Silas: A Supernatural Thriller

by Robert J. Duperre

  The mattress engulfed me like a cradle of clouds. “C’mere, boy,” I urged, and slapped at the top blanket. Silas hopped up on the bed, wrapped his body around mine, and licked my hand. Warmth spread through my gut. I felt like I did on many a cold night back home in Connecticut. That feeling was the only way I could deal with the idea of opening the letter. So with my head resting on a pillow and Silas panting by my side, I unfolded the paper and started reading.

  Dearest Ken, I know this is going to come as a shock to you. If you are reading this, then I am either dead or detained, and it is now up to you to finish what I have started. I wouldn’t expect you to believe everything I’m writing here, given that you’re in a strange and dangerous place surrounded by children you have no way of knowing or caring for, but I need you to trust me. What I say to you now is important, probably the most important thing in my world. And yours.

  This is not your reality, Ken, though in certain ways it is similar. It could very well be the combined result of mistakes made in the past in one place and not the other, or a possible future that has not yet occurred. However, the differences do not make it any less real. This might be difficult to comprehend, but on a purely metaphysical level there are thousands of worlds. They exist, not parallel to one another, but sprouting out of the snaking line of time like hairs on a caterpillar, separated by the thinnest of membranes, membranes through which our great elders had discovered ways to push through.

  As a boy, I was unaware of such things. I spent most of my time in Cathedral, a place of worship for those who grew up on the banks of the Dedot Sea. I loved Cathedral, though most found its single room and collection of relics to be drab and boring. But this crumbling vestige of the old world that the Oracles called Smithsonian captivated me. I would sit there quietly for hours, staring at models of single-prop planes and military uniforms, all under the safety of glass cases so we could only look, not touch.

  I drank in all the knowledge Cathedral had to offer. For days I would sit and read about the one event from the Old World that Cathedral, this Smithsonian, was dedicated to. I learned of Germany and Britain, France and Belgium, countries contained in the much larger land mass called Europe. I studied the nature of the politics and social disharmony that led to the War to End All Wars.

  It was the story of one man that fascinated me more than all, that of a great German leader who set aside the assumed need for worldwide unity and struck out on his own, declaring war on all who opposed him. Kaiser Wilhelm was his name, the greatest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of learning about, the man who unified the world when his forces conquered all of Europe, the man who helped bring peace to the globe for near a hundred years. He was a man that I, Paul Jacob Nicely, have always strove to emulate.

  You seem like a nicely sort of fellow. Those had been some of Nick Goodman’s first words to me. It made sense now – much more sense, in fact, than a world where Germany won World War I. I shuddered, lifted my eyes from the letter, and gazed at Silas. He’d fallen asleep lying across my legs. You’re lucky, bud, I thought, and kept on reading.

  Now, I understand this man wasn’t perfect, the letter continued, and he might even be considered evil in the eyes of many. There were quite a few instructors at Cathedral who said just that. But they did not see the larger point – that this was a man with a sense of individuality, who perceived the need to strike out against the masses, to be one standing out in a sea of many, to obtain his ideals. You might wonder why this appealed to me, so as an explanation I will say this – the world I come from is organized. It is all for one and one for all, with nary a dissenting word to be heard. This is policy adhered to by all, from the Director, the great man who lifted the world out of Chaos after the Rising, to the most insignificant of peasant workers. And yet I’ve fought against this servitude since I was old enough to think, and it was embodied in Kaiser Wilhelm.

  I brought this hidden desire with me into adulthood, when I moved to the great Capital City that spans the east coast of this nation and became an Isrid – an officer in charge of monitoring the use of dimensional portals. It was my job to make sure no civilians attempted to gain access to them, that only those with Directorial permission were granted passage. I must have impressed my superiors with my dedication to my job, because eventually I was given the honor of being assigned to the Outskirts, the inland areas surrounding the city. The Outskirts were much like my home on the edge of the Dedot Sea, only wilder, more savage. This is where you find yourself now, Ken. It is a very dangerous land. There are remnants of the Old World, that which existed before the Rising, that populate this area. The most dangerous of which are the Tau-Kin, a people who live in the ancient villages, living as if the existence they once held still has meaning. But these are phantoms, not people. They are animalistic, primal, and cruel. They traipse through the Outskirts, slaughtering any who get in their path, even their own kind. They were also known to cross the Misting Lake and attack those in the border towns, sometimes even progressing far enough so they made life miserable for those on the fringes of the city proper. And it was now my duty, along with fifty of my compatriots, to police these lands, keep them safe.

