The Day of Legion

by Craig Taylor

  The second figure turned and smiled. It was a small boy. Patricia stepped forward to get a closer look. Patricia looked at David. “You took Jason Hansen?”

  David nodded. “We had to. You’ve seen what we’re up against, the attack on him and his mother, his father and you. We had to protect him. We can see now why the darkness sensed him. He has a force in him like we’ve never seen before. He will grow to be a powerful enemy of the darkness.”

  “You can’t just take him,” Patricia said, walking toward him.

  “He has no living family members,” Amanda said to her. “He would have been put in a home and been vulnerable. Look how they got to you in your home. If we hadn’t protected him, he would be dead by now.”

  Patricia didn’t say anything. She knew they were right. Jason got up and walked across the room to her. He looked well. He was clean and in pajamas and a dressing gown, ready for bed.

  “I want to examine him,” Patricia said. “Make sure he’s all right.”

  “He is fine,” a quiet voice said.

  Patricia jumped. The woman had moved quietly and now stood next to her. She slipped the hood exposing her face. Patricia stared.

  “This is Elizabeth,” Amanda said.

  Patricia still stared. She couldn’t take her eyes away. Elizabeth was incredibly old. Her wrinkled skin was white, almost opaque. Her hair, eyebrows and eyelashes were snow-white and her eyes glowed.

  She had grey eyes, with the darkest, deepest pupils Patricia had ever seen. As she looked, Patricia could feel an incredible amount of love and compassion, calmness, serenity. She reminded Patricia of an angel she once dreamed about.

  The old woman took her hand and held it tightly. Her skin was warm and her grip comforting. Patricia could feel emotion start to build inside her, suppressed for years. Sadness, fear and dread, full of danger and secrets, power and purity, light and dark, depression and happiness.

  “I’ve been here before,” she found herself whispering.

  Elizabeth smiled. “Yes child, you have.”

  David and Amanda looked at each other, confused.

  “Patricia, you were here just like Jason is now. David and Amanda were also here for a while in their youth. The only difference is, you were sent back out into the world to hide among others, so that you could be called upon when the time came. That time is drawing nearer every day. David and Amanda stayed with Albert and continued the fight, as have other people through time.”

  “I don’t understand,” Patricia said. “My parents knew about this?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, eventually they did. They noticed things about you when you were a toddler and sought answers. That brought them to Albert, here at the sanctuary. They knew that this was the best place for you, because the darkness was already circling you, waiting for the opportunity to either claim you or kill you. Your parents weren’t seers, but they could sense an evil presence in the room when you were sleeping. They tried many things to protect you from the swirling blackness around you, but nothing seemed to work.”

  “One day they brought you here, and said goodbye. You were a tiny child, frightened and shaking, but even at a young age you knew there was something big you were a part of. Your parents left you here and drove home, knowing they might never see you again.

  “They were still driving the next day when they were rammed off the road by a truck driven by an evil man. He was being guided by his dark angel, who was looking for you. He killed your parents.”

  Tears ran down Patricia’s face. As Elizabeth talked, she remembered. They were vivid memories and as clear as if they happened yesterday. Her mind opened a floodgate of all of the suppressed memories, and they were pouring through; memories she had hidden away in a part of her mind.

  She had to close her eyes. The memories were painful, but necessary, she could see that. She saw herself as a child of three, standing in front of the main cabin outside, holding Albert’s hand. He was much younger, strong and capable. Her mother and father were standing by their car, waving. She waved back sadly. They got in the car and drove away. Their faces were wet with tears and her mother leaned on her father’s shoulder as he drove down the winding road, through the pine trees.

  Patricia remembered them now, driving away from the sanctuary. She saw them as they experienced their tragic accident. Next, she found herself in the cab of the truck as it crashed into her parent’s vehicle. The man at the wheel was a skinny, greasy, evil-looking man, who was smiling and happy in what he was about to do. A dark figure sat next to him, leaning in slightly and whispering in his ear, encouraging him.

  Patricia turned and looked into the sleeping area of the cab behind the driver. The body of a young female lay on the mattress, lifeless and cold, naked. Patricia could sense she had been raped and strangled by the driver, that it was a slow, painful death.

  She could see into his mind. It was cold and dark, devoid of love. He had killed many times before, all young females. All were prostitutes he’d lured into his truck with the promise of money, or a ride, or sex. He’d raped and tortured all of them and buried them along his routes he drove.

  He didn’t consider driving a truck as work, just his cover. His life’s work was killing and raping as many sluts as he could. He loved the power it gave him and the fear his victims felt. He hoped his bitch mother was burning in hell, watching him seek revenge on her and all those like her.

  Patricia found herself watching the truck ram her parent’s car repeatedly. Her father died on the first impact. She knew this, because she saw him leave his body and stand by the car, waiting for her mother. His form was light and glowed slightly in the late afternoon sun.

  Moments later she saw her mother leave her body and walk to her father, where he grasped her hand and whispered something in her ear. She smiled and turned, looking directly at Patricia. They knew she was there, and knew they had done the right thing.

