DARK VISIONS

by James Byron Huggins

  Jodi stressed, “We don’t have enough men, Joe! We need at least one more man. Maybe Marvin could cover my back, but somebody else has to cover what’s in front of me. I can’t keep this leader under control and watch the crowd, too.”

  “I can do that,” said Professor Graven. “As I said; I have experience. I was often the point man in my platoon. But I assure you these people will be armed and will do everything within their power to kill us before we escape that tunnel. They will follow us. And they will be waiting for us when we reach the graveyard.”

  Graven stared as if expecting Jodi to say something.

  “Do you understand?” he asked.

  “Yeah!” she nodded. “Do you?”

  “I understand that we are going to die unless you call for backup when we are on our way out of this model of Stonehenge,” Graven stated with a dead expression. “We will never survive a walk through those woods without a thousand police officers searching every shadow.” His frown deepened. “I know you feel you were betrayed today but –”

  “’Feel’ has got nothing to do with it,” stated Jodi. “We were betrayed.”

  “Forgive me.” Graven momentarily bent his head. “What I meant to say is that I know you have been betrayed, but you were very likely betrayed by a small group. Or perhaps only one man. You will surely be safe if you call in an entire battalion of police officers.” His brow hardened. “Surely not every one of them can be compromised, so the greater the number, the safer we’ll be. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Joe Mac said, “Tell me something, professor.”

  “Yes?”

  “Just what is this Wicker Man ceremony?”

  Professor Graven frowned as he said. “It was the most hideous of all Druid ceremonies. It was a ritual where the Druids imprisoned both animals and human beings inside a wooden replica of a man. They referred to it as the Wicker Man although it was not, of course, made from ‘wicker.’ No, wicker burned not half so hot for their intended purpose. Then, at a predetermined time, the high priest of the Druids would set the Wicker Man on fire and all those trapped within the Wicker Man would slowly be roasted alive in horrible, horrible agony – both animals and men. It was wholly barbaric – as savage a ritual as has ever existed in the history of the world. And it played no small part in Julius Caesar’s decision to wipe the Druids off the face of the Earth.

  “And these people plan to put Tommy Childers inside this Wicker Man and set it on fire while Tommy’s still alive?” asked Jodi,

  Professor Graven nodded.

  Jodi eyes were wide. “Well, they’re gonna die.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” said Joe Mac. “Think you could get me that whiskey now, Marvin, if it’s no trouble?”

  Marvin rose. “Be a pleasure, Joe.”

  The subject matter hadn’t interrupted Professor Graven’s gun cleaning. “It should be noted that the Druids were not the only ancient culture that sacrificed living human beings to the flames,” he continued. “In Carthage, they threw living children into the burning belly of a giant bronze idol named Molech. It was supposedly a demon. And in Babylon they threw both living children and adults into the fires of Ba’al. But the methods used in those rituals insured an almost instant death for the victims – something which was literally ‘civilized’ compared to the bestial savagery of the Wicker Man used by the Druids. Supposedly, a victim sacrificed to the Wicker Man could survive for as long as half an hour in the most hideous, unspeakable agony before he finally succumbed to the flames.”

  “Just who are these animals?” asked Jodi.

  Professor Graven shrugged, “Two thousand years ago, the Druids were the social elite of their world. They were diplomats, priests, soldiers; they were actually quite well organized and had tribal leaders who were called – as you already know – a ‘Ri.’ They were the only class of people that could travel freely between territories without the threat of being captured and killed. The Druids were everything to the world they dominated. They had an inexplicably vast knowledge of all things involving nature. They were renowned for their knowledge of elixirs and drugs and sedatives for every purpose. And they were known to invoke genuine powers in their rituals to an extent that even the Knights Templar came under their influence, which was also the beginning of the end for the Knights.”

  “How is that?” asked Joe Mac.

