by Layton Green
“You want him, huh?”
“Can you do it? Find out who he is?”
“Probably not,” he said slowly, “but I know a guy.”
The next afternoon we huddled on wooden benches in front of the hotel, sipping coffee across the street from a sprawling Gothic cathedral with a statue-lined terrace. The day was chilly but tolerable in the sun.
Asha looped an arm through mine. “What do you think we’ll find?” she said. “If we reach the end of the map?”
Lou took a puff on his cigarette. “The secret recipe to Italian pizza. Or a gigantic television that spans the universe, with porn from nine dimensions.”
“I’m serious,” Asha said.
“When it comes to God,” Jake said, “you never get what you’re looking for. We’ll find what we find.”
Lou rolled his eyes. When I didn’t respond, she nudged me. “Well?”
I hesitated. “I . . . don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Why are you all so afraid to talk about it?” she said, sitting up. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about what’s happened. You’ve seen the same things I’ve seen.”
“We’re being tricked,” Lou said. “I don’t know how yet, and some of . . . I don’t know how they’re doing it. And I don’t know why. But there is an explanation for all of this.”
Jake shook his head. “I thought you might’ve learned something by now. All of you. Open your eyes. Things are happening because of this box.”
I couldn’t help but let my eyes roam upwards, to the sky above and the infinite blackness beyond.
Oh, how I longed for a taste of Jake’s faith.
Lou snorted. “We’ll start making progress when we stop looking for fairytale answers.”
“Let’s talk about something we can put a name to,” I said. “What’s to stop the Druids from showing up at Kostnice tonight?”
“Publicity,” Jake replied. “They haven’t approached us in a crowd and they won’t start tonight. We’ll slip in, do our business, and slip back out.”
Asha touched her scar and swallowed.
That night, I had left our window cracked to freshen the air, and the breeze rippled through the curtains like the tips of tiny waves. Though we were on the third floor, I closed and locked the window before Asha and I crawled into bed, remembering the levitating Druid at Pompeii.
Two candles flickered at the end of the bed, feathering the room with a hint of gold. Asha stretched languidly under the covers and ran a finger across my chest. Things had seemed more natural between us the last few days.
“I have thought about it, you know,” I said. “Where this whole thing is going.”
“It’s impossible not to.”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore. I want to believe in something, but . . . I’m sick of saying I don’t know.”
“We’ll get through it,” she said. “Whatever it is.”
“You don’t know that.”
That night I felt an edge to our lovemaking. We simply couldn’t shake our sense of dread, the tense feeling that something was about to happen, that her dead brother or a Druid or worse was about to come floating through the window.
I dreamt that night of dark things. Things I couldn’t talk about in the morning because I couldn’t name them to begin with.
Things I begged to forget.
Saturday night arrived at last. Gargoyles peered down from rooftops as we trekked through town, mouths agape, their reptilian eyes seeming to follow us on our way to the “Bone Church,” as Jake had dubbed the ossuary.
Similar to Dubrovnik, though in a less sophisticated fashion, the town came alive on the weekend. People of all ages packed the streets, enjoying the last few days of tolerable weather. There was no sign of danger, and we had kept a constant vigil since our arrival in Kutna Hora, scanning relentlessly for a telltale flash of white.
Our guide emerged from a narrow walkway that ran behind the chapel. I turned to Lou, who had proclaimed all week that he was going to wait at the hotel while we went inside.
“Meet you later?” I said.
Lou muttered something to himself, then glanced down the street and at the chapel. “I suppose there’re enough people around. Let’s get this over with.”
The caretaker gave the street a furtive glance, led us to the entrance, and inserted a skeleton key. One by one, we slipped through the doorway.
Just before the caretaker sealed us inside, Jake stuck a hand out, stopping the door. “Now, Joe, we’ve kept this little deal a secret, haven’t we?”
“Of course. If someone know I lose job.”
“No one’s approached you askin’ about us? I’ve got some . . . competition . . . that has a nasty way of popping up.”
Josef looked at Jake in genuine confusion. “No one know.”
Jake gave him a long stare. Finally he nodded, then slid a hundred-euro bill into the caretaker’s hands. “Just making sure.”
Josef closed the door behind us. There were no other entrances and we felt comfortable knowing we had an easy means of egress.
True to his word, Josef had kept a number of candles lit. We had no trouble seeing inside the chapel, but as we looked around to ensure we were alone, I thought I might have preferred the Bone Church to remain in darkness.
Like Pere Lachaise, the ossuary took naturally to the gloom. Bones gleamed eerily in the soft candlelight, dominating the visual interior of the church. I experienced a strange compulsion to stop and run my hands over their smooth surfaces, but we kept to the task and hurried to the alcove housing the Triquetra.
Jake had claimed he could open the locked case. I didn’t doubt his abilities, but worried more about a security system. We hadn’t seen anything of the sort on our visit, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t security in place at night, or that the case wasn’t rigged.
Again our fears were unrealized. Jake took a hooked metal filing out of his pocket and, after a few minutes, opened the case without an alarm breaking the silence. The chapel itself was secure, and I reasoned that the objects in the case possessed no great value to thieves.
