Sanctum Arcanum

by Alexander Kautz

  “I can’t lose you, Michael--,” She suddenly looked up, her bright green eyes enflamed with tears, choking out the words as she said, “You are my one great and true love in this world and the next. I can’t go on without you.”

  There would be no words of comfort within that moment, so I silently held her, closer than ever before. I had never feared death, even welcomed the thought at one time in my life. But now, with so much to lose and so much love, it pained me beyond words.

  “You are my light by day, my brightness in the dark, and all that I have or will ever love in this life.” Her words came like a whisper upon the wind, “When your light fails, so shall mine, and together, my love, into darkness we will fall….”

  Holding her close, tears blinded me as I gently rocked her within loving and silent embrace….

  9:25 p.m.

  Caitlin had retired early that evening. I had explained that I had an appointment with Rich, and though she was beyond words, with a gesture, had silently agreed.

  My heart ached to leave her in such a way, but suffered a sense of urgency when considering the current case. Rich had already spoken to Dennis and, rather than his apartment, had arranged a meeting at a diner on the edge of town. Once more we took the hour long drive into the little town of Hope and the diner where it had all begun.

  We had driven with the top down, enjoying the sobering chill of the night. I had left the Eldorado to the rear of the parking lot and before the window to the seat that we had always occupied. It wasn’t so much a security measure as it was a comfort just being able to see her. The car had in fact become something of a safety-blanket over time.

  Dennis had arrived just after us, and joining us at our table to the rear of the restaurant, appeared as a thief in the night. He wore blue jeans, a dark woolen sweater and a black leather coat. In his hand was a large brown briefcase, which he slipped under the table as Rich moved next to me, and he seated himself across the table from us.

  “Sorry if I’m a little late--,” He apologized, “But I’ve never been here before, especially at night.”

  “That’s quite alright.” I waved at the waitress who had been busy behind the counter, and said, “Hope is a quiet town and we are known for passing through here quite often at night. So, it’s less likely to draw any unwanted attention.”

  “I would rather not discuss too much, all the same.” Dennis nervously glanced about, before looking back at me and saying, “I know this may sound a little paranoid, but just because we don’t see anyone, doesn’t mean that they aren’t there….”

  My thoughts immediately returned to Detective Emerson’s threat, and nodding, I looked up at the waitress. She was slight of built, mid-fifties and her graying hair was tied into a neat bun at the back of her head. She wore a brown uniform and a bright red pin, proudly displaying the name “Penny.” She had been there for as long as I could remember and it was always a pleasure to see her.

  With a wink of her bright blue eyes, she smiled, “Michael and Rich, nice to see you boys again. Now, what the hell do you want?”

  We had all laughed as she pulled out a notepad and, readying her pen, looked between us, “Come on now, I don’t have all night boys.”

  I was about to order pie when I caught the look in Rich’s eyes and changed my mind, “Could I get a bowl of that chicken soup and a whole wheat bun?”

  “You sick or something?” She scoffed, “What about your usual apple pie, ice cream and slice of cheddar?”

  Patting to where my stomach protruded from over my belt, I blushed, “That’s what happened.”

  “I’ll have the same--,” Rich sighed, looking to Dennis who declined, settling for coffee rather than food.

  “We can’t thank you enough for going through all this trouble—,” I watched as Penny departed, and looking to Dennis, said, “And taking such a big risk.”

  “I’ve been working for Woodlands for almost nine years now.” He explained, and stirring cream and sugar into his coffee, licked at the spoon, “I started there when I was eighteen, right after high school. I’m planning to give them my resignation at the end of this month. I just can’t take any more. Please understand--,” His face was broken with fear and desperation, looking between us, as he quietly said, “I would never break the law, or take anything that wasn’t mine. But when you see what’s in that case—you’ll understand why I had no choice and had to do it.”

  “Oh, we understand completely--,” Sipping at my tea, I motioned with a nod at Rich, “And, we’re just as guilty for becoming involved, but it’s for the right reasons.”

  “Where will you go when you leave the sanitarium?” Rich appeared concerned.

  “I’m not exactly sure, but anything is better than staying there. I might have to go back home, but my folks would understand. They really didn’t want me working there to begin with. And my father was dead-set against it from the start.”

  Glancing at me as though seeking an answer, Rich thought briefly before turning back to Dennis, “We need reliable help at our warehouse. It pays half decent, if you would be interested?”

  The younger man appeared both shocked and surprised, as looking between us, he muttered, “Even knowing about what I did at the sanitarium?”

  “Especially, knowing about that—you’ve got heart and guts, kid.” Rich handed him a business card, “Give me a call when you’re done at the sanitarium.”

  “Thanks so much—you can count on it.” Dennis waited as Penny served our soup, and then anxiously looking between us, said, “But it’s getting late—and I have to be at work early in the morning. I hope that you will forgive me for running off?”

  “Of course—you go right ahead--,” I thanked him, “We’ll get your coffee—and talk to you again soon.”

  “For sure—I’ll call you just as soon as I’m out of there” And with that, he slid the briefcase toward us from under the table, got up and with a quick glance about and hurried out.

