by John Ringo
“Do I have to repeat myself?” Barb asked.
“Uh…ma’am, you’re on the list,” the guard said, finally looking at his computer screen. “But cats aren’t allowed…”
“Fine,” Barb said, switching to command tone and whipping a copy of her affidavit out of the bag. “I’m crazy. Under the Americans with Disabilities Act, the cat comes with me. I need him or I get all upset. This isn’t upset. This is firm. You don’t want to see upset. Just call SSA Garson and tell him I’m here. Is that simple enough for you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the guard said, picking up the phone.
“Hubba, hubba, hubba,” Special Agent Spornberger said at the sight of the woman. He was watching her through the glass of the supervisor’s office, and it was apparent she hadn’t seen him yet.
“Let me remind you of the department’s policy on sexual harassment, Kurt,” SSA Garson said, sighing.
“Understood, sir,” Kurt said, wonderingly. “But she’s stacked like a brick shi-”
“I get the point, Agent Spornberger,” Garson snapped. “Now can it.”
“SSA Garson,” Barb said professionally as she strode into the room. “I’m Mrs. Barbara Everette.”
“Mrs. Everette,” Garson said, standing up and shaking her hand. “This is Special Agent Spornberger. He will be assisting you on this investigation. He has…previous experience outside the Bureau and has been briefed in on SC investigations.”
“Hello,” Barbara said, extending her hand.
“Nice cat,” Kurt replied, shaking it. He slowed in his shaking and then shifted his grip.
“If you want me to put you on your knees, Special Agent, continue,” Barbara snapped, shifting her own.
“Tao-ki?” Kurt asked, withdrawing his hand.
“Yes,” Barbara replied, wrinkling her brow.
“Bu dao huang he xin bu si.”
“Bu dao huang he xin bu si.”
“Tiansheng wo cai bi youyong,” Barbara said, smiling thinly.
“I think I’m in love?” Kurt said, his eyes wide.
“Note the ‘Mrs.,’ Agent Spornberger,” Barbara said, tartly. “And I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, who, forgiveness or not, looks poorly upon extramarital affairs. So put your dick back in your pants and your tongue back in your head or I’ll rip both off and feed them to you.”
“I’m sort of new to the bureau,” Kurt said, puzzled. “Was that sexual harassment?”
“No, that was her promising to kick your ass, Agent Spornberger,” Garson said, trying not to grin. “But the question I have to ask, Mrs. Everette, is, can you work with him? Because this is, alas, Kurt. We’ve been trying to potty train him for the last couple of years and so far it’s had no effect.”
“The problem is not ‘can I work with him,’ but; can he survive,’” Barbara said, sighing. She sat down and laid Lazarus’s bag on her lap, letting the cat out to sniff around the room. “In these investigations, legally or not, the truth is that the Bureau agent is the innocent bystander. The civilian, in other words. We have to work with the Bureau and local law enforcement agencies, but we’d rather not. Because while the casualty rate of our agents is high, the casualty rate of the agents we’re assigned is higher. Agent Spornberger, you clearly have some martial-arts skills, and you’re old enough you may have some street skills. But this is a different kind of street and you are no more powerful than a baby on it. Can you face the fact that there may come a time when I tell you to run away as fast as you can, and if you don’t, you’re going to die? And probably have your soul ripped out and taken straight to hell?”
“Well, ma’am,” Kurt said, grinning uneasily. “You clearly have some martial-arts skills, but…”
“That’s the problem,” Barb said, looking at Garson. “The ‘but…’ That, right there, is almost sure to get him killed no matter what I do. Because there is no ‘but.’ Special Agent, are you a Believer in any religion? What religion are you?”
“Catholic, ma’am,” Kurt said. “I mean, I’m sort of Catholic. I haven’t been to confession in…”
“Then you are totally unprotected,” Barb said. “It’s like going on a drug raid without a vest. Or a gun. Or backup. Even if whatever we’re dealing with can be deflected by a cross, for example, you have to believe in the cross and be in touch with your God. And your God has got to believe in you. Otherwise, you’re totally and completely scr…unprotected, Agent Spornberger. With what we may be up against, it may be necessary for me to kill you, Agent Spornberger. If you cannot, when the time is right, follow my instructions to the letter. And I don’t think that you can.”
