Story The Eldritch Prophet (Lovecraftian Horror/Thriller)

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter 1: The Slammer

Marcos stood adrift looking out into the almost colorless seas. A hint of spray and foam wafted across his face, causing him to narrow his eyes slightly. The dingy boat was small, seemed barely enough to accommodate three people. Than the crackling of the radio went off and a voice spoke up.

"Marc, come in buddy."

Marcos perked up and ran back into the main cabin as he responded back over the radio "What do you boys see?"

"Not much boss. It's kinda murky here. We'll check in the second we spot sumthin shiny."

About twenty fathoms below the small dingy, two divers are meticulously coming the sea floor through the increasing murky waters. As they continue to scan the seabed, one of them spots the rotting carcass of a large fish. Taken aback, he waves his partner over. Perplexed at the discovery, the second diver spots yet another fish like cadaver only a few feet away. They both shake their heads in confusion as a sudden wall of bubbles rushes through the surrounding region of ocean and engulfs the two divers. This lasts for only a few seconds before clearing. But as the two divers begin to regain their bearings, they are horrified to see that the ocean floor all around them is now littered with the bones and putrefying corpses of all kinds of marine life.

"Holy shit!" screams the first diver over the radio.

"What is it, what'd you find!?" asks Marcos.

"Your not gonna believe this, we just found a goddamned cemetery for fish down here!"

Marcos shakes his head "What!?"

"Dude, I swear there's literally thousands of bodies down here!"

"Just dead fish?" asks Marc, bewilderment in his voice.

"Fish, dolphins, whales, anything you can think of! We're comin back up!"

"Roger that, I'll see you topside."

A distant clap of thunder can suddenly be heard as Marcos turns his head to gaze off into the distance. The sky begins to take on a crimson hue, the clouds seem to roll in on themselves. The air becomes choked with a thick layer of ocean spray as the lighting rips across the sky, the atmosphere growing more ominous with each passing second. Marcos feels the light pelting of rain that steadily gets heavier and heavier.

"You boys better hurry, looks like a hell of a storm is about to kick up." he says over the radio.

"Copy that, we'll be up soon."

The encroaching storm intensifies and the boat begins to rock as the surrounding water turns dark and choppy. Larger drops of rain start to slam the deck of the boat as Marcos stares out into the sky in a kind of terrified awe. A moment later he spots the two divers emerging from the water and he goes to help them back onto the dingy.

"Where the hell did this come from?!" asks one of the divers as he scrambles onto the deck.

"Ya got me! I've never seen anything like this!" says Marcos.

"What are we standing around for, let's get outta here, before we're capsized!" says the other diver.

Marcos nods his head and starts to run back to the cabin when he stops dead in his tracks. Staring back at him from the cabin are four dark, hooded figures. The man stands for a second, unsure what to do when the figures begin to chant in a eerie whisper.

"Ryleh is coming, Ryleh is coming." is all they say, over and over again.

At that moment red lightning crackles across the sky and the water around the boat begin to boil. The small vessel violently buckles and the three men are knocked to the deck. When Marcos looks back towards the cabin, the robed figures have disappeared. Terrified, the trio look down into the inky black seas below and are appalled to see that thousands upon thousands of what look like rotting human corpses, thrash about in the water, emitting a sickening and piercing shriek. One of the cadavers leaps out of the water and grabs a hold of Marcos. He screams as he struggles to push the putrid horror off of him and back into the water. Suddenly, a slimy pink tentacle slivers from over the railing and seizes one of the divers. He lets out a yelp as the tentacle drags him overboard before the other two can even react. With no time to recover, a second tentacle grabs the second diver and Marcos lunges forward in a desperate attempt to pull him back.

"Help me, help!"… the diver's screams trail off as the tentacle pulls him below.

Marcos suddenly jolts up from the horrific nightmare and breathes hard. He wipes some sweat from his forehead as his head sinks back into the pillow. A harsh beam of light shines onto his face as he lifts his head to catch a glimpse of a prison guard with flashlight in hand, his silhouette merged with the grate of steel bars that enclosed the cell.

"Everything alright in there Morales?" asks the guard.

Marcos lets out a long-winded sigh as he rests his head back down "Just fine." he says as his eyes stare up into the gun metal gray ceiling.

---

The prison cafeteria hums with the din of the various inmates conversation. Marcos walks with his tray down one of the isles when his attention is suddenly grabbed by a news report flashing across one of the television sets around the cafeteria.

"Divers today off the coast of Key West, received a shock when they reported that the sea floor was littered with the dead and decaying bodies of various types of sea life. Discovered just a few miles off shore, one diver described the scene like something out of nightmare." says the news anchor as the segment continues to play on.

Marcos watches intently as the broadcast has his undivided attention. His eyes betray a mix of apprehension, curiosity and even a bit of fear. One of the local divers is than seen being interviewed by the news crew.

"Never in all my twenty years of diving in these waters, have I ever seen anything like that. I mean, it was a terrible sight. Just hundreds of bodies down there. There's nothing natural to explain it." the diver says.

"Several theories have been put forward by noted marine biologists, but nothing concise to explain this perplexing maritime mystery. In other news…"

Suddenly Marcos' focus is broken by a gruff voice from behind "Your holdin up traffic here papi."

Marcos moves to the side as two other inmates roughly push past him. He swallows hard as he sits at the nearest table and slowly begins to eat.

---

The prison rec yard hums with the usual activities one might find in a maximum security installation. Situated near the weights, Marcos is busy pushing out reps on a burly bench press. Just as he nears maxing out his set, a stocky Hispanic man dressed in a tank top and sporting several tattoos, approaches the bench.

"Oye, Morales. Did you give any thought to what we talked about?" says Ramos as Marcos strenuously racks the barbell.

"Not now Ramos, really not in the fucking mood." says Marcos as he breathes hard and wipes a swath of sweat from his face.

"Your really pushing this Morales. Now we've given you a lot longer than we would give most people. Part of that is because The Netas respect what you did on the outside. But that only goes so far in here. Now if you really wanna survive and I mean, really survive here, your gonna need a familia."

"Later, I wanna hit triceps before I go back in." says Marcos as he begins to walk away.

Ramos quickly catches up with Marcos "This isn't just gonna go away hombre. I already heard those cock sucking Crips, makin plans to take you in the shower and cut you."

"Thanks but I'll take my chances." Says Marcos as he tries to continue to walk on before again being stopped by Ramos.

"You better start takin this seriously pendejo, and you better think twice before the reject this familia. Because when your with us, we're could be the best thing that ever happened to you. Pero if you turn back on us, you'll wish you were never fuckin born, sabe!"

"I'm gonna say this one time. Take your familia and shove it right up your ass. I'm my own man. I always have and I always will be. Comprende, amigo?" he says sarcastically as he mockingly pats Ramos on the cheek "Oh and you can give that message to those Crip motherfuckers while your at it. Now stay the fuck outta my way."

Enraged at the disrespect, Ramos silently retrieves a small shank hidden in his back pocket as Marcos again begins to casually walk away "Shove this motherfucker." he says under his breath as he charges at Marcos' back.

Sensing the attack, Marcos dodges, grabs Ramos from behind and gets him in a choke hold, holding his own knife against his throat. This gets the attention of other Neta gang members in the yard, as they rush over to aid Ramos.

"Oh you fucked up now cabron! Let him go!" says one of the gang members.

"Anything you say familia." says Marcos as he coldly slices Ramos' throat as the other man screams.

Marcos releases his grip and Ramos slumps to the ground. Some of the other Netas rush forward, but he slashes at them with Ramos' knife, seriously wounding a couple of them. After a few moments of holding his own, Marcos backs over to where Ramos lay, when Ramos suddenly lunges up and grabs him. A black sludge drips freely from his mouth and his eyes have become white hollow orbs. He speaks in a demonic and inhuman voice.

"You are the Eldritch Prophet that will herald the rise of Ryleh!"

Slimy tendrils begin to emerge from both Ramos' mouth and the slash wound on his neck as he starts to vomit up more of the black sludge. Marcos looks on in shock as he tries to break free of Ramos' grip. Suddenly a sharp pain seizes the stricken man's head as Marcos presses his hands against his face as he blacks out.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter II: Sunken Horrors

The ocean waves dance and sparkle as sheets of sunlight blaze across their tops. The singing of seagulls can be heard above as nearby, a small vessel bobs up and down gently on the waves as four people mill about the deck unpacking various items of diving gear and high-tech equipment. Calvin Jeffries, a tall black man, smiles at his three younger charges, Tommy, Jenny and her boyfriend Zach. The three college students take pride in being Jeffries top scuba diving pupils and as a reward for their hard work, he has taken them out on a special little expedition.

"Thanks for bringing us along Professor." says Jenny as she smiles warmly.

"You three have only yourselves to thank for this and I make it point to always incentivize hard work." says Jeffries as he smiles back.

"Why did you pick this spot Professor?" asks Tommy.

"Recent scans in the area have picked up some very unusual formations a few fathoms down. I've seen the print outs, a lot of it doesn't look very natural to me if you know what I mean."

"Your thinking artificial monuments?" asks Tommy.

"Well I didn't quite say that, but I'm keeping an open mind." responds Jeffries with a wink.

"Has anybody seen any of those news reports? A bunch of divers have reported a lot of weird shit not to far from here. They say that in some spots, there's just massive carpets of dead and rotting fish on the ocean floor. No one can explain it." says Zach.

"I have indeed, Mr. Zach. The fact that those incidents are on a trajectory near where these side sonar scans were taken, got my interest more than a little piqued. Not to mention if we do find something, it could be a massive boost for the university's oceanography program." says Jeffries.

"You think there's a connection?" asks Jenny.

"You never know. Depends on whatever we find down there. You two ready to take a dip?" asks Jeffries grinning from ear to ear.

"You got it Professor." says Zach as he a Jenny finish donning their diving gear and plunge into the water.

Still smiling out of the corner of his mouth, Jeffries looks at Tommy "Tom, do me a favor and check the anchor and secure any rigging that might be loose. I'm gonna do one last check on the radios, I don't wanna miss a thing."

"Yes sir." says Tommy as he diligently walks off to the far end of the boat to carry out the tasks.

Jeffries looks back and narrows his eyes ever so slightly before he retreats into the cabin. Once there he makes sure to see if Tommy is still hard at work and not watching him. He turns a few dials on a nearby radio console and flips a switch.

"Father Emmett, this is brother Jeffries aboard Cascade One. I'm in position Father."

Only a few seconds later, a crackling response sounds over the speaker "Very good Brother Jeffries. Keep me apprised."

"Yes Father." says Jeffries as he flips on several monitors inside the cabin all displaying detailed sonar maps from various angles of the ocean floor "Hey Tom, we're online! Come and take a look." he shouts.

Tommy comes rushing in as he glues his eyes to the monitors. His face lights up with a smile as he pours over the wealth of detail "That's incredible."

"It most certainly is, but look at those ridges and high peaks on the far plain. They just appear to be far to angled for natural formations." says Jeffries as he points to some detail on the screen.

---

Meanwhile Zach and Jenny continue their decent into the depths. About half an hour into their dive, the pair come across a large underwater platform, it's surface obscured by seaweed, coral and anemones. The platform is surrounded by other, misshapen structures.

On the surface, the radio in the cabin crackles to life as Zach's voice echoes through the speakers "Come in Professor. We've definitely got something here."

Jeffries and Tommy immediately rush over to the radio "Talk to us Mr. Zach, what have you found?" asks Jeffries.

"Honestly I'm not quite sure. Looks to be a raised platform of some kind. I don't wanna be presumptuous but the we've got what looks like walls surrounding it." says Zach.

Tommy giggles almost like a school girl as he looks gleefully at Jeffries "This is fantastic Professor, you know what this could mean!" he says as he chimes into the radio "Hey Zach, you think we got our very own Atlantis down there?"

