The Essence of Darkness

by Thomas Clearlake

  Their goal was to collect enough human beings to feed the extractors. That way, the Adepts would be able to sustain the regeneration of the creatures removed from the first crypts. Who would care about prisoners sentenced to death in prisons where the rate of overcrowding exceeded one hundred forty percent? Hospitals evacuated people abandoned on their deathbeds, those headed in that direction, orphaned children, and the wounded who needed too much care. Militias dumped them like merchandise in extraction camps with death row inmates who thought they would get a reprieve there. They simply heard that society needed their cooperation in charitable works for everyone’s survival. Over time, the deportations escalated. Without asking questions, the official army even made trains available to the militias who filled the cars. These travelers had no idea of their destination, let alone the fate that awaited them.

  There were four active extraction camps on American soil. The resistance knew the locations of two of them: one was in northern Minnesota and the other in New Mexico. They had yet to find two other, more recent ones. The cover story the Adepts created to conceal the existence of the camps made them undetectable, but it wasn’t perfect.

  Rumors began to circulate among the population. Some people said that the enemy was not human, that it was a plot led by secret societies. The military leaders who served Hominum primus had no difficulty denying these rumors as unfounded and spread by extremist lunatics. Who would have believed such delusional fabrications?

  April 26

  The US defense satellite network, already weakened by the viral attack on the economic system and energy deficiencies, was the target of a new assault. Curiously, the Army chief of staff was unable to assess the nature of this attack. All anyone knew for sure was that it came from Russian soil, more precisely from a central Siberian region. The US suspected Russia of experimenting with a new weapon because the technology used was unknown. In response, the American command destroyed the Russian transmission satellites still functioning.

  The consequences of the attacks on the American satellite network were severe. Internet coverage dwindled even further, and the few broadcast and radio media still functioning had to cease operations. The transmission center of the American armed forces had to join up with the one in Europe, which still had a network capable of providing strategic military communications. The two continents agreed to alternate use, which greatly weakened system effectiveness.

  Only four days had passed when Scientech offered to rent its services to the American government. The multinational company had a monopoly in the telecommunications sector. The US sent eight “alternate” satellites into orbit from the launch sites at Kennedy and Kourou in French Guiana.

  What the US government didn’t know was the underlying reason for Scientech’s involvement in these launches. In fact, Harald Trudd, its president, was a venerable member of the Order of the Adepts.

  May 14

  Large-scale demonstrations began to break out around the world due to the high number of civilian disappearances in areas private militias controlled. These militias conducted summary arrests of persons alleged to be members of “rebel groups.” They accused these groups of looting food convoys. The authorities told the demonstrators that the presence of militias in refugee and migrant areas aimed to ensure the population’s safety and the proper delivery and distribution of food. The militia leaders made public statements. People should not hold them accountable for their operations to neutralize the threat these organized looters’ groups posed. In fact, the militias often decided particular migrants were looters and took them prisoner. They received no trials, only deportation to extraction camps within hours, without explanation.

  But the overcrowded prisons, hospitals, and summary arrests were soon insufficient. The extractors required more and more human flesh to regenerate Hominum primus.

  June 10

  The Order of the Adepts owned and controlled the only remaining television channel, the “U-Earth Channel.” It announced to the world a global health disaster: H-4. That was the acronym used to designate the virus, whose transmission rate was maximal. Infected individuals didn’t show any detectable symptoms in the first few hours. Only after twenty-four hours of contamination, affected persons showed signs of nervous and psychomotor disorders. Victims then sudden wasted away. Their faces became emaciated and their bodies stiffened to such a degree that they took on a corpselike appearance. During the last phase, victims fell into deep comas. Strangely enough, life persisted in their extremely dry bodies. Death didn’t occur until eight to twelve days later.

