The Essence of Darkness

by Thomas Clearlake

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  “Yes.”

  Mickey bobbed his head happily and laughed loudly. Lauren surprised herself with her imitation of Mickey Mouse’s laugh. It brought a bit of color back into Timothy’s face.

  “First, there was a big noise on the car . . . And I saw daddy—he stopped . . . And then I saw the monstah. It opened the car door . . . and it took me away.”

  “Great!” said Kermit. “I mean, good job! You’re a good storyteller!”

  “Go on, Tim,” said Mickey. “What did you see after that?”

  “Then, the monstah put me on the ground. And it went back to the car. And it made daddy and mommy go to sleep. And then the monstah took me away in its hand. It hurt me . . . with its hand . . .”

  Lauren saw he was about to cry.

  “Very good, kids! Ha, ha, ha, awesome!” Mickey guffawed.

  Hey, Mickey!” Kermit said. “Wanna play the photo game?”

  “The photo game, Kermit? Do you think Ryan, Tim, and Jaden know how to play?”

  “I don’t know, Mickey. I think we should ask them! Kids, do you want to play the photo game?”

  Timothy had snapped out of his anxiety attack, and Jaden and Ryan were thrilled. Lauren put the photos of the three witches on the ground in front of them.

  “Okay, kids,” Mickey said, “tell me which of these three bad ladies took care of you when you were in the cavern.”

  The children pointed first to Cassandra Owens and then to Emily Russel, the two apprentice witches Isolde Hohenwald had recruited. But none of them pointed to the Sentinel in her human form.

  “And did the mean ladies give you food very often?”

  “No, not very much . . .” Timothy said. “We were hungry, so we hid the food for when we didn’t have any.”

  “That was smart!” Mickey said cheerfully. “And did the nasty witches hurt you?”

  “No, but they were scary because they weren’t nice, and they locked us up in the dark . . . And we were cold all the time.”

  “Timothy,” Kermit continued, “did only those two mean witches take care of you, or did the monster come to scare you too? Or somebody else?”

  Timothy’s face turned grim. “The monstah came, but not very often.”

  “Good boy, Timothy. And do you remember what it did when it came to see you?”

  Timothy hesitated. It . . . It didn’t do anything. It sniffed us and growled. I think it wanted to eat us!”

  The tears Timothy had been holding back streamed down his face. Lauren put down the puppets and hugged him.

  “Hey, it’s okay, Tim,” she reassured him.

  Then she set him back down on the ground in front of her. The child stood still, with his arms dangling at his sides, looking at her curiously. Lauren wanted to talk to him about his parents, about the horrible reality he would soon face. It would undoubtedly stay with him for the rest of his life. But she lacked the courage. His grandparents would be better able tell him little by little, at least by limiting the pain such a shock was going to cause in his young mind. Lauren was a strong woman, and she had toughened up considerably during her five years with the FBI. But now it felt like a fault had opened up inside her, a dark abyss ready to consume her. She banished from her mind the void that seemed to be observing her with a huge black eye.

  Lauren hugged the children again and left the emergency department to avoid running into their parents. Crossing the parking lot to her vehicle, she wondered why she had come back to talk to them. They couldn’t tell her anything else. Why? She sat behind the wheel for several minutes staring out at the black sky and seeing images of what she’d been though in St. Marys run through her mind. She was weary—and so full of despair that she thought her heart might stop beating under the weight of her sadness. With a superhuman effort to pull herself from this emotional swamp, she managed to turn the ignition key. The engine roared and hummed with reassuring consistency. She put it into gear and headed for the police station.

  *

  The captain gave Lauren another Ford Crown Victoria patrol car. This vehicle lacked the cover of an unmarked car, but it would allow her to requisition gasoline as often as needed. On Sherman’s instructions, she was on her way to Indianapolis to meet with a former FBI agent. According to the captain, the former agent had some contacts that could be useful to Lauren.

