by Bo Luellen
She glanced over at him and thought out loud, “I would look like a suspect.”
Thomas offered an ironic, “Of course if you told them a lie, that would betray your strict religious beliefs and righteous attitude. No, you should stick with the truth. I mean, you don’t want to seem crazy and say you were seeing things like Casper or Patrick Swayze.”
She started walking again and yielded, “Okay you made your point, like an asshole, but you made it. So, I can’t explain that vision, and I can’t tell the cops. I’ll just say I had an anonymous tip from one of your sources.”
Booth spread his hands wide and exclaimed, “Eureka! I love this idea. I wish I had thought of it. I’m in full support. What will you think of next?”
She took his dull jabs and realized, “I also can’t explain why that man was talking to himself. If there were someone actually there, they would have helped Mr. Purple during the fight.”
The Druid tapped his temple with his right index finger and edified, “Oh, his friend tried, and almost succeeded. Come on, Amanda. You are almost there. Keep thinking. What did Fox Mulder say? ‘The truth is out there!’”
She stood still and reasoned, “Although, he could’ve just been nuts, and I could be too for believing you.”
Thomas put a hand on her shoulder and soothed, “I believe you probably are, but I’m not. I believe you have been blessed by Cernunnos, so you have my fidelity. So, you have that going for you. Take your small victories and celebrate. Tonight we drink mead and revel, for we have won a hard-fought battle!”
She pushed his sour-smelling arm off her and ordered, “We have to find a way of telling Utterson what we heard. If we can’t, then we need to find a way of fabricating some lie that will allow us to give him something.”
Thomas’s smile displayed his yellow teeth as he mused, “Take a moment and think. He and the ghost got away, and are likely miles from here by now. We still don’t know how many more cult members are out there. Consider how many people it would take to create an operation like this. There could be one or more of their numbers at any level of law enforcement, positions of power, and authority. Any leads we give them could be buried or worse, traced back to you.”
She leaned on a tree and acknowledged, “Jesus Christ, that actually makes sense.”
The Druid leaned on his staff and coached, “If you are hunting, you don’t give away your advantage. We sit on this information and use it so we can track Mr. Purple and these people down. When we have them, then it will be time to bring in the authorities.”
Amanda had to acknowledge his idea was sound, By now the identities of the dead are being investigated by the police. It wouldn’t be long before a witch hunt to root out any remaining Brotherhood members would start. The public would want to feel safe, and the police would need to look active in that pursuit. It would be easy to look guilty in the light of that inquisition.
As they breached the tree line, they saw the destruction in the floodlights set up by the Air National Guard. The night sky was filled with the embers of the burning sacrificial stage, the three cabins, and a few of the cultist’s vehicles. Flashes from the cameras of investigators were going off all along the field, documenting each dead body. The military had made a perimeter around the edge of the clearing, and to her relief, none of them had seen them yet.
She looked around the chaotic battlefield and told Booth, “Now, I’m going to find a nice thick-headed policeman, and tell him I was lost in the woods with you. Hopefully, he won’t send me to jail, and I can get home. Tomorrow I start tracking down Mr. Purple. If you want to join me, then show up at my house tomorrow morning.”
He adjusted his thick glasses and confessed, “I don’t have a car.”
A new level of exhaustion flowed through her as she sighed, “Of course you don’t. I’ll come by and pick you up. Wear clean clothes and take a bath. I’m not going to deal with your funk and the Brotherhood.”
Amanda watched him walk off towards a concentration of police, pounding his staff into the ground triumphantly as he went. Maybe she had underestimated him, or perhaps he was just another loon in a field of dead nut cases. He did put her in touch with a vision that gave them useful information and stood up to a horde of cultists, so maybe Amanda was quick to judge him. She watched him yell at some of the soldiers to catch their attention. The troopers sprinted in his direction shouting for him to drop his gnarled staff. As he walked, Booth tripped on a gopher hole, which sent him face-first into the ground.
Suddenly, her mind flashed to Larry and how long it had been since she had contacted him. She pulled out her cell phone and saw the “No Service” at the top. She looked around for John or Josh, but her companions were long gone from the field. A few minutes later, one of the soldiers came up and took her into custody. Everyone found in the woods was being vetted by law enforcement and questioned by a special branch of the CIA.
Inside a specially erected tent were a collection of Special Agents who grilled her and Booth for two hours. She told them the same story four times, minus the supernatural parts. After a while, Booth started demanding to call his lawyer and was informed that everyone was being held under the Patriot Act until they could be cleared. The agents made a series of security checks to confirm her identity.
After a long debriefing, John Utterson walked into the tent and commanded, “Who’s in charge here?”
A tall man in a black suit and a cowboy hat gave an uninterested, “I’m Agent John Hamilton, lead investigator on this case. Officer, your service in this situation is appreciated, but this is now a matter of national security. You are going to have to exit the tent until we are done.”
The detective jabbed his cane into the ground and retorted, “Well, Agent Kiss My Ass, I don’t care what or who you are. I’m the detective in charge of this investigation, and the Chief of Police wants my consultants, ready to explain to the United States what happened here. Professor Amanda Lanyon was instrumental in this raid. If she is missing from that press conference, I’m going to point the Mayor right at you.”
