However, you’re taking the easy way out. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. According to the Catholics, suicide is a mortal sin. Ryan shuddered at the dawning horror of what had transpired.
"Ryan, come. While everyone must face their fate, not everyone gets a chance to influence their own fate as much as we are going to tonight."
~~~~~~ *LP* ~~~~~~
Ryan walked along the pathway into the woods with Tanner. The pathway was still shrouded in fog, and Ryan could only see a few steps in front of him. Tanner proceeded briskly and confidently, unconcerned, though Ryan thought he could hear things moving in the mist that swirled silently around him. Large things just barely out of sight. Malignant creatures that hoped to catch him off guard for just one second. Ryan stayed close to Tanner, though he didn't trust Tanner's motives either. They might be cohorts for the moment, but there had been no cause for him to trust or distrust him yet. Tanner was an unknown.
"Not to ask obvious and stupid questions, but isn't Hell about evil?"
"Well, that's a very good question, actually. It's about the light versus the dark, where the light represents God's grace, and the dark represents being removed from God's grace. Demon's themselves don't want to be in Hell, trapped as a spirit but left without a body. They were once as real as you and I, with bodies of their own. They are saddled with insatiable appetites and desires. They would love to sit down to consume a hearty meal, and wash it down with a glass of wine. They'd like to feel the caressing touch from a woman that they love, and to make slow and passionate love to her, but they can't. That's what makes Hell such a Hell for them. They'd do anything to get back to the real world. That's where demonic possession comes from—it's a way for them to satiate those appetites, if only for a short time. It may seem like cruel victimization of an innocent to you, but it's desperation for the demon. They'd do anything to escape the confines of Hell for a brief respite. The exorcism simply throws the soldier demon back into the pit that they were trying to escape from. They already know what it's like to be free, because they were free once, and they want it back. Desperately. And all for what? Because the Egregoroi looked upon the daughters of man and wanted to share love and knowledge with them?"
Ryan turned to look at Tanner as they walked. "Okay, but what does that have to do with us?"
"Well, we share that same fate. We'll be residents of Hell. Either as prisoners or soldiers, but either way we become Sons of Darkness in one form or another. Therefore, we need to modify those terms of service to something more suitable. And honestly, we'd like you to help."
Ryan stopped walking. "Like me to help?"
Tanner stopped, and turned to look at Ryan. "Yes. It's really quite simple. If you don't want to lose what you have here in this life, then we can't go to our service in Hell, and lose everything we have here. We have to bring the service to us. We have to open the gates. And you can help us do just that. Come along, the time is near." Tanner turned and resumed walking.
Ryan stared for a second, trying to digest what he was just told. Intellectually it made sense, but reworded…Ryan jogged to catch up. "You want to open the gates of Hell on earth?"
Tanner laughed. "You make it sound so sinister as though we're unleashing fire and brimstone, jars of plagues, plagues of locusts, human sacrifices, and the like upon humanity."
"That's not what you're proposing?"
"Many of these demons of hell you are referring to are Egregoroi, fallen angels, who were once human, with human-like bodies, and human appetites and desires. They were once creatures of Heaven. They know what it's like to feel the cool ocean breeze against their face, to feel the warm yet soft crush of their lover's body in a tight embrace, and to have the cold crisp taste of a cool, clean white wine on a summer's day. Does that sound like fire and brimstone to you?"
"No…"
Tanner motioned him to hurry along. "Then we understand each other. Come along. Time is running short."
~~~~~~ *LP* ~~~~~~
Ryan stood at the edge of the path, staring at the twisted hulk of the tree. The tree looked even more grotesque, lit by the harsh light of the camping lanterns. The hollow metallic hissing of the gas lanterns did nothing to ameliorate his unease, but Tanner seemed unconcerned. However, they had bound and gagged Sarah and Carla with duct tape. Sarah wore a light bathrobe, and was shivering severely in the near freezing temperatures. Her eyes were wide and unbelieving, and tears were streaming down both the girls faces.
Ryan's father Paul was kneeling on the ground near one of the lanterns, reading from some papers of some sort and referring to a notebook. He glanced up at Ryan and Tanner.
"You got him here without having to drag him."
"You've never had the patience for proper persuasion, Paul. Your temper gets away from you."
Ryan shuffled his feet nervously while his father peered at him. Paul harrumphed and turned away. "You sure he's going to fit our needs?"
Tanner shrugged. "He certainly seems to have the touch that you've mentioned."
Paul walked over to a rucksack. "Maybe we should test it first." Paul came out with small box, walked over, and handed it to Tanner. Then he walked over and kneeled next to Sarah.
"Draw a card. He gets two guesses."
Tanner sighed, and opened the box. The back had a strange design that Ryan had never seen. Tanner shuffled the cards several times, drew one, and set down the pack.
Ryan pulled a large revolver and put it to Sarah's temple. Sarah's eyes got very wide, and she was whimpering. Paul looked up at Ryan. "Well?"
Ryan shuddered. "Well, what?"
"What's the card?"
Ryan shuffled his feet, his face turning red as he started perspiring. "What, you want me to guess?"
