Sanctum Arcanum

by Alexander Kautz

  Detective Emerson has slowly opened the car door and slipped from out of the seat. At first I had assumed that he might arrest me for the confession, but he had just supported me back toward the house.

  “I have no idea of what really happened out there that night--,” He had slowly supported and walked me back through the gates, “But I know that you weren’t the cause. I’m going to pretend that we never spoke tonight. But rest assured, we will be staying in contact—I think that there are a lot of unanswered questions that you might be able to help me with.”

  “The police and authorities covered up what really happened in Hedley--,” I paused at the front door to the house and looked back at the big man, “It was an absolute nightmare that none would have believed anyway….”

  “Get some rest--,” He motioned toward the door, “There’ll be plenty of time to talk later.” He turned and made his way back down the driveway and, glancing back, pulled the gates closed, fastening the lock as he departed.

  Unable to force the horrifying memory of the boy’s last moments from my mind, I had retired to the office before bed. Having changed into my pajamas and a black robe, I quietly sat and contemplated the terrible events of that week in Hell.

  “Stop torturing yourself--,” I had suffered with the memories of all those lost, “There just wasn’t anything that anyone could have possibly done to change anything that happened. God—I still don’t even know what really happened out there. Or whether it could happen again…. Okay old man, you need to focus on something else or you’re going to drive yourself over the deep end with this….”

  Slipping a page into the typewriter, I began recounting the events of the afternoon, including each and every detail. It had taken the better part of several hours and some sixty five pages, but I soon sat back with the completed chapters before me.

  It seemed to have all come out so easily, listening to the machine gun rhythm of my fingers upon the keys, as I completed the final thought for the evening. Drawing the last page from the typewriter, I gently placed it down in the basket.

  “It’s slowly coming together--,” I had whispered while leaning back into the chair, “Another episode into the nightmare that’s becoming the fourth book.”

  “Sweetheart--,” Caitlin had softly called from where she stood in the darkened doorway, “Are you busy?”

  “I’m never too busy for you, sweetheart.” I had opened my arms and welcomed her onto my lap as we embraced.

  “I had trouble sleeping--,” She placed her head down upon my breast, her warmth calming my heart, “I suppose that I’m just worried about everything.”

  The cloth had slipped from off the golden sphere, glittering in the long shadows. I now wondered, even feared, what might be watching, listening.

  “Everything will be just fine--.” Attempting to calm her, I leaned over and carefully recovered the globe, “We just have to take things one day at a time.”

  “Michael—,” Her eyes filled with a darkness and doubt that I had never before seen, “I’m so afraid of losing you. I could never be without you, never again.”

  “I’m doing everything that I can under the circumstances.” Wiping a tear from her eyes and softly kissing her, I smiled and said, “I’m even avoiding sweets, donuts and eating things that I never would before. Did you know that I had a whole wheat bun without butter the other night?”

  Through the sorrow she had managed to smile, and shaking her head, whispered, “What on earth are we going to do with you?”

  “I’m beginning to suspect that putting me into a cage and feeding me nothing but health food--,” I hesitated with the thought, “Would be nothing short of cruelty to animals.”

  I suppose that it had been my silly expression that had finally made her laugh, but I was grateful that something had helped. As tickling her and making her squirm, I said, “How about calling it a night and going to bed?”

  “If that’s an offer, I’ll take it!”

  Picking her up and carrying her toward the door, I switched off the light and made my way into the hall. She had giggled mischievously as she had when we had first met. And for that moment all was well as we lovingly slipped into the night….

  Chapter Eight

  Friday, September 13, 1974.

  We had decided against returning to the ravine, at least until things cooled off a little. The last thing that we would need now was to be caught digging in that place. I could just imagine the ridiculous allegations that might accrue, especially under the circumstances.

  I had taken the opportunity to contact Carrie and inform her of our discoveries. She had remained reserved, though sounding very concerned. I had learned to trust her “gut instincts” over time, and though well aware of the danger, had become fascinated beyond fear.

  Having looked over my hand-written notes several times, I had taken into consideration the parting words of the thing in the cell. But I would never dare summoning Marlowe or risk returning to that ancient book and the horrors that it held….

  I had awakened shortly before noon, groaning after having fallen asleep at my desk once again. With a head filled with pounding hammers and a stiff neck to match, I had looked into the dismal afternoon glow. I could at least be thankful that it had not been a bright day….

  “Well then--,” Eva entered my office with a polite knock, “It’s a good thing that you’re awake. You’ll be late for lunch. Caitlin, Rich and Maya are already seated and waiting for you!”

  I had completely forgotten about our luncheon date! I had stumbled from out of my chair, gently patting Eva on the back, as I made my way out of the office. With Caitlin having become rather reclusive, we had arranged to invite guests from time to time. It was just a way to keep her from becoming too far removed from society. I knew and understood her sadness all too well, which was why I had refrained from telling her of my health troubles at first. I was becoming increasingly worried about her….

