The Castle

by J. B. Michaels

  “Let’s get off the beach and head into the country club.” Ivy started a swift jog toward the club.

  Maeve followed.

  Bud was the last to leave the boat. Maeve and Ivy had made considerable distance up the beach towards the club before he decided to move, his conflicted nature the cause of his slow speed. His female companions didn’t bother to yell or wait for him. Perhaps he’d earned their disdain on this particular evening.

  He ached from the intensity of the past few days. The stress on his body, the monster battles, the chases. He needed some time to think. To rest. He approached the large, old country club. It was at least five stories tall with red brick and two towers that capped off the ends of the large rectangle-shaped building.

  “Ah!” A gurgled scream resounded from the club ahead and emanated from one of the broken windows on the second floor.

  Bud’s time to rest would be postponed once again. He ran up the beach. His legs ached. He hoped to hell it wasn’t Ivy or Maeve. The scream sounded male and much older. Still, he needed confirmation it wasn’t either of them.

  Bud ran off the beach to the walkway and noticed the double doors of the country club were open.

  “Was it intelligent of us to come to an old abandoned clubhouse? Must we be the actors in a Scooby Doo film? Christ,” Bud muttered under his breath.

  He entered the clubhouse. There were no electric lights on, but down a long hallway was a flickering light from a fire, probably a trash can fire from the homeless that took up residence in the building.

  “What the fu—!” Another scream that quickly turned to a throaty, gurgled croak.

  A man’s body was thrown down the steps to Bud’s right. Bud’s eyes opened wide. The man’s neck had been twisted at a horrendously unnatural angle, and then the blood from probably stab wounds began to pour down the last three steps of the stairwell.

  “Most. Most unsettling.” Bud gulped for air when he felt a pull at his jacket from behind.

  “Shush, Bud.” Maeve put her index finger to her lips.

  She pulled him back towards the door. Ivy stood outside. “Let’s get back to the motorboat now.”

  “So much for our plan to regroup inside the frightening old country club,” Bud chided Ivy.

  “Let’s go. Now,” Ivy said.

  The three friends ran across the beach.

  BANG! CRACK!

  As Bud lifted his legs high to avoid getting sand in his shoes, he noticed a small deluge of sand fly up from behind Maeve.

  “We are being shot at. Whatever you do, keep moving and spread out and don’t keep to a linear path!” Bud yelled.

  BANG! CRACK!

  Yet another shot this time, right behind Bud. He felt the sand pepper his leather jacket.

  Ivy went wide to the right and then angled to the motorboat.

  Maeve went left and did the same.

  Bud zigzagged toward the shoreline.

  Another loud crack. Bud could hear the whistle of the bullet, it was that close to him.

  Ivy made it to the motorboat first. She pulled on the cable to start the motor.

  A loud smack rang out from the boat. Ivy fell back.

  “Oh, dear lord. Ivy! Ivy! Are you hurt?” Bud yelled while zigzagging away from the boat, only to come back three paces later.

  “I’m okay. I fell back trying to dodge a piece of the engine’s casing. It now has a huge hole in it,” Ivy said while lying on her back.

  “Whoever has that sniper rifle is playing games with us. If he or she could hit the motor on the boat, he or she assuredly could have hit us. We have to get you out of the boat.” Bud crouched behind the boat, his knees in Lake Michigan.

  “Bud! Ivy! We can lose this jerk in the park. Let’s move!” Maeve’s pale outline moved through the darkness.

  “I am too scared to move, Bud.” Ivy’s voice shook with fear.

  “I understand. What if we used the boat as cover from any further ballistic physics? All you have to do is roll towards me. You will get a bit wet, but you do have a wet suit on, unlike me. My knickers are completely wet, and I feel disgusting. Alas, we can tip the boat and use it to great effect.”

  “That is the dumbest idea I have ever heard, Hutchins. That rifle could shoot right through the boat. It’s nylon and inflatable. We have a better shot running.”

  “I suppose your reasoning does make sense, Ms. Zheng.”