Lou and I set the heavy glass case on the floor. Jake took out the letterbox, and we held our breath as he turned it upside down and placed the patterned center of the Triquetra atop the portion of the stones where the map should continue. After a few moments of gently moving the Triquetra around, it settled into place.
Asha gripped my arm. “Another fit.”
“Cut the light,” Jake said.
Lou and I made our way around the ossuary extinguishing the candles. When I passed the huge pyramid of bone in the corner, my eyes slid inside the darkened opening to make sure nothing was concealed within, as if I were a child peering into a closet.
We left two candles at the bottom of the staircase, emitting just enough light to guide us back. “Is that good?” I called out.
“The crystals are shining like cat’s eyes.”
As Lou and I made our way back to the group, I heard the rapid click of Jake’s camera. I supposed we had told the caretaker the truth: we were taking nighttime photos of a sort.
Jake stopped shooting as we walked up. “Mission accomplished.”
We replaced the glass case, anxious to study the next portion of the map.
“I feel tired or something,” Lou said. “Kind of off.”
I realized I felt the same as Lou. It had been a long week and a stressful evening.
“You complainin’ again?”
“We’re all drained,” Asha said, “but let’s take it outside. I just want to leave.”
As we turned to exit, the room was cast into darkness.
-42-
My next breath stuck in my throat. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, and I felt horribly exposed.
“Nobody panic,” Jake said. “It was a probably a draft by the door. My flashlight’s in the bag somewhere—lemme see if I can find it. Can’t see a blooming thing in here.”
I s
wallowed. What kind of draft traveled all the way down a staircase?
Trying to stay calm, I called Asha’s name and reached for her hand. “Over here,” she whispered, off to my left. I took a step in her direction with my hands extended.
She called my name again, a few steps away, and I moved towards the sound of her voice. She must be looking for a light switch. Where was that flashlight?
“Asha?” I asked.
“Over here,” she whispered again. “By the wall.”
My legs grew heavy, and I wanted to lie down and sleep. Something wasn’t right. I was about to call out to Jake when Asha said, “Are you close?”
“Stop moving,” I said in exasperation. “I’m coming to you.”
I bumped into something knobby and dry. Bone. I flinched but kept my hands in front of me, moving a few feet over and then shuffling forward. My hands grazed a larger, solid surface, and I realized I must have reached one of the walls.
“I’m right over here,” Asha said.
Her voice seemed to be coming from directly ahead. I followed the sound and kept one hand on the wall. The chapel wasn’t that big. She had to be moving. That, or we both had been walking in circles. I was becoming more and more annoyed at her for not staying in place.
“Jake, where the hell is that flashlight?” I called out. “Lou?”
No answer. I felt a cold sweat breaking out.
I forced myself to keep calm, and took out a switchblade Jake had lent me. I popped the blade. “Asha, can you stop moving? It’s too dark to wander around.”
I heard a muffled sound from up ahead, then a voice cry out in pain.
“Did you trip?” I asked, moving forward as fast as I could in the darkness. I heard another noise, a sound like something being dragged along the floor.
A soft glow of light emanated from up ahead. I started to breathe a sigh of relief—Jake or Lou must have found a candle. “Where is everyone?”
Still no answer.
My hands shook as I crept towards the light. After feeling my way around a corner, I stared in shock at the illuminated scene. Somehow I had entered a dusty stone passageway with a low ceiling, dimly lit by candles in iron sconces. The corridor stretched as far as I could see.
A series of chills swept through me. Where was I, and how had I gotten there?
I checked my phone. No signal. I tried not to panic, but I was losing that battle. My mind screamed at me to turn and race for the exit, but I had to find Asha.
The scraping sound resumed.
“Asha?” I said again, then decided to keep quiet and increase my pace. I could vaguely make out someone ahead of me, further along the tunnel. I couldn’t tell who it was, but he or she was moving away. I pressed forward as silently as I could.
As I drew closer, at the edge of my field of vision, I saw a white, hooded shape dragging something through the tunnel that looked like a sack.
I could barely think through the blood rushing to my brain. I couldn’t risk calling out, so I crept forward, straining to see while staying well behind the Druid.
A few feet later, I stepped in something sticky. I glanced down and noticed a trail of red liquid on the floor behind the Druid, glistening in the dim light.
I bent to touch it. It was wet. Fresh.
My hands started to shake. I hurried forward and saw the Druid pulling a burlap sack along the floor of the tunnel, with someone struggling inside it.
Someone with wavy black hair trailing from the sack, and a wound leaking blood onto the floor.
OhmyGod.
“Help me,” Asha’s muffled voice cried out.
Without stopping, the Druid swung his leg in a low arc and kicked Asha through the sack. She shrieked in pain, and he continued dragging her into the depths of the tunnel.
I gripped the handle of the switchblade and sprinted forward, my odd lethargy drowned in pure emotion.
She struggled, and the Druid kicked her again. Harder.
I thought I might implode from the rush of horrified adrenaline. I barreled forward as Asha made a feeble attempt to crawl out of the sack.
