Chapter 4

 Chapter 4:  Rebuilding 

    The nausea passed as quickly as it came on.  As did my moment of disbelief that followed discovering Thomas' note still embedded on the front lawn.  How much time had passed since they burnt my place to ashes?  My thoughts were interrupted by a sense of dead weight that was my body.  I felt a compulsion to examine my ruby laden hand.  The ruby was missing, and a gem shaped crater was all that remained in the center of my palm.  The flesh that remained was gnarled and twisted like a poorly healed burn. 

    I groaned in mourning of my new powers.  Laurie wiped her mouth and wrinkled her face in disgust from the taste in her mouth.  She was looking at me curiously.  Clarence's attention was also drawn to my visible discomfort.  I revealed my hand, and a pair of gasps followed.  With my only discernible ability gone, I became the dead weight in the group now.  It wasn't a tremendously confidence inspiring feeling.   

    After the reaction faded, I noticed Clarence shimmying and rubbing his arms together.  Behind me, I could hear the horn of a car passing by on my street honking vigorously at me.  I didn't need to look to know that the motorist in the car found my nudist predicament amusing.  I had to find clothing as quickly as possible.  Clarence, after grunting with effort, produced his freed hands and the zip tie on his wrists dropped to the ground.  Perhaps he found a sharp object to cut himself free?  He began working on Laurie's ties while I crept over to my ash pile home.  I hoped to find something, anything, I could cover myself with.   

    Our respective tasks were interrupted by my neighbor's door opening and a hearty guffawing from the loud brute.  I could hear a woman's voice from inside asking, “What's so funny, babe?”  He motioned for her to remain inside.  “Stay in there, there are some real weirdos outside,” He commanded her.  He glanced at Clarence and Laurie's attire and made a wisecrack, about “perverts playing doctor on the front lawn.” He stood in the doorway while we scurried around, transfixed by the sight of us all. 

    Clarence managed to break Laurie's hands free before purposefully striding over to my neighbor.  Clarence chatted with him in a low tone while I found a half-burnt armoire to find cover behind.  Unfortunately, the only contents I kept inside were board games that I never found friends to actually play with.  Yeah, that's right, I didn't store clothes in it but used it to store games instead.  At least my Star Wars themed copy of Stratego was still in good shape.  While pondering whether I could challenge my new friends to a game, I saw Clarence point my direction while explaining something.  Did a look of sympathy appear on my neighbor's face?  He glanced at my feeble attempts to hide my nakedness, shrugged, and darted off into his house. 

    Laurie stood nearby me, attempting to provide me with a pitiful screen from any passing vehicles.  Thankfully, it was only one car.  After an uncomfortable minute of waiting, my neighbor returned outside and handed Clarence a cell phone and a pile of clothing.  Clarence walked over to me with clothes in hand, while trying to unlock the phone in the other.  “The password is 1-2-3-4,” my neighbor called out.  Someone get that man a job in cyber-security!   

    I never mentioned my neighbor's name before because I considered him to be an inconsolable douche.  Given that he actually had a decent side to him, I'll say it now – It is Chuck.  Chuck's clothes looked way too big for me.  It was a pair of extremely large cargo shorts that came down to about 4 inches above my ankles and a faded gray t-shirt with the inscription, “Ass Kick'r.”  Thankfully he included a length of bungee cord that functioned as a makeshift belt.  I looked absurd, but at least I had something on.  I waved thankfully to Chuck who gave a slight nod back to me. 

    Clarence immediately began dialing some unknown party on the phone my neighbor lent him.  I rummaged through what was left of my possessions with Laurie as an audience. When boredom set in, she opted to help me paw through some of the ashes to recover anything useful or valuable.  She also spoke to me about some of her friends that she mentioned.  They sounded like survivalists or some other kind of fringe religious group out in the woods of Massachusetts.  She wasn't even entirely sure.  I guess they moved around a lot.   

    Clarence's phone call took at least 15 minutes.  It sounded like logistical details for our next move.  Chuck returned inside his home with his new girlfriend, and Bad Company's, “Feel Like Making Love” blared out of the windows of his house.  I assumed they were playing pinball, and didn't want me to get jealous.   My thoughts were interrupted by Laurie asking me, “Johnny, do you even know what you are looking for?”  I didn't have a clue.  I just wanted to hold onto something that was mine.  Something familiar.   

    “I honestly don't know.” I admitted with a bit of embarrassment.  Her look of stern disapproval was replaced by an emphatic nod.  “I know what you mean,” she said as she revealed something in her hand.  It was a glass jar full of marbles that I kept near my bed.  It was covered in soot and ash but unbroken. “Well, I guess I haven't lost my marbles after all,” I said chuckling at my own joke.  I wasn't sure if the noise that came out of her mouth was a sigh of disappointment.  Or a gasp of panic, realizing just how awful my sense of humor is.   

    I felt a compulsion to keep the marbles. I emptied the contents of the jar into one of the large cargo pockets.  I also found the charred remains of my Zither.  I planned to learn how to play it, after two years of owning it.  That was the bright side of the house fire, I could always blame my lack of focus or motivation on the evildoers that ruined my stuff.  My thoughts were distracted by Clarence placing Chuck's phone on a little plastic table on his front porch and turning to us. 

    Clarence called us in for a huddle up.  “My cousin is coming to pick us up and we are going to head into the city to lay low.  His place is pretty chill, and I doubt they would know to look there.”  He informed us.  We had a plan.  But what if they intercepted the call and were waiting for us?  Who were “they?”  All I could see were problems and traps everywhere I looked.  I think this was why I trusted Clarence to handle this.  My recollection of my first flight demonstrated that I had no clue how to move around when I was being screwed with.  “That sounds like a good plan.”  I agreed.  It was settled.   

    We sat on the lawn peacefully while waiting for Clarence's cousin to drop by.  We watched the clouds go by slowly.  It was nice to appreciate the weather with my new friends.  Clarence pointed out a cloud that looked like a chair.  Laurie spotted one that looked like a dog's head.  And I saw one that looked like a remarkably accurate depiction of the Battle of Gallipoli.  The warm summer afternoon air settled over us and it was almost a disappointment to see Clarence's cousin come by.    

    He was an enormous black man, who appeared to be a serious bodybuilder, who let himself go for a couple years. Yet, somehow, he wasn't intimidating.  Maybe it was his warm smile or charming demeanor.  Clarence's cousin motioned for us to come to the car.  We hurried over.  It was an old silver Cadillac with R&B music playing from inside.  Clarence rode in the passenger seat and Laurie, and I took the back.  As he drove off, I took one last look back at my ash pile.   

    Clarence's cousin turned down the music and made conversation as we drove to his apartment downtown.  “Clarence told me all about you Johnny.  Says you're good people.  My name is Dayton.”  He stretched his arm into the back seat where I shook his hand.  His grip had a certain firmness about it, but a strong softness remained. “It's a pleasure to meet you Dayton.  Thanks for picking us up on short notice.  It's been a weird-” I couldn't quite work out a good time frame to finish the sentence.  He didn't seem to mind.  “And you must be Laurie,” he said almost seductively to Laurie. She grinned and nodded.  Dayton turned the music back up and we arrived at his apartment downtown without incident. 

    Dayton parked behind the tenement complex where he lived.  We exited the car and walked around to the front of the building.  There were intermittently appearing clusters of people that greeted us on our way up.  Dayton seemed to know everyone, and everyone seemed to like him.  Whatever skill or talent Dayton had for talking to his neighbors stirred up deep feelings of envy within me.  I couldn't talk to anyone in my neighborhood without feeling ridiculed by, or contemptuous toward.  We entered the complex and took a rickety old elevator up to the 11th floor.  He fumbled around the lock and finally let us into his comfortably furnished domain. 

    Laurie, Clarence, and I sat on his black leather sofa.  Dayton sprawled out on his loveseat.  Before he could fully sink in, he suddenly seemed abashed.  “Where are my manners?  Y'all want anything to drink or eat?”  He looked at us hopefully while asking, and I broke the silence. “Yeah!”  The only thing I had eaten that day found itself on my lawn after all.  “I'll take some grub,” Laurie chided in.  Clarence shook his head dismissively.  He seemed a bit preoccupied.  “How about sandwiches?  I got turkey if you want it,” Dayton offered.  Laurie and I graciously accepted our host's hospitality. 

    While Dayton was in the kitchen, we heard a loud knock on the front door.  Dayton looked at us, visibly confused.  He wasn't expecting anyone, and judging our response, he deduced that there weren't any stragglers left from our group.  Dayton called through the door, “Who is this?”  A voice answered him back, “Yo, It's Ronnie from across the hall.”  I guess the two of them were acquainted because Dayton shrugged and opened the door.   

    A large silver handgun was immediately and forcefully thrust into the face of Dayton upon opening the door.  Dayton was stupefied as he seemed to recognize the voice but not the person who followed it.  Then the stranger stepped into the room, and I got a good look at him.  I recognized the curly blonde hair and pale blue eyes.  It was hard to pinpoint the face at first, because it was covered in dark brown shoe polish.   After a moment of staring at the black-faced lunatic, I was hit with a flood of recollection.

    It was Wayne Ackerman.  I knew Wayne from grade school, but I never really cared for him.  He would always try to say silly things in class to get attention.  He would also brag incessantly to girls who were not interested.  I knew his humor was off color...but showing up at an African American man's door in full black face with a drawn weapon?  That just crossed a line.  Wayne sauntered into the living room led by his pistol.  Dayton gave him a wide berth holding his hands up in an effort to appear innocuous.  Wayne began arbitrarily pointing his weapon at each of us in an effort to inspire fear.  I wanted to slap him so badly.  Clarence was livid by Wayne’s display.  “This is how it's gonna be,” Wayne started in a voice, that I think he felt imitated an authoritarian.  “You are gonna sit real quiet and wait for me to tell you when you can leave.”  We waved the gun menacingly to emphasize the need for our strict compliance. 

