by Wisdom King
After a few moments, Kane composed himself and got up from the grass. The blond mystery man was nowhere in sight now and it was already too late to go after him. Kane tried his best not to let his blood boil under his skin as he stepped inside the shed, shutting the door behind him. Kane looked around the chaos in the room and started picking up random pieces of paper from the floor and read them all, one by one.
I made rounds today in the building. With each passing day, I always feel like the world is getting colder and colder. Tomorrow, I lead the mass. I sometimes forget I’m a priest.
Kane picked up another one near the candle. Why do people keep writing down their thoughts? Strange!
I feel frightened. I woke up in a cold sweat and decided to take a walk. Unfortunately, I ran into Clarke. A pleasant surprise, really. He looked quite handsome. I have half a mind to invite him upstairs again. My plans were interrupted by three drunken idiots in the kitchen, however. I had to take care of business first.
Kane froze as he read the entry. He was no bigot but he was pretty sure that a priest shouldn’t be having thoughts like the one the writer had for Clarke. As Kane reread the entry over and over again, he thought back to the mass he had attended about a week ago in the church. The priest was rambling about homosexuality and all sorts of bigotry. If a priest, such as the writer, were to think of things like this, the homilies were certainly just one big cry for help.
Kane walked over to the desk. The drawers were all pulled out and a couple of jackets and shirts were sticking out of some of them, along with a few obscene drawings of corpses and maps of all sorts, covered with dried blood. Kane rummaged through the drawers and took out a couple of the drawings. As he took out a heap of paper, a small notebook fell from the pile. He picked it up and flipped through the pages.
Most of the leaves were already ripped off, and the handwriting on the remaining pages matched up with the ones he picked up on the floor. Kane walked over to the candle and read through them.
America is falling apart. War greets us from every direction and the civil unrest grows stronger as the days pass. This is what happens when you forsake the word of God. This is what happens when you turn your back on the Maker. The wisdom of the president is nothing compared to the wisdom of the Church. This is why they should listen to us, now more than ever lest they see God’s people fall to the ground, one city at a time.
On days where doubt crosses through my head, I run to this place. But tonight, it’s different. I have never been so sure in my life.
The lab is ready. The Church is ready. I am ready. 34968510.
As Kane sat by the candle, he thought back to Marisol’s emails. He remembered how she was so fired up as he looked into his eyes that night and how she told him about this place. He remembered how he had laughed at her. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind now. He had fallen into a pit of snakes, just like her.
Outside, rain pelted the tin roof of the shed. Kane sat there by the dimming candle light and scrolled through the beautiful drawings. At the back of each, the artist left a few words and expressed his thoughts on each of the drawings. There were a couple of portraits of the ministers and more than a handful obscene drawings of one particular blue-eyed fellow with mop raven hair and a dead-eyed smile. Kane studied the text behind each and realized that whoever drew these pictures also wrote those entries.
“You are one good artist.” He said as he studied a charcoal portrait of Dennis. He flipped it over and read the messily written text at the bottom.
I drew a self-portrait.
“A really fucked up artist.” He said, putting the drawing back in place.
Chapter 17
The air was heavy with the smell of brush and his own sweat. With all the strength left in his legs, he bolted through the forest, careful not to trip on any of the fallen branches. Blood rushed to his ears as he sped through every twist and turn in the woods. His heart ran as fast as a lynx could run.
For days, he’s been watching him from afar, as he would with any other employee. But this man wasn’t just any other employee. He was a walking enigma.
He was born and raised in Michigan, where his mother studied as a scholar. His mom was from Lagos, Nigeria and was known for being unpredictable, which is why her pregnancy came as a surprise to her family, especially since the father of the child was a taxi driver she had met on several occasions.
His father did not disappoint, however, and offered to care for the child...until he died, just 4 days shy of his son’s 7th birthday. One thing led to another and his mother had to drop out of school to take care of her boy and worked 2 minimum wage jobs to put him through school. He wasn’t able to dig out much from his childhood aside from that.
What made him so special was not his past – it was why he was there. The Church has had a lot of employees over the years, and almost all of them had a clear objective, something that drove them into accepting a job that never lets them out of their sight. All of them were desperate for the most obvious of things may it be for their families, their kick-off to a career, and sometimes even just the sheer need for money. This man was desperate enough to take the job, but why?
As his feet grazed on the rich undergrowth, his mind raised more questions than he could possibly answer. He was so close to finally asking his questions when he saw him peering through the threshold, yet in his cowardice, he hid. His heart raced as he tried his best to outrun his own imagination, and, as he was busy narrowing down everything, he ran into something hard. With a grunt, he fell to the ground, spilling the contents of the thick folder he was clutching. He looked up from where he sat and squinted at the tall figure, struggling to stand on his feet. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the sight of a familiar shock of blond hair and a pair of bright emerald eyes that shone vividly, even in the dark.
“Dennis?”
FOR THE LONGEST TIME, Kane was at lost for words. He sat there by the flickering candlelight and studied the other writings left by Dennis, assuming that it was his. His tired eyes focused on every letter of every word, trying to uproot any information he could find that would prove itself worthy to be part of his investigation.
