Marlow

by Andy Briggs

  “Um... what do you think?”

  “Could be sleep talking.”

  Dan picked up a cushion and threw it. It was a perfect shot to Marlow's face.

  “Am I sleep throwing stuff too?” said Dan with a grin. “Your father's concoction is brilliant. I don't feel tired at all. He’s a genius!” His eyes gleamed as he tried to explain sensations he'd never experienced before. “It's like... like I've been asleep forever. That I have had every good night’s rest I should have ever had, but all bundled into one, you know?”

  Accepting the kid was awake, he was certainly gabbling fast enough, Marlow relaxed. The room was cloyingly warm, enough to send anybody asleep, a definite sign that the elixir was working. Marlow shucked off her coat, throwing it over the sofa as she looked around for the drinks cabinet. She opened it, and was disappointed to find it empty.

  “Thirsty?”

  “Mouth tastes like a sack of saw dust.”

  Dan picked up a thermos flask on the table and poured fresh coffee into one of several mugs sitting on a tray. “Here you go.”

  “I was hoping for something a little more potent,” she said, taking the offered mug.

  “Well, tough luck. You've had enough alcohol for one lifetime.”

  Marlow took a sip of the bitter coffee. “Dad leave you alone?”

  “He went to bed. Left this just in case I needed it,” He pointed to an antiquated TV in the corner of the room. It was so old the veneer on the wooden case was peeling and the curved grey cathode-ray tube screen was covered in dust. “I tried to get it to work, but it doesn't pick anything up.”

  “I can't believe he left you alone!” snarled Marlow. “Typical irresponsible... what if something would’ve happened?”

  Dan frowned. “Like what?”

  “Like you channelling a horde into my dad's front room?”

  “I didn't fall asleep. The elixir works.”

  Marlow was irritated, once again annoyed that her father was turning his back on problems without a thought of repercussions. “He didn't know that!”

  “Of course he did, why would he leave me alone?”

  Marlow drank the last of the coffee and slammed the cup down on the tray so hard the other mugs jumped. “Because that's what he does! He's irresponsible!”

  Dan scowled, he clearly didn't agree. “You know that's your problem. You don't trust him. You don't trust anyone. You never give anybody else a break. It's always,” his voice switched to a high-pitched mocking impersonation, “poor me, everybody in the world’s got it in for Marlow, boo-hoo.'“

  Marlow's wanted to raise her voice, shout back, and point out how wrong he was; how he was a just a kid who didn't understand the complexities of adult life. How Carlos had been the world's worst father and bullied her with relentless training… things he couldn’t comprehend after living such a pamper life.

  Dan turned away and stared at the blank television as he continued his rant. “So your dad threw you in front of monsters when you were a kid? How terrible. My dad left us. You know what he prepared me for? Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.”

  Marlow’s anger evaporated when he noticed tears rolling down Dan's cheek.

  “Nothing,” echoed Dan. He took a deep breath. “But you... your dad knew what he was doing. He knew you were the only one who could save the rest of us. Maybe you were too young to understand that? He prepared you for everything life had to throw at you, and all you did was complain and moan and ruin everything - even with your own family.”

  Marlow stamped her foot, raising her voice, refuting everything Dan had said - or at least she did in her head. In reality she sat mutely as the kid’s accusations hit home.

  “I bet your own kids think about you in exactly the same way you think of your own dad.” He emphasised the words with a scathing inflection, “exactly the same.” Dan moved to the window, wiping the condensation from the glass as he stared out. “I always wondered why my dad didn't even bother phoning me. I thought maybe he didn't have a phone, maybe something was holding him back... stupid excuses. Then I met you and I finally realised the truth.” Marlow chose the wrong time to meet Dan's accusing gaze. “I realised that he could've called me any time but he didn’t care. He was a loser. Just like you.”

  Marlow tried to line up a perfect rebuttal. There was no way she was going to let some brat tear her apart - but the words refused to align into a coherent sentence.

  Dan gazed back out of the window. “It’s getting lighter. I'm going to get some breakfast.”

