Away From the Dark

by Aleatha Romig

  “You’re the boss, man,” Joel said, finishing my sentence. “Father Dylan?” he asked with a smirk.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “You know what you need to do,” Joel said.

  Chloe put her arm around my shoulders. “It’ll be like when we were kids.”

  I hadn’t used my The Light name since my parents died. At first Gabriel had tried to get me to go by it, but my stubbornness won. “Not Father, though. Gabriel’s coming back. We just don’t know when.”

  “Brother David,” Chloe said.

  Though my gut twisted with the title, I couldn’t be the leader of the Shadows as just Dylan. I nodded.

  Joel shook his head. “All right, Brother David, we need to stop playing nursemaid and get down to business. If you’re sure we’re safe here, this is a great place to get our plan in gear. The computer system in the lower level is stellar. I know how to use it and backdoor us into some sites. It won’t be long until I’ve got us not only on the dark web but authorized to broadcast. I’d say by tomorrow morning, we will be able to get a message out, something short to the Shadows. Not enough to sever Father Gabriel’s orders of radio silence, just enough to let everyone know that you didn’t die in that explosion—that Brother David is alive and ready to keep this going, to move the Shadows to the next level.”

  “It’s nearly four in the morning. Do you think that this could wait until morning?” Chloe asked.

  They both looked at me.

  “I’d say it already did. Let’s keep going and see what we can learn. We can’t call the campuses, but shit, let’s start contacting individual Shadows.”

  “From what I’ve learned,” Joel said, “This was an FBI operation. Somehow they coordinated it with all three campuses.”

  “Our fucking Shadows in the FBI have some explaining to do. How the hell did it get this far?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d suspect that just like we have people inside the FBI, they had people or a person inside The Light.”

  “How in the hell didn’t we know that?” I asked.

  “That’s what we need to find out. What are you going to name her?” Joel asked as we walked down the stairs.

  I’d already thought about this. I knew the name she deserved. Yes, she’d been a pain in the ass, but in a few days, she’d be awakening with a new life for the third time. “Stacy,” I replied. “It means ‘resurrection.’”

  Chloe nodded as both of their phones buzzed.

  “Hello,” Joel answered. “Yes, all three of us are here.” His eyes opened wide as he disconnected his phone and turned to me. “That was a Shadow on the inside of the FBI. We need to get out now! I’m sorry about Stacy, D. But the FBI is only minutes away. Shadows first, we need to flee.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Jacoby

  For the middle of the night, the Anchorage field office was a hive of activity. Each new agent who came up to me slapped me on the back, congratulating me on a good run. They were all proud of the end results: no fires on the campuses, no mass suicide. Special Agent Adler said that the president had even called the director, pleased that he didn’t have a PR nightmare on his hands.

  After a few more congratulatory pats and affectionate ribbing as a few of my old colleagues called me Brother Jacoby, I made my way back to the evidence room. Standing at the doorway, with my mouth agape, I took in the other side of my mission. I’d lived it, been in the trenches, but this, the boxes of evidence, as well as board after board of pictures, creating theories and trails, was the end result of years of research.

  “Jacoby, come in,” Special Agent Adler called from his temporary office. I wasn’t sure how long the operations would be located in Anchorage. Usually Adler and all the unit’s operations were housed in Virginia.

  I followed him into the small private room and shut the door.

  “I wanted to let you see these pictures in private.”

  “Thank you.” No one other than Adler and the other two agents in the SUV knew about my relationship with Sara.

  Opening the folder, I pulled each glossy photo out and studied the faces. Every one of the women had bandaged eyes. It was standard protocol; however, that wouldn’t impair me from being able to tell whether one of them was Sara. I’d spent three weeks looking at her with her eyes bandaged. I’d still recognize her nose, cheeks, hair, and lips.