    Dayton replied in a soft tone, “All right my man, whatever you say.”  Wayne knew that he was trying to placate him, which seemed to piss him off.  “Yeah, it IS, whatever I say,” He remarked while puffing out his chest.  Wayne was by no means a big guy, and I was sure that Dayton could rip him in half like tissue paper.  Wayne found a vacant rocking chair in the corner of the room and sat himself down while pointing the gun at me.  Dayton could see his discomfort despite intimidating us.  He started to get up to offer Wayne a glass of water.  “Hell no, I want your ass where I can see it,” Wayne interjected.  Dayton returned to his love seat.  That reminds me...Wayne was the reason I didn't get that turkey sandwich.  Only a truly heartless monster comes between a man and his sandwich. 

    Wayne looked at me and pointed the gun at me while he spoke.  “There is a crazy high price on your head Johnny.  Like, retire and live on a private island kind of high.  I came to collect.  If your friends don't stand in my way, they can walk.  They ain't worth shit to me.”  I suddenly felt like I was at the epicenter of a criminal conspiracy.  Given my skill set, that was not a good thing.  I tried to change the subject.  “So, uh, Wayne.  Why the blackface?”  I asked as disarmingly as possible.  “Cause it's the hood and I wanted to blend in!”  He said trying to assert an insane form of dominance.

    Dayton looked perplexed.  Clarence was trembling with rage.  Laurie looked mortified.  And I was suddenly certain this was not the Wayne I once knew.  Wayne's face suddenly was engulfed in a wicked grin.  Was there an odd flicker of that strange yellowish glow that I had seen before?  I couldn't tell for sure.  Wayne used his free hand to pull his cell phone from his left pocket and briefly glance at it.  I thought about trying to make small talk.  “Hey Wayne, did you end up getting accepted to Princeton like you always wanted?” I asked.  Well, I didn't actually ask.  I am sure that he was a Yale man after all. 

    Twenty awkward minutes passed until Wayne's phone finally rung.  There wasn't a sound in the room except for Dayton's occasional chorus of flatulence.  The ringtone was an unusually timed series of notes that seemed like some kind of bizarre code in itself.  Wayne answered it with a purposeful, “Talk to me.”  I waited on the edge of my seat, straining my ears to pick up some information.  Wayne just nodded while he listened and gave a few short “yeah's” and “mm hmm's” that got his point across.  He finished his call, pointed the gun at me, and gestured with the firearm for me to get up. 

    “Me and Johnny are leaving.  The rest of you dickwads better stay where you are.  Don't even think of getting up before the count of...71,” Wayne ordered.  We all suspiciously looked at him for a clue as to why such an unusual number.  He seemed attuned to the confusion we shared.  “I just like prime numbers, is all,” he shrieked defensively.   With that clear cut display of insanity, Wayne marched me out of Dayton's apartment with a gun jabbing into my lower back.   

    We moved through the hallway that led to the elevator and right into said elevator.  Thankfully it was empty, and I didn't need to have an awkward elevator ride with this lunatic.  I really didn't want to be lumped into whatever category of racism that his nonsense fell under.  We entered the elevator and when the door closed and I was in that little rickety elevator with him, chills crept up my spine.  I could feel the warmth of Wayne's breath on my neck as he crept up to my ear.  “Someone is dying to have you over for dinner,” he said.  But it wasn't just those words.  It was the fact that the voice that came out of his mouth belonged to my deceased father. 

    The elevator ride seemed like a long panic attack, and the silence that followed out of Wayne’s voice was almost more than I could process.  At some point during our descent the elevator stopped at the third floor.  A middle-aged woman carrying a baby was waiting for the elevator.  Her face was a mixture of horror, anger, and revulsion when I gestured that she couldn't come on the elevator.  She stepped back from the door, and I apprehensively pushed the button to close the door.  Wayne dug his gun into my back to emphasize my powerlessness.   

    We arrived at the ground level and there were a couple people talking in the lobby.  All conversations stopped and their eyes followed us.  One of the younger men wearing a tank top and doo rag approached us with a very concerned expression.  I couldn't see Wayne's face standing behind me, but whatever look he gave the guy scared him enough that he slunk out of the way and pushed himself against the wall.  I knew the gun was still concealed in my back and by the baggy shirt surrounding it.  It wasn't the gun that frightened the man who approached us.   

    Fear, confusion, and suspicion followed us all the way to the parking lot.  No one dared to approach, and Wayne seemed to expect this.  I knew that Wayne had a penchant for the dramatic, but his bravado was astounding.  Not far from where Dayton had parked his car, I saw an old brown Ford SUV that we were making a direct route for.  “Just slide in the backseat and lay down.  There is a blanket back there, cover yourself with it.”  He commanded.  Who the hell was he hiding me from? 

    I briefly considered how to stall him.  I was inclined to believe that the longer he stood out here in that getup, the more likely it would become that someone intervened in this charade.  “Where are we going,” I asked politely.  Wayne's face contorted in fury.  “Does it really matter, if it's the last place your going?”  He replied with the air of a man, who considered his question oozing with profound wisdom.  “Well, I just-” He cut me off with a sharp jab of the gun into my back, probing me to open the back passenger side door of the car to get in.  The door was locked.  What a moron. 

    His vehicle apparently didn't have a remote unlocking mechanism, and he was forced to walk back to the driver's seat side to push the unlock button for me.  He awkwardly kept his gun trained on me the whole time.  I froze for a moment and considered running at full sprint back into the tenement.  He noticed the spark of resistance in me and yelled, “stand there!”  He circled back around to where I was (passenger rear door.) He came at me with the butt of his pistol raised for a presumably uncomfortable session of pistol whippings.  I averted my gaze from him and tried to brace myself for the incoming concussion. CRACK! 

    The sound wasn't accompanied by the pain I expected.  After my courageous flinching, I squinted my eyes open long enough to see my companions standing over Wayne's sprawled out body.  Dayton was panting heavily with a crimson splattered baseball bat in hand.  “Holy shit!  Where did you guys come from? I thought I was screwed,” I cried in a rejoicing tone.  Clarence tilted his head toward the fire escape ladder on the back of the building.  The fact that Dayton made it down successfully and so swiftly surprised the hell out of me.  He was definitely quicker than he looked.   

    Our celebration was cut short by a blood curdling series of cackles coming from the face down body of Wayne Ackerman.  He rolled over and his eyes were glowing yellow, while laughter and deep crimson blood ejected from his mouth.  The group took an instinctive step  back.  Except Dayton, who hoisted his bat in stoic determination.   I guess once you start whacking someone in the head with a baseball bat, it sort of becomes a muscle memory.  Dayton wasted no time and began wailing on Wayne while he was still prone.  Wayne's demonic laughter became garbled by the blood filling his mouth and his teeth shattering.  Wayne's painted face took on the appearance of a morbid, as well as racist Picasso painting.  The rest of us looked on with horror.  Some of the other nearby residents who were spectating began cheering and clapping enthusiastically. 

    Once his composure was regained, Dayton ordered Clarence to help him stuff Wayne's still convulsing body into the trunk of his Cadillac.  I peered inside the windows of Wayne's car.  It was pretty much empty with the exception of the keys on the front seat of the car.  After making short work of the body, Clarence and Dayton motioned for us to join them in front of both cars to plan our next move.  Clarence said to us, “I think the best option for us now, is to split up.  Dayton and I will deal with this clown's body.  I think you two should head for whatever friends Laurie has out in the Stix.”  Laurie scratched her neck nervously.  “I am not sure where exactly they are, but I know a few places to start looking to make contact.  They aren't the easiest bunch to just drop in on,” she said.  “Do whatever you need to,” Clarence retorted.  Laurie shrugged.  “After you two settle in, try to make contact with me.  You can reach me on this ham radio frequency.”  He handed her a scribbled note.  “Wait at least a week,” he added.  He had some kind of plan up his sleeve he wasn't directly stating, but I took an odd comfort in that. 

    I wanted to give Clarence and Dayton a big hug and a tearful goodbye, but it seemed sort of inappropriate.  The cousins nodded to us in unison, and Laurie and I nodded back in unison as well.  Somethings just don't need to be said.  Laurie and I scrambled into Wayne's SUV and started it up.  The music coming from the CD player started to play loudly.  It was one of the tracks from a Kidz Bop album.  Nothing struck me as more Satanic than Kidz Bop.  We were dealing with some real sick animals.  I turned it off and we drove out of the parking lot.  The crowd that had formed by the sidewalk parted and dispersed.  We received a warm exit before zooming up Main Street.  The gas meter registered that we had nearly a full tank, which a welcome reprieve from the ongoing complications.  While casually driving down Main Street, Laurie checked the glove box and discovered a modest size wad of cash.  Mostly 20s and 10s, with a hundred on top of the roll.  At least my concerns about traveling expenses were alleviated.   

    Laurie instructed me to stop at a nearby strip mall so that we could change clothes.  I was pretty contented by the idea of changing out of Chuck's apparel.  I must admit, I would be pretty disappointed by the sight of Laurie outside of her lab coat.  We arrived at a small strip mall just on the outskirts of town.  The sign for “Village Plaza'' was a welcome sight.  Virgil's Discount Apparel was our first destination. “After we pick up some clothes and change, we are hitting that Chinese buffet.  Then we need to go back to Virgil's to get new clothes to fit around the food baby I plan on making,” Laurie happily said sporting an impish smile.   

    The shopping took a couple minutes.  Laurie quickly found a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting tank top that she liked.  I took a pair of khaki shorts and tan polo shirt that matched.  The cashier tried to make small talk with us about the upcoming election.   As long as the candidate didn't have glowing yellow eyes, eat human flesh, or projectile vomit blood out of his mouth, I didn't care.  I think Laurie felt the same way and mumbled, “whoever lowers taxes the most.”  We returned to the car and changed.  I dumped the marbles from the pocket of the shorts into the cup holder in the center console. 

    We hastily walked over to the Golden Flaming Dragon Wok House and the smell of food was intoxicating.  My objections about buffet style melted away.  I would gladly excuse myself  to the bathroom to profusely vomit and refill my belly.  We ordered our plates and did our best to avoid shoveling in the food recklessly.  It wasn't the best Chinese I have had by a long shot, but at that moment, it was the greatest thing I had ever tasted.  I did my best to pace myself.  Laurie seemed a bit more adept at eating carefully.  We each had two full plates.  Pork fried rice, General Tso's Chicken, Wonton Soup, Beef Lo-Mein, and some french fries later, we were nearly ready to continue our journey on the road.  I thought it best that we pick up a few items for the ride.  Laurie agreed with my plan to stop at the nearby convenience mart for the journey ahead.   