  He left the room. Marlow stared at the crackling flames and couldn't shake the feeling that she had just been emotionally ambushed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A sullen silence greeted Carlos as he entered the kitchen. Dan was shovelling a muesli swamp around his bowl, occasionally taking slow gulps of orange juice. Years of energy drinks and caffeine had fried his taste buds and he seldom got the opportunity to drink anything else, so the juice was a rare luxury.

  Marlow was hunched over the opposite side of the table, a coffee mug in one hand as she marked a pen across the map.

  “Morning all,” Carlos said cheerfully. He smiled at Dan. “So it worked, eh?”

  “I feel terrific,” exclaimed Dan with a relaxing sigh. “Like I've slept for a thousand years and don't need to any more. I don't feel at all tired.”

  “Good, good.” Carlos poured a coffee from the pot. His eyes darted to Marlow but neither appeared to want to continue the conversation.

  Marlow circled her hometown and tapped Dan’s house irritably. “I can't find any correlation!” Carlos looked over his daughter's shoulder, scanning the ink blots she had marked out. It followed their path across the country. “I thought there might be a geographic coloration. That the Infiltrators came through closer to Dan's home or had a better Conduit connection across ley lines. Something. Anything... but everything is centred around him.” She jabbed the pen towards Dan.

  “Well, at least he's not asleep now, is he?” said Carlos cheerfully.

  “That doesn't solve our problem.”

  Carlos traced a finger over the map, coming to rest on Dan's neighbourhood. “Well there's no surprise you live there, Dan.”

  Dan looked between Carlos and the map. His hometown was nothing if not remarkable. “Why?”

  Carlos took a seat alongside Marlow and regarded her with a certain amount of curiosity. “Why do you think we originally settled there?”

  Marlow shrugged. “’Cause it was the furthest point from anything interesting?”

  Carlos laughed, genuinely amused by her negativity. “Quite the opposite! Because for the likes us, it was prime real estate! It had a statistically higher Infiltrator average than anywhere else in the country. In the world, in fact. That's why, when you were fully trained and I retired, I got the hell out of there.”

  Marlow studied the map, willing an answer to reveal itself. “But I can't see any geographic cause...”

  Carlos waved his hand dismissively. “There’s probably one, but it's the people. I always suspected that, like us Hunters, some people are born Conduits. They just couldn't help it. They are just easier for the Infiltrators to use, just like some folks are more susceptible to hypnotism.” Carlos's face clouded over as troubling memories took hold. “And that's where I first saw it.”

  Marlow and Dan exchanged their first curious glance of the morning.

  “Saw what?” Dan asked in almost a whisper.

  “The Darkmare.”

  Marlow grunted, a blend of disbelief and mocking humour. “That's just a fairy tale, dad.”

  Carlos jumped to his feet, suddenly full of nervous energy. “Not at all. No, no, no! Look...”

  He darted from the room, leaving Dan and Marlow to lapse into awkward silence again. He reappeared moments later with a large leather-bound tome. At first Marlow thought it was the Book of Nightmares, but noticed it was slimmer and wider. She had never seen it before, which was odd as her father had sworn he'd handed
everything across when he’d retired.

  “This is my personal hunting journal.” Carlos reverently laid the tome on the table and creaked open the first page. The pages were full of intricate illustrations: Nightmarus Odonturus, Terrorium Extremus, Draco-marium, the names were as familiar to Marlow as their grotesque images. He'd faced them all. Carlos turned the pages, finally stopping on a huge drawing that spilled across both pages. At first it looked like a huge mass of overlapping images before the brain finally broke the picture apart into its component images like an illusion unravelling itself. “The Darkmare.”

  The Darkmare was a bulbous mass of flesh with a terrifying vertical slit of a mouth; tentacles and deformed limbs poked from the slimy mass. The overlapping images were other Nightmares breaking from blisters across the Darkmare's skin as it gave birth to the evil spawn.

  “Looks like you were drunk when you drew this,” Marlow quipped.

  Dan went rigid. “I've seen that before!”

  Carlos frowned. “Where?”

