Cursed Presence

by J. M. LeDuc

  Still trying to soothe him, Chloe wiped his hair from his eyes. “I’ll call his room.”

  Brent had fear tattooed in his flesh. He looked as if he aged years in mere minutes. His head in his hands, he mumbled, “I’m not the One.”

  Moments later, Father Jessup sat next to Brent, trying to make sense out of his babbling. Maddie, Joan and Lucille crowded into the room.

  “Wait. Please wait a minute,” Father Jessup said, trying to make sense of everything. “Explain again why you don’t think you’re the Enlightened One.”

  Brent stood and wiped his hair from his face. “Both you and Lucille said that nobody could open the box except for the One. Correct?”

  “That’s what legend says, yes.”

  His pupils constricted with anger. He pointed at Stephen. “Legend, my ass. Don’t placate me. That’s what the Archangel Gabriel himself said.”

  Father Jessup raised his arms in defense. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. Please accept my apology.”

  Brent nodded, partly because he wanted to accept it, partly because he was too stressed to argue. He sat back in the chair, a defeated man. No one had ever seen him like that before.

  Father Jessup stood and paced while Chloe, Maddie, Joan and Lucille watched the unsettling scene unfold.

  Before it got worse, Lucille herded the women into the hall. “It’s time to pray,” she said. They held hands and Lucille said, “Let’s each start with silent prayer, but if any of you has something you want to say, speak from your heart.”

  Father Jessup stopped pacing and sat next to Brent.

  “Tell me what happened when you picked up the ark, and why it made you think you’re not the Enlightened One?”

  Brent’s hands trembled as he mimed his action in picking up the box.

  “As I held onto it, something, I’m not sure how to explain it, shot through me. It felt like electricity, except that there was weight to it.”

  Father Jessup still looked confused. Brent tried telling it another way.

  “When I picked up the ark, I felt the pain and fear of others. I know, it doesn’t make sense. But that’s what it felt like. It was so strong I had to let it go.”

  Before Father Jessup could say anything, Brent continued. “I also felt evil, an emotion so evil it could have come from only one source—Satan. You, yourself told me that if anyone but the Enlightened One touched the ark, they would be forced to put it down or they would be killed by God’s own hand.” He pointed to the ark. “That’s what I felt. So how can I be God’s chosen?”

  Father Jessup prayed silently for a moment. Touching Brent’s arm, he said, “I want to try an experiment.” With no repercussions to himself, he picked up the ark. To make his point clearer, he called the women back into the room and asked each of them to hold the box.

  “I don’t understand,” Brent said. “What…” He gestured that he wasn’t sure how to finish his thought.

  “The gold foil, the folded sheet of gold that covered the ark,” Father Jessup said, “not only carried clues to the third and final step of Enlightenment. It also acted as a buffer between whatever power is held inside that ark and the outside world. Only the Enlightened One is able to feel its force. If I’m right,” he held the box in both hands, “you just felt a tiny bit of the power this box contains.”

  Brent shook his head. “If I can’t hold the ark for more than a few seconds when it’s closed, how will I be able to open it?”

  A smile crossed Father Jessup’s face. “The first thing I was able to read on the foil was this: the ark must be opened inside the catacomb of the Enlightened. It is only there that you will be fully protected from the evil forces it contains.”

  “Evil forces? I swear, Father, the more you tell me, the more confused I get. What evil forces?”

  “The Hebrew scribes wrote that if the Enlightened One held the ark without the gold covering to protect it outside of the sacred place, he would see and feel everything that Satan saw and felt at the same time. That, Brent, was what you experienced when you picked up the ark. Until we are safely inside the sacred dwelling place of the ark, I will hold onto it for you.”

  “Did the ancient scribes, as you call them, say where we’ll find these catacombs?”

  “It says only that they’re to be found in the land of the chosen and you’ve been given all the instructions to find it.” Father Jessup unfolded the paper on which he had transcribed the writings from the gold foil. “It says,

  “Deep within the labyrinth of safety will be written the answers to your questions.

  It is only by answering the first question correctly that you will be led to the next.”

  “The labyrinth of safety must be the tunnel system built under Palm Cove,” Chloe said. She looked at Brent. His confidence, slowly returning. She looked at the others and saw relief on their faces as they, too, recognized Brent’s demeanor changing. It brought a measure of comfort to them.

  “The answers must be part of the writings of past Ambassadors.” Brent looked at his watch. “It’s too close to the time I have to meet the squad and get to the landing strip.

  As soon as I get back, we’ll start our search.”

  Father Jessup shook his head. “There’s more, Brent. It goes on to say,

  “By the first light of day, your journey begins. To start it before or after the first ray of light will result in death.”

  “If we’re in the tunnel, how will we know the first light of day?”

  “There is a spot,” Chloe said, “down where the tunnel splits to go in the direction of the bank. Somehow, light shines through the coral walls at day break. It’s one of the archeological marvels I was working on when we received news of the Butcher’s escape.”

  Brent shot a loving, grateful smile at Chloe. “Then I suggest, Father, you get some well-needed sleep. You and I will depart the Inn by way of the tunnel tomorrow morning at six-hundred hours.”