"Well I don't wanna jump the gun here. This could just as easily be a bunch of weird beach rock. Nature is capable of doing some pretty weird shit on her own. We don't wanna say it's man made until absolutely confirmed." says Zach his voice slightly breaking up over the air waves.

Jeffries nods his head "He's right. We don't wanna go running to the papers until we're sure. We've got the university's reputation to worry about. Zach, you and Jen keep going, see if you can find anything else."

"Roger that Professor." says Zach.

At that moment, Jenny tugs on her boyfriend's arm as she spots something on the far end of the submerged platform. They both swim over and discover a medium sized black statue of a grotesque creature with bat wings and tentacles coming out of it face. The edifice is partially obscured by massive growths of anemones on it's base and head. They hurriedly scrape off the growths to reveal the full hideous visage of the monolith.

"Come in Professor, we may have something here. Some kind of fucked up looking statue." says Jenny over the radio.

"What kind of statue, describe it to me." responds Jeffries intently.

"Well it's really ugly. Looks like it's got wings, like a bat. Buncha shit coming out of it's face. Feelers or tentacles or something. Anything ringing a bell here?" says Jenny.

A look of pure euphoria washes over Jeffries' face as he takes a relieved breath.

"What is it Professor, you recognize what that thing is?" asks Tommy.

Without answering, Jeffries jumps back onto the radio "Can you and Zach haul it up?"

"Um, I think so. Doesn't look too heavy." Jenny replies.

"Good, secure the statue and we'll see you topside." says Jeffries.

"Professor what's going on? What's the statue?" asks Tommy.

"Tommy I've got make a few notes here. Double check the buoys and the rigging on the starboard for when they surface. But I may know what we're dealing with here. Once I see the statue for myself, I'll confirm my theory. Got it."

"Yes sir." says Tommy as he rushes out of the cabin to check the boat's starboard side.

Once out of sight, Jeffries switches frequencies of the radio and again speaks into the microphone "Father, come in."

"Have you found something Brother?" asks the voice on the other end.

"I think so Father. Sonar scans seem to indicate a massive underwater complex. Divers have discovered a statue that fits the description of great Cthulhu. This could be it Father, the conformation that Ryleh is indeed ready to rise again. I'll know for sure as soon as they bring the statue up."

"If it is indeed great Cthulhu, have you prepared an adequate sacrifice?" asks Father Emmett.

"I have." says Jeffries as a sinister grin crosses his lips.

"Excellent, I await your next update than."

A few minutes later both Zach and Jen emerge from the water with the medium sized statue in tow.

"Professor, they've got it!" yells Tommy.

Jeffries rushes out as both he and Tommy help the two young divers haul their catch on deck. The Professor drags the strange artifact near the center of the deck as Zach and Jen lift themselves out of the water.

"What the hell is that thing Professor?" asks Tommy.

Jeffries suddenly grows wild eyed as he let's out a satisfied chuckle "It's what we've been waiting for." he says in a whisper.

"How's that?" asks a confused Tommy.

"I'll be right back. I'm gonna grab the camera, I've gotta get this on film!" exclaims Jeffries as he hurries back into the cabin, leaving the young trio to gawk at the grotesque antique.

Once back inside, Jeffries retrieves a gun hidden in one of the bags. He than begins to chant in a strange sounding language as he calmly walks back out on the deck, points the weapon at Zach and fires. The teen falls back and Jenny screams, only to be met with more gunfire as the professor cold bloodily shoots her.

"My God, what the fuck are you doing?!" screams Tommy as he looks on, grief stricken horror plastered on his face.

"Nothing personal kids. But a proper sacrifice must be made to the great Old Ones." says Jeffries with an insane glint on his eyes.

He starts to chant once again and shoots Tommy, who slumps over, his body landing right beside his friends, their blood pooling onto the deck of the boat.

The murderous professor drags the bodies of his three victims to the center of the deck and at the very foot of the statue. He dips his hands into the blood of each body and mingles them together in his palms. Going over to the statue, he smears the gore across the face of Cthulhu, kneels and begins chanting aloud towards the sky.

"Please accept this blood sacrifice my lord Cthulhu. To you and the rest of the Great Old Ones." he says as thunder and lightning rip across the heavens followed by an unexpected torrential downpour "Thank you for your acceptance my lords. We await with great anticipation the coming of Ryleh."

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter III: Doctor Knows Best

Marcos slowly opens his eyes and finds himself laying on an examining table. Looking down and shining a light into his pupils is Dr. Deidre Lundy, an attractive brunette in her early thirties. After seeing Marcos come to, she smiles.

"Well, glad to see you've rejoined the living Colonel Morales." she says.

Marcos squints and slightly sits up "Colonel, I never thought I'd ever hear anyone call me that again." he says groggily as he intakes another deep breath "What happened?"

"You were jumped by some Netas in the yard. You sustained some shallow stab wounds, but I think your gonna be ok."

"The only thing I remember is seeing Ramos puking up something black. Than I dunno, I lost it."

"Oscar Ramos is dead. I understand it was probably self-defense, but the other Netas are probably gonna want revenge. I can request for you to be moved to protective lock up if you want."

Marcos smirks "I don't know that slitting someone's throat from behind would be considered self-defense, but sure. Oh and you can bag the whole protective lock up shtick. If the fuckers are gonna come for me, than it is what it is. I learn to accept the things I couldn't change a very long time ago doctor…"

"Deidre Lundy, one of the heads here in the Infirmary."

"Right, Dr. Lundy." Marcos says as he slowly closes his eyes and rubs his temples.

"Still, killing another inmate doesn't exactly help your cause with the parole board. I mean, ya know, considering your already lengthy sentence." says Lundy.

The man looks back at the doctor with an annoyed stare "Is that supposed to be a fucking joke doctor? I'd call three consecutive life terms a bit more than just a lengthy sentence, wouldn't you?"

Lundy widens her eyes "Well you're a serial bomber and homicidal arsonist with a body count of over two hundred dead. So I'd say you got off light with just three life terms."

"Thank you so much for re-iterating that for me." says Marcos, the anger rising in his voice.

Lundy looks down sheepishly "Yor right, I'm sorry. But if it wasn't for self-defense, why did you kill Ramos the way that you did?"

"To send a message, plus I figured, what the hell…what's one more?" he says with a disturbing grin.

"You said something earlier. Something about Ramos vomiting up something? What was that all about?"

Marcos' mood immediately changes at hearing the question. He glances away with a worried look on his face "Never mind."

"You know it's funny, we didn't find anything like that around. The guards who broke up the fight reported that Ramos never got up after you slit his throat." says Lundy trying to be more probing.

"I said, Never mind!" Marcos forcefully exclaims before he again looks away "Besides, you wouldn't believe it anyway." he says in a much quieter tone.

"Have it your way." says the doctor as she begins to walk away before stopping and turning around to face her patient once again "Ya know, working in my profession, I've seen my fair share of some fucked up shit. So if you did see something out there…"

Marcos remains silent as he continues to stare in the opposite direction. Lundy nods her head and turns around, satisfied that Marcos wasn't going to open up. She gets a few more feet away before he finally speaks up.

"Did you ever have a recurring nightmare doctor?...and I do mean recurring, as in every goddamn night for the past four months." says Marcos, a look of dread seriousness on his face.

"Well, I've certainly heard of recurring dreams, even had a few myself. But never anything that frequent." says Lundy as she walks back towards her charge.

"Well, I certainly have."

"I see. So tell me, what happens in these nightmares that has you so spooked?"

Marcos looks straight into the doctor's eyes with his response "Ryleh."

"I'm sorry?" says Lundy with a look of confusion.

"As soon as I close my eyes at night, I'm right back on that fucking boat out in the middle of the ocean. Two divers communicate with me through the radio, tell me that the sea floor is littered with fish carcasses as far as the eye can see. A storm kicks up from out of nowhere and they scramble to get back to the surface. The sky becomes inky black with thunder and lightning. There are four people with black hoods and robes who start chanting Ryleh over and over. Myself and the two divers are terrified, we have no idea what's going on…when we see it." says Marcos, with a blank expressionless look as he describes his nightmare.

Lundy reaches over and brushes her hand across his "What do you see Colonel?"

Marcos again looks her dead in the eyes "The corpses. But not the bodies of the fish or anything like that, they're human bodies, decayed and rotting. Instead of an ocean of water, it's become an ocean of decomposing human bodies, but they're alive at the same time, all reaching out, screaming and thrashing. The giant tentacles come up, grab my two companions and pull them under. That's when I wake up in a cold clammy sweat. Then there are the visions, like the one I had outside with Ramos."

"You may be experiencing some kind of schizophrenic break, I'm sure there's an explanation for all this Colonel."

"No amount of schizophrenia could produce the things that I've seen, and felt. Visions so powerful, I can smell the shit that's around me. You know your dealing with something pretty potent, if it can strike fear even in the heart of a psychopath."

"What does any of this have to do with the fight you had?" asks Lundy.

"Anything this goddamned prison can throw at me is a walk in the park compared to whatever has crawled inside my subconscious as of late. When I sliced that cocksucker's throat, let's just say it provided a little bit of relief." says Marcos as he produces yet another off putting smile.

"Look I can set something up with the prison psychiatrist if you would like…"

"Save it doctor!" says Marcos as he cuts off Lundy.

"Of course, I didn't mean anything by it. If you would like to sit and just talk to me more about it, I'd be more than happy."

Marcos narrows his eyes in suspicion "We're through here. The next time I decide to get stabbed up, I'll be sure to come and see you. Guard, I'm ready to go back to my cell!" he says as two guards walk over.

One of the guards looks to Lundy for reassurance "Doctor is he clear to return to his cell?"

Looking defeated, Lundy reluctantly nods her head "I suppose. Sargent Reynolds, would you escort the Colonel back, I have something I wanna ask Officer Cobb."

"Good day doctor, I'll be sure to give the rest of the Netas your regards." says Marcos as he and Reynolds exit the Infirmary as Lundy pulls Cobb aside.

"I heard what he was saying, you think he could be the one?" asks Cobb.

"Possibly, but your sure Ramos never got back up?"

"That's an affirmative doctor. Ramos was probably dead the second he hit the ground."

"Than his visions might be legit. The nightmares about Ryleh, coinciding with all the dead sea life. We may have our Prophet."

"Did you get a blood sample?" asks Cobb.

"Of course, it was one of the first things I did. We have to be sure, run a scan to see if he possesses the Hyksos Uranum. I'll arrange a meeting with Father Emmett, in the meantime keep a tight watch on him." says Lundy.

"Yes ma'am." says Cobb as he exits the Infirmary.

Lundy than commences to make a phone call "Father, this is Dr. Lundy. I think I may have a found a candidate."

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter IV: Missing & Endangered

F.B.I. headquarters was alive with pretty much everything one would expect from the top law enforcement agency in the country. Looking down intently at one of his numerous filing cabinets, Assistant Director Benito Garcia, an unremarkable looking man in his mid-forties, with thinning hair, rifles through various files. His face betrayed apprehension as he occasionally looks back at the phone on his desk, as if waiting for the shrill ring to break the silence at any moment. A few minutes into the endeavor and the phone rings.

Before he answers, Garcia intakes a deep breath as he lifts the receiver "Garcia…"

"Hello Brother Garcia, how are things going on down at the beehive?" asks the voice on the other end.

"Father, I was waiting for your call. I heard about Brother Jeffries little outing and put two and two together."

"Yes, due to Brother Jeffries carelessness, we have a potentially damaging situation unfolding. His choice of sacrificial victims was less than ideal due to the implications." says Father Emmett.

"Well it wouldn't have been that big a deal. Three college kids going missing can usually be put down to partying or just not being responsible. But the port authorities insisted on making this a matter for the Bureau, since they surmise they vanished out near international waters, even though that's yet to be proven." says Garcia.

