Javier was certain that her sister would be just as troubled. In many cultures, it was believed births like that created gifted individuals. He believed it.
Javier could feel it radiating off her the minute she had been brought to Whispering Creek. Something powerful had hung about her, and he refused to let it drive her to insanity as it had done to other poor souls like Martin Benchman—and that old man hadn’t had an ounce of the energy about him that Casey had.
She would have been a lost cause in only a few more months, joining those who were broken beyond repair, their minds irretrievable. Javier refused to let Casey become one of them. He now believed that his purpose for surviving the hell he had lived through was to guide others who were lost… even if it took his life.
Casey stirred in her sleep, groggily singing the tune she had wailed before the number had appeared carved in her forehead. He wanted to know its significance, and who the stranger was that wrought the blade that had left it there.
The drive would be nearly thirteen hours. It was early still and he was confident they would reach Tucson, Arizona by nightfall.
****
Benjamin blew into Tucson as evening fell, stopping for gas and a moment to steady himself. The reports of the deeds committed by the invisible man gnawed at him. Those with the gift sometimes grew so corrupted by the power within them that they became a thing of darkness, just one step from the hungry shadows on the other side.
Byron would be on the precipice of that change… if he truly was the hunter stalking those lonesome desert highways. Ben’s gut feeling told him Allan was telling the truth.
He dialed his old friend’s cell phone number and got a busy signal. Now he knew that Allan was on the other side. He had accepted Byron’s invitation like he said he would. Benjamin had hoped that Allan would be too cowardly to step foot in the old man’s territory but he had been wrong.
Dusk was racing away towards night; the hunters walking the desert beyond the doorway wouldn’t come until the darkness fell there. It gave him a little time.
Allan would find himself caught in a situation much like one he had faced years before when he had abandoned Ben. The traveler’s chest felt tight around his scars. Sweat built in his palms. Twenty years in the military defending the real world had taught him to heed his misgivings, and a lifetime as a wanderer had cemented his faith in his sensitivity. All those nights spent waiting for flying bullets, falling bombs, and moving shadows.
Tucson felt that way now. He knew that war was coming.
****
Byron passed into the real world, leaving the evening sun of nowhere behind him, and drove straight into the darkness of the real world. He forced the gas pedal to the floor. It was nearly seven o’clock and Betty would be concerned. Bill would have to wait until the following day to get his hands on the jewelry that Byron had gathered from the bus. He had learned over the years not to question his twin brother, and to just accept the treasures he returned with.
As he passed by the corner store, his skin hummed. He slammed on the brakes, leaving two black streaks on the faded pavement. He sat with his engine roaring, staring over at the gas station. It was empty but for the worker inside, but he knew a traveler was close, he could feel it.
“Benjamin,” he snarled.
****
Betty sat across from her husband, drinking a cup of milk and eating a slice of cake. She talked incessantly about her housework, crochet projects and the evening news. She had bought his excuse that he was held up in another county waiting on an item and his drive back had made him miss dinner, a common story he had used over the years.
His mind was on the church in the middle of nowhere. It would be into the early morning hours there. He wondered if any hunters had been drawn during the night to the two inside with the gift.
“I never saw that man today,” Betty said.
“He won’t be coming back,” Byron said. “He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“And you’re sure of this?” She asked.
“I had a coming to Jesus talk with him,” he grinned.
“My hero!” She beamed.
“Always, my Seventy-six!” He winked.
The use of her nickname made her blush. To her, it was a sweet reminder of all the years they had spent together. To him, it was proof that he was still human, that he had the capacity to love something without destroying it. He had married her to appear normal but, over the years, he developed a fondness for her, a loyalty and kindness that he would show no other soul alive.
She was a sweet woman, never loose or flirtatious, modest even in the bedroom. It was those qualities that had kept her alive, though she never knew it. In all her years Betty had never seen a violent outburst from her husband, but he had always carried himself with a silent strength, like a cowboy from a black and white movie. His demeanor was one of the first things she had been attracted to, coupled with his rugged handsomeness. She could still see it after all those years.
She ran her fingertip over the canary-yellow diamond ring he had given her for their anniversary. She cherished it so much. He never failed to surprise her with his tokens of love. She understood a man’s need for his own space and never encroached on it. She thought that it was the secret to a great marriage. She had no idea she was nurturing his second life, the one that played out in a world she never imagined could exist.
Betty was busy washing dishes while Byron went to sit in his recliner, reminiscing of his younger days before his body had been ravaged by age. He had been what a lot of women would consider good looking, light brown hair, blue eyes and a boyish smile. He had used that charm to lure many women off the roadsides. None of them had lived to speak of his true character, the one he kept hidden from his wife and brother—the monster within.
His eyes roved past the television to the china cabinet and the shelves above the mantle, all containing the spoils of his past conquests. Some men mounted heads of animals above their fireplaces. How they boasted of their hunts, rife with mortal danger while stalking carnivorous cats and man-eating grizzlies.