  “Not so easy getting around like us normal human beings, huh? No teleportation to depend on.” Ivy sighed.

  “Let’s go, you two!” Maeve yelled.

  “Ivy, we should make our move to the park’s tree line with Maeve. You should stop hiding like a scared child and get up. Let’s start our run.” Bud stood and held out his hand.

  “Help! Help!” Another voice burst from the country club.

  Ivy stood, took Bud’s hand, and they ran down the water line northwest to Maeve.

  “Oh, dear God! Somebody!” Another shouting voice sounded a death knell.

  Chapter Eleven

  STALKED

  The trio united once again near a copse of trees that formed a boundary line for the fourth hole on the Southshore Golf Course.

  “Whatever we do, we should keep to the trees.” Maeve led Bud and Ivy onto the golf course.

  “If we keep heading this direction, we will eventually hit Jackson Park and the Museum of Science and Industry.”

  “And Metro’s campus,” Bud added.

  Bud turned to look back toward the beach. It was clear, but there was a pervasive sense of dread that crept into his tired mind.

  “Perhaps we should pick up the pace. I must admit I feel unsettled by our clear and present danger.” Bud lowered his head under a branch he nearly hit with his rather large forehead.

  “What. The. Hell. Is that?” Ivy whispered and pointed to the putting green.

  Maeve turned to Ivy. “What are you talking about? Where?”

  Bud kept wincing, hoping the image was a mere trick of the very faint light.

  A tall, rather broad-shouldered man stood on the putting green, his face covered with a white mask. He wore a raggedy jacket that looked as though it belonged in the garbage. He held something in his right hand. Something roundish and rather disconcerting if it actually was what Bud thought it was.

  “Most definitely time to pick up the pace, my female companions,” Bud whispered and took another step. That foolhardy, reckless, and hasty step cracked a branch in two. The snap was so loud, its sound could have carried across the lake to Michigan.

  The man cocked his head and looked towards the copse of trees. He threw the object in his hand in the general direction of Bud, Ivy, and Maeve.

  It flew through the air as if in slow motion.

  Bud’s abhorrent yet correct prediction haunted him as he watched the thing come closer.

  The gray-haired and balding human head finally hit the ground with a wet thump.

  “Let’s go. Now.” Maeve grabbed both of their hands and pulled them through the trees to the next fairway.

  “Maeve, my dear, I’ll have you know that we are no longer under the cover of the trees.” Bud ran as fast as he could on the open fairway.

  “It doesn’t matter! Move!” The monk of the Order of St. Michael knew when to fight or flee.

  They ran with purpose. They ran with fear. They ran hard. The horrific scene somehow seemed more disturbing to Bud than any of his previous monstrous encounters. Something about the context chilled him to the bone.

  “Isn’t there some tree you two can seal that guy in?” Ivy panted.

  “He isn’t ghostly or supernatural in any way. He is just a creepy man. Not much we can do, Ivy.” Maeve ran and talked as if she wasn’t tired.

  “How are you speakin—speaking so easy while running, Maeve?” Bud asked.

  “It’s the elixir maybe. I feel fantastic. Thanks again, Ivy,” Maeve said.

  “I love how she gets all the credit! I actually brought it to you! Oh dear, I suggest
a change in direction!” Bud yelled.

  “Help! Stop! Please!” A man crept out onto the fairway near the tee and in their path.

  “Leave him!” Bud yelled.

  Maeve ran to the man. He was old, decrepit, probably spent years outside in the cold air of Chicago’s winters and smoldering humidity of the city’s summers. He looked homeless.

  “He killed my friends. He just invaded our camp and just started butchering us all.” The man fell to the ground. He held his rib cage with one hand.

  “We can help. Bud, help me help him up.” Maeve knelt down next to the man.

  “Logic persists that an injured man would slow us down considerably and leave us vulnerable to the very same killer this man says ferociously and summarily disposed of his mates.” Bud shook his head.

  Ivy walked over to Maeve and the man. She helped Maeve help the injured man to his feet.