    We entered the store labeled Convenience Shoppe.  A dark-skinned man of an ambiguous ethnic origin greeted us.  “Hello, my friends, let me know if you need any help finding something!”  The clerk offered emphatically.  Laurie asked for a road atlas.  I stocked up on sugary caffeinated soda, assorted snacks, and a lighter.  The lighter was covered with one of those plastic wrapped graphics on it.  It had a picture of a bull the word Taurus written on it.  I'm not a Taurus, but I didn't give a shit. 

    Laurie informed me that the journey would take 6 hours on the highway to get to a tavern off the exit.  Apparently some of her friends hang out there, and it was a good spot to make contact with the group.  It was late evening when we made it to the highway.  I guzzled a colorful rainbow of different sodas in an effort to keep myself awake and alert.  Laurie kept me alert by feeding me various bits of sporadic information about her friends.  They sounded a bit xenophobic, a bit paranoid, and somewhat lovable.   

    “The guy who runs the place is David McCallister.  Though, to call him a leader would be a bit short sighted.  Each person has delegated responsibilities but authority is shared in their community.  David owns different properties all over the Northeast.  He runs an exclusive summer camp up in the mountains.  Some people say they brainwash kids there, but I went there, and it was nothing like that.”  Laurie explained.  Her last sentence sounded exactly like the line someone who was brainwashed would say.  I wasn't exactly chocked full of options myself, so I deemed it wiser to ignore that nagging thought.   

    She told me about an odd gesture that was a combination of a hand signal and facial expression that were code that you were friendly to their cause.  I thought it looked like she was having an aneurysm or experiencing some odd psychotic tic when she demonstrated it.  She talked for about another hour about her cult.  I mean friends.  She changed the topic eventually, to something that I had an odd feeling about.  

    “Yeah, I wasn't going to say anything to you before about this...” She said while trailing off shamefully.  I gave her an encouraging “meh,” so that she knew I was beyond such silliness.  “I knew that guy that tried to abduct you at Dayton's place.  We, uh, had a brief fling.”  That bit of information almost caused an eruption of soda from my nose.  That also explained the look of mortification on her face when he burst in.  I immediately regained my composure and pointed out, “I would have thought he would have said something.”  She looked uncertain about that detail as well.   

    “His name was Wayne Ackerman.  He wasn't the same as the last time I saw him.  He was kind of a jerk, but he looked completely out of his mind back there.  We dated a couple years out of high school.”  She explained.  “Yeah, I know.  I went to high school with him.  Kind of an ass, but never so, insane,” I replied.  I think Laurie was a bit embarrassed that I knew Wayne.  I guess he wasn't her favorite chapter in her life.  We gave up on changing subjects and listened to the radio for a while.  She watched the trees zip by as we drove.  It was a comfortable moment of peace since our escape. 

    The drive continued uneventfully into a mild summer rain.  It was around 10pm when Laurie told me that the town where the tavern was located was our next exit.  We passed through the Connecticut state line around 8, and I honestly had no idea where we were.  I was unaccustomed to driving to strange places, and in a dead man's car no less.  Not to mention the fact that my license was missing.  Running into an officer at this point could be disastrous.  The thought of being considered an escaped mental patient did nothing to ease my mind either. 

    We approached the exit, and I saw a state trooper parked by the sign.  I feel like my timing for nervous thoughts was impeccable at that moment.  Laurie noticed the tension radiating off me, and gently put her hand on my arm, which was gripping the wheel in white knuckle fashion.  My heart skipped a beat when I saw the headlights click on, and the vehicle followed us.  There were no other motorists on the road, so I got the very sickening feeling that we would be pulled over.  The police cruiser followed us off the ramp into some small town in a very scenic wooded area.   

    I could tell Laurie was getting nervous because her grip on my wrist began to tighten.  She didn't let go but instructed me to follow Hicks Street for about 30 miles.  Laurie turned the radio off, and we continued to follow the dark and windy road through the woods.  The officer maintained a safe distance behind us but appeared to be going out of his way to follow us.  “What should I say if he pulls us over?” I asked Laurie.  “Just pray he doesn't,” Laurie flatly responded.  I did just that.

    I maintained the speed limit of 45 miles per hour with excruciating care.  I began to wonder if he saw camera footage from the rest stop where we filled up on gas.  Maybe he was working for Thomas.  Maybe he was like the other yellow eyed freaks that makes a habit of tormenting us.  My thoughts of being ripped to pieces by a possessed officer were interrupted by flashing police lights.  I exhaled in terror and pulled over as carefully as I could. 

    Relief doesn't begin to describe the feeling I got when the trooper whizzed past us and sped off down the road. I could feel Laurie experiencing the same sensation.  I turned to her and she did likewise.  We got caught in another one of those moments where our eyes froze in the heat of a moment.  It wasn't like love or anything carnal.  It was something more akin to experiencing a common feeling on such an extreme level that it forms a bond deeper than words can accurately describe. 

    Our journey continued more peacefully as the tension melted away.  It felt like we traveled down Hicks road for an eternity.  The destination of Mark's Tavern was only a few miles down the first intersection we hit.  Laurie laid out our game plan: “I will look for someone who can get us an in.  I just want you to hang back at the bar and get a beer.  Don't talk to anyone, and if anyone talks to you, just tell them you are waiting for a friend.”  It sounded like a close-knit joint. 

    I never had much of an affinity for drinking, but it was a sound plan, nonetheless. She described the owner as a surly man who was quite leery of strangers (I assumed his name was Mark or a huge fan of someone named Mark.)  If he was working the bar, it would be in my best interest to mention her.  Otherwise, if anyone else was bartending, to keep her name out of it.  I was told he was a heavy-set fellow with a prominent tattoo of a shark eating an angel running up his arm.  Classy. 

    We pulled into the parking lot and there weren't many vehicles there, I counted 3 pickup trucks, and two beater cars that were piled into the small parking lot.  Outside the bar there was only the road going onward and woods in all directions.  I spotted a sign in front of the bar that read, “Pink Floyd Patterson: Playing live all this week!”  There was also a graphic of a silhouette of a boxer punching the color prism featured on the cover of Dark Side of the Moon.  I softly groaned at the notion.  I never cared for cover bands.   

    We exited Wayne's SUV and made our way to the front of the bar.  I was a bit nervous honestly.  I don't go to bars much, and this seedy backwoods tavern wasn't the most inviting.  Laurie led the way and told me to wait a couple minutes after her.  I paced back to the car trying to appear as if I had forgotten something.  I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince, as I was the only one in the parking lot.  I made a mental note to make a more thorough search of the car.  It was a tidy car but there might be some more hidden gems in here.  We did find almost $400 in the glove box. 

    After some time passed, I walked into the bar.  It was definitely the hole in the wall I was expecting.  The band was playing a pretty shitty rendition of “Wish You Were Here.”  How I wish they weren't here.  The place didn't seem as rough as I imagined.  Most of the patrons here seemed like quiet simple folk who didn't like a big ruckus when they came to the local watering hole.  I sat down at an unoccupied stool by the bar.  The man standing behind the bar definitely looked like the description of Mark that Laurie had given me. 

    “Hey stranger, never seen you around here.  What can I get you?” He asked in a discerning voice.  “Whatever's on tap.” I replied in an attempt to sound like I fit in.  I half expected him to check my ID based solely on my obviously disingenuous confidence.  He nodded and poured me a glass of some amber swill.  I was going to try to make small talk, but he gave me an out when he went to restock the peanuts. 

    In my periphery, I could see Laurie comfortably leaning against the wall with a beer in hand chatting up a middle-aged couple.  They seemed to be having a fair time, and I suspected she found one of her contacts.  Mark kept a wary eye on me, but I was sure he was confident that I wasn't bringing any trouble to his bar.  I slowly sipped my beer and stared at the clock, occasionally watching the band play off key Pink Floyd.  I strongly suspect Mark didn't pay them anything and they played for the glory of amusing a handful of patrons a night.

    Laurie approached the bar and let Mark know I would cover the tab.  She gave me a sort of head nod signal that told me that we were done here.  He waited for me to finish my beer.  I gulped it down, paid the tab and left a pretty generous tip.  I was certainly glad we didn't have to linger here long.  I walked out of the bar carefully, not showing that I could feel the effects of one beer in my system.  It is surprising how a low alcohol tolerance can affect you. 

    Still, I was certain that I could drive once the initial shock of walking around passed away.  Laurie and I sat in the seat of the car.  When I turned it on the clock notified us that it was just past midnight.  Damn.  Where would we go?  That was when Laurie told me, “Bob and Dana, just told me that they would get us a place at the camp to stay for a while.  It is closed to the kids for renovations or something.  We need to wait a couple days for the arrangements to go through.”  I frowned at the prospect of trying to kill a few days in the middle of Nowheresville, USA. 

    Laurie continued to talk past my obvious disappointment.  “They gave me the address to a motel that isn't too far from here.  They know the owners and said it is a safe place for us to stay.” Clarence told us that Dayton's place was safe, and found myself incredibly mistrustful of what people called safe.  Laurie seemed optimistic at least.  That was good enough for me.  We pulled out of the bar cautiously, and I began my drive in the direction that Laurie sent me.  We zoomed off in the same direction we came from, back toward the highway. 

    The effects of the caffeine were wearing thin, and the beer wasn't helping.  I was getting drowsy, and I welcomed the idea of getting some rest.  Laurie yawned in agreement.  The drive was uneventful, but I kept an eye out for the state trooper that I saw a couple hours ago.  Not another car on the road was present to greet us.  Laurie had a fairly good grasp of the area and was able to turn us down several country roads that led to the motel.  The sign for the Road Stop Inn was a pleasant sight to my weary eyes. 