  Dan examined the picture more closely, waiting for his memory to play catch up. Extreme fatigue had all but shredded it; but now he remembered.

  “I had a Nightmare back at the diner. It was the first nightmare I remember having... and I saw this. It was huge.”

  Carlos nodded. “The Darkmare is the source of all these... things. It's trying to push through from its own dimension into ours. It thirsts for our world, the warmth, the food... think of the Infiltrators you have encountered so far as nothing more than foot soldiers. Expendable and endless. The Darkmare wants to invade.”

  “This is just a myth,” Marlow insisted. “and one you made up.”

  “Apparently nobody told it that it was a myth,” said Carlos taking his seat. “Hunters throughout the ages have suspected its existence. But I saw it, Marl. I saw the fabric of our realities split open and this is what lay beyond. This... aberration rules Innerspace. As soon as I saw it, I knew I was too old to face it. That's when I realised that I had to hand over the baton. Give up the one thing I enjoyed doing the most: hunting. The Darkmare had to be faced eventually.” Carlos slowly ran a hand down his wrinkled face. “It's a heart-wrenching feeling to realise you are too old; that the best days you had lay behind.” He looked earnestly at Marlow. “That's why I wanted you to take over. To do all those incredible things I was not able to.”

  “What if I didn't wanna?” Marlow protested.

  “The Darkmare must be stopped. For the sake of all mankind. If not you, then your heir. Your children... but you screwed that up.”

  Before Marlow could argue, Dan intervened.

  “How come you saw it?”

  “Because there was a Conduit. One with excessive power. Unheard of...” Carlos wagged a finger at Dan. “Until I met you, of course.”. He nodded to Marlow, “Do you remember your Grandpa Adrian?”

  Marlow nodded. “Think so. Bit Fat. Smelt of junk food.”

  Carlos smiled. “My father, yes. He was a legendary Hunter and this was back in the day when you only had wit and skill to rely on. He was training me up, like I did with you - remember? When you whined about me destroying your childhood instead of thanking me for helping you prepare for life ahead?” Carlos waved his hand, dismissing any argument before it could manifest. “He was dealing with this young lad, this mighty Conduit. But instead of channelling through the usual Mares, when he fell asleep he broke the fabric of reality. Smashing between worlds as clear as if you tapped a window with a hammer, providing perfect access to the realm beyond.” He tapped the page, “And that's when we saw what was beyond, manipulating the Conduit to push its way through. I stared death - true death - in the eyes. Oh, it had so many eyes,” breathed Carlos in a trembling voice. He shook the memory away. “My father explained, or rather, gave me his theories, that the Darkmare was the source of this evil.”

  Dan's voice came as nothing more than a whisper. “Did you kill it?”

  “It was beyond our skill. Besides, humans can’t pass through the physical boundaries between worlds without being torn apart. Only strong Conduits are able to Astral Walk on the other side while they sleep. For them it is just another dream where they can see and create whatever they desire. But for us mere mortals unable to project,” he indicated to himself and Marlow, “it’s a place we can never reach. Fortunately, we roused the lad awake and the portal sealed itself. He was not quite powerful enough a Conduit for the Darkmare to keep him under. Although if it had been you...” Carlos shivered at the thought.

  Dan gazed at the map, imaging events in his mind’s eye. He had seen the Darkmare and experienced the same terror Carlos had.

  “What happened to the lad?”

  “Oh, we cured him. My father was a pioneering herbalist. He deduced that if the boy could sleep in a lighter state, avoiding the deeper REM stages, then he would be useless for the Darkmare's purposes.”

  “Could you do that for me? If I didn't sleep so deeply, maybe the monsters wouldn't come through.”

  He looked expectantly at Carlos when he received no answer. The doubtful expression on the old man's face spoke volumes.

  “From what Marlow described, I'm not sure. You enter that deep sleep almost instantly. I'm not sure we could intercept the processes in time. Some things just can’t be cured; you’ve just have to live with them.”

  “How old?” Marlow suddenly asked.

  Carlos blinked several times as his thought process was derailed. “Pardon?”

  Marlow's eyes were fixed on the map. “How old were you when this happened?”