Byron chuckled internally at them. It didn’t take much, in his eyes, to kill an animal, but to take the life of prey who could beg you to stop? That took true heart… or a lack there of.
“Would you like somethin’ to drink?” His wife called from the kitchen.
“No thanks, darlin’,” he answered.
His mind returned to the intruder in his territory, Benjamin, thoughts of cutting his heart out vividly playing in Byron’s mind.
****
“I know you can feel it,” Allan said. “The mounting anxiety inside you.”
Celia only nodded.
“It’s been there your whole life, right? You just don’t know what will ever relieve it?”
He stood to drag his chain along as he drew close to her. “Some try to drown it in drugs and alcohol.”
“Get on with it,” Eighty-two said impatiently watching the sun falling.
“Pull all of that anxiety. That fear. Pull it together and focus it here,” Allan answered, pointing to his forehead.
Celia closed her eyes. It was true. She could feel an overwhelming hum inside of her. Her forehead ached, like it did when she spent too many days away from the bottle. Her gut reaction had been to bury it in mountains of cocaine, but her life had moved on from that destructive stage abruptly after accepting a ride from a stranger in a black car. This bloodstained church had become a forced rehabilitation center, cleaning her veins of arsenic, but filling her soul with hopeless dread.
She opened her eyes to see the faces of the desperate prisoners of the church. Some had spent half of their lives there in the grip of the old preacher, swallowing what water he left them and eating scraps of corpses. The pressure was suffocating her.
“I can’t do it,” Celia said. “Nothing is happening. I just have a headache.”
“Just close your eyes,” Allan said.
“Why don’t you just ta
ke us all out?” She snapped.
“You have to know this is for your own good. Besides, what if I don’t live long enough to open the way out?” he asked.
The moon was rising over the desert on the other side of the doorway, casting its long yellow fingers over the tree tops, reaching out to the dilapidated church.
“They will come, or Byron will come back. He will kill me if he gets the chance,” Allan said.
“Close your eyes. I don’t care how much it hurts. See through that burning eye in the center of your head. Look out the window. Tell me about the door you see.”
“It’s there?” asked Eighty-two.
“Only we can find it,” Allan spoke to Celia. “Focus your mind.”
“How? I’m tryin’ and nothin’ is working.”
“Find something that calms you, that’s how we all learn,” he said.
Allan could feel a presence out in the gathering darkness. It sent a shock through him. He looked back out the closest window just as a shadow flitted between the palo verde and mesquite trees. He jumped at the sound of Celia’s voice as she began to sing “The Wayfaring Stranger”, a song that had always twisted his stomach into a lonesome knot.
The dog whined, then hesitantly began to growl, a low rumble in its chest, a warning. It too knew what was out there in the desert making its way stealthily towards the church.
“I want to help her along,” Sixty-eight said and rose from her seat.
The blaring of the church organ accompanied Celia as Sixty-eight attempted to give strength to the young woman.
Celia’s voice was ragged, her breathing deepening as she matched the lonesome tune of the organ. Allan could feel her energy aligning. The organ startled the hunters back for a moment to hide in the darkness of the trees.
“Don’t stop until you feel a fire between your eyes,” he whispered.
Her mind went to a place on a starlit highway. Her forehead began to burn as she strode forward. Walking towards her was her other self, arms outstretched. With each step, Celia could feel the flames that Allan had spoken of.
“It will ignite, like striking a match. It will hurt the first time, but don’t let go of it.”
The girl walking towards her now had dark hair. Her forehead was also scarred with the number fourteen. Celia felt the agony in her skull, but didn’t halt. She quickened her steps until she was running straight for the other her. Her brain felt as if it was boiling in her head. When the vision faded, she opened her eyes to a new world around her.
Celia sung haggardly, swaying in her seat.
“Is it working?” Eighty-two asked.
Allan nodded. “Yes. I can feel her change.”
Celia went silent as tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes studied them one by one. Sixty-eight let the organ music fade to silence at a nod from Allan. The frail figures of the other prisoners glowed faintly as if their skin was made of moonlight. Celia looked at Allan. His body pulsed brightly like lightning was dancing over him.
“It’s only this bright after dark. Look out the window. Describe it to me,” he instructed.
Celia turned weakly to stare out the same window she had been looking out for weeks, daydreaming of other worlds.
“I can see it—a door of green light,” she whispered.
“They only glow like that in the dark. During the day, you need to feel for them. It’s not that hard… we’re drawn to them. That’s probably how you ended up here, thinking it was your drifter’s intuition, but it was something far greater,” Allan said.
“After all this time… I never thought I’d see a day when a way out would actually become reality.” Eighty-two said. Her voice broke as she began to cry. She covered her mouth with a shaking hand, as a shrill shrieking echoed through the still night.
Scrambling away from the windows, they were reminded of the chains around their ankles, holding them there captive inside the rotten wooden building.
Celia glanced out the window. The vision of the doorway had become obscured with masses of moving darkness. Eyes glowed in the black shapes. The hunters were gathering to assault the unholy sanctuary.