  “The hospital isn’t far. Let’s go.” Ivy and Maeve each took one of the man’s arms over their shoulders and walked with him.

  Bud shook his head once again and walked behind the three of them, still worried the killer on the loose was hot on their heels.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE SURPRISE

  “We shan’t check into the hospital, correct? I mean the authorities are indeed looking for us. I am sure they have sent out an all-points bulletin as it were. It would be most unfavorable to have made this much of an effort at escape only to be captured once more.” Bud swiveled his head behind them and in front, scanning the area for the masked man.

  “I really appreciate the help, ladies. Bless you. I mean you can just drop me off near the emergency room. B-bless you,” the haggard, injured old man stammered.

  “We will bring you all the way there. No worries,” Maeve responded.

  The ambient, amber light of Chicago’s streetlights graced Bud’s field of vision.

  “I am actually quite glad to see a city street and be rid of this most unsettling golf- course environment. On the double quick, ladies, shall we?” Bud’s pace quickened, and he overtook his companions.

  A parallel street that formed the northern boundary of the park had many cars parked on it, including an ambulance.

  “Wouldn’t you know? Is that an ambulance ahead?” Ivy said, adjusting her grip on the man.

  “Bud, see if there is anyone in that ambulance. Run ahead and get their attention. Maybe they are on a break or something?” Maeve nodded her head towards the ambulance nestled under a streetlight.

  “I am on it.” Bud started his run when the headlights turned on. He ran faster. His sore body powered through, and he pushed his feet hard into the grass to catch up before it could pull away.

  “Oh dear! Oh my! Nothing is ever fortuitous, is it? Stop! We need your help!” Bud waved his hands like an airport runway assistant in a snowstorm.

  The medic in the passenger seat rolled down her window. “What’s going on, sir?” She brushed bread crumbs off her jacket.

  “We have an injured man. He was stabbed in his abdomen. He is bleeding quite badly. They are approaching from the south and will emerge from the darkness of the park any minute now.”

  “Okay. You found him in the park?” She hopped out of the ambulance, and her male partner in the driver’s seat did the same.

  “Yes, we were at the golf course when we heard him call out. We were just passing through.” Bud looked behind him. There they were. The good Samaritans and the injured, most likely homeless man.

  The male medic opened the back of the ambulance, ready to receive the new patient.

  “Good thing we are only a few blocks away from the hospital. Hop in and we will give you all a lift.”

  Ivy and Maeve looked exhausted as they handed the man over to the female medic. The other prepped the gurney inside the cabin of the ambulance.

  “B-bless you. Bless you,” the man stammered.

  Bud’s eyes were heavy. He struggled to focus. He felt warmth as if he were nestled in blankets, his comfort maximized. He blinked his eyes again and again to recover his vision. He stared straight up and saw lanterns dangling from a vaulted stone ceiling.

  “Welcome back, Bud.” Maeve stood over him.

  “Clearly something ran afoul,” Bud said, his throat hurting.

  “The injured man. He threw some sort of gas bomb. It knocked everyone out, except me. Probably the elixir again. He was strong. Not injured. He took out a knife and was going to kill all of us except Ivy. He took her with him. I was able to defend you and the medics. He disappeared with Ivy after throwing yet another gas bomb.”

  Bud sat up and looked around at the stone chapel. “Ivy’s been abducted by a madman posing as an injured homeless man, and you brought me to church.”

  “You are technically a member of the Order of St. Michael. Besides, we are safe here at St. Pat’s for now.” Maeve sat down on the pew next to Bud. There were many rows and rows of pews in the old Catholic church.

  “We can perhaps surmise that the madman acted as the sniper in the country club as well.”

  “It’s possible. Still doesn’t explain the big scary slasher guy on the golf course. Whoever he is, he had mercenary-like weaponry like that sniper rifle that isn’t easy to get. He wanted Ivy and to end our lives. He didn’t bet on me being unaffected by his gas grenade. Frankly, I didn’t either.”