  It was during my time here in the Outskirts that I discovered the three most important beings in my life. The first was my gi-faht, my life partner. I found him rummaging through a landfill just outside of our tiny village. He was large yet emaciated, obviously starving, a creature the likes of which I’d never seen before. I’d long heard stories of the Lupine – wolves the size of men, with the intelligence to match – but had passed the tales off as childhood flights of fancy. So to see one before me, with massive, dripping fangs and piercing eyes, I was in awe. I approached him and he didn’t retract. I gave him food and shelter, and from that day forward he gave me companionship, though my fellow villagers made him stay in his homeland out of fear. But he still joined me on my many patrols, and became my friend. He was good, loyal. I christened him Nicholas Goodman, a proper name for a proper, sentient being.

  The other two discoveries were my joys, Will and Kaiser. They were the children of a band of Tau-Kin. I found them when they were infants, with Nick by my side, swathed in filthy rags and laying in a wicker basket among the smoldering ruins of one of the old Vestige towns. They were the last survivors of their clan and I broke protocol. Instead of ending their lives the way we had been instructed to I took them in and raised them as my own sons. They are now proud boys, human boys, with nary a hint of wildness to be found. I love them more than any will ever know.

  More than ten years into my time in the Outskirts, after the creature of night, the Dreadnaught, devastated our village and forced my small family underground, I was called upon by the Directorate once again. They had an assignment for me, a Mission that came from the mouth of the Director, himself. I was given a Cragton Disk, an independent device used to manipulate the portals between worlds, and instructed to shift into the era known as Q-9 – your world, Ken, labeled as one of the individual rungs on a string of bound ladders. I was told to find a certain young girl of special importance. According to the Director’s subordinates, this girl was a Gorgon, a beast created by years of genetic tinkering whose only goal was to enter our world and end our utopia. I was told the Disk would find her. However, the problem with the Disk is that it reads basic bodily essences, and in a world not of its own making, where the composition of the atmosphere is even a fraction different, they are famously unreliable. It meant the disk would point me in a certain direction, and that is all. Upon finding one such individual that the disk revealed to me, I was to dispatch them without question. In other words, I was to punish who knows how many innocents because of an accident of biology.

  I was abhorred. In that instant I was back in Cathedral with the Oracles, sensing the innate unfairness of our society and railing against it. The Oracles came back to me in my dreams and guided me to do something I had only done once in all my adult life, when I took in Will and Kaiser.

&n
bsp; I disobeyed a direct order.

  I could not take the life of an innocent, be it justifiable or not. I could not look upon the face of a child and watch their essence fade, knowing my hand was the cause. Yet I couldn’t ignore the directive, either. I had heard accounts of the fate that beheld those who failed the Hierarchy, and none of them were pleasant. And besides, even if I were to shirk my duty and escape punishment, if I fled into the Outskirts and hid for the rest of my days, another loyal submissive would be found to carry the orders out. So I had no choice but to comply. Sort of.

  I followed the Disk’s lead and ripped those it identified from their homes on Q-9, but I did not kill them. Instead I brought them back home, hopeful that I could buy some time and find out just what this Mission was meant to accomplish. Alas, these facts were not meant to be known by me. I know this now, for the Oracles came to me again in my sleep this very night and informed me that Nick, my beloved gi-faht, who does not understand my disobedience, is going to betray me. They said he will take my Mission as his own, and I can guarantee you he will not be as merciful.