    The most significant thing I saw was a large scrap metal shaped horse in front of the office.  “How quaint,” I thought to myself.  There were several cars parked in the lot, and all of them looked like broken down shit boxes that were owned by the proprietor.  Maybe he kept them outside to give the appearance that his establishment actually had a number of guests.  We parked near an old Ford Taurus that was decorated with a liberal amount of rust spots.  We exited the car and made our way to the front office, where a light was still on. 

    We entered a dimly lit office where the man behind the desk was watching TV with rapt attention.  He was a stringy pale skinned man with a ratty looking beard with bits of spittle caught in it.  He was vigorously chewing a wad of gum that looked large enough that it caused my jaw to hurt, simply by watching him.  He barely paid us any notice when we walked in.  He reached under the desk and slapped a key on the desk.  “Room number 4 is open,” he told us in a raspy voice between chews of his gum. 

    I wasn't sure if I should have paid him right then or asked the rates, but Laurie scooped up the keys and we swiftly exited the office.  We trudged over to a room in the two story building about a hundred feet from the office.  I counted 8 rooms total. Room 4 was the farthest door on the left side of the building.  It was adjacent to the stairs leading to the balcony that held the rooms above us.  I was grateful we didn't have to climb up the stairs. 

    We entered our room, and I flipped the lights on.  The bulb above us flickered in protest before finally illuminating our surroundings.  The first thing that caught my attention was the revolting yellow floral wallpaper.  Some of it was peeling in places and was covered in the yellowish grime from years of cigarette smoke clinging to the walls.  There was a dingy chipped table, a few plastic chairs, a pair of twin beds that looked like they had been soiled many times, and nightstands that at least looked like they were replaced at some point in the last 5 years. 

    I collapsed onto the closest bed wordlessly.  I heard Laurie check on the bathroom.  I was just about to start letting myself doze off when I heard her loudly exclaim, “Gross! Nasty!”  My eyes popped open.  I sprung off the bed and darted over to the bathroom to inspect what her complaint was.  I got close to the door and was able to see the tail end of a cockroach parade scurrying from the light that Laurie flicked on.  Not unexpected, but not a pleasant sight either. She sighed, said “forget it,” and laid down on the other bed. 

    I returned to my bed, at least convinced that the cockroaches were not from outer space hell bent on our destruction. Sleep came quickly despite the fact that the bed was gross, uncomfortable, and I didn't even bother to pull the blanket over me.  It was hot as hell in here anyway.  While the sleep came quickly, the dream that followed came on slowly.

Chapter 3

 Chapter 3: Revelations 

    Lengthy silence and a breakfast of instant oatmeal (which was surprisingly better than the mental hospital served us) followed our conversation on the floor.  After breakfast, I decided to reveal to the group what I had discovered.  I told them about the research that was being conducted.  I told them the fragments I put together related to Project Balthazar.  Laurie and I had both agreed that continued looking at the photos and charcoal petroglyph rubbings was beyond our emotional capacity.  Clarence wrestled with curiosity after I told him, but he aired on the side of caution.  Or he simply didn’t want to be the odd one out.   

    During my explanations, my left hand became visible to the others.  This drew concerned looks from their faces. “That explains why your hand was so warm when you, uh... we, had our moment,” Laurie posited. Clarence seemed intrigued and put his hand up in a high 5 pose.  I pressed my palm against his.  His face divulged devilish curiosity.  “That’s the gem making your hand so warm?” He asked curiously.  “Yup.” With our collective stories and secrets revealed, it was time to broach the subject that was quickly becoming an unspoken taboo. With all of the tact of a crying 5 year old, I announced my plan. “I was thinking about taking a look in the crawlspace for gasoline or any other supplies that we might be missing.” Laurie and Clarence both exchanged nervous looks. 

    Clarence casually strode over to where the lever-action rifle was located on the wall. He inspected the weapon and was convinced it was still functional, though we hadn't discovered any ammunition. “I thought I might take it there in case we find a raccoon or something,” Clarence declared in a comical tone. I imagined that any raccoon we might encounter at this point in our adventure would be 8 feet long, have glowing yellow eyes, and spray sodium hydroxide from its mouth. 

    Laurie continued to rummage through the supply closet and cried out in delight when she discovered what she had been looking for. It was a box of rounds for the antiquated firearm. Clarence tried (somewhat successfully) to force an expression of enthusiasm. He had two obstacles to confront from my perspective. The challenge of learning to operate a weapon that looked like it would be home at a museum, and the challenge of mustering the courage to face whatever the crawlspace had to offer us. 

    Clarence explained that he wanted to fire off a couple rounds before he felt confident enough to enter in a potentially hazardous situation. He wandered outside by himself.  Meanwhile, I found an old marble ashtray in the living room that I used to determine if the gem was still working properly. I crushed it into a fine powder in my right hand. At least my hulk-like strength in my average body build was still in effect. The fact that I had no way to turn it off frightened me, however. 

    I was clapping the dust from the ashtray off my hands when I could hear the loud “Pop” and “Bang” of gunfire outside. Laurie was observing him from the window. I got the impression that guns made her nervous. I had no great love of them myself. I would like to think a true gentleman would brandish a potato peeler when entering into mortal combat. But I am a romantic. What can I say? 

    Clarence reentered the cabin with the “I just shot a gun” glow. It was certainly the boost he was looking for. We stood together hovering over the old iron handle to the crawlspace. “Laurie. I think you better wait in the other room in case something happens to us.” At first she tried to ignore my attempts at protecting her lady-like delicacy. She thought for a moment and responded, “If something in there devours you, I want to be able to shut that door as quickly as possible.” I was flabbergasted and Clarence got a good chuckle at my expense. 

    I held one of the kerosene lanterns while Clarence pulled the hatch open. It gave him some resistance but finally gave way and opened with a churning creak. Our faces were peppered by dust and mold. I let out an astonished gasp by what I saw. It was a smooth cement tunnel leading down into the darkness with an iron ladder pegs embedded in the circular passage. “Not quite what I was expecting,” Clarence muttered. He flung the rifle's leather strap over his shoulder where the weapon now rested on his back. 

    I climbed down first. Grasping the lantern in one hand and carefully stepping down each rung of the ladder. I wasn't certain how far down this tunnel went but there wasn't enough room to get a good view. I had to descend on faith alone. Clarence was several rungs above me. He was chanting some kind of prayer. I surmised that he had a fear of enclosed spaces. 

    The ladder stretched for what I estimated to be 2 full stories into the earth. The clang of our feet echoed in the small tunnel around us. I could hear Laurie above us calling out to check on us. I wanted to wait until my feet hit solid ground before doing so. And then, they did. The lantern illuminated what looked like a small research laboratory. Despite the use of the word small in my description, the total size of the open room I saw was still significantly larger in square footage than the cabin above us. I took a few steps forward and noticed a large switch on the wall to my left. 

    I could feel Clarence's presence behind me. He made it down safely as well. I turned the lantern on his face to see slack jawed amazement. I called up to Laurie, “We are fine. There is some kind of lab or facility down here.” I shouted upwards. It's incredible!” I added a second later. I could hear the echoing clang of feet hitting the iron rungs of the ladder. “I am heading down there,” she cried out. 

    Clarence took the initiative and flipped the large breaker switch on the wall and the room flickered with the glow of fluorescent lights. This place was amazing. There were 2 rows of lab tables with 3 tables in each row. A pair of stools stood adjacent to each table. I spotted a large metal disk with some kind of enclosure around it. There was an inordinate amount of wires, levers and buttons covering the enclosure. As well as a pair of what looked like a pair of Tesla Coils protruding from both sides of the enclosure. It looked like the lair of a mad scientist or a Disney villain. Probably both. Definitely both. 

    Clarence and I split up to opposite ends of the lab to inspect at what we had encountered. Clarence was pawing through documents that appeared to be maps or blueprints. I headed over to an unmarked metal door and carefully pulled it open. It was locked, but my strength enhancement caused the door to rip through the double deadbolts and hang limply off one hinge. Despite using a bit more force than I wanted to, I found myself getting a better handle of measuring my newfound abilities. 

    Inside the large supply room, I noticed several strange instruments on the floor. The devices were rectangular boxes with a series of digital readout monitors and a multicolored cornucopia of buttons.  They each had odd metal wands tethered by coiled wires on them.  They looked like Geiger counters or maybe some kind of sophisticated anal probe. I discovered a small cluster of lab coats suspended on hangers on the right hand side of the closet. I pulled one of the coats off the hook and ripped off my slimy, sweat covered, and muddy scrub shirt. I threw the lab coat over my bare chest.   

    I exited the closet eager to make an appearance for an impromptu fashion show for Clarence. Laurie had just finished her climb down the tunnel stairs. They both looked in amusement as I did a slight bow and did my best to imitate an intellectual.  “As persons of science, it is our duty to look the part.” 

    Laurie and Clarence wasted no time bursting into the closet to change their attire. After a brief moment, we suddenly looked like a distinguished group of scientists. Distinguished scientists who were living in the woods for a week. Clarence also discovered a box full of rubber safety boots. My boots were a bit too loose. Clarence's boots were a bit too snug. And Laurie's boots flopped around with a solid two inches of unused space in the toe area. Clarence informed us about a saw upstairs that could at least remedy that problem. 

    Clarence told us that he discovered blueprints for a machine of some kind labeled as the “Daedalus Gate.” I didn’t even bother trying to decipher the complex diagram.  He also showed us a map of the area where we were staying and the cabin we were calling home. He drew his finger across the map and noted in a matter of fact tone, “The cabin is here, and it appears, half a click due north of us, is a helipad.” Half a click. What were we now, Marines? “I guess that explains how the scientists got here without any kind of road connected to the cabin.” Made sense. 

    Laurie meandered around the room and moaned in ecstasy when she discovered an emergency wash station. She turned the shower on to test the water. At least it worked.  We all took turns taking showers in the corner of the room, while the others sat in the closet to give each other privacy.  Since she discovered the shower and she went first. In the spirit of Conventionalist Ethics, of course.    

    Clarence pulled the strap around his shoulder and propped the rifle against the wall of the closet by the futuristic looking gadgets I saw earlier.  We sat on the floor and discussed our next move.  “I figured I would climb back upstairs and grab the ham radio and bring it down here where we can give it some juice.  My old man had one when I was growing up, so I know what I am doing,” Clarence informed me.  I could only speculate whether such a machine would work this far underground, but I had no way to validate such a criticism.   