  “The Knights Templar were a formidable Christian fighting force that reached the apex of their power in the thirteenth century. Then they were destroyed by Pope Clement and the Army of Rome when Clement deemed them guilty of heresy and witchcraft. Although the true reason for their destruction was that Clement had come to fear the immense wealth and extraordinary influence the Knights had come to command. But, in any case, many believed that the Knights had long ago crossed paths with the old, surviving Druids and absorbed many Druidic ways consequently forming a hybridized form of Christianity and paganism that was not well understood at the time and remains something of a mystery even today.”

  Marvin silently delivered a whiskey to Joe Mac as the professor became pensive, staring into the hearth. “I myself believe that the two great powers – the Druids and the Knights Templar – merged to form an entirely new order that the world had never seen or imagined. It was not Christian. It was not pagan. It was, in its true sense, a uniting of the power of Nature with the power of the cosmos, and yet it served neither Nature nor God. Rather, it used the powers of both worlds for whatever purpose it decreed. Yes, and so the old world of the Druids and the new world of the Knights were forged into a new order that went underground with its vast secrets, its unknown magic, and its immeasurable wealth. And just as all true stories end in death … nothing more was said.”

  Jodi found herself staring into the flames. She didn’t know what to say for a long, long time. Then she felt like she had to speak and began, “Whatever they were, or whatever they are, they didn’t have the right to kill even one innocent person. That’s why we should kill every one of them.”

  Gravin scowled, “For ten thousand years, armies have tried to destroy the Druids and the Knights and now whatever New Order they have forged in the crucible of their mutual persecution. And yet here they are. As dangerous as they ever were. They have even rebuilt the womb of their empire – the mega-monolith of Stonehenge. Only God knows what dark magic has been vomited forth from that temple, but I assure you that their magic is real.” A pause. “Teleportation. Time travel. Crossing dimensions. It’s possible. I know. I’ve seen it. And I don’t doubt what I’ve seen with my own eyes. And this New Order knows the secrets of that power.” He was breathing shallowly. “That is why they have prevailed. You can slaughter them all day long, but they will ultimately survive and even thrive. The most you can hope to do is destroy a single family. A single tribe. A single temple.”

  “That’s the captain,” said Joe Mac.

  Jodi blinked. “What?”

  “Captain Brightbarton’s about to knock on the door. Let him in.”

  Jodi turned her head as there was a knock at the door. She pushed herself to her feet and walked forward not bothering to draw her Glock. She opened the door and stepped back.

  “Been a while,” she said.

  “Uh huh.” Brightbarton walked in carrying a long black rifle case in each hand. “Make sure you lock that thing.”

  Jodi meticulously set all three locks and followed him into the den where Brightbarton simply stood gazing over all of them together before he said, “I confidently predict that absolutely none of this fiasco is going to end well in any way. But after today I really don’t care too much. One of those young boys was my nephew. That’s why I called him. I knew that he could be trusted. And he vouched for the other one, and that was good enough for me. Jodi, move that food, would ya?”

  She took a moment to clear the coffee table, and Brightbarton laid out one rifle case, unzipping it. He threw it open to reveal five Glocks with extra clips and a lot of ammo. He laid the second gun case on
the floor and opened it to display two more shoguns, more ammo, flex ties, and Jodi’s eyes widened as the saw the final item in the arsenal.

  There were a dozen stun grenades, but she was familiar with those; she’d used them in training. But beside the gray cylindrical stun grenades were at least twenty black military “hand grenades” that Jodi recognized only by shape.

  “Captain?” she began, “are those real –”

  “You bet they’re real, rookie.” Brightbarton lifted one of the black spheres. “This, boys and girls, is an M61 tactical fragmentation grenade used by every meat-eating, heat-seeking branch of the United States military. It’s crammed with Composition B and a tetryl booster to insure a detonation that will cut a car in half. It’s has a prenotched inner liner to guarantee a spread of shrapnel that is certain death inside a six-foot radius. It has one safety. You pull this pin and you have three-point-five seconds before it goes boom.”

  “But,” Jodi followed, “where’d you get them? That’s a military weapon, and we don’t keep military weapons.” She paused. “Do we?

