At that moment, the deadbolt of the front door turned to unlock. The door opened, and someone entered, then closed the door.
Mrs. Ackerman heard her husband call out to greet her from below, “It’s me. I’m home!”
She screamed back down to him, from behind the bathroom door, “Jim, help me! There’s someone here to kill me!”
Immediately, Mrs. Ackerman heard the sound of heavy feet jumping down the stairs.
She screamed again, “Jim! Watch out!”
She pressed her ear against the door and listened.
Suddenly, she heard the front door fling open and slam into the wall, shaking and rattling the doors and walls upstairs.
Frantically, Mr. Ackerman’s voice called from below, to find his wife, “Honey! Where are you? Are you ok? Honey!”
She dropped the phone, jumped up, and opened the door. “Jim!” she yelled in relief, as she raced out of the bedroom, and headed for the stairs. “I’m ok!”
Seeing her husband at the bottom of the stairs, she ran down to him. She jumped into his arms and embraced him.
He wrapped his arms around her waist. Surprised and bewildered, he asked, “What happened? I was in the kitchen looking for you, and then I heard someone rush down the stairs and run out the front door. Are you ok?”
She was shaking and began to cry, relieved that he was now with her, relieved that she was safe once again. With her head on his shoulder and her eyes facing the wall of the stairway, her voice quivered, as she said, “I’m ok. I’m ok.” Closing her eyes, she felt her husband hug her more tightly. Then slowly, she opened her eyes and gazed upon the wall, as the floor lamp’s bright light created deep dark shadows upon it.
One of her husband’s arms released her. Suddenly, shadows of whipping, long, and slender tentacles appeared above the shadow of her and her husband.
Horrified, she quickly pushed away. With terror in her eyes, she looked up into the face of the man in front of her, whom she thought was her husband.
His face was expressionless, and his eyes were lifeless. His powerful arm wrapped around her and prevented her from fleeing. From the palm of his raised hand, three writhing appendages extended high above both of them. Immediately, they plunged down into the base of the side of her neck, drilling through her muscles, into her lungs, and then finally, puncturing her pounding heart.
They began to suck and siphon her lifeblood away.
As her fist struck his face, she screamed and twisted her body left and right, in order to free herself from him. The hand with the scissors repeatedly struck his back, sinking the long blades into his lungs and spine.
But her strikes were ineffective.
He only needed to wait.
Every beat of her heart pumped blood that he then only drained away.
Enclosed within the facade of Mrs. Ackerman’s husband, the crystalline entity relished in its ability to disguise and deceive. It delighted in stalking its prey, pleasured in its control over its captured victim, and savored the excitement of the hunt.
Soon, Mrs. Ackerman’s screams faded. Her arms slowly sank to her sides, and her body eased, while her life ebbed.
As her head dropped to the side, her face slowly turned. With her eyes revealing her terror, she saw, in the kitchen, her husband lying on the floor, in a pool of his own blood.
A short time later, Mrs. Ackerman’s contorted, bloodless, and lifeless body lay on the floor.
Next to her crouched the hooded man in his thick, long coat. He said to himself, Crystal’s confidence is growing. She will gain more power and will be closer to let the Essence through the rift. But I see she is beginning to live in the moment, being taken away by the excitement of the hunt. That is precisely why I had kept this woman alive, and forced Crystal to hunt her down. And she will not see in time that I have been using her to accomplish a task of my own.
Then, he turned Mrs. Ackerman’s head to the side and placed his right hand to cover her ear, saying, “Now, I must leave a message.”
Soon, a faint glow of white light began to appear between her ear and the hooded man’s hand. Slowly, as the light grew stronger and stronger, the intense brightness engulfed her head, and his hand became a dark formless shadow.
Then, he began to faintly speak words and phrases in a language, as if it were his native tongue.
When his German words ended, the bright light began to fade, just as slowly as it intensified.
He lifted his hand.