“What are they doing?” she whispered.
“Many of them will come for us. Some will crowd the doorway, hoping to get to the other side.”
“What will they do there?”
“The same they will do here. to us… kill anyone they can overpower,” he answered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BENJAMIN
Casey lurched forward, screaming. Her mind was filled with darkness populated with hungry eyes and a feeling of loss. Before she awoke fully, she could see a doorway made of light, and utter blackness consuming it.
“Are you ok?” Javier asked.
“I was seeing through her eyes again,” Casey answered.
“What was she trying to tell you?”
“She is in an unholy place… but I could see a doorway… a way out.”
“We’ll be in Tucson in a few hours,” Javier said.
“I don’t know if we will make it in time to reach her.” Casey said, tears wetting her eyes.
“We will. Just stay strong.”
She looked to Javier. He was confident in his answer but she was still so confused. How she would even find her sister? It felt hopeless, like grasping for thin threads only to have them slip between her fingers each time.
****
Creatures of pure darkness gathered about the church, tasting the air with tongues made of shadow. They detected their prey within the dilapidated church. The monstrous shadows rushed to the building to feed, while more of them scrambled from the trees, surrounding the doorway hoping to get through.
The prisoners were shocked by what came crawling out of the shadows. Beings with long, black hands fixed with claws. A swarm of them rushed violently forth, breaking out the old windows on either side.
Terror swept through the room as number Ninety-seven was dragged through a busted window. In the darkness, Celia and Allan could see the black silhouettes of the beasts feeding upon the unlucky woman’s heart… as if life hadn’t been cruel enough. In an instant, the room was flooded by the biting, clawing creatures of the dark.
“Everyone get together and fight them. Don’t get separated!” Allan cried out.
Grouping together, they dragged their chains close to one another. They picked up anything they could to try and beat the creatures away, until soon they were surrounded by the monsters.
Barking and snarling resounded as the large dog fought the shadows. It nipped and bit at the darkness gathering all around. He snarled and slashed with tooth and claw and took two of the creatures down, but their numbers were too great. Before long, a clawed hand swept the massive hound off its feet, and a slash to its gut ended the valiant struggle, leaving the vicious guardian in a pool of gathering blood.
Celia witnessed the battle as she too swung a piece of broken wood from one of the splintered pews. She felt as if the war they now fought would end the same way. There were too many of the terrifying creatures for them to have a chance to win. She wanted to fight and take as many as she could down with her as she wielded her measly weapon.
Back to back now, they were struggling to keep up with the onslaught now, and more of the dark creatures were finding their way into the church. Darkness surrounded them and they could see no end in sight, no way of escape. On they fought, swinging and striking though driving the creatures away seemed impossible now. The room was overtaken by the dark things. Some began creeping along the ceiling in an attempt to drop down on the humans below.
Celia swung and cracked two heads, but had no time to feel accomplished because another of the beasts ran up to fill the gap. It seemed hopeless. Suddenly, a noise resounded from outside of the church. A loud blaring call Celia felt she should recognize from her life in the real world.
In the madness of the moment, they were shocked when a car horn sounded again and, through the sea of shadow, a pair of headlights came c
rashing. It knocked monsters left and right, plowing a path through to them and stopping just a few feet away. The high beams on the hood seemed to blast holes through the dark monsters. It cut through them, leaving them scrambling for any dark corner to hide in. Some of the monsters fell mortally wounded from the battering ram of a car as others fled back out into the night.
Benjamin swung the car door open, then bashed more of the monsters with a tire iron. Soon, there was a wide opening around the car. Only a few more brazen creatures stood for a moment, slashing the air with their claws and hissing, before exiting out the broken windows.
“What are you waiting for?” he called out to them.
“We’re all chained up,” Allan answered.
“We’ll fix that and then we’re gettin’ the hell out of here,” Benjamin said.
Like some fairy tale of old, the creatures fled from the hero who came bursting through the wall of the church in his automobile, swinging an iron club. The group noticed the landscape lighting up. The sun was rising and with it, all the night creatures ran back to the dark places to hide and wait for the sun to set again.
Benjamin felt relieved that the darkness had retreated, but the struggle was just beginning. He had to free them of their shackles that held them prisoner in the dusty old church. His big dark hands furiously tried to wrench them apart, but his strength was no match for the heavy iron links.
****
Byron hurried through the doors of the antique shop. He brought in a few items from his stash, hoping his brother Bill wouldn't ask too many questions. It was so tiresome coming up with stories about how he found some of the treasure that he came in with, or how he had to haggle with some elderly woman for the last of her jewelry and silverware in another city. Most of the time, Byron knew that his brother would believe him or, in the end, at least not ask for more information.
Bill stood by the counter and didn’t hear his brother come through the doors at first. He was busy dividing a box of items he had bought at an auction. When he did finally notice his twin, he was taken aback by how Byron always seemed to sneak up on him.
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