  Even those features weren’t easily distinguishable on some of these women. Their injuries were extensive, yet the bruises and fractured bones barely registered. I’d flown women in similar condition more times than I cared to admit. I’d helped to carry their unconscious bodies onto my plane and taken them across the country. The only thing that mattered to me as I stared at the pictures was identifying Sara. I hated the thought of her being in that bad a shape in less than twenty-four hours, but if it meant she was alive, I’d nurse her back to health. I’d done it once before.

  Sighing, I shook my head and placed the folder back on Adler’s desk. “None of them are Sara.”

  “Every other agent who’s looked at those photos has commented on the extent of the injuries. You didn’t say a word.”

  I met his gaze. “I’ve seen it, firsthand. There’s nothing new to me in those photos.”

  Special Agent Adler whistled as he blew a gust of air between his teeth. “We need to get you some rest and start debriefing. There’s so much I want to know.”

  “Not yet. I want to meet Father . . . Gabriel Clark when that plane lands.” I ran my fingers over my face, and as I did, I recognized the familiar disconnect with the tips of my fingers. Lowering my hands, I turned them over, showing them to Special Agent Adler. “See my fingers?”

  “Yes, we’ve been seeing a lot of that.”

  “No, don’t you get it?”

  “What?”

  “I want an alert sent out to all the area hospitals, homeless shelters, airports, police, everywhere.”

  “Jacoby, I don’t understand. We have all the followers corralled from the campuses.”

  “We don’t have Sara. I refuse to believe she’s dead. Have the FBI tell all the places I just mentioned that we’re looking for women who have no fingerprints.”

  “As soon as they get the fire extinguished—”

  “No, let’s say she escaped. If she did, she could be wandering about. If she is, she could be picked up and that is the way to identify her.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. There’s more you need to know. Let me show you something that we’re only beginning to understand.”

  I nodded, and waited for Adler to make his way around his desk and back out into the evidence room.

  An hour later, as I drained my second cup of coffee, I continued to read and follow the magnitude of evidence compiled within this room. The caffeine was essential. I was currently going on twenty-four hours without sleep and the adrenaline from Benjamin’s and my escape was quickly dissipating. Undoubtedly the emotional roller coaster of the last four days was taking its toll.

  I’d lived in The Light for three years, and Special Agent Adler was right. My work had paid off. Because of me nearly a thousand people would now be free to live real lives, no longer manipulated by a narcissistic psychopath. However, as I followed the leads and information accumulated on the large boards, I was flabbergasted by what I hadn’t known.

  “So what the hell are the Shadows?” I asked, my brow furrowed in confusion.

  “The Light outside of The Light,” Agent Brady explained. He was a young man, part of the small obscure team at Quantico on the special task force that investigated The Light. His knowledge was as profound as mine. Instead of living it, he’d infiltrated The Light through cyberspace, through the dark web. Admittedly I felt a pang of jealousy when I learned that he’d discovered so much without putting himself or those he cared about at risk.

  “It’s an interesting phenomenon,” Brady went on. “When you were first sent in, we had no idea that there were even three campuses. We’d identified the We
stern Light, but not the Northern. Your final correspondence nearly two years ago confirmed its existence.”

  I remembered making that call. I’d been living at the Northern Light for a time and felt the need to at least notify the FBI that the campus existed. I’d made that call from Bloomfield Hills on a burner. Thankfully, those cell towers weren’t monitored like the ones at the Northern Light or even the Western; there was too much cell activity to identify unknown users.

  “It wasn’t until we started following the cyberactivity from the Northern Light that we were able to identify a connection out in the real world.”

  “The dark,” I said mindlessly.

  “Excuse me?” another young agent asked.

  I looked up from the aerial photograph of the Bloomfield Hills mansion. “The real world, in The Light it’s referred to as the dark, the area beyond The Light.”

  Adler had been right. It would take me weeks of debriefing to give up all the information I’d obtained, because some things, like the term the dark, seemed like common knowledge to me. The FBI had people to help scour my thoughts and memories. I was more concerned about the deprogramming. Obviously I was in need of that too.