"Regardless, Jeffries actions have inadvertently brought unwanted attention that could lead to the discovery of The Church, something we must protect at all costs. Now, especially since we all but have conformation that Ryleh is indeed rising, just as the Necronomicon has foretold."

This brings about a nervous smile to Garcia's face "Praise be to The Old Ones Father."

"Indeed Brother, however we must stay on task. What's the latest if you please?" says Emmett with impatience.

"Um, of course. Well they've got Mr. and Mrs. Downs coming in to make a statement. They're the parents of one of the missing students, Jenny Downs."

"I see, and who have they assigned to the case?" asks Emmett.

"Some of my best Agents. Aiden and Parks respectively."

"Do all that you can to stall them out, Brother Garcia. The Church's sanctity may now rest on your shoulders. Do not fail us as Brother Jeffries has."

"I'll do all that I can Father. It's just hard to believe that as much power and influence as The Church has, that we might be close to being discovered, especially this near to the prophecy of Ryleh being fulfilled."

"The Church of the Sinking City are master infiltrators, however even we have our limits. Our power is not yet absolute and things unfortunately fall through the cracks. Yet there is promising news that I received just the other day."

"Oh?" asks Garcia, as he sits up in his chair.

"According to Dr. Lundy, she has identified a very promising candidate for the mantle of The Eldritch Prophet. She's running blood tests as we speak and has arranged that I meet the fellow in person, so that I may see for myself."

"Ya got a name by any chance?" asks Garcia, his curiosity piqued.

"One Marcos Raphael Morales, currently an inmate at Deathridge Gate."

Suddenly the color from Garcia's face drains and his eyes glaze over "Morales, as in The Prophet Bomber?"

"Is that a problem, Brother Garcia?"

"Colonel Marcos Morales was tracked down and captured by Special Agents Joshua Aiden and Jordan Parkes, the same F.B.I. duo that's just been assigned this particular missing persons case."

A long and telling pause ensues over the phone before Father Emmett finally responds "Well the universe certainly does have it's way of toying with us, doesn't it?"

"If ever I was a believer in Fate, this might just be it." says Garcia.

"Continue with everything on your end Brother. We've come much to far to let things drop off now, understand?"

"Yes Father." says Garcia as the other end of the line goes dead.

---

Just outside of Assistant Director Garcia's office, sits Special Agent Josh Aiden, tall well built black man in his mid-thirties. He's going about his normal day and a few moments later his partner, Special Agent Jordan Parkes, an attractive young black woman, walks in holding two large cups of covered coffee.

"Mocha latte, hazel nut extract, light on the foam." says Parkes as she places the cup on Aiden's desk.

Aiden smiles up at her as immediately takes a sip "The woman knows what a brotha likes."

"After four years of being partners, I damn well better."

"Good point." says Aiden as he nods and takes another sip.

"So you got anything on our case?" asks Parkes, taking a seat next to her partner.

"Just working up the preliminary's now. Background, social media presence, grades, crushes, the works. Seemed like some normal kids to me."

"Well Jenny's parents are coming in soon to give a statement. Hopefully we can run down some leads afterward." says Parkes.

"Speak of the devil." says Aiden as he notices a distraught looking man and woman walking in. He goes over to greet them "Mr. and Mrs. Downs?" the pair nods and Aiden extends his hand "I'm Special Agent Aiden, this is Special Agent Parkes and we'll be heading up this investigation from here on in. If you folks would just have a seat at my desk…"

At that moment, Garcia swings his door open "We'll be conducting the interview in my office Agent Aiden. Mr. and Mrs. Downs if you would kindly pull up a chair in here, we can begin."

Aiden scrunches up his face in bewilderment and he looks to Parkes for answers, to which she just shrugs.

"Agents if you don't mind, you are heading up this investigation after all." says Garcia as he motions for the agents to come in as well.

Once inside the office, Garcia shuts the door as Aiden slightly takes him aside "Forgive me Assistant Director, but I was under the impression that myself and Agent Parkes would be the ones to question the Downs'".

"Well you were misinformed Agent Aiden, I've just been given the directive to take point on this particular case due to it's international status. You and Agent Parkes will still head up the field part of the investigation, but you'll be reporting every single one of your findings directly to me and to me only, is that understood?"

"Um, yes sir." says Aiden, still a bit confused.

"Good, let's not waste anymore time shall we?" says Garcia as he takes a seat behind his desk and addresses the Downs' "I'm so glad you folks could ,make it in. My name is A.D. Garcia and you've already met Agents Aiden and Parkes."

"We're happy to provide anything to help find our daughter." says Greg Downs, Jenny's father.

Garcia gives an indifferent sort of nod "Mr. Downs when did you and your wife first notice that your daughter was missing?"

"About three days ago. She said that she was going diving with her boyfriend the morning before and that she could be out all day. So we weren't worried when we hadn't heard from her, till the next day. We called Zack's parents when we got the news that he hadn't shown up either, we knew something was wrong." said Mrs. Downs tearing up.

Garcia looks over to Aiden for conformation as he nods "Yea that all checks out sir. We ran the timeline through the boyfriend's parents and they confirm the Downs' story. Zack, Jenny and another friend, a Tommy Wu all set out together. Nearest we can figure they departed sometime after 8 a.m. to parts unknown." Aiden says clamping his hands.

"You guys didn't call us in because you suspect us of anything right?" asks Mr. Downs with concern.

"No Mr. Downs, it's more or less standard procedure, but we always have to check with those closest to the missing. Now is there anything else you can remember about that day, any idea who your daughter and her friends might've gone with?" asks Jordan.

"Well not really, the only other person they hung out with a lot was their Professor. He would take the kids on diving tours sometimes." says Mrs. Downs.

Garcia clenches his jaw as Aiden speaks up "…and what's the name of this Professor?"

"Um, Professor Jeffries I believe."

Garcia suddenly decides to interject "Ok, we'll definitely be following a lot of this up. If you folks think of anything else, please call us. Agent Parkes will escort you back downstairs." he says as he motions to Parkes.

"You will find her, won't you?" asks Mrs. Downs still with tears in her eyes.

"We promise we'll do everything in our power ma'am." says Aiden as Parkes accompanies the grieving parents outside.

"Ok, I think we have enough to start making our rounds…" Garcia starts to say before being cut off by Aiden.

"Are you alright sir? I mean with all due respect, this is highly unusual procedure. I've never had to run a case directly through an A.D. once I've been assigned and I've never seen you question family members directly before."

"I've already told you Agent, due to the international sensitivity of this case, we're doing things a bit differently, that's all."

"But sir, we've had international cases before and I've never…"

"Just do as your told Agent Aiden. Now you and Parkes run down every marina, scuba place and boat rental. After which you can try and get a fix on where exactly in the ocean these kids disappeared. I'm gonna check out this Professor Jeffries, see if he can shed light on any of this."

Aiden just gives a weak nod as he reluctantly heads out the door.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter V: Spiritual Guidance

Marcos sits awkwardly in an empty visiting room, with both his wrists handcuffed to the seat. The table in front of him is a pale blank white that reflects the emptiness of the room itself. A lone guard stands near the door, a stoic expression on his face.

"So is there a reason I'm sitting here staring at an empty table?" remarks Marcos.

"This visit was specifically ordered by Dr. Lundy." replies the guard with an emotionless tone.

"Visit from whom, might I ask." asks Marcos, getting a bit testy.

"I don't ask questions. I was told to guard you and that's what I'm gonna do."

"...and they say the art of conversation is dead." Marcos says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The guard rolls his eyes but stays quiet. A few seconds later, a short, somewhat pudgy man walks in. This is Father Johnathan Emmett, a portly and unassuming Caucasian man in his early sixties, dressed in the traditional garb of a Catholic priest. Emmett casually nods to the guard and sits across from Marcos.

"If you need anything Father, I'll be right outside the door." says the guard.

"Most appreciative." says Emmett as the guard steps out.

Not knowing quite what to make of this visitor, Marcos smirks with a combination of disgust and amusement "So what did the doctor think I needed last rites or somethin? Maybe you didn't get the memo Father, but my plea deal took the death penalty off the table. At least as far I'm aware."

"No my boy, that's not why I'm here." says Emmett, with a chuckle.

"Then I guess the six million dollar question is…" asks Marcos, gesturing with his eyes.

Emmett smiles as he steeples his hands on the table "Dr. Lundy informed me of your little skirmish in the prison yard."

"So she thought to call you in because an inmate fight warranted me to seek some kind of fucked up spiritual guidance, is that it?"

"Not quite, Marcos."

"Then allow me to ask again. Who are you, what am I doing here and why the fuck would I talk to you?" asks Marcos, his voice taking on more aggression.

"Just call me Father Emmett for right now, and the reason I'm here is because of these so called dreams you say you've been having." says Emmett, that fake looking grin still plastered across his face.

"Well I'm glad to see that doctor, patient confidentiality is enforced to the fullest extent in this place. Look, I don't know what Lundy told you and furthermore I really don't care. Just know that I haven't the slightest interest in confessing my sins or finding God, or repenting to save my soul or any of that other happy horse shit."

"You might be surprised, they say confession is good for the soul."

"You know that old expression, go fuck yourself, they say that's good for the soul as well."

This is met by another round of soft chuckles by Emmett as he leans forward "My, you are a fiery one aren't you my boy? However I think you'll be relieved to know that I represent a very different type of Church than my attire would lead you to believe."

"Well why didn't you say something sooner Father, I mean that changes everything. I think I'll change my answer from, go fuck yourself, to go suck a dick."

"Yes very amusing, now if you don't mind skipping over your sexual preferences and tell me of these dreams you've been experiencing."

"…and why in the front flipping fuck would I do that?"

Emmett lets out another chuckle, this one a bit louder than before "You know for a man who possesses an I.Q. that approaches that of genius level, I was expecting a somewhat more diverse vocabulary."

"Oh I'm terribly sorry Father, try this. Go fuck yourself whilst sucking a dick. Perhaps that works better for you." says Marcos with a defiant smugness.

"Ok, how about this?" says Emmett, as he stares at Marcos with a prolonged and unflinching gaze "In these dreams you often find yourself in open water, sometimes on a boat, other times your just floating above the surface. In some of the dreams your a diver and discover a mass grave of aquatic carcasses, decaying and putrid. Other times they float to the surface, completely engulfing the water around you. Tell me if I'm getting warmer."

"Is that supposed to impress me? I described all that to Lundy."

"But what you probably didn't describe was the extent of the visions." He says as The Father motions with his finger "The visions involve , friends, family or sometimes a random stranger who morphs or mutates into a hideous and demonic creature, usually involving black liquid and tentacles of some kind, usually protruding from an orifice, mouth, eyes, something like that. But the one constant is the word Ryleh." Emmett says as he sits back in his chair, a black silhouette covering his face "How'd I do?"

A more serious expression grips Marcos' face "I didn't tell anyone amount those goddamned tentacles. Shit I didn't even really remember them until just now." He says as his eyes dart back towards the priest "Who the hell are you?"

"How long has all this been happening?" asks Emmett.

"How did you know about the visions?!" asks Marcos as he bangs his wrists on the table.

"I asked you how long have the dreams been occurring!" Emmett fires back.

Marcos upturns one corner of his mouth in another defiant smirk and sits back, remaining silent.

Emmett lurches forward "You don't seem to grasp the severity of the situation my son."

Marcos doesn't move an inch and continues his mocking stare "I think your persuasion tactics need a little work father."

"How's this than. If you think the nightmares and visions are bad now, trust me when I tell you, things are about to get so much worse. If you are the foretold Eldritch Prophet, your only way out of a fate worse than death is by cooperating with us."

"I think your a little confused Father. Last I heard, the media was calling me the Prophet Bomber. Eldritch was nowhere in that title."