Hamilton gave a slow smile and conceded with a Texas drawl, “Well okay, cowboy. Take ’em hombre, they’re all yours. We’ll be in touch. Good evening, Mrs. Lanyon …Mr. Booth.”
After they were released, Thomas Booth managed to talk one of the officers into giving him a ride home. Amanda was about a mile away from her vehicle and noticed it was getting close to midnight. She said goodbyes to John and promised to be at the next morning’s press conference. Amanda lifted her shirt to see the bruising on her abdomen had turned solid black. By the time she made it to her car, her cell had found service, and a long string of texts cycled in rapid succession. The count went up to almost 100. The senders ranged from her mother, the Dean at Eastland, her friends, and most notably her daughters and husband.
She looked up in time to sidestep a passing news van and realized the story had hit the press. That meant it must be on TV by now, and that her family had undoubtedly heard about the details of the incident. She got to her vehicle, turned it on, and took a deep breath.
She let the car warm up as she thought, This is going to take some explaining, and I’m not sure how much I can actually tell my family. What would I say anyway? Hey everyone, a superhuman woman, a half-burned man who can lift people by the throat and a vision given to her by a horned god all happened to me today. How was your day?
She dialed Larry, and her husband blurted out, “Are you all right?”
He had put the phone on speaker as she started a five-minute explanation, minus the supernatural parts. She could hear her daughters commenting in the background as she drove past emergency vehicles, police, and military. Twice she had to stop to get past checkpoints, but eventually, she made it out onto the highway and pointed her car for home.
Once she was done, Larry broke in with, “Both April and Nancy have been crying for the last hour, thinking you could be dead. The school has called to tell us the police were in contact with t
hem about your credentials. My mother hasn’t stopped calling every thirty minutes, asking for updates. Twenty minutes ago, an Agent named Hamilton called to verify you lived here and wouldn’t tell us if you were alive or dead. Everyone is terrified.”
She hit the steering wheel with her palm, and she replied, “I’m sorry, honey. I’m a little banged up, but I’m okay.”
She asked to speak with her daughters and give reassurances that she was safe. April chastised her for scaring them, and Nancy refused to talk with her. It was a hard conversation to have and the worst five minutes she had spent with them in a long time. As she talked, the fear came over her that Mr. Purple had seen her face. If he made a connection, he could find her home and her family. Shaking the notion out of her head, she promised them she would be home soon.
Larry took the phone off speaker and informed her, “We aren’t at our house. The family is over at my mother’s.”
Confused Amanda asked, “Wait, you are at Eve’s? Why?”
He choked up for a moment and then chastised, “You almost made me a single parent tonight, Amanda. All you had to do was wait for the police to do their jobs. When I told you not to go, I wasn’t asking as your friend, I was speaking as the father of our children. You made a decision that comes with a price. Your face is all over the news. Utterson talked to the press about his task force. Now, Dyer’s face is all over the TV doing interviews.”
She pleaded, “Larry listen, I had to. People were at risk.”
She heard a door close as he whispered, “I don’t want the kids to listen to this, but it’s time you and I had this talk. Back in college, some buddies on the football team told me what you and Josh were up to. They said you two were screwing and taking heavy drugs out in the woods. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have the courage to break up with you. When you decided to step away from him because of your conflict of faith, it was problem solved.
“It hasn’t been an easy road with you. It has felt like you have never been fully invested in us. I gave up my football career to become a husband, and I never regretted it. You gave up Dyer for your beliefs, not for me. Since then, you have spent your time aggressively finding ways to stay away from home. Running, volunteering time tutoring, and then there is this investigation. It is a pattern with you since we married that cycles. It is like you’re angry to be married to me.
“Now I see Josh Dyer popping in from the blue. Without regard to how it would make me feel, you are taking off with him again, and, ironically, into the woods. Let me ask you, and I need you to tell me the truth. Have you done psychedelic drugs or DMT with him since he arrived?”
Amanda swallowed hard as she let out the truth, “Yes.”
Her husband replied with hurt in his voice, “I’m filing for legal separation.”
Tears came down her face as she pleaded, “Larry, please don’t.”
Her husband’s voice quivered as he revealed, “I’m speaking with an attorney tomorrow. You will need to get your own. You can have the house, but the kids are not coming to visit unsupervised until this mess with the cult is resolved. Whatever you’re into isn’t something I want the girls around. They are scared, and Nancy has been asking if they will find out where we live. The news is saying there are more cultists still in hiding in Tulsa. The world knows where you work, and that makes it a short jump for them to find out where we live. I’ll be in touch.”
Before she could reply, Larry hung up, and only the sound of the wind whipping over her car was left. Amanda let it sink in that her marriage was dissolving, and she had put her family in harm’s way. After a few more calls to her boss and her mother, the Professor had made the rounds letting people know she was safe. Amanda’s dean was proud of her but politely warned that Eastland should have been informed of her involvement with the task force beforehand. Her mom was not as polite about her involvement and gave her an ear full.