  “I’m too old to get involved in such cases, Agent Chambers,” Sherman had told her, “but the evidence you’ve gathered deserves skilled officers for studying it. Since part of this is an internal conflict, it will obviously be impossible to refer it to your colleagues or superiors.”

  The captain had then slid this agent’s card across his desk to her without saying his name out loud.

  “Get in touch with him. He’ll tell you what to do. Good luck, Lauren.”

  On the way to Indianapolis, she drove through Pittsburgh, which had transformed into a giant shelter. Residents of New York and Philadelphia, along with the evacuated wounded, had arrived in Pittsburgh in droves. Medical camps had sprung up around hospitals overcrowded with civilians.

  Lauren parked near the city center and bought lunch at a fast food place. Chaos was gradually taking over in America. Many bewildered passersby now followed the religious fanatics who had always walked the streets reciting Bible verses. They listened with alarm, blinded by despair. God was a last resort, the final refuge. The Last Judgment was near. On the other hand, interracial tensions and social strata strangely vanished. In the streets and in coffee shops, young and old alike were in intense communication. Tablets and cell phones were unusable. But even though most people were disconnected, they felt a certain relief. Circles were forming everywhere. Discussions floated in an intellectual weightlessness; people could say everything, achieve everything. Certain ideas and preconceptions that had belonged to the shattered society were collapsing. Did the world need this war? People felt an ambient strangeness with a hint of euphoria everywhere, especially young people. A cosmic solidarity was blooming.

  When Lauren left Pittsburgh, a smile lit up her face, though she couldn’t explain it. She got back on deserted Interstate 70 under an azure sky where a few large, bright white cumulus clouds stood out.

  Five hours later, she arrived in Indianapolis.

  As soon as Lauren entered the area the communications network covered, she tried again to contact Eliott. His phone was off. She felt nervous, at the end of her rope. She took a deep breath as she rubbed her neck. She stopped to get out of the car and stretch her legs in Brookside Park on the eastern edge of the city. Military vehicles guarded the business districts. Soldiers were monitoring the distribution of products, rationing those deemed essential. Many stores had already run out of stock. A family needed a coupon book to justify the purchase of more than two pounds of sugar, rice, or meat. People were mostly staying home. Some companies had opted for temporary closure, while others had filed for bankruptcy. Airports had closed down. Train stations, on the other hand, were swarming with passengers. The government had made train travel free. Once again, the armed forces were responsible for managing the flow of migrants.

  The map Captain Sherman had given her had only a telephone number, no other details. She followed a shady park path away from the groups of people to call the mysterious agent.

  Someone answered almost immediately. “Yeah?” said a male voice.

  “Hi, I’m Lauren Chambers. Can we meet?”

  “I was expecting your call. Meet me at the Brass Ring Lounge on Shelby Street, let’s say six p.m.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She had two hours to kill. The sun glowed as it sank to the horizon. She sat down on a bench and tried to calm her mind, but fatigue and stress weighed on her like a burden she was struggling to carry. So she lay down on the bench, curled up, and watched the sun slowly disappear behind the trees. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Night had already fallen when she parked the patrol
car in a lot two blocks away from the Brass Ring Lounge. The air was smoky when she entered the bar, despite a “No Smoking” sign posted on the front door. It was a time of anarchy, of revolt. The bar was packed. Noisy discussions ranged from one topic to another. In one, people were dying because megalomaniacal dictators were playing war with irresponsible capitalist presidents. Another voiced economic-industrial conspiracies about big companies trying to rule the world. She stepped forward and ordered a beer at the bar. A jukebox was blasting out a scathing song by Rage Against the Machine. Lauren suddenly felt a presence behind her. She controlled herself so she wouldn’t spin around and pull out her weapon. She had to show trust, but she was on edge. A hand rested on her shoulder. She turned around calmly to find a tall, skinny man with graying, medium-length hair and a face lined with age. His light, deep-set eyes gave him the look of an old bird of prey.