    He continued his calculations, “If you come upstairs with me and use the blanket on the bed as a sack, we can haul food down here and cook it on the Bunsen burners instead of the fireplace.  I am damn sure it is more comfortable to sleep down here than up there. A lot less mosquito at night”  He had a fine argument.  “I could throw down cushions from the couch as well,” I added.  “Now you’re thinking,” He replied with a comforting smile. Our rickety woodland cabin was turning into a real Hobbit Hole. 

    As we debated for several moments about the logistics of our relocation, I could hear the water stop running in the other room.  The sound of flapping skin, limbs, breasts, and hair could be heard audibly in the other room.  No towels.  I guess flailing around to air dry ourselves was the game plan.  Clarence’s face scrunched in consternation for just the briefest moment.  I had a feeling he wanted to tell me something.  Maybe about himself or our predicament.  Laurie’s call of “Almost done!,” in the other room provided him an out from opening up to me.  “I’m next. I just called it.” He announced with a slight wolfish grin. 

    Laurie appeared outside the doorway, and Clarence bolted out the door.  She stepped out of his way as he charged over to the shower.  Laurie sat down next to me.  Her hair was a sloppy pile pulled over her shoulder.  Her pale skin glistened from the moisture still on it, and the labcoat was slightly discolored from the water it absorbed.  Despite these oddly noticeable details, it was the first time I really became aware of her unique beauty.  She frowned when she realized I was staring at her like a hypnotized goon.   

    She broke the tension by speaking.  “I was thinking in the shower about contacting some old friends of mine.  They also have a ham radio, and don’t live too far off.  We might need a new place to lie low until things die down.”  I was dumbstruck for a second and asked “what to die down?”  She exhaled sharply, as if dealing with a mentally deficient toddler.  “Our escape from the mental institution.”  Oh yeah.  I could only wonder what they would tell the press when asked how we escaped.  Maybe something involving an elaborate catapult we built out of bed sheets.   

    Regaining my composure I affirmed her course of action, “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.” She scratched her forehead while explaining the major complication to said plan.  “I can’t think of a way for my friends to actually reach us.  There are no trails, paths or roads.  It’s not like my friends own a helicopter.”  My heart sunk.  “At least they’d know we were coming, and that’s something,” I offered feebly.  She sighed.   

    We both heard Clarence singing his heart out in the shower.  He performed a soulful rendition of a breakfast cereal commercial from 15 years ago.  I was sure the folks at Kellogg’s would be brought to tears.  Laurie and I both roared in laughter.  Our gaze met briefly.  Damn, she had the most beautiful radiant green eyes.  How did I not notice before?  We both briefly looked in opposite directions when a wave of awkwardness followed. 

    The awkward silence was broken by Clarence standing outside the doorway still dripping wet.  He gestured to me that I was up next.  I walked past him and he replaced my seat on the floor next to Laurie.  I stripped down and turned on the water.  It was cold and there didn't seem to be any knob to turn on a hot water setting.  How had the others failed to mention this?  When I worked up the nerve to stand under the stream of water. I yelped in shock.  I haven't taken many cold showers before, but I could see why it was a remedy for arousal.   

    The muck and grime slowly peeled off me, though it was a grueling process because of my need to jump out of the water so my eyeballs didn't pop out of their sockets in shock.  I couldn't believe someone would take a shower like this willingly.  I tried to focus on something else instead of an ice cold shower.  Clarence and Laurie were having a loud and heated debate over the merits of either delivery or DiGiorno.  They both offered compelling arguments. 

    I was in the process of washing the grime and dirt from my hair when I heard sounds that stole all interest away from Clarence and Laurie.  It was the sounds of feet clanging down the tunnel and into our new sanctuary.  The others must have heard it too because their conversation ended abruptly.  My heart skipped a beat, and I had just enough nerve to pull the triangle shaped handle of the emergency wash shower off. 

    There I was, standing in the rear corner of the lab, dripping wet, and completely naked when figures entered the room. I recognized their pseudo uniforms.  They were the same types of soldiers that arrived at my house in Humvees and burnt the place to cinders.  For some reason I didn't imagine I would be stark nude when this confrontation inevitably occurred.  The men were armed with assault rifles, all pointed at me.  I could hear one final set of feet climb down from the ladder.  He appeared into view and then faced me.  It was the balding asshole that had a taste for human flesh and tormenting me. 

    Seeing this sick person created a peculiar mix of emotions that stirred within me.  It was something like dread, seething hatred, utter contempt, and sickening curiosity.  He was wearing his signature monogrammed robe (untied of course.)  His disgusting wrinkled and saggy skin fit over his bones like an absurd Halloween costume.  His stretched and bloated belly walked a full 6 inches in front of him.  He clearly savored the feelings he inspired in me.   

    The first look I got from him was a toothy grin revealing a row of sharp teeth.  I swore that his entire row of front teeth was nothing but incisors.  He signaled nonchalantly for his men to storm the closet that Clarence and Laurie were inside before speaking to me.  “Hello Johnathan.” He said with an impish smirk.  He knew I hated to be called Johnathan.   

    “Where are my manners?  Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Thomas.  Thomas Balthazar.”  He paused for a moment, and on cue, an involuntary shudder crept up my spine.  “Though, I have taken to using the moniker, Azmorariel.”  Another shudder.  If he kept this up, I would need to see a chiropractor when this was all over.  

    While Thomas was enjoying his own introduction, Clarence and Laurie were dragged out of the closet with zip-ties around their wrists.  The soldiers were dragging them to the back of the lab.  I prepared to leap into action but the sight of Thomas kept me in check.  “Your friends will remain unharmed if you are cooperative,” Thomas assured me.  “What do you want from me?” I demanded while blood began rushing to my head.  “Such impudence.” Thomas replied with a condescending tone.  “What I want is simple.  The gem embedded in your left hand.”   

    Two of the soldiers that remained by the side of Thomas cautiously approached me with their weapons drawn.  I kept my gaze on the real threat.  The soldiers tried to push me onto one of the lab tables behind me.  It was as if a pair of slow moving bunny rabbits tried to push me over.  They grunted with exertion and desperately looked back at their leader for answers.  Thomas frowned and hissed, “I said...COOPERATE!”  

    With those words, it was like being manhandled by some invisible force.  I was flung into the air and landed on my back right on the lab table. I gasped in pain.  It hurt spectacularly.  One of the guards fumbled around a satchel on his waist and pulled out an electric bone saw.  I guess if I couldn't hand over the gem my hand would be over.  I had to hand it to them; they were quite a handy bunch.  OK, I'll stop now. 

    The whirl of the electric bone saw brought an involuntary gasp of panic.  When the blade hit my wrist the machine sputtered and whined.  There was a burst of sparks and with a loud “pop,” mechanical parts scattered around the room.  The guard, who sported an attractive goatee, cursed loudly and stepped back.  The other guard just looked on with confused fascination.  “I hate getting my hands dirty.” Thomas spat in utter disgust.  Hey, that time it was him, not me, who was milking the hand puns.  

    Thomas had the most fiendish look in his eyes when he widened his jaw and moved swiftly to my wrist.  I tried to jump off the table, to move, to yell, or to... something.  I was totally paralyzed by some sort of spell or entity.  Thomas' sharp teeth descended into my wrist.  I braced myself for whatever supernatural pain was coming.  I could feel his sharp teeth digging at my flesh.  Luckily, the gem protected me well enough that he couldn't break the skin.  However, it hurt.  Extremely badly.  I almost forgot what pain felt like over the past couple of days but this made up for it in spades. 

    Thomas gave a quizzical look at my wrist.  This was a man (and I use the term loosely) who rarely experienced failure or results that weren't expected.  He took a step back and entered into a thoughtful pose while tapping his chin rapidly.  Based on what I could read of his expression, he had an answer, but he didn't like it.  “Axle.  Diesel.”  He called out to the guards that stood watching Clarence and Laurie.  Axle and Diesel?  Were these guys soldiers or washed-up American Gladiators? 

    They understood some kind of nonverbal cue and pointed their rifles at the heads of my companions.  “Here is what is going to happen Johnathan.  I am going to release you from your binds.”  I assumed the binds was whatever in the hell it was keeping me frozen in place.  “Then you are going to join your companions inside the Daedalus Gate.  Next, you are going to sit still and wait for the fireworks to begin.  Any sudden moves or tricks, and your companions will die.  Play along, and I can give you a comfy ride back home.”  Thomas explained to me in a calculating tone.  The idea of complying with anything this guy ordered bothered the shit out me. 

    He could feel my righteous indignation fade after a moment.  He watched my resolve melt away, and when a combination of fear and compassion for my friends sunk in, he released me.  I got up and marched over to the Frankenstein machine with my head hung down.  It was a slow walk over to the shiny nickel colored platform where my friends awaited.  Thomas walked over to the machine and started rapidly inputting calculations into the machine.  There was a hiss of pressure being released as the enclosure surrounded us. 

    Clarence and Laurie both pushed as far away from me as possible.  It was like being stuck in a tube that was 8 feet in diameter with a completely nude person was somehow unappealing.  While trying to brush off my self-consciousness, a deep and resonating hum began to fill the chamber.  I can't find the right way to describe the feeling and sensations that followed after the hum very well.  It was like, moving really fast or flying but going nowhere.  It was like, every cell in my body was vibrating in different directions.  It was like, blinking and seeing the inside of a science fiction machine immediately turn into my front lawn. 

    There we were.  Right in front of the twisted ash pile that was my old home.  On the overgrown lawn where my grand adventure began.  Immediately, I was overcome with nausea and what little food was in my belly emptied onto the lawn.  Nausea must have been a side effect of Gate Travel because Clarence and Laurie were both doubled over and puking in the grass as well.  With their hands zip tied behind their backs.  At least they had clothes on. 

    After the symphony of vomiting concluded, I noticed something stuck to the dirt under a pile of my discarded stomach contents.  I pushed aside the vile mess of recycled oatmeal and discovered a note stuck in the dirt.  I wiped away the whitish-tan grime of it and took a closer look.  It looked like a sheet of paper ripped out of a pocket sized notebook.  The words scribbled on it read, “I WILL TASTE YOUR FLESH.” 