  There is one thing that gives me peace, however, and that is you. I have known you all my life. I have talked to you through the walls that separate our worlds since childhood. I have never known if you were listening, but I have to believe that, even if you did not understand, there was something strange, something special, about the times our minds met over the expanse of nothingness. I now know the error of this place, of my ways, and it is up to you to fix my mistakes. My entire life, my entire belief system, has been a lie. The Oracles have told me as much. They said the Director formed the Hierarchy and helped bring an end to the Old Ways, that because of him the rest of a once-great land has become decimated. But there is one who can help, and it is you who will find him. You must travel deep into the Outskirts, find the lair of the Dreadnaught, and bring an end to the beast. The One is there, imprisoned, and it is up to you to free him. If that were not to happen, there is no telling how many more worlds will fall under the Director’s unifying gaze.

  After freeing this being, you must find the only working gateway to Q-9, to your homeland, and destroy it, along with the Cragton Disk. I have come to understand that your world is of great importance to those of the Hierarchy. All avenues into and out of this realm must be razed, lest the Director and his henchman will never stop, never rest, until whatever ultimate goal they have in mind is complete.

  Finally, I need to you free Kaiser and Will from their bonds. That bond is their dedication and loyalty to me. They cannot be free to live their lives until their commitment to my cause is quashed. I leave this up to you, Ken. You are like me in so many ways, this I know, but I have faith that you will make the right choices, that you are strong enough to finish what I never had the inner strength to start. You will be successful, please believe that. I am counting on you. Will and Kaiser are counting on you. The girls under their care are counting on you. Failure on any of these counts is not an option.

  So the speed of the Almighty to you, Ken Lowery. Hopefully I will see you in another life.

  Paul

  And then, printed just below his name, in slanted penmanship, were the words, Nine, six, eight, two, four, In my head without a rhyme.

  Shuddering, I placed the letter on the nightstand beside the bed. Things made sense now – at least, as much sense as my mind would allow. The voices in my head, Nick Goodman, the girls, their names – Tina Andrews chief among them. I’d heard them on the radio, in between playing of that horrid Lonnigan song, since the day Silas came into my life. I’d ignored them at the time, not wanting to think of such things. But now…now I had no choice. There could be no ignoring any longer for Ken Lowery, not ever again.

  My heart raced as panic set in. I got under the covers and pulled Silas close. I felt desperate and scared. All I wanted to do was get home and restart my life with Wendy, not go on some dangerous, otherworldly quest. I glanced at the letter.

  “Just like you were feeling, huh Paul?” I said aloud before laying my head on the pillow, my tired eyes gazing at the dimness while my decidedly not tired brain whirred. What a great mess you got yourself into, Kenny, it said. What a great mess, indeed.

  32

  Eventually sleep took me that night, but to say it was peaceful would be a lie. Dreams, both vivid and incomprehensible, assaulted my subconscious. If there was a saving grace, none of these dreams involved vertigo or swinging balls on chains. Thank goodness for small favors.

  Silas and I met Paul in these dreams, or at least my mind’s version of this man I would never set eyes upon. He was older than me, with deep lines of fatigue that formed canyons around his eyes and mouth. His voice was deep and raspy, as if he’d spent his entire life smoking four packs of cigarettes a day. My rendering of him carried himself with an almost cocky form of confidence, as if he knew exactly what he was doing and no one could tell him otherwise. But most of all, the prevailing attitude he gave off was one of kindness, as if he cared genuinely for everything around him, from the trees to the grass to the insects fluttering about our heads.

  Paul, Silas, and I walked through environments that shifted and melded with each step we took. One moment we were in sprawling wetlands, next in a city that seemed to stretch forever in either direction, then strolling down the street in Mercy Hills, and even staggering about in a vast desert. Paul dominated conversation, speaking in tongues as we traveled. He pointed at Silas, looking nostalgic.

  And that’s where it ended.

  When I woke up, I couldn’t get over the ambiguity of what my head was telling me. I’ll figure it out later, I thought. I’m not much of a mystic, anyway. I glanced at the lamp, still shining its faint light. Damn, the electric bill’s gonna be outrageous, were the words that passed through my head. Good. That’s the kind of thought pattern I could live with.