At that moment, the emails started to make sense. For the first time in a long while, his memory of Marisol started to make sense. She wasn’t investigating a conspiracy theory – she was investigating a potential crime, and now, he’s in it. Now, it’s just a matter of finding out what’s going on and finish what she started.
Kane looked around the walls. There were no cameras, no crucifixes. Since he got here, he hasn’t seen anything religious or anything that belonged to the church. It was the only place in the whole area that offered solitude. Whoever it was that built this must have wanted to stay hidden, even from his own kind.
“Blond. Tall. Wearing dark clothing.” Kane listed all the things he could remember about the escaped suspect and narrowed it down to the three men he knew.
Working the day shift by the main gates was Ron. He was tall, a bit loose on the belly but had legs that could run. He had a shock of blond hair that could blind a man staring at his head about a few feet away from him.
Next up, was Father Rosner, a kind old man that always ends every sentence with ‘my boy’ even when he’s talking to a woman. Kane never thought of him as a runner or even the type to own a shed in the middle of nowhere.
Last but definitely not the least was the obvious choice: Dennis. Father Dennis was, by every definition, an intimidating man. He towered over Kane and had a look to his face that would make you want to run and scream. All the evidence points to him, and so far, he’s the only man in the estate that rubbed him off the wrong way, aside from Clarke.
“If there’s anyone fucked up enough to draw naked children cuddling with his lover, it’s him.” Kane thought as he blew the candle and stepped out of the shed. He knew that he had to act fast. The man already saw him snooping around the shed. “But where do I start?”
“The numbers.....3. 4.
9. 6. 8. 5. 1. 0.”
He recited the numbers in his head as he ran through the forest, trying to find his way back to the estate. He knew for sure they weren’t coordinates, nor a date. His mind thought of every possibility those numbers could have meant. They weren’t just the musings of a priest going through a heavy mental breakdown. Somehow, Kane knew they meant something. It was the first real leap in the case.
“Who’s there?” He heard a voice call from behind him. He turned around and was blinded by a flash of light cast directly on his face. “Kane? Sorry about that. What are you doing here? You have a job to do, remember?” Clarke said as he jogged towards Kane.
“Funny you should ask that...I was kind of looking for you.”
Chapter 18
Kane looked at the shivering man up and down. His eyes were red and puffy and he looked like he had just finished crying. At that point, he knew he meant no harm. As the drawings all flashed back to his mind, he knew right then and there, Clarke was not a suspect. He was a victim.
“Clarke, I know you mean well. I can see it in your eyes. All you have to do is tell me what the fuck is going on and I swear, I will never bother you again. You will not hear from me. You will not see me again.” Kane said, trying his best to be audible in the midst of the pouring rain. Above them, the sky roared furiously as heavy drops of rain pelted the two men.
“What are you talking about?” Clarke yelled.
“I think you know what I mean!” Kane said. In the dark, he could see Clarke tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. “I know about you and Dennis! I know that something is up!” Suddenly, his face turned sour. Confusion turned into rage, but underneath the mask of anger he wore, Kane saw fear.
He was fidgeting. He was looking around the area with a deeply troubled look in his eyes as if he’s just waiting for a lion to pounce on him at any minute. Kane looked closer and saw that he was shivering violently and trying his best to keep himself warm. For a moment, he felt a slight pang of pity for the helpless-looking boy.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you do, and you know I will never stop bothering you...” As he looked at the boy, he saw Marisol standing in his position. He was just as stubborn and hard-headed as her. “Just like she never stopped bothering you.”
Clarke’s eyes snapped back to Kane’s face. This time, they were void of emotion. Clarke knew there was no going back at this point. Kane was a mad dog, sniffing around places he shouldn’t be in, and somehow, he managed to dig out the tracks he thought he’d buried.
“We should go back.” He said, trying his best to wrap his shivering body with his soaking wet robe. “The estate’s not too far from here. Just follow my lead and try not to fall behind. This forest is a tricky place. If you lose your way, you’re lost for good.” He said as he jogged past Kane. “The estate’s not too far from here. It’s your shift if I’m not mistaken?”
When he didn’t answer, Clarke looked back and saw Kane crouching behind a huge tree. He was peering through a small gap between the bushes and was looking far ahead.
“Kane?” He said, quietly calling after him. Kane ignored his call and stared straight ahead. Not too far from where he was hiding, he could see two tall blond men talking to each other in hushed voices. One of them had his back towards Kane and the other was facing him. Both men wore a dark robe similar to that of Clarke. They were talking quietly beneath a black umbrella and the other was angrily pointing towards the direction of the shed Kane had previously investigated.
“Kane, what the fuck are you – “ Clarke said as he approached Kane, but before he could even finish, Kane yanked down his robe, forcing him to crouch beside him.
“Keep quiet.” He whispered. He grabbed Clarke’s flashlight and turned it off, much to Clarke’s annoyance. “Do you know those two?” Kane said, pointing towards the two men who were now walking away, most likely towards the shed.
