by D. W. Brown
As soon as he stepped into the woods, an unexpected storm rolled in. Dark ominous clouds appeared out of nowhere, and thunder tore through the night. Within seconds, Gary found himself dodging blinding streaks of lightning and big, fat heavy drops of rain. He jogged deeper into the oncoming monsoon, using the huge oak trees around the area for shelter. He prayed none of the blinding bolts found him before he reached his destination—wherever that was.
He’d read the police report, even spoken with Mr. Black’s psychiatrist after the trial—one of the perks from his previous job was that people trusted him to keep his word. Gary knew about the tunnel that the police assumed was made up, as well as the circle of trees where it was situated. The question was, could he find it in such downpour?
His leg muscles ached, his lungs screamed for him to stop his pace, but he knew his time was short. Seeing the two vehicles parked out front of the station on his way in, told him that things were most likely already underway. He had to help the Sheriff, had to stop this thing from making him another statistic.
The mud and leaves clumped over his shoes shot up onto the back of his pants, making it harder and harder to trudge forward. Gary eased pace, eventually settling into a slow walk. Water flowed down his face so fast that it stung his eyes and made it hard to see. He tried using his right arm to wipe it away, but his shirt was also soaked. Having never really been out in the rain for any long period of time, he began to wonder how long it might take for hypothermia to set in. The thought only made him feel colder, bringing on more than just your normal chill. He knew it was his mind running away from him like it often times did. Blasted overactive imagination, he often said.
The sound of someone running behind him caused him to spin around. The hairs on his neck were on end, his heartbeat pounding so fast he thought it would pop right out of his chest.
Gary caught sight of something dark, just as it sped behind a cluster of trees off in the distance. Then he heard the sound again from the other direction. Spinning too quickly, he lost his balance and fell facefirst into the muck. He envisioned the creature wrapping around his body, threatening to keep its latest prize forever. Wiping mud from his eyes, he looked up from his current position and saw the black form dart back and forth in front of him. He felt helpless to protect himself, paralyzed at such a sight. Fear overtook him, causing him to crawl back in the direction he’d come.
Gary temporarily forgot all about Sheriff Jent and his wife. Now he only wanted to get away from the thing stalking him, only wanted to survive. Making it back onto his feet, he tried to run but was tackled from behind. The force, the brute strength of the thing knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying through the air was too much. I was foolish to come out here.
Twenty feet to the right of his original position, Gary slowly rolled over onto his back. His right leg was busted, the bone most likely broken. His entire body ached, feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. Strangely, I don’t feel the rain on my face anymore. Opening his eyes, he noticed that the deluge had ceased, and in its place, returned the full moon.
Remembering the creature, Gary quickly rolled over onto his good leg, searching. He didn’t see any sign of the thing, making him briefly consider the possibility that it had never been there in the first place.
Was his mind playing tricks? Did he conjure it up? No, he thought. He knew better. This thing was real, and it must’ve wanted to slow him down. If it wanted him dead, it could’ve easily finished him off. He was wounded prey now, so it would most likely come back after him at any time. It was at that moment that Gary knew he wouldn’t make it out of the woods.
Realizing what he must do, Gary made it back onto his feet, stumbled over to an old tree limb and made a makeshift walking stick. Moving forward was painful, but his determination far outweighed his aching leg. Fifteen minutes and a bucket full of sweat later, he made it to the treed clearing. Spotting the open access cover leading down to the tunnel, he hobbled over to it.
Tossing his stick into the hole, Gary painfully made his way down. Each step was agonizing, and he lost his footing about midway. He flailed crazily for something to latch onto but found nothing. His body thudded against the compacted floor of the tunnel, this time causing him to blackout. Darkness surrounded him, bringing with it a sense of peace, rest.
Snapping upright with a jerk, Gary blindly looked around the area. He had no idea how long he was out. Scanning, he noticed it was hard to make out anything other than the ladder, but it was enough to jar his memory. At least he knew where he was and what he was doing there. He had to save them, no matter the cost.
Back on his feet, he limped down the tunnel.
* * *
A loud rustling sound up ahead forced Russell to stop. Suddenly, the tunnel grew dark, as a huge form blotted out what little light the dim torch hanging from the wall provided. He’d seen this thing before, and he didn’t plan on proceeding any further.
“Keep moving, Sheriff!”
“Uh, no thanks. You might as well shoot me, because I’m not getting near that thing.”
“What’s the matter, Sheriff? Are you afraid? I told you I’d fill you in on everything. Here’s your chance to learn all about Taos and our master plan.”
“Like I said, you might as well shoot me.” Russell slowly turned around and faced Father Gregory. What the priest didn’t see was Russell removing his hidden
9mm from behind him as he turned.
“How about I shoot your lovely wife instead?” Seizing the opportunity, Russell quickly brought
the gun around and sent a round directly into Father Gregory’s forehead. He dropped instantly, releasing a dazed and crying Samantha Jent in the process.
Sam fell to the earth still unsure of where she was or how she’d gotten there. It took one look at the creature behind her husband to snap her out of it all. Spitting the old shirt out of her mouth, she yelled, “Russell, run! Run!”