  “If you think you’re going without me, you are sadly mistaken,” Chloe said with an air of determination.

  “We’ll discuss that when I get back from the airstrip. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have to prepare my squad.”

  CHAPTER 43

  The grandfather clock had finished chiming the half-hour when Joan knocked on Brent’s door. It was 10:30 p.m.

  “Come in.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you have a lot on your mind, but Charlotte isn’t back yet from headquarters. I wondered if you’d allow me to look for her.”

  Brent, in the same place he was when Father Jessup left him, turned from staring out the window and at the Pointe beyond it and focused on Joan. She has turned into a beautiful young woman, he thought. Her mother would be proud. Continuing to stare, he prayed, Thank you, Lord, for walking her through the firestorm of her youth.

  Sensing something different in the way he looked at her, Joan fidgeted. “What?

  Do I have something stuck between my teeth?”

  Brent laughed. He walked over and gave her a fatherly hug. “No, nothing between your teeth. Just beauty in your soul. Come on, we’ll both look for her.”

  When they arrived at headquarters, they went straight to Joan’s office. She had security install multiple cameras in every hallway and room throughout SIA, and had the live feed from each one uploaded into her computer. A few rapid-fire keystrokes and she activated cameras that flashed pictures on the 72-inch flat screen monitor anchored to the wall. The cameras were programmed to stop scanning only if it detected motion and that motion had to have a heartbeat.

  “I’m still amazed you were able to program the cameras and sensors to differentiate between inanimate movement and real life,” Brent said admiringly as he watched pictures flash on the screen.

  “Not really that big of a deal. Once I’d calculated the difference
in heat modulation from a life force as opposed to modulation of a computerized or inanimate…”

  “Just stop there, sweetie. You lost me even before you began.”

  “Bingo,” Joan said, and pointed to the third square from the right on the second row of videos. “She’s still in the weapons arsenal. Would you like me to open the microphone so you can speak to her from here?”

  “No, not yet. Do me a favor, thought. Get rid of the other pictures and isolate the armory.”

  Within a flash, all security monitors disappeared from the screen, leaving only the view of the armory, large and vivid. “Now, split the screen. I want to be able to see Charlotte take aim and loose the arrow. On the second screen, I want to be able to see the target. I want to know at what speed and at what power Charlotte is striking the target.”

  Brent and Joan watched as Charlotte placed an arrow on the bowstring, took aim, drew the string back and loosed the arrow.

  “Let’s see how good she is.”

  With a few more keystrokes, Joan split the screen; half on Charlotte, half on the target.

  “Dead center, bulls-eye,” Joan said, impressed with her new friend’s archery skill.

  “Keep the split screen. I want to see her shoot and where it hits the target.”

  Together, they watched Charlotte make small changes to the bow’s tension and how those changes affected the result. They saw Charlotte’s back, shoulders and arm muscles become more defined as she increased the tension. Result after result was the same after she let loose the arrow.

  “Why does she make the string tighter if she’s just as accurate with lesser physical strain?” Joan asked.

  “The results look the same, but they’re not. Close in on the targets.” Joan complied. “Now zoom in on the bulls-eye.” Brent observed, “With each increase in tension, the arrow drives further into the target.”

  “Why would she…”? Joan stopped mid-sentence when she suddenly realized why Charlotte was so concerned with how deep the arrow penetrated the target.

  The two watched in silence. Charlotte switched from a traditional archery target to one that looked like a person. “Wow,” Brent said, “that’s impressive. Even with a moving target, she hits the heart or the head every time.”

  Joan noticed a look of concern on Brent’s face then glanced back at the monitor. Nothing different, she noted. When she looked at Brent, she noted that his head was cocked to one side, like a dog who is confused. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he walked towards the wall. Mere inches from the picture, he pointed at the screen and then at Joan. Brent was about to give an order, about to relay further instructions. “Freeze the cameras, NOW.”

  Immediately, Joan froze the picture. Studying what he saw, his expression turned from admiration to doubt. “There it is,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s what I was afraid of. Switch that off. Walk with me to the armory.”

  “Whoa! Wait! You can’t leave me in the dark like that. What did you see that was so bad?”

  “Emotion. I saw emotion.”

  “Huh?”

  “Emotion will get her killed.”

  Now it was Joan’s turn to cock her head and look confused.

  ”Come on,” Brent said, “you’ll see what I mean when we get there.”

  Charlotte heard the locking mechanism on the door disengage and recognized that someone had used palmer recognition to enter the armory. She turned to see Brent and Joan walk through the door.

  She lowered the bow and smiled at the pair. “Hello, Colonel, I’m not late, am I?”

  “No, you have a little more time for practice before you have to get ready.”

  “I took the initiative to bring my uniform with me,” she said and pointed at the duffle bag in the corner. “I thought I would shower and change here so I’d have more time to get used to the new bow.”

  “We’ve been watching you from the command center,” Joan said. “You’re pretty amazing with that thing.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll be even better once I work out a few more quirks.”

  “I’d like to talk to you about one of those quirks,” Brent said, “if you don’t mind.”