Emmett suddenly smiles deviously, taking note of Marcos' flippant defiance "Alright then, I think I have enough for the Church to proceed. Guard!" he says as the guard comes back in to the room "You may see me out now. We're done here."

"Awww, so soon Father? I though since you were here we could get in a few games of tic tac toe." says Marcos mockingly.

"Fret not my son, we'll be seeing each other again shortly."

"Well anytime you need me to tell you to go fuck yourself, I'm always here Father." says Marcos with an insulting wink as Emmett is escorted out of the room.

"I'll be back in five minutes to take you back to your cell, Morales." says the guard as he too, exits.

Marcos leans back "Great with my luck, they'll have a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses in here tomorrow."

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter VI: From The Depths

The nimble and sleek helicopter sails across the sky at a low and cruising altitude. The aircraft was on a routine training maneuver carrying two seasoned Coast Guard personnel, Lieutenant Commander Jack Humphries and his co-pilot, Lieutenant Junior Grade Daniel Hilton.

"We're getting low on fuel, Commander. Think we outta turn her around, head back to base?" asks Hilton.

"Aw c'mon Hil, I thought you enjoyed being out here? Nice cool ocean breeze, it's paradise." comments Humphries with a cheeky smirk on his face.

"Well with all the weird shit that's been happening as of late, I'm not quite as comfortable out here anymore." says Hilton.

"You talking about all the dead critters? Hey I just look at it as sea food I ain't gotta go out and catch."

Hilton gives his Commander a telling stare and Humphries lets out a long and winded stream of laughter, obviously enjoying teasing his subordinate "Alright, we'll fly out as far as Tucker's Sound and then head on back, we got enough fuel for that. That cool with you?"

"Yes sir." says Hilton as he half heartedly grins.

A little while later, as the helicopter approaches the outer edges of the span of ocean known as Tucker's Sound, an anomalous dark mass can be spotted floating on the surface of the water. Humphries removes his sun glasses as he squints to try and get a better view "What the hell is that?"

The two pilots fly in closer when a ghastly and unnerving sight greets them. A mass grave of rotting and decaying sea life of all kinds, carpets the surface of ocean for about two nautical miles.

"My God in heaven…" says Hilton in shock.

The helicopter circles the grotesque scene, the two men both looking on in stunned silence. On a second pass around, Humphries grabs some binoculars and focuses in on a clear patch of ocean in the middle of putrid mass grave "Looks like we got something else down there, look!"

The small helicopter hovers lower as a large complex of monolithic shadows can be seen no more than a few hundred feet below the waves "Call me crazy, but that looks like a goddamn pyramid in the center!" shouts Humphries "Just what in everything holy is going on?"

"Looks like we got something else Commander, few hundred feet, ten o'clock!" says Hilton with apprehension.

Humphries peers through his binoculars when he spots a moderate size ship floating off in the distance. The vessel seems to be floundering right in the middle of the mass of rotting carcasses. The Commander looks at his co-pilot with a mix of confusion and concern on his face "That's a fucking ship out there."

"I'll try to raise her." says Hilton as he grabs the radio receiver "Unidentified vessel, this Coast Guard Rescue 6014 currently flying over your ten o'clock, come in."

A few moments pass with no reply as Hilton tries again "Unidentified vessel, this is Coast Guard Rescue 6014, do you copy?"

When the second attempt is met with only static, Hilton shakes his head as he looks at Humphries.

"Fly over the deck, I gotta bad feeling about this." says Humphries as he swallows hard.

"Are you sure Commander, we're almost out of fuel and I…"

"Just do it Lieutenant." says Humphries sternly, cutting him off.

Offering up no more resistance, Hilton guides the aircraft towards the seemingly derelict ship until both pilots are hovering directly over the main open deck of the wayward ship. As they peer down, Hilton has to brace himself from vomiting as dozens of lifeless human corpses can be seen strewn about all over the top of the ship.

"Jesus Christ, we gotta get the fuck outta here!" shouts Hilton, still nauseated and struggling to hold back his own panic.

"Stay steady Lieutenant, that's an order!"

"Commander, what the fuck is going on? What happened down there!?"

"I don't know Lieutenant, but freaking out isn't gonna help anything! Now look, we got two choices. Our fuel is low and it may just be enough to get us back, but than again it may not. I'd say we got less than a fifty fifty shot."

"What do you mean, we can't stay out here!" exclaims Hilton, the fear rising in his voice.

"Look down Hilton, that ship below is clearly a tanker. We land, find the nearest fuel pump and book it outta here!"

"Are you crazy! Whatever got those guys is gonna get us if we land!"

"We don't know that Lieutenant and every second we spend here arguing, we waste more fuel! At this point you know as well as I do, what we have now isn't going to get us back!"

Hilton slumps back, banging his head against the chair's headrest in an almost childish display of frustration at the current situation, his face scrunched up in anguish.

"Look at me Lieutenant." says Humphries.

Hilton slowly turns his head to face his Commander, a few tears now welling up in his eyes.

"We're gonna be ok son, we gotta keep our cool here, alright. Now let's set her down."

The Commander's words seem to jolt Hilton back to composure as he nods and clears his throat. He and Humphries than commence to lower the chopper down onto the deck of the stricken oil tanker. After touching down, the pair disembark and are met with a scene of unimaginable carnage. Over a dozen cadavers lay mutilated and dismembered about the deck. Arms, legs, torsos and even heads all stare out in stark and silent horror. Hilton can no longer hold his composure as he falls to his knees and pukes, a full blown panic attack setting in. Humphries can barely hold it together himself as he begins to hyper ventilate. He works up the nerve to go and inspect one of the shredded bodies. He bends down and looks at the corpse of what seems to be a man, it's mouth agape in a frozen screaming expression. The body has both legs and one arm ripped off, trails of blood leading away from the torso. The eyes are open, but are nothing but hollow white orbs fixed into the sockets. The jaw is grossly detached with a slimy black glob of something embedded deep in the recess of the throat.

"This is what hell must be like." Humphries whispers to himself. He steadies himself as he rubs his face "Fuel, gotta get to the fuel!" he says as he runs back towards Hilton, who is still incapacitated near the chopper. "Hilton can you move, Hilton goddamit!"

His co-pilot just wipes his nose as emotional induced snot runs down his face "Everyone's dead Commander and we're next."

"No, now stop it! Look you stay put alright. I'm gonna find one of the on deck fuel tanks, maybe get a hose over to the chopper. I need you to try and raise Alameda and tell them what the situation is."

Hilton doesn't answer and continues with his subdued hysterics. This is prompts Humphries to bend down and shake him back to reality "Listen to me Hilton! I need you to get a grip here! Get on the radio, raise Alameda…can you do that?"

Hilton closes eyes is desperation but finally manages to nod in affirmation as Humphries taps him on the shoulder in assurance "Good man, now get on it!" he says as he starts to fast jog over to some on deck tanks.

Hilton reaches inside the chopper and grabs the radio "This is Coast Guard Rescue 6014, Alameda Timberwolf, come in" several seconds of silence "Alameda Timberwolf, this is Lieutenant Junior Grade Hilton with Coast Guard Rescue 6014, come in Timberwolf." The radio remains silent which causes Hilton to drop the mic piece in despair. As he clenches his fists he notices something out of the corner of his eye. The body that Humphries was inspecting a short while before is now convulsing. The black slimy glob in it's throat is starting to ooze out, tendrils are beginning to materialize and take shape. Hilton rushes over to get a better look and is horrified to see the blob morph into a creature strongly resembling a demonic looking squid now writhing on the deck just a few feet away. Panic again sets in and Hilton jumps back into the cockpit of the chopper, too frozen by fear to even yell for help. All goes quiet for a moment, before the chopper starts to lurch forward. The squid like creature has doubled in size and has crawled up onto the front glass of the helicopter. Three pairs of putrid black eyes with cat like irises stare at the terrified Lieutenant. The creature smashes through the front glass using it's tentacles and Hilton finally lets out a blood curdling scream. Over by one of the deck tanks, Humphries comes running only to see his co-pilot being attacked by the monster.

"Lieutenant!" he yells as he grabs a nearby piece of discarded pipe.

Inside the chopper, the creature has seized a hold of Hilton, it's tentacles mercilessly squeezing the man until blood erupts from his mouth. Humphries tries to attack the creature from behind, but more of it's tentacles halt his attack. One of the slimy tendrils wraps around the Commander's arms with such force, that it rips the limb clean off, resulting in Humphries screaming in agony as blood pours out of the catastrophic wound. As the screams of the dying men echo over the air, a tip of one of the underwater pyramids, bursts through the water just a few feet off the deck as the ruins of an entire sunken civilization…begin to bubble up from under the surface.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter VII: The Man In Yellow

As the two F.B.I. agents drive down the isolated road, the skies gradually take on a more gloomy tinge. Dark clouds roll in as a light drizzle begins to gently fall, prompting Agent Aiden to turn on his wipers.

"I hope we have some luck at this one." says Aiden.

"Tell me about it. This'll be the seventh marina rental we've hit today. If we don't get any dice on this one, we're gonna be running out of sea side rental shops. You'd think someone would've noticed three college kids heading out on a rental boat." says Parkes as she sighs.

"Don't sweat it Jordy, we'll pick up a lead, we always do."

"It's not that, it's just…I dunno, I guess I just miss the adrenaline rush some of our cases used to have."

"What three kids who go missing at sea isn't enough excitement for you?" asks Aiden half jokingly.

"Look, I'm not trying to down play this at all. Three kids going missing is serious but, you know what I mean."

Aiden smiles wide as he peers out onto the road "Yea I know what you mean. You miss the big collar busts. Slammin down doors, draggin in bad guys. Van Sciver, Toombs…Morales."

Parkes wrinkles her forehead when her partner mentions the last name "Morales, they don't come any bigger than that. Now that was a goddamn challenge. That son of a bitch made my career. Spent six years and two different tasks forces tracking him, following the clues, sniffin out the leads."

"The thrill of the hunt." says Aiden in conformation.

"Damn right the thrill of the hunt, and what a thrill it was."

"Oh trust me I know, you didn't catch The Prophet Bomber all by your lonesome. I was right there too. We were tracking, following and sniffin together." says Aiden as both share a laugh.

"I know you were." responds Parkes as she affectionately brushes the back of Aiden's hand.

"Thick and thin partner." Aiden says with an equally affectionate gaze.

"Oh, our turn is coming up right here." says Parkes in order to get Aiden's attention back onto the road.

"Oh shit, right." he says as he makes a hard right onto another street.

A short time later, the two agents pull up to a small rental shop with a large yellow sign out front. The sign contains an odd looking symbol which can only be described as a three pronged glyph with a small circle in the center. One prong is straight, the second takes on a more pronounced curve and the third strongly resembles a question mark, all connected to the central circle. Aiden and Parkes pull up to the front of the shop and exit the vehicle.

"You sure this is the right place?" asks Aiden as he takes special notice of the sign and the odd symbol.

"Yup, Carcosa Pleasure Craft Rental. At least that's what it said on Google."

"So that's all this guy has, is one goddamned boat?" says Aiden brining to attention that there only seemed to be one water craft sitting on the dock in front of the shop, a small yellow yacht named The King's Catch.

Parkes starts to look in the windows of the shop, whilst her partner is drawn to the sign and the symbol. As he gets closer, he strangely starts to fixate on the pronged glyph, as if it were somehow calling to him. For a few moments Agent Aiden goes into a light trance as he continues to stare at the marking.

"Aiden, we gonna question this guy or what?" shouts Parkes as she breaks Aiden out of his trance.

"Uh, yea. Be right there." he says as he shakes off his fixation and joins his partner entering the shop.

The inside of the shop is a mix of displays and paraphernalia all related to sailing and diving. But strangely enough, everything, from the snorkels to the life vests, were all the color yellow. On one of the walls was a small plaque that read "Owned and Operated by H. Astur".