This time the Druid stopped, grabbed her head with both hands, and shoved the sack against the wall. Blood flew in every direction, and Asha’s scream rattled through the corridor.
Right before I reached them, the Druid made another final, terrible thrust, and I heard a thud as Asha’s head met the wall. She went limp and her head lolled out of the sack.
“Asha!” I roared, with the primal fury of the animal trapped inside us all.
I caught up to them and, without the slightest hesitation, plunged the knife as deep into the back of the Druid as it would go.
-43-
I grabbed the Druid’s robe with one hand and drove the knife in again and again, unable to think through my grief and rage. The ease with which my knife slid into him surprised me. Too easy, like slicing ripe tomatoes.
Too easy.
I stopped in shock, realizing my knife was sliding so effortlessly through the white robe because there was nothing inside. I let go of both. The knife clanged to the floor, along with the slashed robe.
A burlap sack lay on the floor beside the robes, and I tore into it. Feathery, weightless grains poured out.
Sawdust.
There was no sign of anyone or anything else. No Druid, no Asha, no blood on the floor.
What was happening?
I called out for Asha, but I could barely gather the strength to use my voice. The lethargy I had been feeling returned in force. The room started moving in slow circles, as if I were intoxicated. I fell to my knees and searched in vain for a sign of her.
Then I saw it.
A shadow, walking towards me from the opposite end of the tunnel. I could describe it no other way. It looked like a shadow had coalesced into human form and was striding slowly, purposefully, in my direction.
I tried to get up but failed. My vision blurred as I slumped to my knees again, and the shadow stopped a foot away from me. I recoiled; I could feel its presence.
Fear of the unknown, of the supernatural, is not like other fears; it is not a fear of what a thing will do, as one fears a wild animal, but fear in the mere fact that the thing exists. It is not really even fear at all, but dread. A debilitating horror that the thing you are confronted with is not natural, is not of this world.
It pointed at the discarded robe. I looked at the slash marks from my knife, then back up at the shadow.
“I don’t understand,” I said weakly. “Asha—”
“Dust,” it said, in a harsh, intelligent whisper. “You killed for dust.”
This was all wrong. I had seen what the Druid was doing. Hadn’t I?
It stepped aside, revealing an image that burned into my mind.
Ten feet ahead on the tunnel floor, a man lay naked and face-down. He wasn’t moving and his back was covered in red slashes. Fresh blood pooled on the ground beside him. I didn’t know how I had missed seeing the body, or how his robes had ended up in a separate place.
I gasped. “What is this? Where’s Asha!”
I stared at the corpse sprawled on the floor. I didn’t know . . . I couldn’t think . . . what had I done?
The thing swept his hand across the body. “Look on that of which you are capable.”
I tried to stand but sank lower, to my elbows. I knew I had to find a way to escape and help the others. Yet I couldn’t seem to focus, and dark thoughts sprang unbidden into my mind.
I had wanted to put that knife so deep into the Druid’s back that it would never come out. I laughed at myself, slightly hysterical. I didn’t care one bit about the morality of that act. I didn’t care if it damned me forever. All I could think about was Asha’s head being driven—
Please, God, let it not have been her.
The thing still hovered above me. I could see the shadows that formed its feet and legs pooling on the stone floor. My hands gripped the pitted surface and pushed, but I collapsed on my stomach.
/> “Now you have seen,” it said, in its sibilant whisper. “Now you know.”
I lay on the floor as the thing watched in silence. It seemed to shrink and enlarge at the same time, amorphous, never coming to rest. I couldn’t tell if the effect was real or inside my head.
It drew closer, almost touching me. Words sprang unbidden to my lips, a half-remembered childhood prayer.
“You come to this place bearing that,” it said, “without faith, without knowledge of yourself? What is it you think awaits you?”
“Asha,” I moaned. “Where is she?”
“I suggest you meet yourself before you continue,” it said. “Look into the recesses of your soul, to the places you fear to name, to the dark below the dark—”
As my consciousness slipped away, the last thing I remembered was wondering whether this vile thing would enter my dreams and continue poisoning my mind.
I closed my eyes and felt no more.
-44-
I groaned.
It was so dark I couldn’t see a thing, and my head felt like someone was pounding a nail into it. Where was I? And why was no one—I remembered.
It all came back in a rush, though everything seemed foggy. Surreal. I cast a fearful glance into the darkness, searching for dead bodies and walking shadows, then managed to call out for Asha.
“Aidan? Is that you?”
Lou’s voice. It sounded shaky.
“Lou! Thank God. Where are you?”
“Over here,” he said.
I started towards him, then cringed as a light erupted in my face.
“Sorry about that,” Jake’s familiar drawl called out. He looked a little pale, but his voice was firm. He swung the flashlight around, illuminating Lou, who looked unhurt.
“Asha!” I cried out again, when I didn’t see her.
She stepped into the light, off to my left. Except for a disturbed look on her face, she seemed fine. No bloodstains, no torn clothes, no crushed back of the—I shuddered away that mental image and went to her, shivery with relief.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I whispered.