  We had shared a lovely brunch, of which mine had been carefully planned to reflect a healthier diet. I did not mind this so much, and indulged fruits, whole wheat toast and my usual tea, without cream or sugar…. It had become obvious that Caitlin had informed Eva of my condition, and though she said nothing, she certainly catered to my unique dietary requirements.

  Rich had insisted upon sharing the same items for breakfast, as it was his manner to be noble in most cases. I could only smile as he choked back the unbuttered whole-wheat toast while observing Maya and Caitlin enjoying their meals. But I knew just by his fleeting glances that he had realized just how much his sacrifice had meant to me. The hardest thing about the sudden dietary changes in my situation, was enduring it alone, bless his heart.

  It was just after two when Maya had invited Caitlin to join her for a little shopping. This she had done only after having peered at me for approval, at which point I had graciously, though resolutely shoved them both out of the door!

  Asking that Eva bring tea to my office, I lead Rich upstairs, and sitting at my desk, promptly called Carrie.

  “Maybe it would be best to just leave it alone.” She had stumbled over her own words, the fear and concern for our well-being stronger than her own courage of conviction, “We can’t do anything for the dead in that place. And, Michael, to be completely honest, this might be bigger than all of us….”

  “In most cases I would agree with you. But we can’t just sit back, knowing this—and do absolutely nothing.”

  “Michael—just listen--,” She was sounding more like my mother every day, “We have no idea what’s really going on in that place. And I have a feeling that we might not want to. If you want to do some good in this situation, then maybe you should drop it into the right hands?”

  “And what right hands might those be?”

  “Well--,” She thought briefly, “What if you dig around a little? Find some proof that those people are really buried out there. Then leave enough evidence that the cops can stumble into it. They’ll break that can
of worms wide open, sort things out, and we can stay anonymous.”

  “Carrie—I love you.” I chuckled while looking toward Rich, “That is truly brilliant and makes perfect sense.”

  “Of course it does--,” She laughed, “That’s why it took a woman to figure it out.”

  “Alright, I’m not even going to argue with you on that subject, this time.”

  “Good--,” She giggled to herself, “Because you already know how pointless that would be anyway. Just ask Scott.”

  “Okay, enjoy your win. And thanks again, Carrie.”

  As we hung up, I turned to look at Rich as Eva brought the tea into my office, and I said, “We need to take a little drive—we’ve got a game plan.”

  “A little drive--,” Eva watched as we departed the office, and with wide eyes, said, “What about the tea?”

  “Thank you, Eva!” I halted in thought and turned to look back at her, “Maybe dear old Norman would enjoy a tea break?”

  She smirked, nodding to herself, and promptly turned and followed us back down the stairs. But then, nearing the bottom step, she halted us. Motioning toward the statue of Pan and the maiden, she said with obvious discontent, “I’m terribly sorry to mention this—but this beastie has been giving me the Willie’s since you brought it here. Now, you know that I’m not one to complain, but is there any way that we could--.”

  “Move it up and into my office, certainly.” I had immediately interrupted, “I do have the space for it now since we brought in the other furniture.”

  “You’re a dear--,” She sighed with the greatest of relief, and peering back at the statue, grumbled, “That’ll be the last of you watching my every step around here, you old bugger….”

  Norman had suddenly appeared in the hall, as having come from out of the downstairs bathroom, sneered at Eva, “Don’t be flattering yourself. I never laid an eye upon you.”

  “She was referring to the ugly old goat.” Rich had explained.

  “I can see how he might have misunderstood.” Eve scoffed, and off into the kitchen she stomped.

  “Did she just refer to me as an old goat? She’s a hard woman….” Old Norman grumbled, his eyes flitting about from beneath bushy brows. And turning promptly, he followed her into the kitchen.

  Rich had just turned to me and laughed to the sounds of the old man apologizing to her as she told him to be seated, be silent and drink his tea.

  We had hurried to his truck. Climbing inside, he had asked, “Where are we going?”

  “To your house—we need shovels and flashlights. Then you need to call Dr. Langford and arrange another meeting.”

  “Why did we have to do these things at my house?” He seemed confused as we pulled out and drove away.

  “You see that--,” I had pointed to a dark blue Dodge sedan that sat parked just up the street, “We have unwanted eyes. And you can just imagine what would happen if we were seen loading those things into my car.”

  Rich had glanced over in passing as Detective Emerson lowered his sunglasses, smiled and waved back.

  “That guy is really becoming a royal pain in the butt.”

  “I had a little chat with him outside my gates the other night.” I had admitted, “He really isn’t as bad as you might believe.”

  “What did you tell him? I hope nothing about what we’re dealing with now?”

  “It’s alright Rich--,” I patted his shoulder, “Remember when I said that he might just be of use before this thing is over? Well, I just thought of that use—with Carrie’s help.”