"Are you sensing a bit of a theme here?" asks Parkes as the pair look around.

"Well, either that or this guy has a serious banana and school bus fetish." says Aiden as he nears the front counter.

While Aiden inspects the front, Parkes glances out the front window and catches the sight of the small yellow boat, but this time she sees that someone is staring back from it's deck. Partially obscured by one of the sails, stands a large, but hunched over figure. Parkes narrows her gaze as the figure appears to be garbed in a filthy and tattered yellow robe. But most disturbingly, the apparition is wearing a pale featureless mask, adorned with what look like protrusions resembling horns of some kind. After just a brief moment, Aiden taps the little bell on the counter, which causes the female agent to look away in her partner's direction.

"Hello, anybody out front?" yells Aiden.

Parkes quickly looks back out the window, but the frightening specter has vanished "What the fuck?" she says to herself.

"Yo, anybody work here?" Aiden continues to yell, obviously trying to get someone's attention.

Just a second later, a very tall man dressed in an all yellow rain suit and hat, emerges from the back. He keeps his back towards the agents as he dons a yellow bandana over his face and nose, only leaving his eyes exposed. He turns around once his face covering is applied and walks methodically over to the front counter "Can I help you folks?" the man says in a rough voice.

Aiden looks up, slightly taken aback by the man's large stature before he speaks "Uh, hi. I'm Special Agent Josh Aiden, this is my partner Special Agent Parkes with the Federal Bureau. Just wondering if we might ask you some questions about a case we're working…Mr. Astur is it?" says Aiden as be looks over to the small plaque.

"Yes indeed, H. Astur and I'd be happy to answer anything I can."

Aiden smirks "It's funny, but I never figured a guy your size would be scared of a little thing like Covid." he says gesturing to the bandana.

Astur pauses in a momentary silence before he responds "Just taking my precautions is all. There could be more things out there than just viruses you know." he says in a slightly ominous tone.

"Right, well you do know that those masks really don't help anything. In fact…" Aiden starts to say before being immediately cut off by Parkes.

"Josh, I'm sure Mr. Astur doesn't wanna be lectured to." she says as she approaches the counter "You haven't by any chance seen these three young people have you sir? They were reported missing just a few days ago while attending a boating trip and we're just canvasing and rental places they may have gone to just before departing." Parkes says as she lays out three photos on the counter of Tommy, Jenny and Zack.

Astur looks down at the photos and starts to breathe in and out quite heavily. This causes both agents to glance at each other in confusion before the man speaks up "Yea, I may have."

"These three?" asks Parkes tapping on the photos.

"Sure, about four days ago. It was early in the morning, when this black gentleman came into the shop. He rented out one of my dinghy's, paid cash. When he boarded, I saw three young kids with him, looked a lot like them." Astur says pointing to the pictures.

"How old were the kids?" asks Aiden.

"Oh, about college age I guess."

"What about the man that rented out the boat, did he say his name?" asks Parkes.

"Didn't say his name, in fact he didn't say much of anything. But he did register in the log." says Astur as he pulls out a good size book out from behind the counter and flips through it "Let's see, four days ago would be the tenth, oh there it is." he says pointing to a particular entry in the book.

"Jackson Bell, huh." remarks Parkes reading the log entry.

"Yup, kind of a medium size fellow, maybe five foot nine or so. Short cropped hair, kind of a thick mustache, but pretty clean cut nonetheless." says Astur.

Parkes and Aiden give each other a telling stare "When this guy brought the boat back in, were the three kids with him?" asks Aiden.

"I didn't see anybody else when he returned the dinghy."

"Mr. Astur, where is this dinghy now?" asks Parkes.

"Oh she's out on another rental. In fact that particular boat has been rented out at least twice since then."

"Dammit, even it was some kind of crime scene, it's contaminated beyond use now." says Aiden with frustration.

"Sorry, I couldn't be more help. But I'll definitely ask around the marina, somebody else may have spotted something, you never know." says Astur.

"That would be a ton of help, thanks. Also here's my card." says Aiden as he hands the other man his Bureau contact "If you remember anything else about that day, anything at all, just gimme a ring, will ya?".

"Sure thing, hope you find em." says Astur.

As they begin to head out of the shop, an old radio on the wall suddenly blares to life, startling Parkes "Holy shit!" she says stammering back.

"Sorry about that, that old radio just has a mind of it's own." says Astur.

Parkes just smiles weakly as she goes to turn it off but is stopped by Aiden as he listens to the news broadcaster "Hold on Jordy."

"…It seems more bizarre news coming out of Tucker's Sound today as the Coast Guard launches a massive search for a pair of missing helicopter pilots that vanished while out on a training exercise earlier. Also no word from the Viagem, a Portuguese oil tanker that was reported overdue just yesterday. The crew and the fuel ship have been officially reported as missing…"

"Lotta strange stuff's been happening out there as of late, huh. Rotting fish and missing people. They say the ocean can be a cruel mistress." says Astur in the same ominous tone as before.

"Yea you can say that again." replies Aiden as he and Parkes continue to head for the exit.

"Oh one more thing!" shouts Astur just before the pair leave, resulting in Aiden turning around "Did you happen to see the yellow sign?"

Suddenly Aiden finds himself reverting back to the semi trance like state he was in when looking at the odd symbol. Astur's eyes briefly lose all color as they glaze over completely white, menacing and inhuman. Parkes notices her partner's state and taps him on the arm "Hey, what's with you?"

Astur's eyes return to normal and Aiden comes to once again "I'm sorry what was that?" he asks slightly dazed.

Astur shakes his head "It's ok, never mind, you must have a lot on your plate."

"Thank you Mr. Astur, we'll be in touch." says Parkes as she leads Aiden out of the shop.

"Have a good day Agents." says Astur.

"You ok? You runnin a low blood sugar or something?" asks Parkes once the two are outside.

"No, I'm good. Guess I just spaced out for a second, no big deal."

"Alright, I say we call Garcia, we may have a good match for this Jeffries guy." says Parkes as her and Aiden climb back into the car.

As he and Parkes continue to drive on he shoots her an anxious stare "You happen to get a weird feeling in there?"

"Well the guy must've have been almost seven feet tall and creepy as all fuck, so yea you could say that."

Aiden just nods "Yea but he was helpful. Anyway, you better put the call in to Garcia. Maybe get a B.O.L.O. out for Jeffries. We may have something solid here."

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter VIII: A Human Connection

Dr. Deidre Lundy sits patiently as she looks out into the prisoner visiting booths. Several inmates chat animatedly to their incoming loved ones, the two parties separated by a partition of thick glass, their only means of communicating being a specially designed telephone. But Lundy’s attention is on one particular booth, which seats an attractive young woman, who looks to be in her late teens or early twenties. Long, straight black hair, tanned skin, with beautiful hazel eyes. The young woman sits alone as the other side of the booth is unoccupied.

“Why do psychopaths always have some of the best looking kids?” Lundy whispers to herself.

A few minutes later, two guards escort Marcos into the enclosure of which the doctor is sitting. He stands silent, giving her a brooding and cold gaze.

“Happy birthday Colonel.” Lundy says with all the somber cheer she can muster, but Marcos remains silent “Look before we address the elephant in the room, I just have to say this. A call from county came in just yesterday. In the next forty eight hours, you’ll be transferred up north to Whatley Island Max.”

Marcos hardly moves as he just shrugs “…and?”

“Look, I know your upset with me and honestly, you have every right to be. I just want to apologize for not keeping your confidence. Father Emmett has been a friend of my family’s for a very long time and I just thought…”

“You just thought what doctor? That bringing in some whacked out religious nut job who sits there talking about eldritch prophets and whatever other weird esoteric shit was gonna brighten my day? What was that motherfucker even talking about anyway?” says Marcos as he cuts Lundy off.

“I realize that Father Emmett can be quite eccentric at times, but he always has the best intentions in mind. I promise you Colonel, I was only trying to help.”

Marcos continues to stare directly into Lundy’s eyes, not flinching for a second “You know there was a reason why it took almost twenty five years to catch me. It’s because I’m not fucking stupid or easily fooled. You think for a moment that I buy any of the horse shit that just came out of your mouth? You got some other angle here Lundy, and you can be damn sure it’s got nothing to do with my mental health.”

“Alright, I suppose I deserved that.” Lundy says as she slightly glances downward “But as a gesture of good faith on my part and as a birthday present of sorts, I’ve arranged for someone to come see you.”

Marcos smirks in disbelief “Are you fucking kidding me? You have to just about be the densest I'm uncultured I’ve ever…”

“Your youngest daughter Colonel, Adrianna.” says Lundy in a swift rebuttal.

Marcos pauses for a good long while, trying to process what he’s just been told “Anna’s here?” he says as a wave of relief seems to wash over his face.

“That’s right, I thought between my screw up and your transfer coming, I owed you at least that much.”

Marcos breathes hard but doesn’t say anything further, he turns to exit as the two guards prepare to escort him out. Just before he leaves, he turns around to once again face the doctor “Your not fooling anyone doctor, and I when I figure out just what exactly is going on with you, Father Fruit Loops and the rest of this fucked up Establishment…it’s not going to be pretty. Sleep tight.” he says as he his immediately ushered out by the guards.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Once Marcos is escorted into the visitor’s room, he is led to an empty chair, directly across from the young woman. The convicted murderer looks at his daughter, his eyes beaming with contentment as the guard carefully uncuffs both his wrists and ankles. Adrianna Morales forces a small smile on her face in acknowledgment as her father sits down as the guard leaves. The two just take a moment to look at one another, exchanging a silent greeting before they both simultaneously lift the receiver on the telephones in order to hear each other’s voice.

“Hi daddy, happy fiftieth.” says Adrianna, trying to edge out some enthusiasm.

Marcos smiles as his entire demeanor changes “Thank you baby. It’s good to see you.”

“Look I debated whether or not I should’ve even come to be honest with you.” she says, her voice laced with resentment.

Marcos looks down and swallows “I understand…”

“I don’t think you do!” she says as her composure breaks as tears of frustration and sadness well up in her eyes “I’ve given myself every reason in the world for why I should hate you! For all the people that you’ve hurt, that you’ve fucking killed for God’s sake! What you’ve done to me, Mom and Ali! You’re a soulless monster, you know that?”

For anyone else in the world, this kind of rhetoric wouldn’t have phased Marcos in the slightest. Throughout his entire life, he approached others with a kind of cold, and calculating logic. Other people’s emotions, frailties and well being meant absolutely nothing to him. But to hear these words come from his own daughter, seem to get to him in a way nothing else could. For the first time, this serial killer felt a degree of what can only be described as shame “Your right, and I’m…”

“Don’t interrupt me! I’ve waited an entire year, ever since you first got locked up, to tell you how I feel, and I’m gonna speak my peace!” she says, tears now freely flowing from her eyes “But no matter how much I’ve tried to see you as some kind of bloodthirsty animal and despite all the despicable and terrible things you’ve done…your still my father, and I will always have love for you.” she says as a moment later she lets out a loud sigh as she rubs her forehead “That’s a huge load off, I can’t tell you.”

With some of the tension lessened, Marcos nods “Kinda reminds me of the time you exploded on me when I told you, you had to wait for your thirteenth birthday for an I-Phone.”

This elicits a stifled chuckle from Adrianna, which Marcos seizes upon “…and we’ve done it ladies and gentlemen, the first giggle.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say after that.” she says, trying to steer the conversation back to a serious note.

“How’s your mother and sister holding up?” asks Marcos.

“I don’t know, how does one react to being told that their father and husband is a serial bomber that’s killed over two hundred people over the span of two decades? Truthfully daddy, they’re not doing so hot as you can imagine.” she says as more tears drip down her face.