  “Let’s sit at a table; it’ll be quieter,” he suggested, pointing to the back of the establishment.

  She stayed on her guard as she followed him. She was at a six on her scale of trust.

  “Okay then,” the man said, sitting down, “Sherman briefed me on your case. I—”

  “How do you know Sherman?” she interrupted sharply.

  “We went to the police academy together when we were young. He chose the uniform; I chose the secret services. We stayed in touch.”

  “Okay. Go ahead; you were telling me Sherman had briefed you.”

  “He told me about your situation, and I read through the internal files: the St. Marys case, the child abductions . . . It was like a normal investigation until Agent Cooper went nuts and—”

  Lauren interrupted him again. “Cooper didn’t go nuts. He succeeded in managing a viral condition that affected him. He’s not guilty of what he’s accused of.”

  “What interests us is what followed Agent Cooper’s incident. You seem to have conducted a serious investigation that raised a lot of questions, didn’t you, Agent Chambers?”

  “I’m here to get some answers.”

  “We’re looking for the same thing. We’ve been waiting for you, Agent Chambers. And if you hadn’t come to us, we would have contacted you.”

  She shook her head as if she hadn’t heard him right.

  “Would you be willing to work with us?” he asked.

  “Who are you?” she replied.

  The man pointed to the bar’s exit. “There’s a car waiting for you outside: a black Chrysler.”

  “Wait a minute. . . you didn’t answer my question.

  The man looked at her deeply, with a kind of compassion in his eyes.

  “Go ahead Lauren. You will have your answers very soon.”

  She studied him again for a moment and then decided to continue trusting him. “Okay.”

  She got up and walked to the exit without even saying good-bye. A Chrysler 300 was indeed waiting in the street, parked partway on the sidewalk. The engine was running. A man stepped out on the driver’s side and invited her to get in, opening the back door for her. He was young, athletic, in his thirties, with brown hair and dark eyes, and rather somber. Definitely her type, but she couldn’t think past Eliott. She quickly climbed into the car, keeping one hand on the butt of her weapon.

  “Hello, Agent Chambers,” the man said as he settled behind the wheel.

  The look he gave her seemed deep and reassuring. The greeting was harmless and friendly, as if he had just welcomed a neighbor on the landing. He put the car into gear and pulled out onto the avenue.

  “Hello,” she responded, her voice level. “Not to bother you, but could you tell me what organization you work for?”

  She thought she saw him smile briefly.

  “We’re working with you. Let’s say we’re a specialized unit.”

  “A specialized unit of the FBI?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Lauren waited for him to continue, but the man merely turned his attention back to the road. The vehicle headed onto I-65 toward the north end of the city. As soon as he had left the city streets dotted with traffic lights and intersections, the man continued.

  “The FBI is a very recent organization in terms of our activities, Agent Chambers.”

  “Meaning?”

  “What you and Agent Cooper discovered in the forests of St. Marys is part of a secret that has remained hidden for thousands of years. The paleographer’s translation of the book has unintentionally involved you in events that will determine the future of humanity.”

  “That still doesn’t tell me who you work for.”

  “I don’t work for anybody; I’m a volunteer. I belong to a brotherhood . . . a very old brotherhood whose mission has been to fight evil since the dawn of time.”

  Lauren told herself she must have misunderstood. “Are you a cleric?”

  “Not really.”

  “Brotherhoods that fight evil usually serve God, don’t they?”

  “The evil we’re fighting, Agent Chambers, goes back so far that religions hadn’t yet taken root in the minds of man. The first prophets’ footsteps hadn’t even touched the Earth yet.”

  The intuition she’d felt more than once since visiting the crypt with Eliott gripped her again. She felt like an icy vise was pressing her chest.

  “I think I know what kind of evil you’re referring to,” she muttered.