“I can’t tell. It’s too dark.” He replied sarcastically. “Bamidele, it’s nearly 2 AM. Why don’t you head on back to the estate and actually do the job they hired you for?”
“There are like 50 other men walking around that place, both guards and personnel. Why is one person off grounds such a big deal, eh? And besides, it’s not like there’s anything to protect there, right?” Kane said with a tone dripping with suspicion. He looked at Clarke who simply rolled his eyes at him and got up to leave. “Remember a few days ago when I saw your pants hanging on the wall, stained with a shit ton of blood. Well, Clarke, now I know who did it. You don’t have to be scared.”
Clarke paused and looked back at the man kneeling like an idiot behind the tree. To him, Kane was delusional to think that he was actually going to confide in him. Yet, as he looked back to his meetings with Marie, he realized that he was even more delusional to confide in her.
“Just follow me.” He said as he turned towards the opposite direction and flashed the light on. “I got something to show you. We can talk there.”
He started jogging back to where he came from. After a few moments, Kane gave in and caught up to him. They jogged through the forest, turning and shifting directions every once in a while until finally, they reached a tall brick wall, similar to the one back in the estate. Kane examined the wide expanse of the wall and looked around.
He saw Clarke take out a small key ring and pick an old, rusty-looking key. He stuck in the black gated door and yanked it open, and pushed the subsequent door open. He got inside the pitch black room and gestured for Kane to follow suit.
“What’s that?” Kane inquired as he scrunched his nose as the moldy smell of the room oozed out and reached his nostrils.
“Just get inside for Christ’s sake,” Clarke said. After a few moments of hesitation, Kane finally entered the small room. Clarke locked both doors behind him, leaving them inside a pitch black, windowless room. Kane took the flashlight from Clarke and looked around the scene. There were cobwebs everywhere and old shoes and even dead bugs decaying on the corner of the small room. There was a rusty metal bar attached to a line on the wall as if it was locking the two halves of the wooden wall together. Clarke leaned against this, blocking Kane’s view.
“Tell me what you know,” Clarke whispered, taking the light from Kane’s hands. “Be quick about it. If they find out we’re not in there, we’re both screwed.”
“I know that you and Dennis are in a relationship.” He said.
“What are you talking about?” Clarke could taste the bile at the back of his throat at the thought of that ever happening. What he had with Dennis was far from what a normal person would even dare label as a ‘relationship.’
Kane proceeded to take out a notebook wrapped in a plastic bag and showed it to him. Clarke felt his skin crawl as he skimmed through Dennis’s erotic commentary about his body, and all the things he’d done to it what he wants to do with it next, including a bunch of detailed drawings of him in various agonizing positions. But it wasn’t Dennis’s peculiar fantasies that disturbed him the most: it was his thoughts.
Some of the pages of the diary were torn off but the ones left unscathed were filled with entries riddled with cryptic messages. At first, it started with harmless thoughts but as time progressed, his mind became a bit more conflicted. His writings became messier and messier as with his thoughts. By the end of the notebook, it seems as if he’d morphed into an extremely violent religious fanatic, capable of all sorts of horrid things.
Without even noticing it, Clarke found himself sitting against the wall. Appalled by what he read, he dropped the notebook to the ground and looked at Kane, mouth wide open.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Kane whispered as he rested a hand on Clarke’s shoulders. He looked at him with unsettling eyes. His bottom lip quivered as he searched Kane’s face. A single tear ran down his cheek, which he angrily wiped away as he turned his head to hide his face. Kane knew that look all too well. He’s seen it on his mother one too many times.
After a few minutes of deafening silence, Clarke finally spoke.
“I’ll start from the beginning...”
Then, Clarke told him everything.
Chapter 19
“After we took her to the hospital, we drove back here. He told me that I should be the one to give him the bag since the task was assigned to me. I had to make it look as if I did it. He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone what I tried to do.” Clarke had his eyes closed as he relayed the story to Kane. Kane watched his face contort into different kinds of emotions all at once. “In return, his visits became more frequent. His demands became a little harder to satisfy.”
Kane sat against the metal door of the room and looked at Clarke as he told him his part of the story, from the day he met a woman to the day he let Dennis kill her.
From the moment he started talking, he already had a hunch about the identity of the woman involved. Marisol went by the pseudonym “Marie” in the articles she wrote for Exposed back in 2009. She was the only woman he knew that was charming enough to persuade a total stranger to give his story. But the detail that really drove the nail in the coffin was his accurate, word for word description of Marisol’s apartment.
“...that’s why I went to the mantle that night you saw me....”
“Something’s not right though.” Kane cut him off.
“The day I first met you, Dennis was holding the bag, not you.” Kane knew that bag by heart. He bought for Marisol two years ago as a birthday gift. He never thought she would keep it in such pristine condition.
“They ordered for it to be rid of. I don’t really know why. Dennis said that they ‘ran into some issues’” He said, making little quotation marks in the air. “Probably about some data things. I don’t really know much about that techy stuff.”