Marcos places his finger on the glass as if to stroke her cheek “Tell me little Osita.”

“Osita, you haven’t called me that in years.” she says wiping her nose “Um, Allison went on some kind of extended tour of Europe. Haven’t heard from her in over three months.”

“…and your mother?”

“Mom has totally broken. She’s been admitted to the psyche hospital three times in the last year. Now all she does is drink herself into a stupor.” she stops and breaks down again, sobbing “I don’t know if I can make it daddy.”

Marcos leans back watching his daughter cry, with a somber expression “Baby I don’t know what I can do, if anything. Financially, you three inherit all my savings, so in that regard you’ll be taken care of. But emotionally, I know what you need from me and quite frankly, I just don’t know what I’m capable of giving. You know what I am.”

After a few more moments of sobbing, Adrianna composes herself enough to speak “I’ve done a lot of research and intellectually I know what a clinical psychopath is. But I guess everyone’s different. So tell me, do me, mom and Ali mean anything to you at all? Would you ever hurt us, like you did all those other people?”

“No, of course I wouldn’t. But in terms of if I feel anything towards you, I suppose I do. Just not in the same way a normal person would. Love, anger, sadness, on a superficial level, I think I know what they mean, but they register much differently for me. As far my crimes go, I’m not sorry for the actual acts themselves. I don’t feel bad for what I’ve done, I’ve never lost any sleep because of it.”

“But all those people. Old ladies, young children…” she says.

“Means nothing to me. I suppose killing from a distance has different effects. But they were just blank faces to me. Drabs of walking puppets with no future and no past. Just moving targets.”

“So that’s it?” asks Adrianna with deep sadness in her voice.

“The only thing I can tell you is that when it came to you, your sister and your mother it was different. I needed you, some of it was practical, maybe some of it was sentimentality, I don’t know.”

“I can’t deal with this right now, I have to go.” she says, starting to get up from the chair.

“Wait Anna…wait!” he says as his daughter slowly sits back down.

“I’ve lied to you for the entire nineteen years you’ve been alive. If it’s one thing I can offer you now, it’s honesty. Now yes it’s true, I feel no remorse for the things that I’ve done in regards to me being a serial killer. But the harm that’s it’s caused my family, I feel uncomfortable. It makes me angry at myself, because as a normal person, you didn’t deserve to be dragged into this. I used my wife and my two daughters as nothing more than camouflage and logically I know that was wrong. But I will tell you this much, for whatever it’s worth, the three of you were the only true human connection that I’ve ever had and it was important to me.”

“Well at least that’s something. More than those people you killed ever got.” Adrianna says with malice “Goodbye daddy, gotta get home before mom finishes off the last of the Jack Daniels.”

“Will I see you again?” asks Marcos with hope.

Adrianna sighs “I don’t know dad, but I hope so. Love you.” She says as she hangs up the receiver and leaves the visitor’s room.

Marcos shakes his head, feeling defeated as he slowly places the receiver back on the hook.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter VIIII: Penance

The lonely country road begins to brighten as the midday gloom starts to give way to a hint of sunlight that is breaking through the clouds. Benito Garcia drives his black Jetta at a steady pace as he begins to loosen his neck tie, the dead pan ring of an outgoing call echoing through his car’s blue tooth speakers. After about the fourth ring, the distinct sound of Father Emmett’s voice picks up the call.

“What have you to report Brother Garcia.”

“I may have substantial lead on Brother Jeffries, Father. According to the University, he has taken a rather lengthy sabbatical, but not given any special reasoning. His residence has been vacant for at least a few days, as was evident by the piling up of his mail.”

“Any indications as to where he might’ve gone?” asks Emmett.

“I questioned several of the other professors and it turns out that one of them had quite the little steamy affair going on with ole Brother Jeffries. She told me about a secret little getaway that he used to bring her to and was kind enough to draw me a map.” says Garcia as he glances down at a small hand drawn map.

“If you find him, you know what needs to be done. Bring in the good brother as he must confess Penance.”

“Yes Father.” Garcia says with a sadistic grin “Also, I got a call from Parkes. She and Aiden think that they might have located where Jeffries rented his boat. The owner seemed to describe the Professor down to a tee.”

“Just make sure you keep them off Jeffries trail, this is solely the Church’s end to tie up, understand.” says Emmett sternly.

“No worries Father, I’ll check in again as soon as I scope out the getaway, and if I find him, he’ll be made to confess Penance.”

“Good, but in any case, I fear that we may have to speed up our operations. Through our contacts I’ve learned that a top secret meeting has been called at Bilderberg. Ryleh is rising to fast and armed naval coalitions headed up by the U.N. might be looking to erect a full blockade in that part of the ocean.”

“Well they’re doing what all governments do best, covering shit up.” says Garcia.

“Indeed, nevertheless, I will feel much better once we have the Eldritch Prophet in our custody. Once Ryleh has fully emerged, it will only be a matter of time before great Cthulhu follows, and we must be prepared before that happens to ensure our place at his side. Fortunately, it shouldn’t be too much longer as Dr. Lundy is currently arranging it. Praise be to The Old Ones.”

“Praise be to The Old Ones.” says Garcia as the call is terminated.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The spacious log cabin sat quiet and peaceful with only a single dirt road leading from the cabin to a clearing path through the dense woods. Inside sat all the comfortable furnishings one might expect from a modest family. Calvin Jeffries sets out drawing all the curtains, trying to make the interior as dark as possible. He wears nothing but a pair of baggy boxer shorts and a wife beater. His eyes are almost bloodshot, the bags of sleep depravation ever apparent underneath them. After drawing the last curtain, Jeffries makes his way to a back part of the cabin, where a very different kind of setting awaits. On the walls are a multitude of symbols and hieroglyphs of some ancient and forgotten script, all written in human blood. On the far end of the room stands a makeshift altar containing the horrific statue of Cthulhu that Jeffries had obtained just a short time prior. Around the edifice are several rows of strategically placed candles.

Slowly Jeffries approaches the altar and kneels in subservience. He starts to sob openly as he exposes his wrists upward to reveal several slash wounds that have were all in the process of healing.

“Please my lord, tell me that I still deserve to be at your side when Ryleh rises fully. I know The Church of the Sinking City is displeased with my actions, that I was careless in my choice of sacrifice. But you have to know that all I’ve done is for the glory of the Great Dreamer. I have shed my own blood in reverence, please tell me what else I must do in order to be spared! I desire nothing but to rule at your side.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Garcia slowly pulls up beside the cabin, with the drawn map in his hand “This is gotta be it.” he says as he cautiously exits the vehicle.

He looks around the premises and stops just outside of a window when he hears what sounds like someone crying. The agent silently draws his gun and peers through a small opening in the drawn over curtain. Its than he sees Jeffries bowing at the foot of the statue continuing to sob his platitudes to Cthulhu. Garcia grins is satisfaction as he makes his way over to the front of the cabin.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Give me a sign, great one…just give me a sign.” says Jeffries.

“Are you sure that’s what you want Brother?” says a voice from behind.

Jeffries whirls around and is in shock to find Garcia standing at the far end of the room “Brother Garcia!”

“You beg and plead for a sign, Brother. But you know how The Old Ones tend to work. When they deliver their signs, it’s often times something your not gonna like.” says Garcia as he walks closer.

“How did you find me?” asks Jeffries fighting to keep from becoming hysterical.

“I’m an F.B.I. Agent Brother Jeffries. Sleuthing is kind of the job.”

“Did The Church send you?”

“No one has seen you in almost five days Brother. After your little expedition out to the site of Ryleh, you failed to check back in with Father Emmett. Word is you brought some of your students out with you.”

“Look I know I was careless in my choice, but a sacrifice had to be made! The Necronomicon specifically demands it! You know it, I know it and Father Emmett knows it.”

“Yet you didn’t once stop to think that the disappearance of three college kids wouldn’t go unnoticed?”

“I didn’t know for sure whether I would find anything out there or not. What if it was Ryleh and I came without preparing a sacrifice? What than?”

“You could have found some bum off the street, someone that wouldn’t have been missed.”

“I needed experienced divers. Who better to recruit than some of my best students.”

“…and now you risk exposing the Church to the entire world! Do you have any idea the shit storm that you started? Because of where those kids disappeared, their case became a federal matter and your damn lucky the file brushed across my desk before anyone else had a chance to see it. Now I’ve been working overtime to try and clean up your mess! What did you do with the bodies?”

“I tossed them overboard. Look that spot is at least hundred fathoms deep! They’ll never find them.” says Jeffries.

“Save for the fact that the sunken city rises more each day. It’s now a matter of international attention.”

“So, what does any of it matter? Ryleh is rising out of the waters, great Cthulhu will follow, the prophecies are coming to pass. He will soon bring the Earth underneath his sway once again and the Church will be at his side. So what if they discover us or not.”

“You miss the point entirely Brother. You failed to give an account to the Church for your actions and what’s even worse…you tried to hide from us! You know you’ve transgressed, and you know what must be done.”

Jeffries turns away to face the altar and breathes hard “The confession of Penance.”

“That’s right. Father Emmett has instructed me to bring you in that you may confess Penance and I suggest you don’t make this harder on yourself.”

Jeffries gazes at the statue, one eye twitching slightly “Allow me one last prayer.” he says looking at Garcia.

The agent just nods his head, looking annoyed and on edge.

Jeffries kneels again and begins chanting in the same language he was on the boat, moments before murdered his three students. Whilst still chanting in prayer, Jeffries secretly reaches for a ceremonial dagger that is laying just inches in front of him near the altar. He quietly slides the blade closer to him and clutches it firmly in his hand.

After a few more seconds, Garcia speaks up “Don’t prolong this Brother Jeffries. We have to get going.” he walks up behind Jeffries and places one of his hands on his shoulder “Confessing of Penance doesn’t always mean death you know.”

Jeffries turns around and the swings the knife, slashing Garcia’s shoulder, knocking him back “I serve the Old Ones, not The Church!” he screams.

Garcia scrambles out of the way as Jeffries lunges for him. The agent goes for his gun, but the weapon is knocked out of his hand by a crazed Jeffries who charges forward. The professor goes for another stab, but Garcia manages to restrain his arms in midair. After a few moments, Garcia over powers the other man and lands a swift punch to his stomach, causing Jeffries to double over and drop the knife. The agent than spins Jeffries around in order to get him in a choke hold from behind.

“Go on, kill me! Spare me the indignation of Penance!” says Jeffries as he struggles to breathe.

“You’ll face final judgement from the Church, not from me.” whispers Garcia before clamping down on Jeffries neck, causing him to pass out.

Jeffries slumps to the floor and Garcia exhales as he clutches the knife wound across his shoulder. He removes his suit jacket to find that a large amount of blood has now soaked through his shirt “Shit.” he says as he angrily stares down at Jeffries.

Garcia than drags Jeffries through the cabin and out to his car. He hoists the body up and dumps it into his trunk “Penance Brother, it’s all about Penance.” he says as he slams the trunk shut.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter X: Through Her Eyes

Agent Aiden sits motionless behind the wheel, while he waits for his partner to exit the Starbucks with his Peppermint Mocha Latte. For some reason he couldn’t get the pair’s odd encounter with a certain Mr. Astur out of his mind. The weird symbol on the yellow sign seemed permanently etched into his subconscious and all he keeps hearing over and over again was Astur asking him if he had seen the sign at the front of the shop. He tries to shake it off as he slowly adjusts the rear view mirror. To his horror he catches a glimpse of the frightening and mysterious figure spotted by Parkes a short while before. The image reflected in the mirror was that of a very tall and ominous looking shape, dressed in filthy yellow robes and wearing a featureless mask that sported horns at the top. At that very moment, the passenger door opens and in pops Agent Parkes, holding her partner’s cup of coffee. Aiden gasps loudly at being startled by both her sudden appearance and the shock of seeing the frightening entity.