  “Scientists named them Hominum primus,” the man said bitterly, “because they’re our ancestors. They’ve been vegetating in their underground crypts for millions of years, and now they’re coming back to rule the Earth.”

  Lauren felt like the knot in her stomach had just exploded. Her hands suddenly grew sweaty, and she began to shake.

  She had reached her limit.

  She ran her hands through her hair and massaged her temples nervously. Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared restlessly at the white stripes passing on the road through the windshield. She understood that she was close to breaking down

  “Shit, this is impossible!” she shouted, overwhelmed by weeping. “Stop the car! Stop!” she screamed.

  The man quickly pulled over.

  She jumped out of the car, clenched her fists with rage and helplessness, and shattered the night with a howl. She took a few more steps and then doubled over to vomit several times.

  The driver had stepped out of the car and followed her, remaining at a distance. He was holding a gun in his hand, guarding the area. Lauren recognized a Smith & Wesson 500.

  She straightened herself up and shouted at him, “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Calm down, Agent Chambers. I have orders. I’m here to protect you.”

  She ran toward the car and tried to take the wheel. The man managed to catch her. She whirled around and head-butted him hard, but he just took it. He wrapped his arms around her and pinned her down on the ground.

  “I think you just broke my nose, Agent Chambers.”

  Blood was gushing from his wound. Lauren squirmed in all directions, struggling to get free and punch him, but he held her tight. They rolled around in the sand for several minutes until she eventually ran out of breath and gave in.

  “Have you calmed down, Lauren? I don’t want to hurt you, okay?”

  “Go fuck yourself!” she screamed.

  “Look, we can stay here all night if you want, I don’t have a problem with that.”

  She uttered one last raging shriek through her teeth, and her head dropped back to the ground. She dissolved into tears again. He let a long while go by and then got up, his arms still wrapped around her.

  “We’re going to go back to the car and get back on the road, Agent Chambers.”

  She let him pull her without resisting. He dragged her to the back of the car. She was drained. He laid her gently on the seat and quickly handcuffed her wrist to a steel reinforcement bar that ran along the door.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to make sure everything will be all right,” he told her.

  She no longer put up a fight. The man star
ted the car and hit the road again. He turned around to make sure she wasn’t trying to get free, but she had already fallen deeply asleep.

  When Lauren woke up, she saw a heavy gray sky above her in the rear window. Strong winds carrying clouds full of snowflakes were buffeting the Chrysler. She lay there for a while until she was fully conscious. Her dim eyes stared into the dark sky. As she sat up, she noticed that a handcuff attached her hand to the door.

  The driver gave her a friendly smile in the rearview mirror. “You slept like a rock, Agent Chambers. How do you feel?”

  “Better. I’d like you to start by detaching me from this door.”

  The man pulled over to the side of the road. He got out and freed her wrist. He had a white bandage on his nose and two black eyes.

  “We’ll reach Fargo in an hour.” He got back behind the wheel.

  She stepped out before he started and walked around to go and sit in the front seat. “You must have a name too,” she said.

  “Call me Jim.”

  “Jim. Original.”

  “Well, that’s my name,” he said with a smile.

  She crossed her arms and couldn’t hold back a disappointed pout. “Where are we going, Jim?”

  “I’m taking you to the northwest, to Idaho, a place called Meadow Creek, where the resistance’s base is.”

  “That’s quite a trek,” she said.

  “We still have sixteen hours of driving ahead of us.”

  “That will give you time to explain the exact nature of your activities and what you expect from me.”

  “As I told you last night, we represent a brotherhood, or if you prefer, an organization. We’re not affiliated with any particular religion. However, our mission is to fight the evil spreading on Earth.”

  “Hominum primus,” Lauren said in a resigned tone.

  He nodded. “Those creatures knowingly orchestrated all the events currently taking place on a global scale. The Order of the Adepts, which serves them, has infiltrated the secret societies, government organizations, and armed forces of most countries on the planet. They’re the driving force behind the world conflict that has just begun.”