  “I boosted them from the evidence locker,” Brightbarton grunted.

  “Where’d the evidence locker get them?”

  Brightbarton shrugged, “The FBI asked us to inventory the armaments they confiscated at the house of that fool, Jacob Statute. It seems the FBI’s local storage facility for explosive materials is under repair, so they asked us to take these off their hands and hold them for a while. Anyway, when I decided to join your little excursion tomorrow night I made a withdrawal from the evidence room – namely these babies.” He nodded with a frown. “I think we’re gonna end up needing them.”

  Brightbarton reached into the paper bag plastered under his right arm, and when he withdrew it he tossed a Druid’s robe to Marvin.

  Marvin caught it and held it up.

  “Where’d you get this?” he asked.

  “From that fool, Phillips.” Without invitation Brightbarton walked to the bar. “And he was none too happy to see me. But he was overjoyed to let you have his robe once I told him you were gonna come back and visit him if he didn’t cooperate.” He waved it off. “I don’t wanna know what you did to him. I’m sure he deserved it. Joe, how many times have you ever heard me say I need a drink?”

  “Never.”

  “Anybody else want one?”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” said Jodi.

  Joe Mac: “Got one.”

  “Yeah, boy, I need this.” He tilted his head to swallow the whole glass. Then he began filling it again. “Those were some good boys out there today, and they didn’t deserve to get killed like that by these lowlife bushwhacking psychos. I hope you ain’t planning on bringing any of them back alive, Joe.”

  Kneeling, Marvin gently lifted one of the deadly M61 grenades. “So you pull this pin and you’ve got three and a half seconds?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Do you mind if I take some?”

  “Knock yourself out, Einstein. That’s why I brought ‘em.” Brightbarton pointed to the grenades. “You just remember that once you pull that pin you have three-point-five seconds. And nothing can stop it.”

  Marvin’s eyes narrowed as he slowly turned the grenade in his hand.

  “Joe?” Jodi ventured. “Does the captain know this is extremely dangerous? What about Florida? What about naked women and the beach?”

  “He knows,” answered Joe Mac in a bored tone. “This ain’t his first rodeo. And they killed his nephew, so he wants his payback.” He was silent. “Good grief, girl. I’m more worried about you than him.”

  Jodi threw herself back into the couch. “I’m going with you whether you like it or not. I might be a rookie, but if I walk away from this I might as well turn in my badge. Things like this are why I joined the force in the first place.”

  Brightbarton raised his glass. “That’s the spirit, kid. You gotta get your feet wet sooner or later. Might as well be sooner.” He burped. “Just think of it like prom night. You go in all nervous and scared and before it’s over you realize that all that fear about Don Juan was a thousand times worse than this ignoramus who can’t find his butt with both hands in his back pockets. Same with a firefight. The anticipation is usually worse than the fight. At least, that’s been my experience.”

  Jodi almost laughed; the prom joke was closer to the truth than she wanted to admit. She asked, “So you’ve been in on a few of these?”

  “A few.” Brightbarton savored a sip. “But it was Joe who was involved in – forgive me – ‘the father of the mother of all shootouts’ back in eighty-six.” He burped. “He was only seven years on the force back then, but they’d put him in organized crime. In any case, he got himself caught in a warehouse with fourteen Mafioso goons who suddenly decided Joe needed to go the way of all flesh.”

  Brightbarton cocked his head once, then nodded, “Yep, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many bullets fired in such a small space in such a short period of time in my whole life. They even shot the cat and the pigeons up in the rafters. And when we finally broke down the door we found Joe sitting all by himself on the floor. He’d been shot eleven times. That’s gotta be some kinda record.”

  Jodi balked. “You were shot eleven times!”

  Joe Mac muttered, “It was a few.”

  “How did you live?”

  He shrugged, “A lot of it’s just attitude. Most of the time whether you live or die is in the mind. If you stay calm and don’t panic –”

  “What’s panic got to do with it?”