  I lay there for a while and stared at the ceiling with my arms crossed over my chest until Silas uncurled and slammed his body into mine, performing his usual it’s me and I know you’re awake routine. I wrapped my arms around his bulky neck and pulled him on top of me. We wrestled for a bit – and by “wrestle” I mean Silas writhed, his head flipping this way and that, while I held on for dear life. This went on as it always did, ending when the hard top of his cranium slammed into my nose. My eyes went blurry and tears ran down my cheeks.

  “Okay boy, that’s enough,” I said. Once those words were uttered, he stopped mid-spasm. He flipped over, paws resting on my chest, and panted. I stroked his muzzle. “You’re a good boy.” He licked my chin. “I love you, too,” I cooed.

  We got out of bed and Silas immediately made his way to the door. There was a bowl of water sitting there and he thrust his face in, lapping up the contents as if he hadn’t drank in days. “Huh,” I muttered. I didn’t remember the bowl being there when we arrived. Kaiser must’ve brought it in while we were sleeping.

  After Silas drank his fill I brushed the dog hair off my Paul Nicely sweat suit, trying to smooth out the wrinkles at the same time. When I was adequately preened, I opened the door.

  Young faces greeted us, all smiling. Kaiser sat with the girls on the rug in front of the couch. There were books spread out on the ground. The scene reminded me of my college cram sessions.

  “Hi, Mr. Ken,” said Molly, the youngest. The rest raised their hands and waved.

  “What’s up, guys?” I asked.

  Kaiser snapped his fingers and gained the girls’ attention. He pointed at his book. “Finish reading the rest of this section, the part on active verbs,” he instructed. “I’ll be quizzing you on it later.” Then he stood up, his crossed legs unfolding and straightening in a single motion, and nodded at me.

  “It’s lesson time,” he announced. “Paul told us it’s our responsibility to take those under our care and instruct them in the ways of the world, to ready them for life outside this place. Se we teach them the same way he taught us. Well, actually, it’s usually Will who does the teaching, b
ut he didn’t want to…um…be here when you got up, so we switched chores for the day. Sorry.”

  I shrugged. “No problem, kid.”

  “I just don’t want you to be offended,” he went on.

  “Don’t worry,” I replied. “I’m not.”

  Kaiser blew a straggling hair from in front of his eyes, stared at the wall, and stood silent for a moment. He tittered in a very childlike gesture when I poked his arm, trying to get his attention. “Sorry,” he said. “I get lost in my own world sometimes.”

  “So does everyone,” I said with a laugh.

  Silas hopped up and down, flying from one edge of the massive iron door on the other side of the room, barking. The sound reminded me of our early days together, when he’d cry from his crate in the kitchen at night, begging for his humans to come to the rescue. I remembered the disdain I felt at the time and wished I could make believe it never happened.

  “What’s wrong with your gi-faht?” asked Kaiser.

  “Probably has to take a piss,” I replied. My lower bowels grumbled. “And I do, too. Is it safe to go outside?”

  “Yes. It’s not quite high-point yet. We still have a while before nightfall.”

  “Good. It’ll be nice to sit in the sun for a bit. Maybe it’ll get rid of this headache, too. I feel like I got a hangover.”

  “What’s a hangover?” asked Kaiser.

  “Never mind.”

  After preparing Silas and me a breakfast of fruit and fried vegetables that looked like broccoli twisted into a fiddle shape, Kaiser told the girls they could take a break from their studies. The four little ones grinned and giggled while they ran around the large yet confined space. Tina and Laura suggested they play hide-and-seek, Molly whooped and clapped her hands in delight, and Amanda rolled her eyes, appearing to grudgingly go along with the plan, though I could tell from the way her top lip quivered that the disinterest was a ruse. I watched them run around, searching for hiding places in a room that had virtually none, and once more I was struck by how similar they all looked. Their long black hair flew behind them in thick waves and their angelic cheeks grew rosy over broad smiles. Molly, in particular, could’ve been Jacqueline’s twin in another life. It was weird.