Chapter 2

 Chapter 2: Escape 

 

I looked around at the other patients who all seemed to be sleeping soundly.  When I was confident no one saw me, I slipped the large ruby under my cot.  It made for a very conspicuous lump.  There wasn't really a good place to hide anything here.  I grimaced and did my best to rest on the now lumpy bed before the wakeup call.  I didn't have to wait long.  The orderlies assigned to the unit did their daily wakeup call and I was off to the bathroom to do the usual hygiene ritual.  I couldn't stop thinking about the treasure that was under my cot.  It consumed me. 

It was during breakfast that I started to feel better.  I felt lighter than usual.  Like I had a reason to live, or a purpose.  I ate the disgusting flavorless oatmeal with a smile on my face.  One of the other patients, Clarence, seemed to have noticed my improved demeanor.  After a brief moment Clarence noted, “You're looking a bit brighter eyed than usual.”  I nodded happily as I pushed the vile oatmeal down my throat.  After swallowing a mouthful, I turned to him and replied, “medications must be working out.”  He shot me back a puzzled expression and queried, “Oh yeah? What do they have you on?” My face that told him I didn't want to discuss it, and he got the message. 

There was a small window of time after breakfast, where I intended to go back to my bed and check on the ruby.  What I discovered there took the wind out of my sails.  It was two orderlies arguing in tones that they intended to be hushed.  The cot was overturned, yet the ruby remained where I had placed it.  “I don't get it!” one of the orderlies cried in a suppressed yell.  The other orderly stood over the ruby and with the look of a guy in a strong man competition who strained his muscles before heavy lifting.  He tried to lift the ruby, unsuccessfully.  I almost choked with laughter.  These two muscle men couldn't lift the damn thing.  The tale of The Sword in the Stone was quickly turning into the tale of The Ruby on the Cot. 

“Alright Zeke, we try lifting this thing together on three,” said the one on the left, and Zeke nodded in approval.  “One, two, three!” The two orderlies in desperate futility, tried hoisting the ruby in unison, while the veins on their rippling muscles throbbed and pulsed.  I could see the beads of sweat starting to form on their strained brows.  Inconceivable!  After several moments of more whispering, they threw the mattress back on the cot and started toward the door.  I made a quick B line down the hallway into one of the rec rooms.  I calmly zipped over to a vacant chair next to Clarence. A mixture of relief and amusement washed over me.  Clarence, who became a bit more interested in my mood since the day started, glanced hard at me but said nothing.     

We were let outside for our usual, “amble around the grounds like aimless zombies” festival.  I found myself humming the tune of the tunnel creatures unconsciously.  Clarence, clearly fed up with the mystery, approached me again.  “My man, you don't have to tell me what you're going through, but I still want to say something.”  I did not have the faintest idea what he wanted to tell me, but I felt compelled to listen.  He licked his lips before announcing his findings.  “God told me that you got a way outta this dump.  He told me that you got something, some, way out of here.” I was mystified that he knew about the ruby.  He then began explaining his story. 

“Listen, I wasn't supposed to be put here.  I was going fishing off a bridge a few blocks from my spot and I tripped and fell off a bridge.  I went right through the wooden railing on the bridge and fell about thirty feet down.  I hit my head on the way down or something.  The cops found me half-conscious on the riverbank.  They took me to the station and told some judge it was a suicide attempt.”  Listening to Clarence's story brought back notions of the unfair nature of criminal justice in our nation.  I ran my hands through my hair in frustration.  It was obvious from his story and the manner in which he spoke, that the system just wanted to throw away another young black man. 

I wasn't sure how I would do it, or what the game plan was, but I assured Clarence that when the time was right, he could follow me to freedom.  While chatting with Clarence, I noticed that Laurie was watching us with more than a passing interest.  “If we move, Clarence, it might need to be sooner than later.” I concluded with grim determination.  “That is the time frame I prefer,” Clarence added with an approving nod.  We were corralled inside for arts and crafts time.  That was where I drew my line in the sand. 

I darted to the room that held all of the bunks in a large semi-circle and went right for the mattress.  I turned over the mattress, grabbed my treasure and held the warm ruby in my hand. The ruby responded by flickering and glowing pleasantly.  Almost on cue, Zeke and the other orderly (Troglodyte Grumpkin?) appeared in the room, blocking the exit.  “Well, well, what do we have here?” Zeke asked in a smug tone.  “That looks like contraband to me, Zeke,” Troglodyte chimed in with a condescending smile.  “Sounds right Gus.”  Oh, I guess his name was Gus.   

I stood paralyzed in fear, with the ruby gripped tightly in my hand, as the dynamic duo burst into action armed with the deadliest weapon of all – a drug filled syringe.  I winced in fear as they closed in on me.  My eyes involuntarily shut in anticipation.  I waited a second to feel the familiar prick but felt nothing at all.  I opened my eyes back to see the pair of orderlies white as ghosts and a syringe comically bent into an accordion shape which dropped to the floor.   Zeke seemed to regain his composure and did what he thought he was best at.  He cocked his fist back and unleashed what would have been a dominating right hook to my face.  This time I didn't feel compelled to turn away or shut my eyes. 

I could feel the blow connect with my right cheek, but it didn't hurt at all.  It felt almost as if a declawed kitten had batted my face.  I giggled slightly, but Zeke's reaction brought me to tears with laughter.  His hand was smashed with knuckle bones shattered and blood flowing freely down it.  He howled in pain screaming for help.  Gus, being a compassionate friend, did what compassionate friends do: casually turned his back and walked away.  Mumbling something that sounded like “screw this.”  When the last of the laughter emptied from my belly, I stepped over the doubled over body of Zeke, who was crying in agony.  I noticed that the ruby was vibrating.  It was somehow contented by the pain it had caused.  That stole my mirth pretty quickly. 

I had a promise to keep, and I was pretty damn sick of this place.  I confidently strode over to the arts and crafts room and signaled to Clarence through the window.  He walked up to the door, while I heard him tell the instructor that he had to use the bathroom.  She glared out the window and saw my face.  I expect that we would encounter a platoon of enforcers on the way out.  With the ruby in my hand, I knew they couldn't stop me. 

Clarence exited the room and gave me a hopeful look.  We both knew it was time.  We started to head down the long corridor toward the metal door leading to the emergency exit stairwell.  On the way there, three large orderlies stepped between us and our destination.  For the first time in my life, I felt powerful, and in control of a situation.  I looked at the largest one in the center and calmly uttered, “Me and my associate here are leaving this God-forsaken hole.  If any of you try to stop me-” I was rudely cut off by one of the orderlies.  “Just calm down Johnny, we don't want to have to hurt you.” 

I waved my hand holding the ruby dismissively at him and was astounded by the reaction.  The trio of orderlies were flung across the hallway at breakneck speed.  I could hear the sickening sound of bone crunching as they were flung into walls with a tremendous force.  Clarence and I both winced at the sound in unison but wasted no time in making our escape.  We darted down the hallway seeking to avoid further confrontation.  The gem hummed and purred with excitement in my hand.   

The sounds of the orderlies’ groans of agony were drowned out by a harried voice yelling from behind us.  “Hey, guys, wait for me!”  It was Laurie, who looked absolutely starved for excitement, and hit the jackpot with us.  I let out a disappointed groan and Clarence gave a brief but memorable facepalm.  “Hey, uh, Laurie.”  I tried to find the right words.  “This might not be the safest adventure for you, and I don't want to damage your treatment plan.”  She glared at me and hissed.  “Can it! I am coming with you.”  I shrugged in a helpless manner, then the three of use made our way to the exit door.   

Without much of a better plan, I gave the door what I thought would be a modest kick.  KA-RASH!  The solid metal door burst off its hinges and embedded itself several inches into the cement wall of the stairwell.  “I guess that worked,” I pointed out as modestly as possible, while holding back a chuckle.  The sound of more orderlies shouting and running toward us was the response I got.  Not to mention a screeching alarm that was now blaring all over the hospital.  Our newly formed triad made all haste running down the stairs. 

We got to the ground floor and were met by another heavy security door.  I tried my best to do what looked like a well-prepared Kung Fu style kick.  I admit, I looked stupid as hell.  That made little difference, when the effect was the same, the door flew off its hinges and crashed right through the other set of doors waiting for us.  We could hear the orderlies descending down the stairs with cries of “Stop them!”  We exited the facility into the light of day. 

All that was left was the fence.  I simply trampled over it while my companions followed me.  I could hear the alarms were blaring outside.  Outside the facility there was an open field which emptied into woodlands in all directions save for the main entrance.  I decided the best course of action was to lead us into the woods, where we could shake them.  Part of me wanted to go back and smash every last person chasing us for a cleaner get away.  Part of me wanted to leave the dead weight (Laurie and Clarence) behind me.  Damn the humanitarian in me.  Damn him to hell. 

As we ran, I noticed in my periphery that the orderlies were loading into a golf cart for a game of roundup.  We were running at full sprint.  I half expected to be running a hundred miles an hour with the gem in my hand but, alas, no.  We maintained a brisk pace, but the hum of the electric powered golf cart told me that escape alone wouldn't get us far.  Instinctively, I turned in the direction of the golf cart quickly gaining on us, and I punched the ground toward the direction it was approaching.  Laurie and Clarence both stopped in stunned silence by what they saw. 

The sod, dirt, and rocks underneath the ground were all ripped apart by the rippling shock wave of my punch, which generated such a force that it pushed its way into the oncoming cart.  The cart was thrown several feet in the air and dumped its passengers out at high speed.  Rock, dirt, debris, and chunks of broken golf cart rained down on the already injured and bewildered security forces.  Almost a minute of more sprinting brought us to the edge of the forest.  

“I have no idea where the hell we are folks, but let's stick together so no one gets lost.”  I felt this surge of empowerment as I took on a leadership role.  The others agreed, but I immediately felt small again when I realized that I was just stating the obvious.  We crept through the woods for nearly an hour, trying to zig-zag around and hide our direction from any pursuers.  The sounds of the commotion and alarm at the institution were now completely out of ear shot. Only the serene sounds of wildlife filled our ears.   