  With a grimace Joe Mac added, “Because you gotta stay calm, kid. If you get all excited and panic, well, you’re probably gonna die. I’ve seen officers get shot in the hand and die from shock. And I’ve seen officers get shot six or seven times and walk to the ambulance, get patched up, and go home.”

  Professor Graven glanced at Jodi, “He’s right. I saw a lot of that in Vietnam. The ones who fought to stay alive usually lived. But the ones who gave up died. Faith can access great powers – powers that are almost entirely neglected by modern Man, but ancient Man used them all the time.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Joe Mac. “I thought it was all guesswork.”

  Graven frowned as he shook his head; “Not every civilization was as oblique as the Druids. Some wrote quite generously about magic and numerology and how to summon or even control cosmic forces. King Solomon wrote extensively on sorcery.”

  Jodi was gaping. “You actually believe in magic?” She shook her head. “Listen, I believe in Druids. I believe they are an ape-crazy sect of secret psychos who get together to do some very evil stuff. But I don’t believe in magic. That’s crazy! And I can’t believe that a man with your education would believe in it, either.”

  “He who judges before he listens is a fool,” contested Graven. “And I have seen things that I cannot explain.” Unexpectedly, he seemed to surrender somewhat. “Now, I can’t say with empirical authority that there is such a thing as magic. I’ll give you that. But I can say that I have seen things that have no logical explanation – things that I’ve studied and studied, and I still can’t explain, so I can’t say that it’s magic. But I can’t say that it’s not magic, either.” He took a moment. “It reminds me of what one scientist said after they’d run every test known to Mankind on the Shroud of Turin, and they still didn’t know how to explain it.”

  Brightbarton grunted, “What’d he say?”

  With a subdued laugh Graven answered, “He said, ‘If it’s real, we don’t know how it was done. If it’s a fake, we don’t know how it was done. So, don’t ask me if it’s real or fake or how it was done. All I can tell you is that I came here with a pure, scientific mind. But when I get home I think I might pick up my Bible and give it a look.”

  Finally sitting beside Jodi, Marvin smiled. She returned the expression as he said, “What the professor is trying to say is that the sum of what we don’t know is greater than the sum of what we do know. Or, in other words, all
serious scientists are also humble people. They don’t claim to know the answers to the secrets of the universe. They just claim to know some of the questions.”

  After a moment Brightbarton said, “Well, that’s all very interesting. But that doesn’t have much to do with tomorrow night because we’re not going in there to arrest a bunch of wizards and scientists. We’re going in there to arrest a bunch of murderers. And, magic or no magic, they ain’t gonna survive no twelve-gauge.”

  Joe Mac asked, “You staying here tonight?”

  “Yeah. I went through too much work to sanitize myself before I came here. I’m too tired to do it again.”

  “You got enough room for the captain, professor?”

  “Hmm?” Professor Graven lifted his face. “Oh, yes, of course. I have four bedrooms plus the couch.”

  Joe Mac continued, “Then we’ll have some drinks, relax, and get some sleep. We’ll go over the plan first thing in the morning when we’re fresh. And I’d suggest that everyone sleep with their piece close. We don’t know how much they know.”

  “Do you think it’s Rollins?” asked Brightbarton.

  Jodi venomously interjected, “I think it’s Rollins! Who else could it be?”

  “I don’t know,” Brightbarton said frankly. “All I know is that whoever it is will be there tomorrow night, so I guess we’ll find out together.”

  “If we live,” the professor added soberly. “Don’t underestimate these people. We will not be the first enemy to attack them during one of their rituals. Armies have attacked them day and night for ten thousand years, and yet they’ve prevailed.” He gazed over all of them. “If you think we have the advantage, you’re a fool.” A pause. “They survived Julius Caesar. They survived the armies of Rome. They survived the Black Plague and the Dark Ages and centuries of war and persecution. You can slaughter them until you rot. But they were the first to master the powers of Nature. And I see nothing to indicate they won’t be the last.”