Underneath it, within Mrs. Ackerman’s ear, appeared what looked like a red pearl.
Chapter 11
Somewhat recovering after witnessing Malik Khel’s death, the goateed man sat at Trace Restaurant the following day. With earbuds in his ears, he didn’t hear the employees greet the owners, Tracy and Shawn, as they walked in. As he sat in the circular area, with the high tables surrounded by TVs, the pizza he was eating had most of his attention.
Tracy walked behind the bar and greeted Katy with a hug, while Shawn shook hands with a regular customer, sitting at the bar, to begin in conversation.
The goateed man finally noticed the owners, after lifting his head and taking a drink from his beer. Still drinking, his eyes watched Kim, as she came closer to stop by his table. Between her and her twin sister Katy, she was the more flamboyant. In the mood to talk, and in the mood to get him to talk, she nudged up next to him and leaned her elbows on the table.
He removed the earbuds.
“Hey, sailor, I noticed that pizza disappeared really fast. I guess you’re really not likin’ it.” She gave him a wink and nudged him with her shoulder.
“Yeah, it stinks,” he said with weak grin, surprising himself with his attempt to make a joke.
“Ah, I knew there was a human being in there, just dying to come out!” She smiled and gave his shoulder a slight shove with her fingertips.
Kim had succeeded in putting him in the mood to chat, and he surprised himself again by asking a question. “So, how are you and your twin getting along? I hear you moved into her place. Getting on each other’s nerves yet?
“Nope, we just love being around each other. Always staying up late, talking a lot, drinking some wine, talking a lot. Doing sisterly stuff.”
He smiled pleasantly, “Well, that’s good.”
“She loves everything about me.” Kim smiled an exaggeratedly huge smile.
“Oh, now that’s difficult to believe.”
“Especially my laugh. Katy loves my laugh.”
He said sarcastically, “Gee, I guess I can understand why, because your laugh can double as a homing beacon.” He wanted to smile, but to keep the effect of his joke, he kept himself from putting on any facial expression, while looking straight at her.
“Yeah, I know. It really can be!” She laughed and pushed his shoulder again with her fingertips. “You can really hear me from the opposite side of the building…just like now!” Her voice and laugh boomed throughout the restaurant.
He began to chuckle.
Kim soon composed herself and held back her voice. Briefly looking away, she noticed a customer nearby waving for her. She said, “Oh, just a minute, sweetie, I’ll be back.”
Nodding his head, he picked up his beer and took a drink.
Suddenly, he heard someone call his name, surprised that someone actually knew it.
He looked around.
He saw people busy eating, others looking up at the TVs, and still others talking amongst themselves, at their tables.
Seeing no one that could have been calling for him, he brushed it off.
Then, he took another drink and leaned back on his seat.
Suddenly, he saw a vision in his mind. It was a blur. He saw a small building, mostly of dark wood, with a neon sign in front that was turned off in the afternoon sun. The building seemed out of place: it was old, but between newly developed surroundings.
Fading away, the vision quickly left.
Unsure of what that was, he furrowed his brow and took anot
her drink, deciding not to think about it.
Just then, Katy stopped at his table and stood directly across from him. She gently placed one hand on the table and casually put the other on her hip. “So, how’s the food?” she asked. “Need another mule?”
He responded with a smile, “No, thanks. I’m good…I’m almost outta here.”
Katy was about to leave, when he said, “I was just talkin’ to your sister.”
“Yeah, I saw you…I mean I heard her.” She giggled.
“So, she says things are going pretty well with her staying at your place.”
“Yeah, it’s like nothing’s changed, and we’ve never lived away from each other.”
He leaned back on his chair and tilted his head to the side. “You know, the two of you sound about the same when you talk. But you’re completely different when you laugh.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“So, here’s a tough question: who’s got the better laugh?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s not tough. It’s definitely her.” She said it in a matter-of-fact manner. Then, unexpectedly, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. Leaning forward, she whispered to him, “But it’s so loud.”