We sat on an old collapsed tree before anyone spoke.  “You didn't happen to grab any food, did you?” Clarence asked. “Uh, well, I thought leaving with the element of surprise would be best, and I didn't have any time to-?”  I stammered feeling smaller than before.  “Actually, think this plan through,” Laurie scolded, sensing a moment of weakness since the escape.  Clarence didn't share her irritation, but the concern was equally disconcerting.  I could feel the ruby in my hand eager to dispense more comic book style justice, yet I managed to sequester it.  Maybe it wasn't the gem itself trying to coax me, but my own feelings, that it was feeding off. 

I did my best to explain the phenomenon of the ruby.  How I acquired it in a dream.  How the orderlies had discovered it but couldn't pick it up.  How it was only a matter of time before the hospital staff put 3 floors between me and it.  To be fair, I hadn’t thought of this at the time we left, but it seemed like a good way to take Laurie down a peg.  We put The Ruby on the Cot theory to the test.  Like the previous attempts of the orderlies, neither Clarence nor Laurie could cause it to budge in the slightest.  That was the first time I put the ruby down since I removed it from my bed.  I felt naked without it. Scooping it up alleviated that sensation immediately. 

After our brief conversation concluded, we set out to put more ground between us and our captors.  The journey was long, tiring, and filled with countless insect bites.  Did I mention that the hospital staff didn’t bother bringing us out real shoes?  We were walking around in hospital slippers, and it sucks virtually every step of the way.  At least it wasn’t painful.   In fact, with the ruby in hand, I could hear the snap and pop of pebbles bursting under my slippers.  It was perversely gratifying. 

We did spot some interesting wildlife on our adventure.  We saw some deer, a badger, numerous squirrels, frogs, snakes, and a few other assorted oddities.  While the others were foraging for berries, I saw what looked like a crow with a bleeding anus for a face.  When I told the others about it, they didn’t believe me.  It didn’t seem like a good omen before making camp for the night.   

Clarence must have been a survival expert or something, because he knew exactly how to build shelter and start a fire without matches.  Laurie and I were on firewood detail.  While hunting for kindling Laurie asked me with genuine interest, “Do you think Clarence likes me?”  I wasn’t sure how to respond as I had virtually no skill at determining such things.  “Well, do you like him?”  I responded innocently.  She must have found this riotously funny, as she burst out laughing, and finally replied, “Don’t answer a question with a question.”   

I gave a resigned shrug and offered the best thing I could muster. “Probably.”  That was about all we could say to one another before we got back to camp.  Clarence built a reasonably impressive lean-to given the circumstances and time frame.  He also dug out a small fire pit and an impressive display of lighting a fire I would have only believed happened in the movie Castaway. 

Clarence offered us some of the dew that had collected from the various plants in the woods to go with the berries.  He squeezed about an ounce and a half of water into each of our mouths from his ripped off sleeve. I was suddenly very impressed with Clarence.  If it was me alone, I would be dead from dehydration.  Maybe falling into a ravine, afflicted with ruby induced hubris.  I suddenly admonished myself for thinking of Clarence as dead weight, even for a second.  The jury was still out on Laurie.   

The warmth of the fire was comforting, and the orange glow gave Clarence the appearance of a shaman when he spoke.  “I am not sure how far we are off from the nearest town.  The most important commodity we can carry is water.  When the dew settles tomorrow morning, we will need to collect more of it.  As for tonight, we need to huddle together for warmth.  These hospital scrubs aren’t exactly meant for the outdoors.  Though it is July, we could still die from exposure out here.”  That last statement seemed exceedingly true considering we were all already shivering.  We crept into a human pile without another word following Clarence’s pep talk.   

The next morning, we gathered dew from our removed sleeves with our silence continuing.  I couldn’t figure out what the hell I would do if we did get into town.  I considered using the ruby to break into a bank vault and load up old cartoon style sacks with dollar signs on them.  The thought that our faces would be plastered on the nightly news as escaped (and dangerous) mental patients also consumed my thoughts. One thing was for certain; the quiet simple life was far from out of my view. Now it only seemed filled with oppressive woodlands.

We collected the dew on the removed sleeves of our hospital scrubs.  We traveled ahead with me in the lead, Clarence in the rear, and Laurie in the middle.  I could tell the strain of walking around the woods without any clear path was murder on their feet.  I would hear the occasional “ouch” or “dammit!” as the hours rolled by with nothing in sight but more woodlands.  We noticed a large rocky outcropping that looked to be at the base of a small mountain.  Before trying to make any ascent, we decided it was best to try to get a better look around us. 

Clarence recommended that he wanted me to climb a tree to get a better vantage point, but with our terrible lack of equipment, such an action put us at risk.  He conceded that I should try after we discussed the topic.  I thrust myself on a tree with the ruby firmly gripped in hand.  Climbing one handed would be difficult.  Not to mention that when my weight hit the tree, the damn thing uprooted.  There was a resounding crash of a large tree falling and I let out an embarrassed cringe.  Laurie and Clarence darted for cover until they were sure I didn’t start a chain reaction that would destroy the entire forest. 

With the tree climbing plan a spectacular failure, we began our ascent up the rocky hill. It went upwards as far as we could see but without an overtly steep gradient.  We hiked for a grueling couple of hours upward.  Well, it felt like hours.  It is kind of alarming how dependent we have become on cell phones for time.  Clarence seemed to have a good handle on the sun's position and its relationship to time of day.  Show off.   

We finally arrived at a large jutting boulder overlooking the tree line.  We collectively sighed in dismay.  There was almost nothing but more trees and mountains in view.  Clarence and Laurie informed me that we were likely in the woodlands of Connecticut. They had the luxury of being told where they were sent.  I arrived as an unconscious lump instead.   They never gave me specifics about where I was held when asked, it annoyed the hell out of me.

The descent from the small mountain was a somber and soul crushing journey.  Laurie attempted to break the creeping sense of doom with conversation about famous historically based films that were rife with anachronisms.  Clarence hushed her after a minute and told her to save her energy for the journey. And maybe my sanity as well. And Clarence's too.

We traveled for 3 more days following Clarence’s survival advice.  Despite our dew collection and berry hunting, we were getting weak and a bit delirious.  We didn’t have any luck trapping anything during those three days.  It was the worst three days of my entire existence combined.  We were looking gaunt, exhausted, and pissed off. Once and a while I used the power of the mighty ruby to smash a large boulder we passed or rip a good-sized tree from the ground.  Take that nature. 

It was on the morning of the third day that we happened upon a miracle.  Laurie was scouting ahead and ran back to use yelping with excitement.  “You guys have to see what I found,” she squealed with exuberance.  Clarence and I exchanged puzzled looks but remained hopeful, nonetheless.  We were greeted by the sight of the most wonderful thing imaginable.  A semi-dilapidated cabin standing alone in the middle of the wilderness. 

Clarence grunted in delight.  My eyes began to water with joy.  In the haze of my misty vision, I could see Laurie doing a bit of celebratory twerking.  “Shake that ass, girl!” Clarence commended emphatically.  I laughed.  The first genuinely good-heated laugh that I had in a good long while.  We shared a brief group hug before making a steady approach to the painted red wooden door.   

Some of the windows were smashed but most of them were intact.  The roof also seemed to steady despite a few minor holes in it.  I could see the calculating mind of Clarence already planning a fixer-up job.  I held my breath as Clarence pushed the front door open. Damn, locked.  I gave a mischievous look as I prepared to open the door ruby-style.  Clarence and Laurie both looked at me and cried, “DON’T,” in unison.   

Clarence reached through one of the smashed-out windows on the ride side of the house and unlocked it.  He slid the lock open and climbed through.  Several moments later, he appeared at the door with a can of beans and a bottle of water in hand.  “Lunch anyone?” He asked with a triumphant smile on his face.  Laurie and I both offered him gracious smiles.  “Why that would be just, lovely.” She replied imitating the voice and mannerisms of a southern belle. 

The inside of the cabin wasn’t much to look at.  It was dusty as hell and wreaked of mold.  Still, it was furnished.  The living room held one of those itchy plaid sofas.  There was a large elk head mounted on the wall, a lever-action rifle suspended by nails on the wall, a bookcase full of dusty old tomes, and a quaint oak coffee table that looked like one of the legs was replaced recently.  We all took some time to soak in our surroundings. 

The kitchen had seen better days.  There was a refrigerator that was plugged in but receiving no power.  The sink coughed and sputtered brown colored goop before failing.  The cabinets were well stocked with various dry and canned goods.  Not to mention numerous bottles of water.  The oven looked completely ruined.  Looked like we would have to do our cooking in the living room fireplace.  Clarence noted, “there was a stream back, about less than half a mile, which we could grab some water that we could boil, should we run out.” 

There were two other rooms and a hatch to a crawl space below.  The room in the anterior left of the cabin was a bedroom, where unfortunately the worst of the roof damage was below.  The other room, on the anterior right side of the cabin, appeared to be an office or study of some kind.  Clarence was delighted to find a ham radio.  I found another bookshelf and a file cabinet.  At least I wouldn’t go mad with boredom, and I might learn something about our absent host. 

Clarence excused himself to go outside and look around the cabin further.  I was met with a locked file cabinet.  I made an earnest attempt to yank the drawers of the cabinet out without knocking the whole cabin over.  I partially succeeded.  The drawer flew off its tracks and showered the room in papers, folders, and photographs.  It dawned on me that I could have put the ruby down, but it just felt like the wrong thing to do. 

I did my best to stifle the quiet shame, before I began trying to sort the documents off the floor.  Glancing at one of the nearest photos brought new shivers up my spine.  It appeared to be a photograph of some kind of ancient Mesoamerican ritual of a man’s heart being scooped out of his chest by several outstretched arms.  The look on the photographed man’s face told me that he very much was alive and feeling it.  I did my best to brush the files on the ground, and brush the image of his face, transfixed in pain and horror from my mind.   