“Mrs. Everette, if you wish, I’ll replace him,” Garson said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
“Do you have any other agents with experience in the paranormal?” Barb asked, looking Spornberger up and down.
“None,” Garson said. “Including me. I’ve been briefed on SC, I’m aware of some of the reports, the stories. But I can’t say that I’m totally convinced.”
“And the same would be the case with any green agent,” Barb said, sighing. “They just can’t believe. Okay, tough guy, you’re the one that’s seen a ghost. I’ll leave it up to you.”
“It wasn’t a ghost,” Kurt said. “It was a shadow. I’m not sure what it was, but I…I got this feeling it wasn’t a ghost.”
“Demon, then,” Barb said. “Tell me about it later. I need to get briefed in. Who’s doing it?”
“Spornberger,” Garson said. “He’s got all the reports. Note that we only have the attack on your agent to indicate that there is anything to the SC designation. That and the fact that the case is just so damned weird.”
“Well, I know the area’s not a total dry hole,” Barb said. “I can feel the…currents? Whatever. But it’s possible the attack on Janea wasn’t related to the investigation. We have enemies of our own. However, we’ll just try to follow up on her leads and see where it takes us.”
“What’s the paranormal read on this?” Kurt asked as he sat down in the secure conference room.
“I’m not a paranormal expert,” Barb said. “But I’ve got some people to do the research. And the short answer is there isn’t one. Have you ever heard of Kali?”
“I’ve been studying oriental martial arts since I was in high school,” Kurt said dryly. “And by extension the Orient. Yes, I’ve heard of Kali. Hindu death goddess, right?”
“More complicated than that,” Barb said, biting her lip. “Also a goddess of fertility and childbirth. And murder. Life and death, alpha and omega. The point being that there are references to worshippers being used as avatars of Kali, taken by her and turned into killing machines. But even the…deep references, if you will, the studies that assume the existence of the goddess, indicate most of those killers were using drugs to simulate the effect. And Kali, being what Christians recognize as a demon, is tightly bound by the Fall. Even though God gave the world to Satan, the greater demons and demonesses, ancient gods in most cases, are tightly bound. Freeing them, even drawing upon their essence, requires powerful rites which have not been used in this case. So it’s not a possession by Kali or another greater demon. And according to the initial report Janea turned in, none of them show current signs of possession. They have been…sensitized to the supernatural. But they may have been sensitives to begin with.”
“In short, you have no clue what is going on,” Kurt said.
“No,” Barb admitted. “But that’s why I’m here. But we’ve got one piece of evidence we didn’t have before. Someone attacked Janea mystically. That makes it personal.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Oh, thank God we’re here!” Kurt gasped as Barbara came to a screeching halt at the guarded entrance. The drive had been short but traffic had been heavy. Normally, it would have been quicker to walk with the jammed cars on US 27.
But any belief that Kurt retained that he’d been landed with Suzy Soccer Mom was disabused by the drive. Much of it had bee
n in the oncoming lanes, or turn lanes, or in one case, slightly on the sidewalk. The opposite sidewalk.
It wasn’t that Barbara drove badly. It was that she drove like a cop. One in a hurry and with enormous ability behind the wheel.
“What’s wrong?” Barb asked, hitting the window switch and smiling at the frowning corrections guard manning the gate. “We got here in one piece.”
“You are insane, Madame,” Kurt replied. “Kurt Spornberger, FBI,” he continued, holding out his ID. “This is Barbara Everette, a contractor with us.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said, hitting the control to open the gate. “Try to keep it down on the campus, ma’am.”
“Will do,” Barb said.
“Next time, I drive,” Kurt said as Barb hunted for an open visitor’s parking space.