“Whoa cowboy, it’s only me.” says Parkes half-jokingly.

Aiden exhales nervously as he again looks into the rear view, only to find the figure has disappeared “Oh sorry, lack of caffeine got me jumpy.” he says, grabbing the beverage from Parkes.

“If you ask me, all that damn coffee is what’s making you jumpy. That’s like your third cup today.”

“You know damn well that caffeine calms my nerves, not the other way around.” he says, taking a sip.

“So where to now?” asks Parkes.

“I figured we do more background. I’m thinking we hit up the boyfriend’s house. I know his mother has already been questioned, but wouldn’t hurt to do a follow up.”

“Sounds good to me, but you sure your good to drive? I don’t want you swerving all over the road from coffee jitters.” says Parkes playfully.

“I’m fine woman.” Aiden says with a chuckle as he backs the car out of it’s parking space.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Some time later, the two F.B.I. agents pull up to a modest house in a well kept suburban neighborhood. As the car comes to a rest on the curb just in front of the house, Parkes smiles “Wow, can’t get more Americana than this. Sort of reminds me of growing up on Orchard Street on the northside of Dunwich.”

“You know I’ve always wondered about that. You grew up in Massachusetts, but I’ve never heard you speak with that New England accent.” asks Aiden.

Parkes looks at her partner and raises an eyebrow “Pok da Kaa, happy?”

Aiden erupts in laughter as the two get out of the car and begin to walk up to the front door. Aiden rings the doorbell as he and Parkes wait patiently.

“File said she’s a single mother, the kid’s father passed away a few years ago from liver failure.” says Parkes in a low voice.

“Yea that might explain why the lawn is four feet high.” says Aiden in a snarky tone as he looks out at the uncut grass.

A few seconds later, the door cracks open showing a middle age woman with straight brown hair “Yes?” she asks, her voice strained.

“Mrs. Edith Chase?” asks Parkes.

“Can I help you?” asks Edith.

“How are you today ma’am, I’m Special Agent Parkes, this is Special Agent Aiden with the F.B.I. We were just wondering if we could ask you some follow up questions about your son’s case?” asks Parkes as both she and Aiden flash their badges.

“The cops already took me down the station.” says Edith.

“That’s right, but that was local PD. The case has been handed over to the Feds, a.k.a. us.” says Parkes.

“It’ll only take a few minutes Mrs. Chase, then we’ll be out of your hair.” says Aiden.

Edith just nods and opens the door “Of course, come in.” she says as the two agents walk inside “Just have a seat on the couch.”

“Actually do you mind if I use your bathroom.” says Aiden as he looks at his partner “I think it was all that coffee.” he says with a wink.

“Uh, sure, just down the hall to the right.” says Edith.

“Appreciate it.” says Aiden as he makes his way down the hall and into the small bathroom.

“Can I get you and your partner something to drink, coffee maybe?” asks Edith.

“No…no more coffee for us but thank you.” says Parkes as she chuckles.

________________________________________________________________________________________

After relieving himself, Aiden begins to wash his hands when the eerie echo of Astur’s voice starts to sound off in his head once again. Trying to ignore it, Aiden splashes water on his face and looks into the vanity mirror. The same yellow robed entity is now standing right behind him, it’s reflection glaring in the polished glass.

Terrified but mustering enough resolve to speak, Aiden whispers “Who are you?”

“Have you seen the yellow sign.” begins to echo loudly in his head, almost to the point of being deafening.

Aiden places his hands over his ears, but the echoing only intensifies. The sound becomes so loud that it literally brings the agent to his knees as he pleads “Please, stop! Who are you?!”

The sounds suddenly cease, and Aiden slowly pulls his hands away from his ears. The yellow entity is nowhere to be seen and the agent leans against the toilet “Just what in the fuck is wrong with me?”
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So it’s just you and Zack than?” asks Parkes.

“Yea, Harold, my husband, passed on about four years ago. I told him a six pack every other night wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world, but in one ear and out the other I guess. Zack took it especially hard. His dad was his hero.” says Edith producing a weak smile.

“I can imagine…” says Parkes as Aiden rejoins them from down the hall “It’s about time, I was just about to send a search party.”

“Well when you gotta go, you gotta go.” says Aiden as he casually sits next to his partner on the couch “Hope I didn’t miss much.”

“No I was just inquiring about Zack. Must be tough having to raise a teenage son, God knows at that age they’re in their formative years.” Parkes says, directly addressing Edith.

“Boy don’t I know it.” says Edith with a laugh “Zack can be a hand full at times, but he’s always been a good kid.” says Edith as she gets up and walks over to look at a photo on the fireplace “Zack would never be gone this long without at least calling me. I just know something awful has happened.” the mother says as tears roll down her face.

“Is there anything else you can remember about that morning Mrs. Chase? Did Zack say or do anything unusual?” asks Aiden.

“It’s just like I told the sheriff, it was about five thirty or so in the morning. I was in the kitchen about ready to go to work when he strolls in with a big smile on his face. He said that he was heading off with Jenny to go on some diving trip. I didn’t ask to many questions because they would hang out like that all the time. Didn’t say where exactly he was going, I just figured it was offshore near one of the coves. He told me he loved me, gave me a little kiss and left. That was pretty much it. I haven’t seen him since.”

“…and Jenny, how long had the two of them been dating?” asks Parkes.

“About six months I’d say. They met in diving class.”

“Did you ever have any problems with her, did Zack ever mention any kind of arguments or disagreements they might have been having?”

“No, in fact I had never seen him any happier with a girl than what he was with Jenny. She was so pretty and I could tell, she really had eyes for my Zack.”

“I guess a mother knows.” says Parkes.

Aiden smiles in agreement when a flash of images start flooding across his mind. Suddenly he’s not sitting on a couch, but rather on a small boat out in the middle of the ocean. Things are distorted and out of shape, the sky taking on a sickly red coloration. Calvin Jeffries walks out of the boat cabin and is pointing a gun directly within Aiden’s line of sight. Jeffries pulls the trigger several times and Aiden feels the searing pain of the bullets tearing through his body. The terrified high-pitched screams of a young woman echo across the sky. Back in reality, Aiden sits silently in a semi trance as blood starts to drip out of his nose.

Parkes looks over and notices what is going on. She immediately runs over to her partner “Oh my God, Josh, your nose!”

This snaps Aiden back into the real world and he hurriedly tries to stem the bleeding by putting his hand over his face.

“Oh God, hold on, I’ll get some tissues!” shouts Edith as she runs into the kitchen.

“Are you alright, did you smack your nose on something?” asks Parkes as she grabs from tissues from Edith and places them to her partner’s nose.

“No, no, just a little nose bleed. I used to have em’ as a kid.” says Aiden as he takes control of the situation, placing several wads of tissue into his nostrils.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The awkward silence pervaded the car as the two agents drove down the road away from Edith Chase’s house. A bloody cotton ball protruded from Aiden’s left nostril and Parke’s looks over in concern.

“So you wanna tell me what’s going on?” she asks.

“Nothing is going on Jordy, I just had a little nose bleed. Sometimes this shit happens, what can I say?”

“You looked like you were in some kind of trance before I came over. As matter of fact you’ve been acting all kinds of fucked up ever since we came from creepy ass rain man’s shop. Now I wanna know what’s up?”

“Alright to tell you the truth, I haven’t been sleeping all that great for the past few nights. Maybe you were right, maybe I need to cut back on the caffeine a little. I’m just a tad off my game today, it’s all good.”

“Well than maybe take a few days off, I can handle things until then. I don’t think this case is going anywhere any time soon.”

“I don’t need a few days off, just one good night’s sleep.”

“Your my partner and I worry about you Josh. Goddamit you need your rest.”

“I’ll be fine Jordy, I promise. In fact, just to prove it, I’m gonna take the rest of the day off. Straight home, right to bed. You want me to drop you off at home or the field office?”

“Drop me off at the office, I got some more filing paperwork to do. You sure your ok?” she asks with a concerned breath.

Aiden just glances at her with a cheesy smile which causes her to chuckle in relief. A short time later, the agents pull up to the nearby F.B.I. field office and Agent Parkes exits the passenger’s side.

Before she goes in, she looks back “Straight to bed.” she says in a stern but motherly tone.

Aiden crosses his fingers “Scout’s honor.”

This seems to satiate her, and she finally turns to walk inside the building. The happy go lucky expression is immediately wiped from Aiden’s face and is replaced by a worried demeanor. He pulls off again and onto the road.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

About thirty minutes later, Aiden takes a familiar route that leads right back to a previous stop, namely, Carcosa Pleasure Craft Rental. He pulls up to the front and gets out, but a very different sight greets him. The building is boarded up and dilapidated, looking like it had been abandoned for quite some time. The crumbling sign on top reads “Roger’s Bait & Tackle” and the mysterious yellow boat is nowhere to be found.

“Just what in all hell is going on?” says Aiden as the ominous silent whispers in his head begin anew.

This seems to panic the agent and he rushes to get back into his car and drive off. As the vehicle peels out, the same disturbing entity, dressed in the filthy yellow robes, looks out from behind the building, the soulless eyes of his blank yellow mask, staring out at the departing automobile.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XI: The Quintulpa

The pitiful screams of the upside down, suspended man echoed sharply through the cavernous expanse of the dungeon like setting. Calvin Jeffries found himself hanging and literally crucified on a wooden and inverted cross, his wrists and ankles nailed securely in place. A few feet away in the center of the stone catacombs lay a large stone basin filled with a black liquid. Floating face down in the strange fluid was a vaguely humanoid form, lifeless and sickly pale in color. Only the topside of it’s back was visible as it gently bobs up and down inside the basin.

“Somebody, you can’t leave me here! Don’t leave me like this!” Jeffries yells, the sounds of his voice stammering in exhaustion.

As his consciousness faded in and out, he picks up the sound of footsteps entering the chamber. In walks Father Emmett, Dr. Lundy and Benito Garcia. The trio slowly make their way in front of the stone basin containing the body.

“I hope it works this time around, Cthulhu knows how many attempts we’ve made at this and failed.” says Garcia as he casually dips the tips of his fingers in the black liquid, splashing it around a bit.

“It’ll work.” says Lundy as she holds up a small vile of blood.

“All has been confirmed I assume?” asks Emmett.

“If it weren’t, we wouldn’t be down here. We’ve run every test and there can be no doubt. Morales’ blood contains the Hyksos Uranum. He is the current Eldritch Prophet.” says Lundy as she hands Emmett the vile.

The priest holds the vile up to his line of sight and smiles “The last living male descendent of the lineage of Alhazred, and we got to him just in time.”

“Please Father, let me go. I’ve confessed my Penance.” stammers Jeffries, his voice pleading mournfully.

“Unfortunately, Brother Jeffries, your actions have gone far beyond any Penance you could offer and I think you know that.” says Emmett as he walks across the chamber until he is directly in front of Jeffries “But do not fear my son, in your death you will still serve a great purpose in great Cthulhu’s grand plan. In order to shape this Quintulpa, your spilled blood will act as a proper sacrifice to The Old Ones.” he says, rubbing the side of the crucified man’s face in an almost mocking way.

At that moment, Emmett gets a call on his cell phone, which he retrieves from inside his smock “Emmett…yes of course, I’ll bring it up on monitor.” he says, pulling the phone away but not hanging up “Shouldn’t be long now.” he says, walking back across the chamber.

On a ceremonial table, adjacent to the stone basin containing the humanoid Quintulpa, a black leather bound book sits propped up by a vertical stand. Emmett slides back a small trap door on the table’s surface which reveals a hidden compartment. A large digital monitor pops out of the opening and the screen blinks to life showing a computer desktop like background. An email notification is visible and Emmett uses the touch screen to access it. A pop up video module begins to play. She scene is of a live feed from what seems to be a large upper watch deck of an aircraft carrier. Large pyramidal structures can be seen in the distance protruding out if the water.