  Two weeks after the first cases cropped up in Louisiana, the virus had spread throughout the American continent. Hundreds of bodies flowed to the hospitals every day. Soon, the militias set up enclosed, secure quarantine zones connected to hospital forensic centers. Once the infected subjects passed through the doors of these facilities, they would never leave again. There were no reported cases of remission.

  The transfer of infected subjects to the extraction camps took place before they were clinically dead. The twelve-day coma period allowed enough time for transport of those infected to the extractors.

  The Elders had developed and generated H-4 with optimal efficiency in mind.

  For obvious practical reasons, the militias did not deport the infected together with death row inmates or common patients. Special convoys took them directly from the quarantine areas to the extraction chambers.

  In the context of this maximum pandemic alert, conflicts continued to rage on the various military fronts between human armies. The monopoly of large manufacturing companies increasingly muzzled political authorities that still held some semblance of power. Masterminds who had sworn allegiance to Hominum primus directed most of these companies. Adept strategists orchestrated relentless psychological propaganda in the shadows, which inexorably instilled despair in people’s minds. The end of humanity, abandonment, and giving up on life—all inconceivably destructive terms—permeated the collective consciousness and started to become reality.

  The human population was slowly decreasing. This death machine seemed to have no flaws.

  There was only one crypt left to open.

  Behind that last door lay hordes of titans who would put an end to human civilization and celebrate the new reign of Hominum primus, the father of all men, with blood.

  38

  A bleak, icy wind howled and rushed under the massive, rust-eaten steel door in gusts. Eliott’s head lay on the frozen ground, as heavy as lead. He was unable to move at all. It was as if the Elders’ vampire spirit had sucked out his strength. They had kept him locked up in jail for months. To feed him, they brought him one bucket of coagulated human blood per day—barely enough to survive.

  Snowflakes fluttered around him in the thirty square feet of the cell. With half–open eyes, he was watching the white particles swirl around. His mind was so empty, and he felt so exhausted, death could have plucked him as easily as a wilted flower. But there was still hope, even so. That light had never left him. His breath came in rasps. His smoking nostrils released a cloud of mist that evaporated in the cold night. An orange glow showed under the door; maybe a torch, since it flickered irregularly. Unable to move his too-heavy body, this mass of muscles that had come loose and disconnected from his will, he fell back asleep.

  An undetermined period had elapsed when bright light lit his field of vision. From where Eliott lay, he could now see eroded rocky peaks with lodgepole pines clinging to them, like those in Yosemite Park. The wind was blowing hard there too. He was on a vast, gray rocky slab, exposed to all the elements. Around and below him, the forests swayed in unison in the caressing breeze. The tree branches swaying above his head sometimes softened the rays of sunlight that shone in his eyes. He had a man’s body. Examining his bare arm against the backdrop of the blue sky, he felt a deep joy. Had the Sentinel’s curse ended? The vision was only a dream, and he knew it. A dull, rhythmic pounding rose up around him. Invisible hands str
uck the skins of ancestral drums while syncopated polyphonies repeated in an endless trance. A feminine silhouette, slender and graceful, appeared in the shadowy light. She came toward him, her head adorned with a beautiful feathered headdress, performing a light dance that undulated like the water in a stream. He recognized her even before he could see her. Grandmother Kanda radiated wisdom. Her tanned face with bright blue eyes generated even more intense joy in him.

  She leaned toward him and lovingly stroked his cheek.

  “Our minds finally meet, Iyayenagi. I’m happy to see you again from the other side, Eliott.”

  She took his hand in hers. It was warm and smooth, strikingly real.

  “Kanda, I’ve only seen you wear that headdress once. It was . . . I don’t remember when . . .” Eliott whispered to her in his dream.

  “It was one night when the moon was gazing at the hills, a winter night. The shaman from the nearest Tolowa village had come to spend the night. Do you remember him? His name was Isha.”

  Suddenly, Isha appeared in Eliott’s mind. His face had the features of a very old man, with almost black skin, deep wrinkles, and very dark eyes. His face was long and stern, but his eyes were nevertheless full of great kindness. His expression was a frozen mask with a smooth, steady, ebony smile. Like Kanda, he wore the traditional Tolowa ceremonial attire used for rituals.