  “Indeed. We are learning of your newfound attributes after consumption of the elixir of the ancients. Quite intriguing. Perhaps since Ivy is the one who knows how to concoct such a fascinating liquid, that is why she is of some value to our madman. We mustn’t waste any more time in this musty old church. We have to find out who did this.”

  “Slow down, Bud. You need the rest…” Maeve put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Never mind rest. First my grandfather, now Ivy. We have to move fast, or we will never find her.”

  “All right, all right. Bud, stop and think for a minute before you go running out of here.”

  “I need access to the internet. I can hack into the CCTV footage on the streetlamps. In Chicago, there are cameras on streetlamps near every school. We were on Metro U’s campus, were we not?” Bud stood up. “There may be a connection between that tree symbol that was etched into my desk at home, my missing tech, and now our abducted dear friend Ivy.”

  “There is a computer in the parish office.” Maeve sighed.

  “Very good.” Bud walked toward the altar.

  Maeve muttered under her breath, “Thanks for saving my life again, Maeve. Sure, Bud. No problem. Jerk.”

  “What was that?” Bud turned around.

  “Oh, nothing. Office is to the right behind the altar.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  PERKS AND PERIL

  Bud turned the desktop monitor on. The small parish office looked outdated and still had a fax machine.

  “Oh dear, faxes are still a viable way to transport documentation?” Bud laughed.

  “It’s the Archdiocese of Chicago, Bud, not the Vatican.” Maeve entered the office.

  “If I can hack into the cameras on Metro’s campus…” Bud typed into a web browser. The keyboard sounded loud and crunchy.

  Bud typed some more. He opened another tab in the web browser and searched tree symbology.

  “Ah, I am into the CCTV cams now. If I can get into the database and rewind…”

  “You don’t need any of that.” A confident, mature male voice sounded from behind Bud.

  Bud turned around. A tall bald man with a white beard and dressed in black stood near the office door.

  “Father Quinn, meet the newest member to our Order, Bud Hutchins.” Maeve held out a hand, presenting Bud.

  “I assure we do need the internet for such a crucial time, uh, Father.” Bud turned away from him and continued to type.

  “No, you don’t.” Father Quinn walked over and shut the monitor off.

  “Your obstruction does not engender good will as is the mission of your position, is it not? We need the int
ernet to find answers.” Bud shook his head.

  “That tree symbol is Celtic in origin. Danu’s tree. Ever since Brother Mike set about murdering monks of the Order, I have been on the case.”

  “Makes sense. I could have told you that, Father. Danu was my first thought, but we still don’t know what organization to connect it to, idiot.”

  “You were right about him being difficult, Maeve. The Celtic goddess’s cult was integral to the creation of the Order of St. Michael. They were a Celtic tribe very much against converting to Christianity. It makes sense that this symbol would be used and emblazoned in attacks against The Order, kid. They are a serious threat, and Maeve tells me they stole your teleportation technology again, your advanced AI android Bert’s head, and now your friend Ivy.”

  “Bud, we are afraid that they are forming a nasty combination of technology meshed with the supernatural,” Maeve chimed in. “They know how to unleash spirits from the trees the Order protects, and with your tech, that would make them virtually unstoppable. The threat is real.”

  “I am aware of the threat, which is why I want to use the internet to gain any advantage I can for us. I spent my summers as a young child learning how to hack. Let me engage in the act,” Bud pleaded.

  “You don’t have to. I will see what I can do in finding Ivy, but I am fairly certain she was taken by the cult. They broke into your house and stole everything. They have been watching you ever since you returned from Wales, one could imagine. Probably sicced that poltergeist on you.”

  “If you were privy to such information, why didn’t you lend a hand in our fight?”

  “Padre Martinez and I are best friends. He helped you. We have been in constant contact since everything went down at St. James. I suggest you start your formal training with Maeve as soon as possible,” Father Quinn said.

  “Oh, you do. We haven’t any time to train in the fine art of ‘monking’ around, as it were. Ivy is missing.”

  “To combat the cult, you will need formal training like my uncle trained me,” Maeve said.