  “Yeah, we’ve heard that term. Well, the cybertrail led me to the dark . . .” Brady’s voice trailed away as he hit keys on a keyboard and a large screen came to life.

  I pinched my brow and stifled a yawn. “Yes, I understand the term the Shadows, but who or what are they?”

  The screen became a map of North America. The three campuses were identified.

  Brady went on, “The cyberactivity has been the strongest and the easiest to identify from your campus. It’s the isolation. A lot of the activity was intercampus communication. At first that was difficult to intercept. The firewalls were commendable, hell, better than some used by our government. They were layered, even triple encrypted. We’d make it through one only to be stopped by another.”

  “You’re saying The Light’s security was good.”

  “I’m saying it was excellent. Only recently did we penetrate it enough to see the broadcasts of the meetings and sermons. By doing that we could pinpoint Gabriel’s location. We could tell if he was at Bloomfield Hills, which is where the majority of the broadcasts originated, the Western Light, or the Northern Light. We thought that most of the activity was intercampus, until we discovered this.” He hit a button and suddenly the United States and Canada lit up like a virtual Christmas tree. He zoomed out and lights lit all over the world.

  “What is that?”

  “Hits on the latest broadcast.”

  “How?” I asked. “If the communication was solely between campuses?”

  “Agent, welcome to the Shadows. There’s a highly encrypted website on the dark web that allows followers outside of the campuses to obtain access to the broadcasts. The last broadcast was short, sent fifteen minutes before the FBI touched down at the Northern Light, moments before the explosion in Bloomfield Heights.”

  I couldn’t think about the explosion and concentrate. I had to be Agent Jacoby for a little while. “Do you have the broadcast? Did you see it?”

  I gripped the table in front of me as Father Gabriel’s face covered the large screen and his voice filled the room. How many times had I watched his broadcasts? He looked exactly as he did when he delivered a sermon, not a hair out of place.

  “Children of The Light, a very unfortunate chain of events has occurred. You will hear things and see images. Remember, my children, the dark is everywhere. While The Light may be temporarily dimmed, we know it cannot be extinguished. You, my children of the Shadows, must stay vigilant and keep the vision alive. You’ve been given enlightenment to discern the truths. Those who wish us harm are our enemies. You are the soldiers in this war. Though I may be unavailable for a time, know that time is irrelevant to our cause and mission. My power will be held by the one who would inherit the legacy, until it is mine again. I entrust it thereupon, but never give up, never accept the lies told in the dark. Know that The Light will forever shine.”

  My knuckles blanched and the blood drained from my cheeks as the screen went black. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Special Agent Adler had entered the room during the broadcast. “Jacoby,” he said, “there are a few bunks here. I suggest you get some sleep. We have a lot to discuss.”

  I spun toward him. “It’s not gone? Three years, lives, Sara . . . all for nothing!”

  “No,” he replied calmly. “It wasn’t all for nothing. The campuses were the main source of The Light’s revenue. They were a hotbed of illegal activities hiding behind the separation of church and state. You brought that down. You did it! Over a thousand people freed. That wasn’t for nothing.”

  “But”—I pointed toward the now-blank screen—“that earlier graphic, there are ten or fifty times as many Shadows.” I used the new term. “Not everyone you’re taking into custody was brought to The Light unwillingly. Their campus is gone, but with the right connections they’ll be able to rejoin the force. What will stop them?”

  Agent Adler shook his head. “The mission was successful. You do realize how unusual it is to be able to infiltrate three separate locations with the exercised precision and such a low number of casualties.”

  “Sara,” I whispered.

  “Going back last Friday made the difference in our success. We didn’t have the manpower ready.”

  I nodded. “Have you issued the APB for Dylan Richards?”

  “Not yet. The charred remains of his car were found on the grounds in Bloomfield Hills. Right now we’re assuming he was in the mansion when it blew.”