Of course, Russell had to look back over his shoulder just to verify why Sam thought he needed to run, even though he’d already seen the thing for himself.
Sprinting over to Sam, Russell cut the ties off her hands and feet, jerked her up from the ground and took off.
The creature seemed to easily close the distance between them. It moved with such speed he knew his efforts were futile—they wouldn’t escape the things reach. Abruptly the creature stopped chasing them.
Everything within him screamed, keep running, but Russell still stopped to see what was going on.
The creature or whatever it was had Father Gregory lifted up off the ground, suspended directly in front of it. To Russell’s amazement, a bright light flooded the tunnel, temporarily blinding him. He could just make out the priests body being absorbed into that of the massive creature. The two became one, and the once bright light turned darker than ever. Rooted to the earth in sheer terror, Russell looking on as the thing grew in both height and girth.
“Come on!” Sam yelled, grabbing Russell’s hand and yanking him forward.
Snapped out of his shocked state, Russell managed to get his feet moving. He immediately heard the thing behind him give chase again, and this time it seemed faster than before. His mind struggled to understand it all. Had this thing just taken on Father Gregory’s traits? Was that what it did—eat the hearts of those that killed for it, and absorb the priests who served it? What kind of madness is this?
Spotting a small beam of light up ahead gave Russell the needed motivation to kick it into high gear. He was getting close to the exit, but unfortunately he didn’t see Gary hobbling his way towards him. The collision sent both of them tumbling to the earth, Sam managing to remain on her feet.
The crash temporarily rattled Gary, but when he caught site of the creature coming towards him, he quickly wished he’d never entered into its lair in the first place. Rem
embering his purpose for going down into the tunnel, he yelled, “Take this, Sheriff, and get out of here!”
“No, you have to come with us!” Russell pleaded. “It’s too late. My leg is busted. I have to do this,
Sheriff. Get out now!”
“Reaching for what appeared to be some sort of journal in the man’s hand, Russell grabbed it, helped get Sam going up the ladder, and then followed suit.
The creature leaped over Gary’s body and lunged for Russell’s foot. It managed to grab hold, but the shoe gave way, freeing him.
As soon as he stepped out of the tunnel, Russell ran over, grabbed the cover, and set it back in place. He then took Sam in his arms and held her tightly.
“What was that thing, Russell? What’s going on
here?”
“I wish I knew. Maybe this will help shed some light on it.” Russell replied, holding up the tattered and torn journal given him by Gary.
“Who was that man down there?”
“Someone I met on the plane. He told me a little about the people of Taos, and I’m hoping this book will tell us more.”
“Do you think he’s…he’s dead? Did that thing eat him too?” Sam asked hesitantly.
“I think so. We should go, babe. Let’s get out of here, get away from that thing.
CHAPTER 36
Back in the safety of their home, Russell had a hard time letting the kids, Sam, and his parents out of his sight. They decided it best for the kids to sleep in their room for the night, neither of them chancing separation again. Their four bedroom home was the perfect size to house all of them, and its location at the end of a long gravel driveway ideal for keeping watch in case of intruders.
Knowing Kevin Black was still unaccounted for, Russell called Deputy Ramos and put an All Points Bulletin (APB) out for him. The entire state of Virginia was basically on the lookout for the kidnapping murderer. With over ten different weapons in his private arsenal, Russell made sure each grownup had their own personal protector, as well as posting himself on guard by the front door.
After the kids were tucked safely in his king sized bed, Russell went back out to the living area and took his seat across from his parents. He could see the eyes of Sam and his parents focused on the journal lying on the coffee table, almost as if they expected it to suddenly open up and read itself.
“Can you please tell us what’s going on around here, Russ?” Russell’s father, George Jent said.
“I’ll do my best, but I’m still trying to understand some of it myself. You already know about Deputy Carlson being killed and Sam being kidnapped, so I’ll fill in the blanks there first. We did some digging around and found out that the man who gunned down my deputy is from a small town in New Mexico called Taos. About eight years ago, another murderer came through here and he was also from the same town.”
“The same town?” George Jent asked incredulously.
“Yes, and there’s more. Countless murderers from Taos have been killing people throughout the country and the world. And it gets even weirder: they all claim to hear this strange hum and have really bad headaches prior to murdering. The kicker is that every single one of them is now either dead or in a mental asylum.” Russell gave his parents a few minutes to digest everything. Looking at Sam’s face, he could tell she was still pretty shaken by the entire ordeal.
“The only reason we’re here with you today is because of a man named Gary Roseburg. I met him on the plane on my way back from Taos. He was in the process of clueing me in on this craziness when another guy attacked and tried to stab a pen in his neck.” Russell could tell from the shock in his parents’ eyes that he’d have to take it slow. They didn’t live in his world—in theirs, death only occurred as a result of old age.
“We managed to catch the man that killed Deputy Carlson, but he’s in a coma at the hospital here in Wise. Most of what Gary told me was hard to understand. That is, until I stepped foot inside that tunnel tonight.”
