in the view. It seems to good to be true. 

Way too good, in fact. I'm beginning to wonder. More to come.

What's odd about Dude #4 is that he usually works with me in

garden #9. We take a water break together and sometimes he brings

me coffee from the tent if he sees I'm getting tired. He doesn't talk

much. In fact, he barely ever says a word outside of when he belts

out a morning Psalm for the posse. 

I've been here for three weeks now. I've been sleeping like a baby

and almost thoughtless at times which is a nice change from the way

I was at the call centre. Overflowing with thought and shit with no

spout. The coffee is extra-terrestrial. It's not of this world - that's 

for damn sure.

Anyways - back to Dude #4. 

Remember how I mentioned that I should 

plant some plastic in Garden #9? Well, Dude #4 was gone for a long

time, getting coffee because Guy informed us all that a massive 

shipment was going out for the good of Jesus and that we needed

to get it off the mountain before midnight. We all liked Guy and

didn't mind putting in the extra time. But Dude #4 was gone for 

a long time. He left to get coffee...but then he disappeared. I 

squinted towards the tent but the sun was starting to go down

and I couldn't see so well. There were some people gathering

near the tent but I just had to do my job. So I kept flaying, digging 

and hoeing. I was dedicated to getting the shipment out...but I 

needed to take a break. I grabbed some turf for a minute and lay 

down flat in the field. I remembered joking about my notion to 

bury some plastic in the fertile soil. I reached into pocket and 

found an old bread tag from when I bought some food and white

powdered donuts on the bus back in Clairton, 

Pennsylvania. 

I grabbed the bread tag, rolled on to my side and shoved it down 

as far as I could, with my thumb and forefinger, into the earthy 

floor...and that is when I found it. 

I hit something. About a foot below the surface, my hand made a

'clank' sound. Something metal, flat and hard. I stood up and looked

around to see if Dude #4 was back so I could show him. But no one

was around. Even the dudes near the tent seemed to be gone.

Intrigued, I pulled away as much soil as I could with hoe and shovel.

I cleared away about a 10 by 10 area which stopped a foot down

on to a solid metal floor. The sun sank deeper into the ocean. I

turned my headlamp on to get a better look at the foreign body.

I was standing on the steel, looking around it. A little ways over

from where I was digging, though, I could see a line that was

notched into the steel. I pulled away more soil from that area.

It was a line that formed a small square...with something that

looked like a tiny steering wheel in the middle. 

A door? A trapped door? In the middle of the Napa Valley...

below a foot of earth? 

Like any inquisitive person would do, I reached down to try and

turn the wheel. It was not moving. I got down on my knees and

used both arms (which were much more muscular after all of the

field work I'd been doing) and after about 30 seconds...it budged

and released a bit of a hiss sound. I wondered if I should go find

Guy or another Dude. Before I could finish that thought, though,

I remember feeling like I got hit in the face with a shovel and

the lights went out. 

But the lights hadn't gone completely out because I rolled over

and could see the doorway, leading up into the evening sky. I

was about 15 feet down from the trap door and had obviously

fallen right through it. I could feel with my hands that the ground

I was now on was cement (which is weird because Guy often 

talked about the evils of both plastic and cement at the morning

meetings). I was able to stand up but my shoulder and head

were throbbing. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could

now see a dim, red light in the distance.

As I walked toward the light, I wondered what Guy would think

when I told him what I had found. As I had walked about 30 steps,

I could make out now that the red light was a distant exit sign.

Finally, after about a few minutes of walking, I was right under

the exit sign in what seemed to be a doorway. I could feel the 

doorjamb. As I felt around further on the walls, I found 

something else. 

A light switch. 'Click'. 

Beaming flourescence was all around me and I had to cover my

eyes for a good thirty seconds due to the glaring brightness. As I

stumbled for a moment and rubbed my eyes, I saw a massive

glass display case to the left of me that must have gone on for 

miles. In fact, and for a moment, I actually thought I had entered

another dimension altogether. A twilight zone of sorts. Until that 

point in my life (and you would know this better

than anyone), I had never really prayed. But right then and

there, I prayed.

I prayed that I was dreaming and that what I was seeing behind

the glass wasn't real.

Behind the glass were (judging from my movie knowledge)

nuclear warheads.

Yeah. About 20 of them. All lined up like girls in a chorus line.

Each of them seemed to have green digital numbers on their bases

that indicated that they were, in fact, real and counting down

to a certain timeframe. I was stunned. So stunned, in fact, that

it took me a few minutes to even catch my own reflection in

the glass and see that I was bleeding pretty steadily from my 

shoulder and forehead.

I decided to head for the surface. Staying down here was not going 

to help any cause, whatsoever. 

Near the red exit sign was a raggedy, old staircase that looked like

it was made of iron. It spiraled up a few feet and disappeared. I

started up the stairs and noticed that I was feeling unusually light

headed (due to the blood loss). Going up the stairs was strange

because I don't really remember actually ascending a staircase -

What I do remember is thinking 'Is this really it? Is the world

over? God - can you hear me?' That was about all that entered

my headspace and the actual stair-walking didn't seem so real.

The next thing I remember was seeing a steel trap door above

me...reaching for it...and my head really hurting.

Then...darkness.