  The truck driver got out of the cab and walked to what was left of the car. He bent over and looked in, whistling. He was proud. He then walked to the tree the car was pinned to and urinated at its base like an animal marking its territory.

  The black form stood near her mother and father, but wouldn’t approach them. He just stood and watched, waiting for something. Patricia smelled smoke at first, then the rancid smell of decaying meat.

  A dark angel appeared above her parents in the air. Black wings twice as long as its body extended towards the sky. Its leathery skin twisted tightly across its muscles as it extended its hand toward them. It tried to smile, to fake friendliness, but its red, vengeful eyes left it exposed. It curled its lips back and showed its black, rotting teeth over a raw, red tongue.

  A light appeared suddenly around her parents, so bright the dark angel and other dark figure had to shield their eyes. Patricia watched as a white angel gently wrapped them both in the protection of its wings. The angel was the opposite of the beast floating above them. Its wings extended high above it. They were strong and thick. Its skin was white as snow; the light radiating from it was warm and loving. It wore a flowing white robe that waved as though in a gentle current. Slowly the three of them faded away. Patricia knew they were safe and happy.

  The dark angel looked directly at her. Its eyes narrowed, its mouth curled into a snarl and it charged down at her through the air, leaving a trail of black smoke behind it. As it got closer she could smell it, feel its anger and hatred for her. The angel was huge beside her.

  Just as it was about to collide she jumped...and found herself standing next to Elizabeth.

  She realized she had been explaining to David and Amanda everything she had just remembered. Amanda had tears in her eyes and David looked pale. Jason was asleep on the sofa. Elizabeth smiled warmly.

  “She can see like Albert,” Amanda said, amazed.

  Elizabeth looked at them all. �
�The time is approaching.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Matthew Roper lay fast asleep, dreaming about running. He always ran in his dreams, but had no idea what he was running from. He can remember dreaming about running as a child and, according to his mother, he was the most restless sleeper she had ever known.

  She told him once that when they picked him up at the orphanage after the adoption had been completed, he’d fallen asleep in the reception area waiting for them. She laughed when she told him his little legs were pumping as he lay asleep, as though running.

  He awoke suddenly, a sharp pain shooting through his lower back like a bullet. He winced and rolled onto his side. Looking at the clock, he saw it was midnight.

  He cursed quietly, trying to remember the last time he slept through the night. Usually he got to at least three in the morning before waking. He was about to roll onto his other side, when he thought of the man at the crime scene that day.

  He sat up in bed and turned on the light. The old nutter told him he would wake up at midnight with a pain in his back. He smiled at the coincidence and got up to stretch his back muscles.

  He walked to the window and placed his hands on the sill. He had found that, if he stretched his arms on the window sill and bent over, he would get enough of a stretch in his lower back to ease it and could get back to sleep.

  As he was about to bend over, he looked out the window. He saw a man standing on the street outside his house, under the streetlight. He was making no effort to hide. He didn’t look suspicious, but looked very familiar.

  The man looked at the window and waved. Matthew opened the window, but before he could open his mouth, the man spoke to him.

  “Sore back at midnight?”

  “Mister Baker,” Matthew called out. “Wait there.”

  He thought he saw a smile on Baker’s face, but wasn’t sure. He pulled on jeans, a t-shirt and shoes and went outside. Baker was still standing there smiling. Matthew had questions, but asked the most important one first.

  “How do you know where I live?”

  Baker nodded as though he agreed that was the appropriate first question.

  “Mister Roper, you have been watched by the light your entire life. We have kept you safe until now, but the darkness is planning something. You are in danger.”

  “I think you should go, Mister Baker, before I call my associates and have you arrested for stalking a law enforcement officer.”

  As Matthew started to walk away, he stopped dead in his tracks at the question posed by Baker behind him.

  “Do you think your back is sore because you run in your sleep?”

  Matthew spun around. “Have you been in my house?” he asked angrily.

  Baker smiled. “No. In your dreams.”

  Matthew just stared. He regretted coming outside, he should have called a patrol car.

  Baker took a step closer to him. “Think hard, Matthew. When you’re running in your dreams, you have always felt someone there. You’ve felt someone protecting you and holding back what has been chasing you all of these years.”

  Matthew wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him he was crazy, but he was right. If he thought about it honestly—and he often did—he had always sensed someone next to him, protecting him from whatever it was he was running from.

  “How...do you know what I dream about?”

  Baker moved right in close and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “As hard as this is to understand, I am your guardian on earth. I have been since you were in Saint Michael’s orphanage. I’ve protected you. That’s my job.”

  Matthew nearly laughed, but thought that might upset him.

  Baker spoke again. “Remember when you started in the police force, about a week into the job, you went into an abandoned house on Lexington Avenue?”

  Matthew nodded suspiciously.

  “You remember hearing a voice telling you to ‘stop right now’ and you did? A man jumped out of the shadows with a knife, and if you hadn’t stopped, you would have been stabbed in the face?”