Tanner shook his head. "You don't need to guess. Just tell us what it is."
"Seven of Spades?"
Paul looked at Tanner. Tanner shook his head no.
Ryan clenched his fists, and shook his head. "This is bullshit. How the fuck am I supposed to know what it is?"
Paul cocked the hammer on the revolver. The click sounded extremely loud to Ryan. Paul looked at Ryan. "You'll take a second guess in fifteen seconds. If you're right, she lives. If you're wrong, she dies. If you don't have an answer at the end of fifteen seconds, she dies." Paul looked down at his watch, and started timing Ryan. Sarah had clenched her eyes tightly shut, and was whimpering, which was muffled through the duct tape.
Sweat poured off Ryan's brow. "I can't believe this. I don't know what to call the damned thing, or if it's even a real card. It's just some asshole hanging upside down by one leg from a tree limb. Please just stop. Please?"
"Time. Tanner?"
Tanner turned the card around. "Ryan, it's a Tarot deck. It's called 'The Hanged Man' from the Major Arcana, but yes, you got it."
"That's fucking bullshit dude! I don't know fucking Tarot cards from a fucking Uno deck!"
Paul stood up, and uncocked the hammer on the gun. "Well, you got it right anyway. You are the powerful psychic we need for this to work."
Sarah had collapsed to the ground next to Carla, who was also in check, and was shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed. Ryan ran over to her, and was trying to console her. Ryan didn't notice his father walking up behind him. He was looking down at Sarah, but he saw Sarah's eyes go wide, and she started shaking her head "No!" Paul used the butt of the pistol to pistol-whip Ryan upside the head and knock him unconscious.
Part III: The Dark of Night
The Abyss
"And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth."—Revelations 6:7-8
I staggered along the pier, with Tom in tow, walking sedately along behind me. He seemed content enough to just keep an eye on me a
nd not engage in chitchat any further, which was fine by me. I wasn't in any fucking mood to entertain him. As we approached the park, I could see the black limo idling up in the parking lot, its parking lights on, somehow tremendously patient. Although anyone who rates a limo and a driver would have better things to do than to sit around and waste time, waiting on my dumb drunk ass, yet there some rich fuck sat, in a small coastal tourist town on Lake Michigan. It definitely piqued my curiosity.
I walked up to the back door of the limo, and stood there for a second, uncertain. Tom opened the door, and gestured for me to climb in. I could feel the cool, climate controlled air pouring out of the interior. The interior lighting was dim, little more than ambient lighting. I glanced at Tom uncertainly.
This felt like a pivotal moment, but I didn't know why. I'd already lost everything. Trish had left me, and now both she and the kids were missing. Trish was most likely dead. I had no fucking family left anywhere. What power did anyone have over me? There was nothing left for me to lose at this point. So why hesitate? Just jump, motherfucker.
Tom still stood there with the door open, tremendously patient.
I looked out over the pier, out into the bay and beyond out into Lake Michigan. The sheer size of the lake can be daunting when you think about it. Carved out by trillions of pounds of ice from glaciers, grinding relentlessly southward. Nothing but emptiness out over the water. Endless miles of nothing. I climbed into the limo, and Tom shut the door behind me, staying outside the limousine himself.
Surprisingly, the inside of the limousine was empty. I had expected someone to be inside, and it was disconcerting to be alone. I could see Tom still standing with his back to the window of the door of the limo. I slid across the leather seat, and powered down the window. I was surprised at how thick the window was.
"Tom, there's no one in here."
Tom didn't bother to turn around.
"Just sit tight, Ryan. I need you to roll up the window. We have a problem developing."
I saw him lift his arm, and start mumbling into the cuff of his sleeve.
Tom still didn't turn around. "Ryan, roll up the window now."
As I rolled up the power window, grumbling to myself, at the far end of the parking lot, I could see a pair of headlights turning in. The vehicle stopped at the far end of the parking lot for a moment, waiting. I was surprised to see Tom draw a pistol from what must've been a shoulder holster under his suit jacket. Tom didn't strike me as more of a gun-control nut, not the kind of motherfucker that packed heat. I was more surprised to see what looked like a silencer on it—I thought those were illegal as fuck. There's quite a bit I didn't know about old Tommy boy, it seemed, and I was having a fuck of time reconciling the image in my head with the scene outside the window.
The partition noiselessly slid down that separated me from the driver. "Sir, buckle up."
I buckled up, wondering why the fuck Tommy boy thought I was a "sir", as the headlights surged upward with a squeal of tires as the vehicle launched forward.
Tom fired his weapon at the vehicle as it accelerated towards us. I could barely hear the coughing bark of his silenced weapon, and then the limo's engine roared to life itself, the back tires howling as the limousine leapt forward. I cringed, as all I could do is hang the fuck on and ride this out. The ass-end of the limo slewed around like a slingshot, and I felt like I was tied to a dragon's tail as the limousine whipped around under this high-speed maneuver. We were now facing the same direction as the sport utility vehicle chasing us, leaving Tom behind. We exited the parking lot at lethally high speed, and I craned my head around to see what was happening behind us. We fishtailed wildly turning onto the coastal road, where surprisingly the limo driver turned and headed back into town.
