by Chad Huskins
She had no sense of home. Even Shannon’s name, and its significance, was fading from her. Her own name was also losing its magnitude. What happens when I forget my name? What happens when I forget Shannon’s name?
Nan’s voice, emerging from yet another world. “Names ain’t got nothin’ to do with who you are, chil’. Name’s an’ words are just things people put on somethin’ they ain’t defined yet. Just remember who you are, an’ who Shannon is to you. Name’s ain’t important. They don’t have no spell or power over your heart.”
One passage closed, and another one opened. Then that one closed off and she had to double-back. Then eight more passages opened. She selected one by a game of “eeny meeny miney mo,” and then stepped inside. Somewhere far, far ahead was something larger than she could hold in her imagination. She knew that, the same way that she knew many other things about this environment that she oughtn’t know. She propelled herself forward, half by feet and half by will, towards some unknown confrontation that would surely destroy her.
There was little choice. It was either that, or sit here forever and starve—the body still had the same imperatives as it had in the world she was from, so food and water would be a necessity soon enough.
Echoes…darkness…thunder…
On and on she went, choosing her paths by various games and absolutely certain that none of them were correct.
Something roared overhead, some quaking leviathan, searching for its way out, or at least a way to someplace else. A monster of unparalleled power, joined in the fugue by countless others. Monsters, saints, innocents, psychopaths and telempaths. This is the dance we do. The dance macabre. Spencer’s words, flung at her a million years ago in that car ride away from Avery Street.
Echoes…
Another tunnel closed. Four tunnels opened. She chose one at random, and stepped through.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
As with the first book, some of the cityscape and geography has been played with for story purposes. Locations and landmarks, such as the docks, churches, and the Bogema Apartments, while mostly taken from real sites, may not be precisely where I placed them. Also, while human trafficking is a problem the world over, and Russia is no exception, I have no evidence to support that Chelyabinsk is particularly guilty or has run amok with the trade, at least not more so than other cities. I apologize if this offends anyone that’s ever lived in or been to Chelyabinsk. I’m sure it’s not a bad place.
However, much of what I’ve described about the syndicates here are all taken from actual organizations and events. And yes, there really is a Russian Mafia boss that the FBI and other police agencies say can affect the World Economy with a phone call—he has that much power, that much money, and that much influence over law enforcement and politics. At least, according to their website.
And yes, there is indeed a “super pack” of wolves numbering in excess of 400 roaming wild in the massive Siberian wilderness, killing cattle and (reportedly) even people. However, that pack is on the other side of Siberia, far away from Chelyabinsk.
I want to stress that the non-supernatural things depicted in this series are, while gruesome, largely taken from real instances. I keep up with the news and I tend to research just about every little thing that I read about as a matter of a habit. Of course, many things are rearranged or embellished for drama’s sake, or for the purposes of presenting Spencer, Kaley, and other characters with a predicament where they must question the nature of evil, and ask just how much of it is within themselves, if they can control it, and if they are capable of maintaining the light in a world so dark. (Or, in Spencer’s case, how much can he take without caring? Or, more to the point, how long can he go justifying that he doesn’t care?)
When I first started writing this series, my goal was to place a pair of innocents into a world so bleak and malevolent, that their greatest challenge would be, not merely to survive, but to see if they could keep themselves from giving up, throwing in the towel, and finding their own hearts and minds corrupted by a seemingly endless sea of iniquity. I hope the story has entertained and provoked some thought.
As I’ve said before, Spencer’s world and his philosophy are harsh, and I’m not sure I agree with any of his lessons. If the reader has any grievances, then please take them up with him.
Thanks again for reading, and I hope you’ll join our weary heroes and villains next time.
Chad Huskins
January 20, 2013