Tulsa, OK - Friday, October 19th, 2018 – 1:05 a.m. CST
She arrived at her house to the sounds of a barking dog down the street and the sight of her husband’s missing car. Regardless of her misshapen adventures, there was still a class to teach. Exhaustion had set in, and it was all that she could do to keep her eyes open. Amanda lowered her head and thought about everything that had happened over the night. As she parked and went inside to an empty house, she noticed the stark silence all around her. The lack of a family to greet was heartbreaking, and she wished her husband was lying in bed waiting for her.
Putting her keys down on the counter, she opened the refrigerator and took out an apple. She hadn’t eaten anything since her ride to the funeral home that morning. She sank her teeth into the fruit and leaned her forehead on the fridge door, listening to the grinding sound of her chewing in her head.
As she swallowed, a male voice came from behind her, “Welcome home.”
She screamed and jumped, slamming into some cabinets and sending the Granny Smith flying across the floor. Sitting at the snack bar was a black man in his mid-thirties who seemed content in his fixed stare at her. His clothes were black tactical and tattered as if he had been through a war. On his arm was a blood-red insignia of the Crimson Brotherhood’s god, Cthulhu. On the table in front of him was a 9 mm pistol with a cylinder-shaped suppressor screwed into the barrel. Her eyes locked in on the weapon, and she instantly started to tremble with fear.
After a few seconds, the man shared, “I’m glad you got home in one piece.”
The stranger’s tone was even and smooth, and he didn’t seem excitable or nervous considering the situation. To her, he was acting as if she had just invited him in for some afternoon tea. Despite the rugged nature of clothing, he didn’t have a bruise or a scratch on him.
Lanyon hugged the counter behind her and thought, I’m such an idiot. I drove right home and he must have followed me!
He put his right index finger on the pistol and stated, “2801 East Oakland Ave in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.”
Her throat went dry at his words as she realized, That’s Larry’s parent's address. He knows where my family is.
He slowly spun the gun in a circle on the grey tiled tabletop and gave a sly, “You might notice that I’m not wearing a mask. That’s because you and I are going to help one another, and partners need trust. My name is Marcus Holmes, and I’m a member of the Crimson Brotherhood. Tonight, the Master of our Sect was killed, and something was taken from his body.”
She shook her head and pleaded, ““Look I don’t know what you want from me, but I won’t tell anyone you came here tonight. Just leave, and I’ll stay quiet. I promise.””
He frowned and shook his head, ““No. No. No, need for any of that. If I wanted to kill you, I would have painted the walls with your blood before you took the first bite of that apple. Dear, No, we mustn’t start this way. We are actually on the same side, you just don’t know it. You see, I found our High Mage gutted, and something was missing from him. Something very special to me. I believe the man that you ran out into the woods after has something that belongs to me. I read your statement you gave the authorities…”
Amanda looked at him with astonishment and uttered, “How?”
His white teeth gleamed in the kitchen light as the man continued, “As I was saying, the statement you gave the authorities was you didn’t find the man you were searching for. I don’t believe you got that bruised stomach from running into a tree, as you told the authorities. I think you caught up to him, and all I want to know is, did he have the Athame Dagger?”
She shook her head and smiled nervously, “Look, I think you’re mistaken. I never saw anyone taken off the compound.”
His eyes opened a little wider, and he offered, “Oh, Mrs. Lanyon, let’s make this simple. One of our operatives told me you gave the FBI a detailed statement, where you outlined a pursuit after a purple-robed man. Tell me about that?”
She held back some tears and shrugged, “I went out into the woods, but all I found was one of the guys I brought
along to help.”
He picked up the pistol and put it away in his shoulder holster, then recounted, “One Mr. Thomas Booth from Muskogee Oklahoma, I believe. A self-proclaimed Druid and local pot grower for local cancer patients. A modern-day Robin Hood if there ever was one. Now, I do believe you ran into your colleague, Mr. Booth, but the rest of your report is generic, Mrs. Lanyon, and quite unbelievable. I’m sure Agent Hamilton isn’t buying it either. I would say you should have your lawyer speak up for you, but you really don’t get one in dealings with homeland security. This fact does help me out a great deal. No messy litigation or taking the fifth to get in the way. Ironically, the very measures the Patriot Act provided investigators to pursue crime also allowed me to buy your unfiltered statement within hours of it happening. When due process is revoked, then the people with power and money gain leverage. Right now, I have a great deal of leverage over you, Mrs. Lanyon, and what I want you to know is something simple. The man you were after, I want to see him dead and that blade in my hands. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Professor.”
He got up and walked around the snack bar that just over 24 hours earlier, Larry had used to make mash potatoes for the family. As he approached, she feared what would happen to her children. Amanda tried to inch back away from the approaching cultist, but there was nowhere left to run.
He stopped a few feet from her and offered a remorseful, “I apologize for this, but if I were convinced of Mr. Booth’s sanity, I would be at his house right now. As it is, I have to go with credibility. You are a professor at a college, mother of two, and a wife. He is one step from being homeless and has next to nothing I can use to motivate him. Not to mention that any information he gives me would be suspect, as I believe he might be a raving nutter.