  Charlotte’s tone turned a bit cocky. Loading an arrow, then pulling back the string, she didn’t glance at the target before she let the arrow fly. Bulls-eye! “And which quirk would that be, Sir?”

  Joan heard the disrespect in Charlotte’s voice and knew Brent well enough to know he’d caught it, too. She waited to see how he’d respond.

  “Very impressive, Miss Dupree,” he said calmly. “Your mechanics are impeccable. There are no quirks in your skills.”

  “Then…”

  “Load another arrow and do exactly as I say.”

  Charlotte wasn’t quite sure what the Colonel was getting at. She was confident of her skills, so she went along with his little game.

  Brent flipped a wall switch and changed the targets to the ones with a human shape.

  “Take aim at the target, Charlotte.”

  She did as she was told.

  “Now, think of nothing but the Butcher.”

  As her mind focused on Jonas McFarland, her arm muscles grew taut and defined.

  “Remember back to the time he first abducted you and what you felt, how scared you were.” Brent hesitated long enough to give Charlotte time to assimilate what he’d just said. “Now remember how humiliated you felt when he forced you to strip in front of him while he taunted you and called you names.”

  Charlotte’s arm showed a faint quiver.

  “Now concentrate,” Brent spoke more softly now, “on his eyes, how they changed from human to demon.” He shined a high-powered, pinpoint red laser on the target’s head where the eyes would be. “Now, FIRE!” he said in a crisp, loud voice.

  Charlotte let go of the arrow. Not only did it miss the bulls-eye, it missed the target completely. She dropped the bow and looked at Brent, tears streaming down her face.

  “You bastard!” she cried. “How dare you bring back those memories!”

  Brent walked over to her and squeezed her shoulders. “Look at me, Charlotte.”

  She would only look at the floor while she sobbed.

  In a sterner, more fatherly voice, Brent told her again to look at him. This time, she did so with red, puffy eyes and a tear-streaked face.

  “I did it because that’s exactly what’s going to run through your mind when you face him for the first time. It’s not ‘if’, it’s ‘when.’ As part of this squad, and especially with this mission, you have to remove all emotion, good and bad, out of the equation.”

  Still a little breathless from crying, she said, “And how do I do that?”

  “It’s different for everyone. I’m going to show you how I do it. Hopefully, it’ll help you find your own way.”

  Charlotte nodded.

  Brent walked with her to the corner of the room. “Squat down and let your entire body relax,” he instructed. “Close your eyes, breathe in and out through your nose. Each time you inhale, do so a little deeper and slower. Take as long to exhale as you took to inhale.” He watched as she followed his instructions. “Good. Now start to feel all the tension leave your body.” He watched as she dropped into a slightly deeper squat. Next, her shoulders and arms fell a bit lower. “Good.” Brent’s voice was barely audible.

  “Now, look deep into the blackness. Place yourself deeper and deeper in that blackness. There is no end to it. The deeper you go into the black, the less you will feel. I want you to feel exactly what you see; nothing. As you begin to feel nothing, forgive everyone who ever did you wrong.”

  Brent could see that Charlotte had tensed slightly. “Breath deep and relax,” he whispered. “Forgive them, just as God forgives us.” Brent repeated that thought over and over again, until he saw that Charlotte was completely without stress or emot
ion.

  “Forgive them, just as God forgives us, forgive them, just as God forgives us. “In a moment you are going to open your eyes and get up. When you do, remain in this exact state of mind. Okay, take a final deep breath, exhale through your mouth and open your eyes.”

  Charlotte did as she was told.

  “How do you feel?” Brent asked.

  “At ease,” she replied.

  “What do you feel?”

  “Nothing.”

  Brent smiled. “Grab your bow. Take aim at the target again.” He walked around, so he was right behind her, whispering in her ear. “Remember what it was like when his hand came around from behind you and covered your mouth. Remember the way it felt and the way it smelled. Feel the hot, moist air of that boiler room touching your skin, his mocking you, and humiliating you.

  “As he boiled the oil, he turned to speak to you. But he was no longer there. In Jonas’ place stood the Butcher, the thing that wanted nothing more than to torture you.”

  Brent reached for the button on the wall. Human targets moved in a random pattern.

  “Remember the sound of his laugh when you cried.” Brent shined the laser beam on the target and again and yelled, “FIRE!”

  Charlotte let the arrow fly. This time, it hit the target dead center where the laser was aimed.

  Charlotte squealed like a schoolgirl and jumped up and down. It was her first visible emotion since Brent’s little exercise.

  Brent squeezed her shoulder. “We’re going to have to work on that victory squeal.” He turned and looked her straight in the eyes. “That’s the state of mind you’ll need to be in for an entire mission. It takes practice, but you’ll soon catch on, just as you do with everything else. Now, go take a shower and get ready. We rendezvous at 11:30.”

  Brent turned to leave the room.

  “Excuse me, Colonel,” Charlotte said. “Earlier, you mentioned I was part of the squad. It sounded as though you meant it to be permanent. Did you?”

  Brent winked at her. “Don’t tell anybody yet. Let’s just keep it our little secret for now.” He looked at Joan. “That goes double for you!”