“Like I’d let anybody else drive me,” Barb said.
Moccasin Bend Mental Health Facility was a sprawling set of brick buildings originally founded in 1961, located across the river from the downtown area. It served twenty-eight counties in the area as a regional inpatient care facility.
Barb…didn’t like Moccasin Bend. She wasn’t “open” to Sight at the moment, but she didn’t have to be to feel the malevolence of the area. The entire place was just…weird. The buildings were straight out of a horror movie and the layout was decidedly odd. She looked at the map again and realized that the buildings were laid out in a sign she’d only seen once in her “catch-up” research. Specifically, in a grimoire that was kept under lock and key at the Foundation.
“This place is unhealthy as…hell,” Barb said, looking around the parking lot. “Nearly literally. I mean really, really bad.”
“You’re serious?” Kurt said, grinning nervously.
“ Bad bad,” Barb said. “Bad on toast. Like, my first instinct is to burn it down and kill everyone near it.”
“Don’t,” Kurt said. “I know you’re covered for stuff, but that would be pretty hard to cover up.”
“Seriously bad,” Barb said, taking a deep breath. “Makes me want to scream…”
“The patient exhibits many classic signs of psychosis with, however, some idiosyncratic additions,” Dr. Downing said.
Oddly enough, it was the same doctor who had been treating Janea. Now that Barb knew he was associated with this mental facility, she intended to get him unassociated as fast as possible.
The patient was restrained. Tightly. Barb was familiar with restraints, having spent some time under them herself after her first encounter with a demon and before Augustus pulled some strings to get her out of psychiatric care. But the ones they’d used on her were light compared to what they had on the young man in the bed.
“How idiosyncratic?” Barb asked, disturbed by the sight of the otherwise healthy young man’s condition.
“Most patients in this type of condition tend to bite,” Dr. Downing said, pulling out a probe. “Most of those, however, do not tend to swallow whatever they bite off. These patients do. And, observe,” he continued, pressing the probe into the base of Darren’s foot.
“I didn’t see anything,” Kurt said. “Except him continuing to…”
“Writhe,” Barb finished.
“You should have,” the psychiatrist said. “That should have elicited a pain response, even in a patient suffering from psychosis. A yell, a howl, some type of response. And,” he continued, pulling out a small rubber mallet. “Observe.”
He tapped the subject just below his knee and raised an eyebrow.
“I’m pretty sure his leg didn’t twitch,” Barb said, frowning. “He should have had an involuntary movement, a reflex response. Right?”
“Correct,” the doctor said, smiling as if at a marginally bright student. “No reflex responses, no pain responses, but their autonomic nervous systems continue to function, they breathe, their hearts beat and they have control over their voluntary muscles. But, if I were to remove the restraints and let him walk, you would observe that his motions are powerful but uncoordinated in the extreme.”
“I…need to check something,” Barb said, then frowned. “I take it that anything that goes on in here is confidential?”
“Yes,” Dr. Downing said, frowning in turn. “What sort of examination?”
“One that’s going to make you shake your head and wonder if the Bureau is going nuts,” Kurt said. “And one that you’re not going to comment on under any circumstances. Under the Uniform Federal Code Section Eighteen. In a real and legally binding sense.”
“Oh,” Dr. Downing said. “O…kay?”
“It won’t take a moment,” Barb said. She hated to Open in this place, but it was going to be necessary. Because there was something screaming at her about the patient. He looked healthy enough at first glance, but something was…screaming.
She laid her hand on his brow, careful to avoid the gnashing teeth, then Opened up her Sight.
The first thing she noticed was, in fact, the neurologist. His aura was as black as the ace of spades. She saw him tense and looked over with a thin, fierce grin.
“Okay, I suppose this isn’t quite as unusual as I’d have thought for you,” Barb said.
“What…are you?” Downing asked, carefully.
“As it turns out, your worst nightmare,” Barb replied. She reached for the soul of the afflicted and paused. “Jesus Christ,” she said, softly.