I could see that it was a Chevy Suburban following us, and that it had blown right past Tom. Naturally, it screeched around the corner, following us.
The limo accelerated heavily down the street towards the stop sign, blasting past a few cars, barely navigating in the tight clearance past them. With a shuddering braking maneuver that stressed the antilock braking system heavily, he turned through the intersection in a wide, sweeping, and barely controlled drift that the tires howled through and that nearly scraped the front end against a parked minivan on the right side of the street.
The driver could barely navigate through main street traffic; it was too congested to race at any kind of high speed. The suburban caught right up to us, and tailgated us up Main Street up through the downtown district. The limo driver wouldn't relent, though, and continued to move and surge forward with traffic from light to light, although it was green the whole way. Four blocks up, he cut right aggressively, and turned right into the police station's parking lot. We just sat there, idling. The driver didn't get out.
The suburban rocketed off past us, continuing up Main Street without stopping.
I never thought I'd be glad to see the goddamned police station again so soon.
The partition slid quietly back up into place, and the limo pulled back out onto the street. I watched, where surprisingly, we made our way at a sedate and calm pace back down to the park at the pier.
We pulled in next to a black Audi A8. I couldn't remember if that car was there before or not. Tom stepped out of the driver's side, and opened the passenger door. A very tall white haired gentleman in a three-piece suit stepped out. Tom shut the door on the A8, and opened the door to the limo. I unbuckled myself and slid over to let him in. The tall gentleman climbed into the limo with me.
"You seem to be in awfully high demand, Mr. Vischer."
"It's Turner now. And you are?"
He offered his hand. "Pleased to finally meet you."
I shook it, but I was annoyed. Politically adept at avoiding questions. He didn't want to tell me his name. Fuck me, Freddy, but this was going to be a pain in my ass.
"Are you part of the Harmon Group?"
"Oh, I have many business interests. It never hurts to be diversified, but my interests today mainly concern you, which is why I'm here. I have a particular interest, though, in religion. Are you a religious man, Mr. Turner?"
Sigh. He had deftly avoided my question, and swiftly switched to one of his own. The basics of political adroitness. I shrugged. "Religion is such a contentious subject. So much killing in the name of god through the years, from Crusades to Jihads. Entire families won't talk to each other over religion, so I tend to avoid discussing it as much as possible in order to keep the peace, Mr.?"
The car started to move, but the tall gentleman didn't seem to notice. "Well, religion is also a major part of history, and those who refuse to learn from history are often doomed to repeat it. And in your case, that is extremely relevant, in very many ways. You, unfortunately, can't seem to escape the wheel of ka. Fate has had you in her sights for some time, it seems."
I turned around, and saw that Tom was following us in the Audi. I faced forward again in the limo. "The only thing I ever wanted was to be left alone and to live my life peacefully. Where are you taking me?"
"I'm taking you towards your destiny. I could no more alter that than you could, Ryan. Unfortunately, you were marked at birth. You have no choice in the part you had to play, just as you have no choice in the part you will play very soon. It seems that there's a much larger part for you to play. Somehow you are central, a pinion that so much seems to be revolving around. On that, there seems to be much agreement."
"Well, I don't want it. I didn't ask for it. Stop the limo and let me out, if you would. My wife and kids are missing, and you're talking about a bunch of cryptic mystic bullshit that has nothing to do with that, and that's the only fucking thing I give a shit about."
He smiled sadly at me. "Au contraire. I believe that they have everything to do with this, and this has everything to do with them, Ryan. All lines converge on you, and they're no different. I have full faith that I'm taking you to where they are."
I stared at him for a second, trying to digest
that. "So you know where they are."
I lunged across the limo, and had him in a chokehold in the span of another two seconds.
"Where the fuck is my family, you fuck! What the fuck do you know about them?"
I could feel the limo coming to a swerving, braking halt. I didn't give a fuck. I bore down on his neck as hard as I could, trying to crush his larynx. I could give a sweet fuck less if he was trying to talk yet. Yet there was no panic in his eyes, only terrible patience as his face turned crimson, tinged with purple. I would break that look, and he would talk.
The divider between the front and the rear of the limo rolled down smoothly. The driver turned around with cool assurance and put a pistol against my forehead while still driving. "Release him." I could see his eyes glancing back and forth between the mirror and the road, steady, assured, and unblinking.
I thought about it for a second, then without any more hesitation. I looked around desperately, and there the cat was. Sitting in the back window of the car, staring out at the traffic behind us, the tail flicking. I flipped, taking the stranger with me into the Shadow Lands.
We freefell in space, and I let go of the stranger. I could hear him taking a great whooping gasp of breath, and we landed on a hard surface. It was hard, but I was ready for it, and managed to avoid getting the wind knocked out of me in the process. I scrambled to my feet, looking around us. It was still twilight, and I could still see somewhat in the grey wash of darkness around us that we were on a hard-packed two-track path through a heavy hardwood forest.
The older gentleman had finally stood up, and was brushing himself off. He looked right at me, his gaze steady and even. "You're real."
Ryan's Suffering Page 26