  He didn’t wait for Matthew to answer.

  “That voice was me. Just like it was me telling you to stop at the green light on View Terrace, when a car ran a red light that would have hit you in the driver’s door. It was me, telling you to draw your firearm before going into the factory on Mason Street, when the woman burglar was waiting with the baseball bat. It was me who told you to step back from the junkie last week when he suddenly swung at you with his needle. You sent it off for analysis, and it was reported as being full of HIV-positive blood, but you already knew that. Because I told you.”

  Matthew was stunned. “You can’t know all of this! How are you doing this?”

  Baker replied quietly. “Think, Matthew. You have been given the ability to see things, to use your energy for good. You just have to remember how, because you’ve suppressed it for so long.”

  A strong wind came up suddenly. All the lights exploded down the street, the pops sending sparks flying. Darkness filled the space once occupied by the dull yellow glow of street lighting. The only illumination now came from the crescent moon.

  Matthew jumped. Baker stood still, his eyes fixed on him.

  “They’re here, Matthew,” he had to shout over the wind. “You can see them, but you have to look.”

  Matthew saw nothing except rubbish blowing up the street. He looked above him, and only saw the night sky.

  “Look with your soul,” Baker shouted. “You have to see before it’s too late. I can’t do anything to help you now.”

  Matthew saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was a dark flash that whizzed by. Somehow it was darker than the night, but when he tried to focus on it he couldn’t see it.

  Then he saw another flash and another, until all he could see were dark masses flying above, around and around faster and faster.

  Then he heard them: hundreds of voices calling his name, evil and anger mixed with strained, hoarse tones. “Maattheeew. Come home to usssss!”

  Slowly, figures came into focus. Matthew, frozen in fear, could see their bodies and faces. They stared at him with red, dangerous eyes as they flew about. He could see long black wings trailing them. The smell of rotten flesh filled his nostrils and he gagged, knowing this was what he had been running from. These things had been watching him; he could sense them in his dreams. They were the temptations he felt, they were the little voices telling him to break the rules, but he’d always fought them. He fought to be righteous.

  The beasts continued to circle, but a large one dropped low and floated in front of the two men. It put its face right in front of Matthew’s. He could feel its hot breath and smell the foul odor. A hot wind pummeled Matthew with each beat of its black wings.

  It had the distorted features of a man. Matthew could read its past in its eyes. He saw the man’s birth in the early 1700’s. He was beaten regularly and molested by two uncles, willing participants with the darkness. He saw the boy in his early teens, strangling a kitten and discarding the body under the trees. He saw his first rape, his first murder, his first armed robbery and his first opium high.

  He saw him rape young men in prison and stab a guard when his back was turned. He saw his death: executed by hanging. The darkness claimed him. Now he wore the image of his soul. Black, leathery skin, red angry eyes, distorted features and a foul odor.

  Matthew was too scared to move. The beast looked him in the eye, his chest heaving with each breath and his wings slowly flapping back and forth, hovering in front of him.

  “Matthew, the light promises everything. They say love and compassion is everything, you just have to live righteously. They say the darkness is cruel and mean, but the darkness is real. Darkness lets you do what you want: kill, maim, take what you want and do what you want with no
recourse. What is more real than that?”

  Matthew could feel himself being drawn in. He felt temptation like never before and it felt fantastic. He felt his nerves tingle, his skin crackle. His senses came alive and he felt immense pleasure flowing thickly through his veins.

  The beast smiled. “Feel the power of the darkness. Feel what the light calls bad. Come to us Matthew. Come to your destiny.”

  He heard another voice. It belonged to Baker. “Matthew, fight it! Fight what they offer you. What you’re feeling is false. Look into its soul!”

  The beast turned its head quickly and spat black phlegm at Baker. “Shut up, traitor! He has made up his mind.”

  Matthew fell backwards on to the road. He looked up at the beast hovering above him and knew exactly what his destiny was. This was what his entire life was leading up to. He could see it clearly now, could feel it in his blood.

  The beast, sensing his thoughts, became enraged. It rose above them, raised his wings and plummeted downwards, its hind talons pointed at Matthew’s chest.

  Matthew rolled to the side. The beast struck the asphalt of the road, cutting through it like butter, and spat at him while scrambling to its feet. It shrieked, calling for the others, but they continued to circle, afraid to help their fellow angel.

  Matthew got up and walked slowly toward the beast. He felt guided, as though he were standing outside his body watching, but moving all the same. He reached out and grabbed the beast by the throat.

  At first it thought it could break free, so it smiled defiantly. When Matthew’s grip tightened and the beast felt itself being choked, it began to panic. It flapped its wings frantically and attempted to plunge its talons into him, but this had no effect. It released a shrill squeal, spit blood and saliva into Matthew’s face, but he held on and tightened his grip.

  A light shot forth from his body, uncontrolled. It showered the beast in the pure white energy that had been suppressed for years. It screamed as flesh peeled from its bones. Its eyes widened and burst. Its body shook violently, then disintegrated to a pile of dust on the ground.