He smiled.
Just then, Kim returned and stood between him and Katy.
Katy informed Kim, “He was asking me who has the better laugh.”
“Oh, really? I wonder who it could be…” Kim said as she flashed a smile, tilted up her head at an angle, and batted her eyes.
Katy flatly admitted, with a sigh, “Yeah, I said you did.”
Kim was pleased, and she beamed a huge smile, saying, “Ohhhh, thank you! That’s so sweet of you to say! Ahhhh. So sweet…” She leaned towards Katy; they hugged each other, and then parted, as Kim continued smiling.
Then, Katy leaned back on one leg. With one hand again on her hip, she looked at her twin and complained, in inflected words, “Yeah, but it’s so annoying…”
Seeing the honesty between the sisters, and the stark differences they had, the goateed man had to smile, but he was laughing inside.
Later, on his way out, he sat in his Mustang at Trace’s parking lot, talking to Dancy on the phone.
“Yeah, my parents won’t be able to make it here,” Dancy said, “and I’m not gonna make it to their place. So, I’ll be all by my lonesome. Sigh…”
He replied, “Alright. Sounds like a plan then. I’ll come over to your place, and we can watch the game.”
Her voice was sweet over the phone, “So romantic…Thanksgiving, you, me…” Then, she switched gears to high-excitement and said with a growl, “And the Chargers on TV kickin’ the Niners’ behinders! Go Bolts!”
He laughed, “Ok, don’t use up all that energy before the game starts.”
“Alright, sweetie pie!” she agreed. “Call me soon. I’ll talk to ya later.”
“K. See ya.”
With a smile, he thought about how he enjoyed the excitement he and Dancy shared about football. But, as he considered the recent, strange, and shocking events in his life, he wondered whether he should disclose them to Dancy. After taking a moment, he then decided that the time wasn’t quite right, saying, “I’m still trying to figure these things out myself.” Sliding the phone into his jeans’ pocket, he started the car.
With the sun above soothingly warm, he drove with the top down on the 56 Freeway, on his way to the beach. As his right hand casually rested on the wheel, his left hand extended outside the car, feeling the air speed through his spread-apart fingers.
Strangely, he heard a voice.
It was truly a voice, and the words were clear. It was not like other times, when he sensed external thoughts; so, he knew this was a different person.
He heard the voice again. Along with the words came incoherent images, sent to his head. The images conflicted with his sight of the freeway and distracted his concentration. Finding it difficult to drive, he pulled over on the shoulder of the freeway.
When the car came to a stop, the voice said, “I saved you.”
Quickly, he asked out loud, “What do you mean? Who are you?”
“I gave you the bottle of wine, with the first note. And in D.C., I’m the one who saved you, when you were mortally wounded. Your passing would not have been in concert with my overall timing.” The voice was soft and calm and just loud enough for him to hear.
He thought to himself, Husky hooded guy? He withheld from saying anything, until after a couple of cars finished passing by on the freeway. Then, he said in his own calm voice, “Thanks. But no thanks.” But then, quickly, he scoffed, “I highly doubt you’re the one who saved me.” After a moment of silence, he added, “So, what then? Calling me directly now? No note today? No bottle of wine?”
“Things are progressing nicely between you and me, and now, we’re able to have this connection.”
He didn’t understand what the voice meant by progressing nicely and by connection, but he wasn’t in the mood to want to know.
“You have no idea of the extent of your abilities,” the voice said, “And I have a personal stake in your development.”
A group of cars passed.
He didn’t respond, but in disgust he thought, Whatever.
After a long silence, the voice continued, “Consider this my note. My fourth: Late afternoon - Alleyway pool hall - L.A. You stink at it. So, I don’t plan on having you play. Do you see it now?”
A vision of the pool hall appeared. It was the building of which he had a glimpse, back at the restaurant. It was old, primarily made of dark colored wood, and above its entrance a neon sign was turned off in the mid-day sun.