  My knees gave way as I collapsed in a nearby chair. “No. No.” My volume increased. “I don’t care if it was five minutes or one, there was a plan to save Richards and I know it. Besides, did you hear what Gabriel said? He said something about his power going to someone who would inherit.”

  Brady nodded. “We’ve been searching, but we’re coming up blank. He must mean it as a transfer of power. Gabriel Clark or Garrison Clarkson never had children.”

  “Not a child, Richards is Clark’s nephew. He’s alive; I know it. Even that asshole wouldn’t allow his nephew to be blown up. I saw the two of them interact just the other day—fuck, I don’t even know what day it is.”

  “Tuesday,” Brady offered.

  “Yesterday. There’s no way Clark allowed that.”

  Agent Adler shook his head. “I don’t see how—”

  “Did you have constant aerial surveillance?” I asked.

  Brady tapped his keyboard again; however, before he hit the key to play the time-lapsed video, he asked, “Are you sure you want to see this?”

  My fight was gone. “I’m sure. Go back ten minutes before the blast.”

  He did. Ten minutes played in less than thirty seconds. The explosion made me gasp. Adler’s hand came down on my shoulder as I wiped a tear from my tired eyes. There was nothing preceding it, just a catastrophic eruption. Obviously the means to produce such an explosion had been in place for an event such as this.

  I agreed that on the video there was no activity on the grounds. If Richards had received a warning call, he hadn’t heeded it.

  “Is there any way he could have known earlier?” I asked out of desperation.

  “It’s doubtful. The timeline is tight.”

  While Adler answered, Brady brought up the video again and rewound to sixty minutes before the explosion. Moments after he put the time-lapsed footage in motion, I saw a blur of white in the darkness near the pool. The lights around the pool were the only illumination on the rear grounds.

  “Wait,” I said. “Go back and run it in real time.”

  Both men stilled as Brady did as I asked. Thankfully, the government had sophisticated cameras with immense zooming capabilities. Though it was grainy, there were definitely two figures who appeared to have run the length of the yard, the exact trek I’d run the day before.

  “Was she wearing white?�
� Brady asked, interest as well as concern in his voice.

  “No, not when I left, but, shit, I remember there were other women there in white. It could be one of them, or it could be that they made her change clothes.” The possible reasons for the change of clothes turned my stomach. I wouldn’t allow myself to let my thoughts linger there as I stared at the screen.

  “It’s difficult to see the other figure. I’d assume it’s a man.”

  “Have they thoroughly checked the outbuildings?”

  “Yes, and the wooded area. No one’s there.”

  “There’s a back gate. Can you access the video of that gate?”

  Brady shook his head. “No, the main center for the surveillance was in the house. When it blew, we lost our connection.”

  “That neighborhood is within Bloomfield Hills and is gated,” Adler said.

  “Yes?” I asked, wondering where he was going with that.

  “The neighborhood has cameras!” Brady said.

  My exhaustion gave way to one last surge of adrenaline. “Can you . . . ?”

  I didn’t even need to finish my question before the screen came alive with nearly twenty feeds time-stamped at 00:00:00 Tuesday morning. The house wouldn’t blow for over an hour, but in general the streets and intersections were quiet, except for a late-model black SUV. It stopped at one stop sign long enough for us to see the driver.

  “Shit! It’s him!” I said, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention as Dylan Richards’s image came into view.

  “I don’t see anyone else in the vehicle,” Adler said.

  “But we saw the woman in white near the pools. If the bureau has thoroughly investigated the rear grounds and there’s no one, or no body, down there, she has to be in the vehicle. I can’t imagine him taking any of the other women from that house. It has to be Sara. I told you, she’s not dead.”

  Brady isolated the SUV and followed it to another home within the neighborhood. Once he zeroed in on the home, a smaller screen emerged and we were shown the owner of the home: Motorists of America.