Clarence’s return provided the much-needed distraction.  “Well, I found a generator in the back,” he said hopefully.  “However, it is empty and no sign of gas.  Laurie mentioned some kerosene lamps in the supply closet, but we need actual gasoline.”  He scratched his chin thoughtfully.  The only place that remains to search is the crawlspace.” After he said that the hairs on the back of my neck pricked up in a newfound sense of dread.  He seemed to immediately share my sentiment.  Our sense of cheerfulness went right back out the window he climbed through.  Laurie did a phenomenal job of organizing and categorizing the supplies in the cabin.  We distracted ourselves from our brief terror by telling stories about ourselves while we prepared the meal.  After a dinner of canned beans and fireplace boiled rice, Laurie and Clarence were softly conversing on the sofa.  I excused myself to the office to try to organize and read some of the files from the cabinet.   

The files were disorganized by both my clumsy attempt to open the cabinet and because our host was no professional archivist. I categorized the documents into several piles.  One pile were documents that were legible and in English, one pile of documents were peculiar charcoal rubbings of petroglyphs of some kind, and the other were photographs that I didn’t have the emotional fortitude to look at directly.  The photos went face down as quick as I could tell they were photographs.  Even in those brief moments of flipping through the photos I saw images that will be forever burned into my skull.  The kind of shit you just can’t unsee.  There were photographs of shadowy creatures that were thankfully obscured by their surroundings.  There were photos of a man wearing a white suit and shaking hands with natives of some kind.  The photos weren’t scary based on such a description but if you gave even a passing glance at the man in white, you would know what I am talking about.  This guy emanated an aura of fear, even in the most innocent of photographs. 

The documents that were legible and in English provided me with scattered insights.  Many of the documents were rambling journal entries.  Many were poetic nonsense riddled with needless sophistries.  Some were itineraries, travel logs, and descriptions of various practices of native tribes scattered across the United States and Mexico.  In more than a few documents I noted that the narrator was looking for something to complete something called “Project Balthazar.”  It was after several hours and several breaks to rest my eyes that I discovered a document that gave the whole picture some meaning.  It was in a green sealed folder. I opened it and read: 

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Project Balthazar: 

Dr. H. Felter.  Physics Researcher at [Censored] 

14 September 1979.  Southwestern New Mexico - Near [Censored] Area. 

Mitigating the Negative Impacts of Gate Travel. 

Day 271: 

We approached our contact in an effort to discern what forces were interrupting the company's experimentation with Gates.  We have been unable to track the source of the interference by virtue of our testing devices alone.  The research group was forced to undertake unorthodox measures to ensure that the experimentations could proceed without any further complications.  (See document file 301.2a - Project Damocles) 

Our efforts to influence the high priest of the tribe with gifts or bribes was unsuccessful.  He informed us that blood sacrifice would be required.  I shudder to think what he meant by this.  I politely offered up Dr. Higgins to him, but according to his traditions, our blood was unclean.  I would normally chalk this up to tribal nonsense but given his tribe’s victory over “Azmodariel” (see attached images), it seemed unwise to argue the point.   

My efforts to translate the ancient language in the caverns in northern Mexico have been in vain.  I am certain with time, patience, and a bit of solitude, I could succeed.  The others in the research team are always asking questions, trying my patience, and interfering with my attempts to find the answers I seek.  They want a quick technological solution that looks good at the research lab in Mass.  They need to see.  They need to understand.  The secrets of Gate Travel are both a novel and ancient process simultaneously.   

I am running out of time with the board.  They want results, and my findings hardly gratify them.  Perhaps the elder was right, and our blood is unclean.  This would mean apocalyptic results if Project Balthazar was given the green light too early.  I need to retreat to my sanctuary in Connecticut.  I need more time.  Only myself, and my closest associates, can be trusted with the more nuanced portions of the experiment.    

 

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I found the notes degenerated into petty insulting of various doctors and board members.  And the narrator became increasingly fascinated by morbid rituals.  I had the most important information I needed from this whole nightmare.  Project Balthazar.  I got a sickening sense that it was somehow connected to my surreal adventure.  Maybe I was a test subject.  Maybe my experiences were part of some grand design.  Or maybe...and with that half of a thought, I passed out face first on the desk. 

I woke up to find myself in a dream.  Or at least I thought it was a dream.  I was incorporeal, like some kind of ghost or specter.  I was standing just outside my home.  I saw a pair of black Humvees pulling up to the curb.  Several armed men dressed in black were storming into my home.  I tried to protest and wail about the violation of my Fourth Amendment rights.  No sound could exit my mouth.  My spirit was gagged. 

I watched as the men stormed into my house.  I tried to follow them but couldn’t move either.  A strange man exited one of the Humvees.  He was an emaciated balding man who looked middle aged.  I recalled his appearance after a moment.  It was the man who was feasting on human flesh during the brief video interruption at the self-checkout machine at Walmart.   

He was wearing a silk bathrobe that he didn’t tie up, and his testicles were freely flapping in the breeze.  Despite his stringy limbs and chest, he sported a revolting pot belly that stretched his loose skin over it.  If my spirit had a stomach, it would be emptied right there.  He was sipping brandy from a glace chalice.  He watched the house as if scanning for something unseen.  After a moment, he sniffed the air around him and looked right at my ghost form.  I could see the insane hunger in his eyes.  I swore he noticed me but did nothing else to show it.  His gaze pierced through me, and it caused a deep and unsettling discomfort. 

The unorthodox paramilitary soldiers exited my front door.  One of the soldiers reported to him, “We found nothing inside sir.  It’s clean.”  The balding man took another sip from his brandy and paused.  He looked thoughtfully at my house and said in an even tone, “Burn this piece of shit to the ground.  It is an eyesore anyway.”  The soldiers entered the home to begin the task of burning everything I cherished away.  I wanted to wail on this asshole so badly. 

After a few moments, the balding man set down his brandy on the ground and scribbled something down in a notepad he kept in the monogrammed pocket of his robe.  The soldiers exited the house again, and the house began to start burning immediately.  The soldiers scrambled back into the military vehicles, but the balding man waited outside for another moment.  He ripped out, and dropped, a page from his notepad on the lawn before finally picking his drink back up and crawling into a Humvee.   

I awoke on the chair of the desk with a searing pain in my left hand that was accompanied by a strange warmth.  I lifted my left hand and cried out in terror.  The gem that I had been obsessively clutching to in my left hand was now embedded in my palm.  I couldn’t believe it.  The pain immediately began to subside when I took a frightened inventory of my gem encrusted hand.  It dawned on me.  The entire three-day hike before we got to the cabin, that gem never left my left hand (well not including the time I set it down.)  I wanted to chalk it up to the fact that the filthy scrubs I wore, had no pockets.  I wanted a lot of things that weren’t true to be true. 

Clarence and Laurie must have heard my cry, and I heard them rushing over to the doorway in the room I passed out in.  I did my best to hide my left hand.  There was a blessing in all this. My fingers could slowly unlock from the three day long fist they were curled into.  Laurie looked at me with deep concern.  “Johnny, are you alright?  We just heard you scream randomly.”  Her question revealed a deep empathy I hadn’t bothered to notice until then.  I think Clarence was more concerned I would go on a murder rampage. 

“Bad dream is all,” I said in a slightly panicked yet slightly groggy voice.  Clarence, sensing that the situation was contained, informed us that he was going to use the outhouse that was built nearby.  It wasn’t indoor plumbing, but it was good to know such a thing existed.  Laurie leaned against the wall tilting her head upward while she talked.  “I know you must be going through a lot.  It is not every day that we happen on superpowers.”  She tilted her head back down to meet my gaze. 

“We are here for you.  Clarence and me.  If there is something that you know, we should know it as well.  I never told you how I ended up at the crazy house, but I think we should talk about it.  It might help you understand your own situation.”  She sat down with her legs folded on the floor.  I immediately mimicked her movements and did the same.  I wouldn’t say I was attracted to her at this moment, but I felt connected.  It was a rare feeling for one such as me. 

“A few years back, I was living in a trailer park with my uncle and brother.  It was a shit hole, but it was home nevertheless.”  I got an awful creeping feeling this story was going to turn into a tale of sexual abuse.  I guessed that excusing myself to buy a pack of smokes wouldn’t work in this scenario.  She patiently waited for my attention to drift back toward her.  “Stay with me Johnny, this is important.” I nodded for her to continue. 

“My brother and I were playing cards before my uncle got home.  It was a hell of a thunderstorm that day.”  She looked away thoughtfully, like it was the best part of the memory.  She gulped hard before speaking again.  “He came home drunk as hell.  Our uncle was a happy drunk though.  He never hit us or did anything shady.  There was something different about him though.  My brother said something I will never forget, ‘That’s not our uncle.’”  She was fighting back the tears. I couldn’t tell if I should have given her a hug, but I waited patiently for her to regain her resolve. 

She did.  “He looked at us and I could see this weird evil yellow glow in his eyes.” The memory of Mr. Stinkopede's eyes sent a shiver down my spine.  “He started laughing.  It was this, almost, demonic cackle that caused the whole trailer to shake.  Blood began to pour from his nose and mouth.  A ton of blood, like I couldn’t even believe there was that much blood in a person’s body.”  I could have sworn I heard Clarence reenter the cabin, but he remained in the living room.  I think he knew this conversation was coming. 

“After my uncle started erupting blood, my brother and I tried to run past him and get out of there.  I managed to get away.  B-b-but the last thing I saw before I ran out of the door was my uncle’s mouth opening wide, with sharp pointy teeth, was him…”  She started to sob and shake as she spoke.  I moved toward her unconsciously.  “...Biting my brother’s head off!”  Her shrieks trailed off into an explosion of horrified tears.  I found my that my arms instinctively wrapped around her.  We cried together.  We sobbed and wailed for what seemed like an eternity.  We sat on the dirty floor with our arms wrapped around one another, sharing a shared supernatural trauma. I will never forget the feeling of her tears on my chest.   

After we calmed down a bit, she explained how she ran to one of her neighbors screaming and crying.  Not even 24 hours later, she was institutionalized.  Details of what happened to her brother and uncle remained undisclosed.  No big surprise there.  Clarence arrived with two mugs of tea that he boiled during our conversation.  With the worst of emotions in recession, I asked Laurie, “What year was this? What month?”  She blew on her hot tea ritualistically, before looking at me and answering, “July of 2017.”