  Rich moved to the other side of the table, as watching Dennis get into his car and leave, he turned back to me, “I sure hope that he’s going to be okay.”

  “So do I--,” Slurping at the hot soup, I looked back at my friend, “I told Caitlin tonight, about my heart condition.”

  He didn’t even inquire as to her reaction. I could see by the pained expression that he already knew. Instead he looked down and dipping his bun into his soup, suddenly stopped, placing a sleeve before his eyes.

  It was obvious that he struggled with emotions. Clearing his throat, he peered back through fogged lenses, choking on the words, “You, um, you did the right thing.”

  “Is something wrong with the soup?” Penny shouted from behind the counter, having noticed Rich’s reaction from across the room.

  “No—it’s as terrible as always.” He forced a smile and waved back at her.

  “I’ll have you clowns know, that’s the best homemade soup that can slide out of a can! And it was made fresh, last week.”

  “Oh, thanks for that!” I broke and dipped the whole-wheat bun into the soup. It still tasted like nothing. But then again and in my mind, most healthy things always did….

  We had finished our soup and coffee, and curious as to the contents of the briefcase, hurried out to my car. The night was cool and clear. As we moved toward the vehicle something caused me to look back and into the night. The little diner rested just off the main highway. Surrounded by mountainous cliff faces and tall pines, it stood quite alone in the darkness at the edge of town. There was plenty of truck-stop parking, and as my attention drifted toward the darkness of the bordering forests edge, I saw it….

  “You must be kidding me--,” Rich took notice of what had troubled me, “He followed us all the way out here. But how—I never even noticed him pulling in?”

  “Who knows?” Unlocking the door and climbing into the car, I looked to my friend as he hurried inside, “But you have to give him credit, he is definitely very good at what he does.”

 
“I just hope that he doesn’t make it an issue for Dennis.”

  The thought having just occurred to me, I considered the possibility, “At this point we have nothing to be concerned about, for the moment at least. Just consider our guest—some kind of addition or private security, and it doesn’t seem so bad.”

  “I really hope that you’re right—for all of our sakes.”

  The drive home had been done while Rich searched the files in the briefcase, and I observed Detective Emerson from the rear-view mirror. The information ranged from basic admittance, to psychological evaluations and death certificates. At first, one might have assumed that everything had been properly documented and archived. But then, Rich discovered those of which containing little information had neither release dates or certificates of death. They were the names of the lost, whom having no mention beyond being admitted and analyzed, had simply vanished. And then there were records of an unknown prisoner, who having been locked in the same room for almost a century, was known only as patient 1366.

  “I’m starting to suspect that he isn’t an unknown.” Rich tapped his fingers upon the briefcase in thought.

  “Oh, and what makes you say that?”

  “Well, even with the missing pieces to the puzzle, this all reads pretty straight forward.” He thought for several moments, and flipping through the files beneath the flashlights beam, said, “There is mention of a resident doctor who began there in 1878, one Edgar Sherwin Wallace. And strangely enough, he was working with a very disturbed patient. One, might I add, that was described as delirious, extremely dangerous and occupied that third floor room. And coincidentally, his records and the doctors’ both end on the same date and neither are mentioned anywhere afterwards.”

  “No record of dismissal, resignation or even a death certificate?”

  “Nothing beyond these last few pages--,” He searched further into the files, “Oh, and you’ll just love this.” He looked between me and the page, “Several other patients just vanished around the same time.”

  “I wonder if patient 1366 is that missing doctor—a victim of possession. That might explain why he had said that he has always been there.”

  “And why he hates Dr. Langford so much…..”

  “It’s obvious that Langford knows far more than he says.” A shudder coursed the length of my spine, “But he is retiring shortly, so I can understand his predicament and warranted fear….”

  “If the initial patient that Wallace was treating was possessed--,” Rich frowned, “And then vanished the same night. It would explain the situation—and patient 1366. But it doesn’t shed any light on all the other assaults, murders and missing persons over the years.”

  “Oh, well it just might--,” I thought briefly, and looked back to my friend, “The existence of evil in a place is not simply to occupy a space in time, but to affect and afflict the living.”

  “So, you suspect that he might have some influence over other patients and employees in that place?”

  “There is little doubt in my mind that he has a great influence on many—and holds dominion over that place.” I thought for a moment, “With exception to Dr. Langford and Dennis, for some unexplained reason!”

  “Dr. Langford is a devout Christian--,” Rich announced, “He told us that during the interview this afternoon. And, as Dennis sat with us this evening, I noticed that he also wore a crucifix.”

  “So, we can assume that they have some protection, or resistance to the thing for that reason. But regardless, we need to get back into the sanitarium--,” I swallowed hard, the fear tightly gripping my heart, “I need to speak with patient 1366 again….”

  “I’m not so sure that we will get that opportunity again. You saw the way that Langford acted. All that he wants now is to keep the secret long enough to clear out of there.”

  “Some secrets are kept for the protection of the public.” I swallowed hard, peering over at Rich, “I wonder if there are others among the staff and patients?”