“Since you involved a third party, there will be more casualties. And you will be overwhelmed. So, you’d better prepare.”
“And if I don’t go…you’ll just get your rocks off by killing people anyway?”
There was a pause and silence, and then the voice responded, “In time, you’ll get to like me - be friends, maybe - and the answer is…yes.”
The goateed man shook his head in scorn. But he kept himself under control. “My development - whatever it is - why do you need to kill people in the process?”
The voice put on a philosophical tone. “Because there is no pleasure without pain; there’s nothing to compare it against. There is no good without evil; there’s nothing to compare it - to contrast it - against.”
He responded, “Just the typical evil fiend mentality…full of self importance and sophistry.” He waited for anything more. There was no more. Then, glancing behind his car, he got ready to go back on the freeway.
As he sped up and merged in, the wheels of the Mustang spun over dirt, and then over asphalt.
With the Mustang picking up more speed, he scoffed, “Prepare? Yeah, whatever.”
* * * * * * *
That same day, at Congressman Morton Barlon’s office inside the Capitol Building, Washington, D.C.
“Yes, Iranian-born Ibn Khali Jalel is the leader of this network where our two operatives are embedded. Here’s a reconnaissance photo of him, with a couple of his men,” General Parsin said, as he handed Congressman Barlon a black and white photo of three men.
Barlon was the House Chairman of Homeland Security. Looking at the picture, he saw Jalel stepping out of the passenger door of a Jeep. The two other men were standing at either side of him, shouldering their machine guns. All three were wearing military fatigues, on a dirt road, at the foot of a mountain.
The General went on, “If you recall, we found him in a cave complex in a mountain range of the Paktia Province in northeastern Afghanistan. And during our invasion of the complex, he was able to elude capture. Afterwards, our operatives informed us that Jalel is planning, coordinating, and commanding all the movements of all teams in the network, from his new home in the mountains of the Parachinar area of northern Pakistan.”
Representative Barlon set down the photograph, leaned back in his chair, and gazed at the ceiling of his office. A moment lat
er, he leaned back down and asked, “So, what’s the latest intel from our two operatives?”
“From the latest briefing given to me, their last communique was a week ago. We were told that Jalel’s satellite teams around the world were given approval by Jalel to execute their next stage. We’ve increased our security alert level, and security searches have also intensified at airports, border crossings, and ports of entry.”
Barlon asked, “So, what about the safety of our two operatives?”
“The situation became life-threatening for one of the two men, and we had engaged a plan of extraction for him.” The General leaned back on his chair. “We waited for the ‘go’ word from the operatives, but never received a response. Because of that, we disengaged the plan, to avoid compromising the safety of the extraction team. Since then, there’s been silence, and we’ve been in the dark. We’re flying blind over there.”
“Is there a new plan for extraction?”
“Until communication goes live again, none.”
Barlon began to rock slowly in his chair. He thought for a short while, and then spoke, “This group that Jalel heads, it’s not a cell, correct? This is actually a network, like a hub-and-spokes organization, where coordination is centralized at Jalel; and he orchestrates commands out to other highly-specialized groups within his network.”
“Correct,” General Parsin replied. “And his network has been the most successful. Intelligence gathering points to Jalel making the network a self-contained cell itself. That is, the network is the cell. But unlike a traditional cell in which most members can carry out any function, within Jalel’s network, there are highly-specialized groups or satellite teams. These groups learn, evolve, and innovate. For example, one group could specialize in recruiting, another in bomb creation, and another in threat scenarios. Jalel orchestrates the activities of these groups, to fulfill precise and effective terrorism.”
“And he’s gotten the attention of the tennation Caliphate?” Barlon asked.
General Parsin responded, “He’s so highly admired because of his success that he’s been given connections high up. They give him what he needs: money, weapons, technology, and cooperation with other terrorist states. And with that, he spawns even more networks whose desires are to be as effective as Jalel.”
RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone Page 27