“I wouldn’t have expected you to curse,” Kurt said.
“That wasn’t a curse, Special Agent,” Barb said. “That was a prayer. This person is dead.”
“Dead?” Dr. Downing said, snorting. “I can assure you, as a physician-”
“With what’s riding you, there’s no way that you heal,” Barb said. “So calling yourself a physician, Doctor, is a stretch. Research. Poke. Prod. Possibly advance science. But that…thing in you isn’t going to allow you to ever heal. And when I said this person was dead, I was very specific. This…thing has no soul. None. No ka. No ba. It is a walking dead thing.”
“Zombie?” Kurt said. “Please, not zombies.”
“Not the movie zombie,” Barb said. “I’m not sure what it is or how it was created. But this person has no more soul than a rock. How it’s continuing to exist is a real question. There is power coming from somewhere that is continuing to give it the semblance of life.” She stepped back and started to close down. Then, just as an exercise, she fully Opened her Power.
Dr. Downing immediately took an involuntary step backwards and grunted. In the distance, one of the patients started howling, setting off others.
“What just happened?” Kurt asked, looking around.
“ That is what I am, Doctor,” Barb said. “Is that clear enough for you?”
What was clear was that it wasn’t simply the neurologist that inflicted the place. It stank with evil, and shadows filled every corner.
“Yes,” the doctor said in a strained voice.
“God has given me the grace to be His sword upon this land, Doctor,” Barb said, softly. “Your Master cannot prevail against me, for I wear the armor of righteousness, and the power of the Lord is held in both right hand and left. So fill us in and quit playing power games. I have neither the time nor the patience, and this place quite frankly wants me here slightly less than I want to stay.”
“I have a short video I’d like to show you.”
The video started with Darren apparently asleep in the traditional rubber room. He was slumped in one corner, his mouth open and flaccid but his limbs twitching.
“I thought these things were a myth,” Kurt said, looking at the view.
“They are not a preferred environment,” Dr. Downing said. He’d managed to calm down a bit on the walk to the meeting room and was still trying for suave and debonair. However, he was keeping the special agent between himself and Barbara.
“But there are conditions in which they are useful. Such as this one. I wanted to observe his actions under a variety of stimuli, and given the reports of his admission, I was u
nwilling to do so outside of a controlled environment. He was heavily sedated when placed in the room, and the first part is rather boring. I’ll fast forward.”
The digital file skipped forward until, in fast motion, Darren lurched to his feet and started walking.
“There,” the doctor said. “Note the nature of the motion.”
“He looks like a zombie,” Kurt said, his brow furrowing. “Christ, why’d it have to be zombies?”
“Yes,” Dr. Downing said, smiling faintly. “He does, doesn’t he? Arms extended, although more to the side than the traditional zombie look. And that would be why?”
“His balance,” Barb said, nodding. “He’s got real balance problems.”
“Due to the lack of reflex,” Dr. Downing said. “It gives him the equivalent of an inner-ear infection, and he uses his arms to maintain his balance.”
Barbara leaned into the video and nodded.
“His lips are moving,” she said. “Is there audio?”
“There is,” the doctor said, turning it on.
The syllables were harsh and guttural, mixed with moans and occasional shrieks.
“It appears to be random babble,” the psychiatrist said. “Not entirely idiosyncratic, but uncommon. Normally the patient would be speaking recognizable words but disconnected in syntax. Along with occasional disconnected threats or pleas.”
“I’m not sure that’s babble,” Barb said, listening for a moment longer. “Get me a copy of the audio file. Actually, copies of the audio and video.”
“Of course,” Dr. Downing said, fast forwarding again. “However, after this had gone on for some time, I sent in guards to restrain him again. And…watch.”
The two guards entered fast when Darren’s back was turned. They were wearing some sort of full-coverage white body armor including helmets and gloves. They looked like they were suited up to work with an attack dog. They also carried clear plastic shields, and one of them was carrying an air injector presumably filled with a tranquilizer.