  Reliving this encounter, Eliott felt an inexpressible uneasiness. The old Tolowa was trying to penetrate his mind, as if he were making some kind of judgment or evaluation. The vision wasn’t just a memory. He was probing him again now, more intensely than he had that night.

  Isha spoke. “Wakanya hibu yeho[3] because you are now on the other side, Iyayenagi. You have nothing to fear, for your heart is pure.”

  “My mind is free, but my body is a prisoner,” Eliott answered, “a double prisoner, of this jail and of this creature I’ve become.”

  The shaman’s face still delved into the deepest part of his soul. “Those who want to use your strength to serve their purposes will soon be sorry, Iyayenagi.”

  “How can you be so sure, when only one of them can subdue my mind like a child’s?”

  “You have in you the strength and light of Wakan Tanka.[4] And Wakan Tanka can sometimes be like a child if necessary.”

  “Okay. In that case, I suppose if I ask him to help me get out of this jail, he will certainly do it.”

  The old shaman’s smile widened for a moment. “The Iyayenagi does not have to flee anywhere, for he is always free. Let them take you where they want you to go. Don’t forget one thing: they too obey the sole will of the Great Spirit. For they too are creatures of the Great Spirit.”

  “They’ll force me to open their damn door.”

  “You don’t know the strength you have within you. If you were incarnated in this body, it is because Wakan Tanka wanted it that way. So there’s a good reason why you were chosen.”

  “What is Iyayenagi?”

  “It is someone who has all a shaman’s knowledge without initiation. Have you ever had dreams that came true with perfect accuracy? Have you ever talked to people without ever meeting them in person? This kind of experience is trivial for an Iyayenagi. This word simply means ‘crossed to the other side,’ to the side of the spirits. You have received a great gift.”

  The drums resounded with increasing force, and the songs accelerated as the rocky ground vibrated. Eliott felt the slightest rustle of the swaying branches. The sun and sky had begun a celestial dance. Then the day waned in a few seconds as if the entire landscape had fallen into night.

  “What if they manage to subjugate me and make me open their crypt?” Eliott asked.

  “Trust in your power,” Isha replied. “You will know which path to take when the time comes.”

  39

  Meadow Creek resistance base: June 23

  Despite the child she was carrying, Lauren wanted to attend an important meeting with the other Dawn soldiers. She didn’t want to miss anything concerning the battle that raged on all fronts. Aiyana was next to her, holding her hand. She was due for delivery the following month.

  The first part of the meeting involved a briefing on a major operation against the enemy. Several cells of resistance fighters planned to join forces to attack the extraction camp in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in New Mexico. The outcome of the battle could affect Hominum primus’ ability to regenerate, so they needed to strike hard.

  At the same time, the biochemistry labs at MIT in Boston had been able to find a vaccine against the H-4 virus. Now they had to set up a secret network to distribute the H-0 antivirus and do it urgently because the virus was spreading very quickly among migrant populations. The figures, still unconfirmed, already showed 900,000 people infected within two months. The good news was that anticontamination suits, produced and distributed on a large scale, had effectively slowed the spread of the pandemic. The meeting ended with addressing several secondary objectives. They would conduct various sabotage operations and armed attacks against militia-held buildings. Topping it off, anonymous resistance groups that operated without resources were unifying independently of the Dawn. The resistance was consolidating and gaining in force.

  July 29

  Lauren woke up at 2:08 a.m. with the pain of her first contractions. Aiyana, who was sleeping nearby, got out of bed as soon as she heard her moaning. She lit the candles, helped Lauren sit up, and piled pillows behind her so she could sit comfortably. She went back to the kitchens and came back with a cup of warm, relaxing herbal tea that she handed to her. She then sat next to her on a wooden chair.

  “How do you feel?” Aiyana asked in her gentle voice.