  “Twelve. About Dan's age; isn't that right?”

  Marlow felt agitated, struck by a terrible thought. “And the lad was about the same. What was his name?”

  Carlos shrugged. “I can't remember. It was so long ago and I must say the Darkmare occupied most of my thoughts back then.”

  “Didn't Grandpa keep records?”

  “Of course he kept a ledger. It was a business after all.” Carlos turned to the back of the tome were the final wad of pages contained a detailed list of jobs carried out, written in his father's meticulous hand. Carlos ran a finger down a column of figures. “I don't remember the exact date, but I do know it was a well-paid job. With everything that had happened, father upped his fees - ah, here we are.”

  Marlow read the name under her father's tapping finger. She felt a chill down her spine. “Oh my God...”

  Dan craned to see. “What is it?” Then he saw the name: Boris Glass. “Same as me...”

  “Your Grandpa,” hissed Marlow.

  “Don't be stupid...” but Dan knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “You inherited your Grandpa 's abilities,” exclaimed Carlos. “That's why you're so powerful.”

  “Is that why I dreamt of the Darkmare?”

  Marlow clenched his fists. “He knew! Your bloody grandpa damn well knew and he didn't want to tell me.” She was now shaking with a rage, and stood to pace the kitchen. “That's why he contacted me. I should've wondered why he never questioned anything. Anything. It felt all so normal to him.”

  Dan shook his head. “Why would he do that?”

  “The same reason he put you in that hotel the night after I vanquished the second Infiltrator. He knew there was a good chance another would come so he stashed you away. Knew you’d inherited the ability but didn't wanna tell your mother about his dark little family secret! He didn’t even speak up when she thought I'd kidnapped you. Oh no, that would be too much of a disgrace, right? Too late to admit anything!” Marlow boiled with rage.

  Dan could scarcely believe it, although everything she was saying made perfect sense. “So... so he dumped me off with you?”

  “Hoping I could find a cure without revealing what had happened in the past. He set me up!”

  Dan didn't know what to say. He wanted to refute the accusations. He wanted to tell Marlow that she was just being paranoid - but it sounded authentic.

  “So this is it? Because I have some fami
ly curse I’ll have to live on the run forever?”

  “I think it may be so,” sighed Carlos.

  “NO!” Marlow snapped. “That ain't gonna happen!”

  Both Dan and Carlos looked at her in surprise. Marlow stabbed a finger at the map.

  “We're going back. We're gonna find your Grandpa and end this for good.”

  “How?” said Dan, fearing the answer.

  “You're more powerful than your gramps, and he was able to physically crack open a gap to both worlds.” Marlow looked to Carlos. “He can do that again?”

  Carlos was thoughtful. “Presumably. The ability to Channel doesn't appear to decrease with age. It's only whatever herbal remedies my father gave him to repress the gift that will be preventing him from doing so.”

  “So we stop his meds, get him to open the portal and you bring the Darkmare over.” Marlow cracked her knuckles. She was feeling energised from the revelation, despite her volcanic anger towards Boris Glass. She had been set-up, used and framed.

  Now it was time to stop the madness.

  It was time for revenge.

  “Then I'm gonna blow his gloopy mass outta both realities.”

  It was just after eleven in the morning and Dan was surprised to be still alert. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he could have sworn the colours around him were more vivid and the new dusting of snow that began to fall sparkled in the morning light.

  Marlow and Carlos had plotted for most of the morning, which inevitably turned into an argument.

  “No Dad, it's too dangerous!”

  “I have to come, Marl! This is bigger than anything you have faced before.”

  Dan had pressed his eye close to the partially open kitchen door and seen Marlow leaned on the table, towering over her father with a raised finger.

  “See? That's exactly your problem! You never believed I could do anything!”

  “That's not true...” Carlos's voice faltered.

  Marlow slumped. She rubbed her tired eyes and crumpled into the seat opposite. Dan wasn't sure if it was fatigue or the emotional toll of the argument. “You stole my childhood, Dad. Used it to turn me into a version of yourself you were never happy with.”