Looking over at Sam, Russell tried to gauge her thoughts on what they’d seen. She seemed distant, a million miles away. He wondered if she’d ever be able to sleep peacefully again after all they’d been through. Would he, for that matter?
Over his shoulder, Russell could see the sun making its debut. The mountainside behind their home provided a pretty amazing view to wake up to every morning, even more so today. The daylight would make it easier to spot Mr. Black, in case he decided to make a second appearance. And Russell hoped he did.
Picking back up where he’d left off, Russell said, “There’s evil at play here in our country. Gary’s journal will most likely provide us with a better overall picture of what we’re up against, but from what I’ve already gathered, this thing is dark and ancient.” Turning his attention to Sam, Russell said, “I had a dream or a vision of people sacrificing themselves to that thing we witnessed down in the tunnel. I won’t go into detail, but suffice it to say that creature down there seems to be feasting and growing stronger from those sacrifices.”
“But why here, Russell? If the humming sound originated in Taos, why...why has it moved here?” Sam’s voice broke as she asked.
“From what I read on this thing, the hum seems to follow its hearers throughout the world. The investigation conducted by Congress found a link to the hum somewhere up in northern Michigan, but nothing conclusive came of it.”
“This tunnel you mentioned—do you think it goes all around the country?” George Jent asked.
“I do. I believe this thing is traveling underneath us as we speak.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Are you trying to keep me from sleeping ever again?”
“Sorry, babe. Just trying to give everyone a better understanding of what we’re dealing with here.”
“How do we stop it? Can we stop it?” Sam asked. “That part I’m not too sure of. I’m hoping that journal can help us with that. Gary mentioned something about this thing having ties to the Catholic Church and the Sadducees and Pharisees of the Bible. He inferred the former was a direct descendant of the latter.” Seeing the look on his father’s face, Russell asked, “What?”
“I’ve always thought the same thing myself. The way the Pope and the saints are worshipped, the way priests are used as an intercessory for God, and their desire to be put in the high places is more than a little coincidental. What I don’t understand is how that thing you saw ties into the church.” George Jent said. “We could sit here and speculate all day or we could open that and read.” Ruth Jent said, pointing to the journal and speaking her first words since they’d
began their little gathering.”
Russell smiled. His mom had always been one to cut to the chase, get to the point. She was a strong woman, born and bred in a small town in the poorest of households. But she’d overcame; she’d put herself through college and had become a nurse.
Reaching towards the tattered book, Russell’s mind buzzed at the possible things they might soon hear. “Are you sure?” Russell asked, addressing Everyone in the room.
After receiving three head nods, he cracked the journal and began.
Taking note of the opening title and date: Gary Roseburg, December 2000, Russell quickly scanned to the back of the journal. It was today’s date: March
15th, 2013. Doing the math in his head, he said, “He’s been following this thing over twelve years.” I worked for the St. Ignatius Loyola Catholic Church
in the small town of St. Ignace, Michigan for almost five years, after graduating college in 1995. Over time, I learned a lot about the town as well as its founding father, Ignatius of Loyola (1491 1556). He was a Spanish knight from a local Basque noble family, a hermit, and he became a priest in 1537. He founded the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) and was its first Superior General. Ignatius emerged as a religious leader during the Counter-Reformation. His
devotion to the Catholic Church was characterized by absolute obedience to the Pope. He was known to drop everything at the chance to just be in the vicinity of his papacy, even if he wasn’t even in the same town. From what I read, Ignatius didn’t covet the office or the Pope—he simply worshipped the ground he walked on. Rumor was that he’d kill his own son, if the Pope ordered him to do so. He experienced a vision of the Virgin Mary and the infant Jesus while at the shrine of Our Lady of Montserrat in March 1522. As a result, he went to Manresa, where he began praying for seven hours a day, often in a nearby cave, while formulating the fundamentals of the Spiritual Exercises. I believe his time in that cave has something to do with the tunnel system and the giant hole I discovered later. In September 1523, Loyola reached the Holy Land with hopes of settling there, but was sent back to Europe by the Franciscans. Between 1524 and 1537, Ignatius studied theology and Latin in the University of Alcalá and then in Paris. In 1534, he arrived in the latter city during the same period of anti-Protestant turmoil which forced John Calvin to flee France. Ignatius and a few followers bound themselves by vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. In 1539, they formed the Society of Jesus, approved in 1540 by Pope Paul III, as well as his Spiritual Exercises approved in 1548. Loyola also composed the Constitutions of the Society. Ignatius was said to disappear for days, and each time he came back, he looked a little older. He was often compared to Moses, after he’d visited the Mount. People closest to him claimed he appeared to be dying right before their very eyes. But he was in perfect health; every doctor he saw, raved about his strong heart and lungs. He died in July 1556, but his body disappeared before he could be officially buried. Comparisons with the resurrection of Christ abounded, leading to his beatification by Pope Paul V in 1609. He was then canonized by Pope Gregory XV in 1622, and declared patron of all spiritual retreats by Pope Pius XI in 1922. They also created the Ignatius feast day in his honor; it is celebrated on July 31.