  “Happy,” Lauren answered with a wan smile.

  “Remember that old Native American I told you about, the one who made contact with Eliott’s mind?”

  Lauren nodded.

  “He’s here. He came from the forests of Oregon. Do you want him to be here to welcome Matthew into the world of the living?”

  “Is he going to perform some kind of ceremony?” she asked curiously.

  “Yes. It’s a ritual, Lauren. A very strong bond had lasted until Eliott, and Matthew inherited it. But don’t feel obligated. If you want, I can explain to Isha that you don’t want him here.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’s your child. Choose what you think is best for him.”

  Eliott had only told her about his Native American roots to describe his grandmother, Kanda, to whom he was very attached. What would he have decided if he were there?

  She studied the question internally for a few long seconds; then she noticed a presence at the door. A deep voice came from behind the canvas blocking the entrance to the room.

  “He would have decided that the old shaman should perform his ritual and welcome his son into the world of men.”

  Aiyana joined her hands and whispered a few words in a Native American language Lauren could barely hear.

  “It’s Isha,” she told her. “Do you want him to come in?” the young woman asked.

  Lauren nodded.

  The old sage appeared, dressed in colorful clothing and wearing a feathered headdress adorned with many white beads. His eyes glowed like two torches that shone in his dark face, with skin tanned by the sun. He looked at Lauren for a moment and then greeted her by bowing his head in a rattle of beads. He gave her a radiant smile; then his features returned to their severe expression. He walked toward her without even looking at Aiyana.

  “So this is the Iyayenagi’s mother,” he said.

  He approached the bed where Lauren was sitting and looked at her from every angle, moving around her while waving a stick adorned with noisy bones. Lauren didn’t know what to say, so she just watched him circle the bed.

  “Hmm . . . you look like you’re in good shape for a white woman,” he remarked, continuing to scrutinize her.

  He suddenly approached her and put his hand on her forehead, as if to check her temperature.


  “Let’s see . . . You don’t have any particular pain? No shaking or burning? I mean, besides the labor pains, of course.”

  “No, everything seems fine,” she replied.

  “Very good. How old are you, Lauren?”

  “I’m almost thirty.”

  “Good, good . . .” he replied, pondering.

  Aiyana was watching him with fascination.

  “I’m going to perform the first part of the ritual now, Lauren, before the midwife arrives.”

  He pulled up his leather sleeves and placed his hands on Lauren’s stomach. Then he closed his eyes and began reciting shamanic verses in a low voice. It lasted about ten minutes. When he removed his hands from Lauren’s stomach, there were footsteps in the hallway. The midwife came into the room.

  “Hello, Lauren,” said the plump woman in her forties. She had dark eyes, an alabaster complexion, and a brown braid.

  “Hi, Gina,” Lauren replied.

  Isha sat cross-legged on the floor near the cast iron stove crackling in a corner of the room. Aiyana stood up and offered her chair to the midwife, who thanked her with a nod.

  “How do you feel?” asked Gina as she leaned toward Lauren.

  “I feel like things are moving all over. It’s starting to pull and to hurt a lot.”

  “Fine, I’m going to give you some pills that will help. They’ll take effect quickly. It will trigger more painful contractions, but it has to happen, okay?”

  Lauren nodded and held her stomach.

  The midwife handed her a glass of water and the tablets, which Lauren swallowed in one gulp.

  “Good. I’m going to get the supplies from outside the door, and we’ll wait for that to kick in.”

  Less than an hour later, Lauren felt that the child was pushing hard inside her to get out and that her contractions were increasing in length and intensity. Her water broke. The pain was intense, but the joy she felt at giving life almost completely erased it. Her emotions shot through her like the rockets in a fireworks show. Her joy suddenly disappeared when she saw Eliott’s face in her mind. She was so sorry he wasn’t there to see his son’s birth. Aiyana held her hand and stroked her forehead to help her through this sensory storm.