  We had driven to Rich’s home, cautious to have taken the long way in order to avoid being trailed by a certain Detective. We were sadly disappointed to discover that he had already sat parked and waiting before the house when we had arrived! He had taken little notice as we pulled into the driveway, apparently indulging morning coffee and a sandwich in the front seat of his car. In this respect, my only true resentment wasn’t within his presence, but the way in which he enjoyed his meal. I was becoming aware of just how much the diet was beginning to eat away at me….

  We had hurried inside and Rich had immediately contacted the sanitarium and left a message for Dr. Langford. We were both fully aware that there was little chance of arranging a second visit, but had to make the effort. I wanted one last opportunity to communicate with the thing known only as patient 1366. I knew that though vile, he could provide answers that would make a world of a difference to many. It was well worth the risk.

  “What exactly did you have in mind?” Rich paused to close the garage door.

  “Well, all that we have to do is find the remains of a single body in that ravine. Make an anonymous call and the police will be all over it.”

  “Alright, and that would be terrific, except for one little detail.” He leaned against the truck and crossing his arms over his breast, said, “Detective Emerson knows that we were down there. He even wrote the date and time into his little black book.”

  “That does toss the proverbial wrench into our gears.” I stopped dead in my tracks and looked back at my friend, “What now?”

  “What if we just tried being honest with him? Tell him about the murders and the unmarked graves.” Rich shrugged, “You did say that he didn’t seem all that bad.”

  “Another possibility that I had never even considered….”

  “It’s not like he’s given us any reason to trust him.” Rich shrugged, “But let’s face the facts: We are in over our heads here—and he is a persistent little pain in the butt….”

  “Even so, we would need evidence before we could even consider involving him.”

  “What if we have him all wrong?” Rich contemplated the thought, appearing nervous as tapping a finger to his chin and looking back at me, “Maybe he would help us on this thing?”

  I turned to the sound of a vehicle, sighing as Detective Emerson parked across the street. He had abandoned the street for a short time and having saluted in return, now chewed at a pastry.

  “It seems that we really don’t have much choice.” Crossing my arms over my breast, I looked between my friend and the persistent Detective, “Wish me luck….”

  8:15 p.m.

  We had informed Scott and Red Cloud of our situation and intentions concerning both the sanitarium and grave-site. I had also made mention of Dennis, in the unfortunate circumstance that Rich and I might become involved in a potentially volatile situation. I trusted that Red Cloud would also explain this to Maya and Caitlin, should the need arise….

  It was shortly after eight p.m. when burdened with tools and lanterns, we had made our way down into the ravine. The brief conversation that I had shared with Detective Emerson earlier that afternoon had appeared rather convincing. Without having gone into too many details of the matter concerning patient 1366, I had outlined our basic concerns. I had no intentions of jeopardizing the good Doctor or compromising his position, and had held to our promise. Yet, this did not include the previous story which Carrie had shared. A matter concerning an old friend of hers, whom having previously been employed at the institution claimed to have knowledge of murder and secret burials.

  As expected, Detective Emerson had inquired as to any possible evidence substantiating these claims. At which point I had invited him to accompany me home, and within the privacy of my office, disclosed the evidence contained in the briefcase. Needless to say, he had been speechless and though inquired as to how I came into the possession of the documents, was more concerned about the material than its source.

  “I really hope that you two are sure about this.” He cursed under his breath, almost falling as he slid and muddied his pants, “Because, my badge is on the line too now, for even being down here with you.”

  “We realize that you are taking a big chance--,” I stumbled, and catching a branch, narrowly missed a nasty fall, “We would never have involved you without very good reason, and equally solid evidence.”

  “If this is what you boys do for fun, you need to
find a new hobby….” The statement having seemed somewhat sarcastic, had actually been done out of nervous tension. Rich had peered over at me, but neither of us had responded to the comment.

  The journey had been awkward by day, but absolutely treacherous by night. As slipping down the muddy slope, stumbling over saplings and through bush, we barely managed to avoid large rocks that jutted from out of the banks. When we had finally reached the bottom, muddied and soiled, bruised and scratched up, we had paused to look upon each other. There was a sense of relief. And yet, that very same impression of a presence in that place now took hold of us all. I could tell just by the way Detective Emerson now peered into the surrounding darkness.

  “Watch your step—it’s rough going down here.” Rich warned him, using his lantern, as he guided us through the blackness.

  It was an overcast night. And without the moon or even a single star, everything had fallen into utter, pitch-black darkness. Being so deep in the ravine and far from the road-side we were well concealed. But should anything happen, we were also well beyond sight, sound or assistance.

  Rich had navigated through the bush and around the fallen trees as though having been there many times. It was almost as though he knew each and every stone, was certain of every step through the night. I knew that he followed a feeling, instinct or impression that now carried us beyond mortal boundaries. It was something that drove him ever onward, swifter and more determined with each effort!

  Although we had previously left prints in the mud, they had been washed away by the rains. The sticks and material that we had placed earlier were invisible, and the gulley all appeared the same in the blackness. Had it not been for Rich’s determination, I would have been utterly lost.