  “Do you mean others who might be possessed?” He pondered the thought, and disagreeing, said, “But that’s not possible. I doubt that they would want to be revealed for what they really were. And let’s be honest, patient 1366 makes it clear as day.”

  “I would agree. The darkest evil conceals itself well—and would never do what patient 1366 has done. They exist in a hierarchy and dwell within office and government. They rarely expose themselves, the true extent of their nature only coming out when the opportunity presents itself.”

  “Adolf Hitler, sociopaths and other mass murderers.” Rich agreed.

  “The worst say little and remain anonymous--,” I licked at dry lips, “It’s the lower level demons, lesser of the fallen, that behave in the manner of patient 1366. I would suspect that he is the only truly possessed individual there. And that the others are just reacting to him like some kind of sickness, afflicted by that evil as though spell-bound, commit atrocities while influenced by his mere presence in the place.”

  “That sounds like a reasonable enough--,” Fidgeting nervously with the briefcase, he looked back in question, “But as far as the whole behavioral concept on lower level demons is concerned, can I ask why you would assume that?”

  “It stands to reason that the combination of inexperience and great power leads into over-confidence and, ultimately, failure. We have seen this in our own kind and over the centuries, as empires fell and great men were cast into utter ruin.” I slowed down as we pulled off Kingsway Avenue and onto Broadway, homeward, “Patient 1366 is like the young rooster, which superior to other chickens is careless of the fox.”

  “Alright, fair enough--,” Rich leaned back in his seat, his attention following the rows of street-lights in passing, “But, what I would like to know is where you draw the line? What experience did you have that grants you understanding to define one from the other?

  With nerves tingling and the hair rising upon my forearms, I remembered a soft-spoken boy who had visited me in the night. An ancient soul whose name I would not dare speak, or even think out of turn

  “Let’s leave this discussion for the day-light, and another time….”

  To this he had reacted with the greatest of respect and discretion, having likely already assumed the worst. As I pulled slowly down the street and parked before his house, I motioned with a nod behind us. Detective Emerson had remained with us the entire way, though parking well down the street and almost out of sight. Rich had just looked and laughed, as opening his door and taking the briefcase, he winked, “Well, rest assured, we will sleep better knowing that good old Emerson is keeping a watchful eye through the night.”

  “I might have to see to it that Eva brings him coffee and breakfast in the morning…..”

  “Why so formal?” Rich closed the door, and looking in through the open window, said, “Why not just invite him inside? Once he gets a good look, he might just run away screaming, like most normal people.”

  “He might surprise us both yet?” Looking to my friend I waved in parting, “Give Maya my best, I’ll talk to you soon, till then.”

  I had driven home that night with my armed escort, feeling safer than ever before. And as I had passed through the tall, spiked iron gates of home, left our friend out on the street where he had parked for the night. I had stood and looked back at him, as sipping coffee and offering a friendly wave, he had settled in for a long evening.

  I realized that he wasn’t our enemy, and to some degree pitied the man for being trapped in his car through the cold night in the line of duty. It was for this very reason that I had made my way back out through the gates and walked over to his car.

  He had rolled the driver’s side window down and politely greeted me as I approached, “Yes sir—I’ll be your captive audience for the evening.”

  “Detective, I just wanted to let you know--,” I shuddered in the chilling and damp gust, “That not all things may appear as they truly are. I don’t consider you an adversary—breakfast i
s served at nine and you are very welcome to join us.”

  His expression had changed considerably, his features softening as he sighed and quietly said, “I don’t honestly believe that you were capable of the horrible things that happened. But, as a homicide Detective it’s my job to follow up on these things.”

  “If there’s anything that I can do to assist you in your investigation--,” Offering a hand in friendship, I said, “Please, feel free to just knock on my door or just call. There really isn’t any need for all the mystery or cloak and dagger drama.”

  Accepting my hand, he solemnly nodded, and gazing deeply into my eyes as though searching for some hint of betrayal, said, “Then tell me this, Michael. Have you ever willingly taken another person’s life?”

  I had just stood there for several moments with my head down, remembering the young man in Hedley who had fallen victim to those hideous worms at the cabin, agonized with the memory of the bullet that had ended his suffering. Looking to Detective Emerson, I swallowed hard as I quietly said, “It was during the winter of ‘72 in Hedley. I had been with a search party and we were looking for people lost in the blizzard.” The words came slowly, painfully as I relived those moments as though they were happening all over again, “We found a young man in one of the old cabins up on the ridge, near the mine.” I felt the heat of tears and attempted to wipe them from my eyes as Detective Emerson silently watched.

  “He was mortally injured--,” I felt light-headed with the memory of the young man’s face and those ghastly things burrowing into the flesh of his back, “His innards had been ripped out in an accident—and he was begging, pleading for us to save him….”

  The Detective just stared, but something in his eyes revealed sympathy rather than judgement, as I trembled with the recollection, and said, “We were miles from help and caught in a blizzard without hope. We couldn’t carry him out—and could never have just left him there to suffer and die alone….” Placing a hand upon the Detectives car to steady myself, I fought with the words to explain, “I took what remained of his life that night—dear God in heaven, forgive me….”