Emmett puts the phone back to his ear “I have you on live feed Admiral Walsh.” says the Father, putting the phone on speaker and laying it on the table.

“I tried to get the best resolution I could Father, but I have to be discreet about it. I hope your getting good visuals.” says Walsh over the speaker phone.

“What exactly is the situation Admiral?” asks Garcia.

“The Bilderberg meeting ended about twelve hours ago. The call went out to the northern fleet. We have an entire naval armada comprised of over thirty sanctioned nations. We’ve set up a perimeter of about eighty nautical miles around the structure. Those are definitely pyramids rising out of the ocean! It’s just as foretold, praise be to the Old Ones!” says Walsh.

“We see them Admiral, it’s absolutely magnificent! Behold, for Ryleh rises before our very eyes!” says Emmett.

“So far there are only tops of buildings, maybe temples of some kind, but all pretty water logged. No solid surface to speak of just yet.”

“It’s all coming Admiral, in the mean time do all you can to mitigate things. We should have the Eldritch Prophet in our hands within the next twenty four hours. The next step is to get him out to the site before the city rises in full, just before great Cthulhu makes his grand entrance.” says Emmett.

“It’s all so exciting Father!” exclaims Walsh.

“Indeed, keep the Church apprised on any updates from the front. We’ll be in touch Admiral.” says Emmett as he hangs up.

“It’s a day we’ve all lived to see, Cthulhu will once again reign over the Earth.” says Garcia, barely able to mask his glee.

“Exactly, so let us not delay any further. Doctor, if you’d do the honors and usher Brother Jeffries into the realm of the Star Spawn.” says Emmett.

“Gladly…” says Lundy as she addresses Garcia, holding out her hand “May I?”

Garcia reaches into his suit jacket, retrieves his pistol and hands it to Lundy. She smiles as she grabs the weapon “Thank you.”

She walks over to Jeffries who now has tears flowing backwards down his face. Emmett opens the black leather bound book and reads from it’s pages. His voice echoing the strange unknown language Jeffries was chanting on the boat. As he chants, his eyes go completely black as if his being were possessed by some demonic force.

“Please, don’t.” cries Jeffries in a desperate bid for sympathy.

Lundy crouches down and whispers into his ear “The Feaster feels nothing for you or them. This is all part of his plan.” she says as she backs away and aims the gun at the man’s torso.

“Now…” says Emmett after a few more seconds of chanting, his eyes oozing the same black liquid that fills the stone basin.

Lundy pulls the trigger and fires three times in rapid succession. Each shot tears a large gaping hole in different places surrounding Jeffries heart as he screams in agony. Blood spatters across the nearby walls as the professor’s mouth hangs open, his eyes frozen in a painful and wretched death mask.

Emmett looks over to Garcia “Brother, the vile.”

Garcia immediately snaps open the small vile of blood Lundy had brought in and pours it’s contents into the stone basin directly on top of the Quintulpa. Emmett continues to chant and the body within the basin starts to undulate under it’s own power. The black liquid within the basin begins to boil, as Emmett’s voice grows ever louder. After a few moments, the body suddenly bursts from out of the black liquid in a large splash, screaming in an other worldy moan. Both Garcia and Lundy look on in both shock and awe as Emmett cackles in an insane like euphoria. The creature that emerges from the basin is still sickly pale and bald. It’s skin taking on a glossy and putrid texture. But disturbingly enough, it has the vague looking face of Marcos Morales.

“Holy shit.” Garcia whispers to himself.

“Absolutely incredible! Through the auspices of the Necronomicon, we have created a near perfect genetic replica of our dear Colonel. In all but outward appearance, right down to the cellular level, this is Marcos Miguel Morales. It’s blood, chromosomes, even his fingerprints are a perfect replication, aren’t you my darling?” Emmett says, his eyes returning to normal as he takes a hold of the Quintulpa’s chin as he would a newborn.

“You call that a perfect replica? No one is ever going to believe that thing is Morales.” says Lundy is disgust.

“This creature’s only purpose is to serve us in it’s death. Once we’ve gotten a hold of the Colonel, we must ensure that no one else will be looking for him. What better way to do than by providing his already dead body? Only it won’t be him, will it?” Emmett says as he stares into the creature’s eyes “Speaking of which, Brother Garcia, if you would.”

Garcia nods as he violently grabs the Quintupla from behind and forcefully holds it’s head under the black liquid. The creature thrashes about, it’s pitiful screams echoing through the fluid in muffled bursts. After about a minute, it’s body goes limp, Garcia having successfully drowned it.

“Sixty seconds of life, only to have it taken away in an instant. As revolting as this thing was, it still seems like a waste.” says Lundy.

“How long is man’s life compared to the chasm of eons that the universe has existed? Being snuffed out for the purpose of the greater whole isn’t the exception doctor, it’s the rule. You would do well to keep that in mind.” says Emmett.

“We’d better get going, Morales is do to be transferred in just a few hours.” says Garcia.

“Yes, bring him if you would.” says Emmett with a nod as he walks out of the entrance to the catacombs.

“Do me a favor and grab the other side.” asks Garcia as he motions towards the dead Quintulpa.

Both Lundy and Garcia, flip the creature out of the basin as it smacks the cold stone floor with an audible thud. The F.B.I. agent crouches down to gaze at the monstrous corpse “Can’t deny that there’s a certain kind of beauty in death.”

Lundy turns around to look at Jeffries crucified body as it continues to bleed out “Yes, there is.”

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XII: Night Terrors

The two men sit back, both with beers in hand as the basketball game blares loudly from the television set.

“Three pointer to win it all, c’mon!” shouts Dave Aiden.

The player sinks a spectacular shot as both the crowd and Dave hoot and holler in victory. Joshua takes a swig from his beer as he smiles widely looking at his younger brother.

“Told you baby, Mavericks do it again! I believe you owe me another case Michelob my good man.” yells Dave as he polishes off the rest of his beverage.

Aiden raises his bottle in salute “A deal is a deal. Put on ESPN, we can catch the post game.”

“I’d love too brotha, but I gotta get home, Tasha is waitin up for me.”

“That’s cool, I know you got two buns in the oven.”

“Yes sir and let me tell you, if there’s someone who ain’t worth pissin off, it’s a woman whose eight months pregnant.”

Aiden laughs “I hear you on that.”

“Yea well let me get on outta here. But I think I’ll grab one last one for the road.” says Dave as he grabs the last beer off the table.

“Fair enough, but listen, I really appreciate you coming over Dave.” says Aiden as he walks his brother to the door.

“Absolutely, you know I love hanging out with my big bro. Nothing beats beer and a B-Ball game I always say.”

“Right…” says Aiden as he slightly drops his head, a look of concern flashing across his face.

Dave notices his brother’s sudden change in demeanor “You sure your ok Josh? I dunno, it just seems like your kinda distracted. Something on your mind?”

“I’m good man, just a little insomnia plus the work load at the Bureau is getting tough.”

“I mean, I could call Tasha, maybe stay an extra hour or whatever if there’s something you need to talk about.”

“Don’t sweat it bro. I’ll work through it, I always do. I know you gotta get home to your wife. You tell Tasha I said hey.” Aiden says as his brother steps through the door and out onto the balcony walkway.

“Will do…but on second thought, why don’t you tell her yourself?” says Dave.

“What do you mean?” asks Aiden.

“Why don’t you swing by for dinner one of these nights? Tasha’s been dying to see you for the longest.”

“I dunno, I don’t wanna put her out. She’s dealing with enough as it is, dropping twins in less than a month.” Aiden says with a chuckle.

“You kiddin me? She lives for dinner parties. Look just a few months ago we had her mother, auntie and her eight crazy ass cousins over. She cooked so much goddamned food, we got leftovers till Thanksgiving. The kitchen is like her therapy or some shit.” Dave says with a smirk.

Aiden sighs and nods his head “Who knows, I just might take you up on that. I’ll call you sometime in the week, we’ll set it up.”

“You do that agent ass kicker.” laughs Dave as he and his brother engage in a half hug embrace “Alright, now go the fuck to sleep. Those circles ain’t gonna lighten themselves up.”

“Will do Sarge.” Aiden says as Dave walks down the steps of his brother’s apartment building and gets into his car.

The F.B.I. agent looks on as Dave pulls out, when he catches something out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head swiftly and glimpses the menacing figure of the yellow robed specter standing directly across from him on the adjoining balcony. The monstrous entity just stands there in ominous silence as it slowly raises one of it’s arms and points a taloned finger at Aiden. Breathing hard, Joshua bolts back into his apartment and slams the door.

“Fuck!” he yells as he smashes his empty beer bottle against the far wall. He leans against his door and slides down into a sitting position, his hand over his face “What’s wrong with me?” he says in despair.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


The dark room is dead silent as Agent Aiden sleeps soundly in his queen size bed. The digital clock on his nightstand, stands stark with it’s bright green numbers illuminating a large portion of the surface beneath it. As the time switches over to exactly 3:00 A.M., Aiden blinks awake without cause or provocation. He rubs his head and yawns deeply as he looks over to his nightstand and reads the time. Somewhat absent mindedly, he reaches for the stale cup of coffee next to the clock and takes a few sips.

“I wonder if there’s like an AA group for caffeine.” he says groggily.

He slowly climbs out of bed and walks into the small bathroom inside his room and switches on the light. He grabs a bottle of half empty mouth wash and begins to gargle a large mouthful when he hears a faint whisper that says “Joshua…”

Aiden stops, with his mouth still full of wash he hesitantly begins to swish his mouth again, thinking that he might’ve been just hearing things. He spits the mouthwash out into the sink when he hears the sound of a loud bang coming from just outside his bedroom door. Aiden quickly grabs his firearm from out if it’s holster, which hangs from one of the bedposts and steadies himself, aiming the gun directly at the bedroom door “Who there!?”

After a few moments of silence, the agent cautiously opens up the door, his weapon still pointed directly in front of him. Reluctantly, Aiden inches ever closer towards the dark hallway, every step in methodical apprehension. Once he reaches the edge of the doorway, he leaps out of the room, expecting for someone or something to be waiting for him on the other side. However, he is only greeted with empty darkness.

“Joshua…” the ominous voice from before whispers again.

“Who the fuck is in my apartment!? You don’t know who your dealing with, I’m an F.B.I. agent!”

This is met with another loud bang and Aiden rushes down the hallway and into his living room. With his heart racing and adrenaline pumping, he scans the room but finds nothing. Then out of nowhere, the yellow robed entity materializes in the far corner, it’s arms outstretched as if wanting to embrace the beleaguered man. Aiden doesn’t hesitate to aim his weapon directly at the demonic figure.

“Federal agent, hands on your head now!” he yells, but the specter doesn’t move “I don’t know who or that fuck you are but you decided to mess with the wrong agent! Now I’m gonna tell you one more time, get on the ground and put your hands on your head you freak motherfucker!”

“Joshua…” whispers the voice, however it doesn’t come from the direction of the yellow demon. With his weapon still trained on the spectral entity, Aiden slowly turns his head, realizing that the voice came from behind him. To his absolute horror he sees the dripping wet figure of a girl, her skin pale white and rotting off her bones. She is covered in seaweed as her wet hair cascades down her corpse like shoulders. But most terrifying of all were her eyes, nothing but hollow yellow orbs, soulless and foreboding. As she walks closer to Aiden, he starts to hyperventilate, pure fear coursing through his body.

“Don’t be afraid Joshua, you’ve had the great honor of being chosen.” says the cadaverous female as a searing pain grips Aiden’s head.

The agent drops his weapon as he clutches the sides of his head and collapses to the ground, screaming in pain. As he writhes on the floor, the girl kneels down and stares at him with her horrifying eyes.

“You’re her, your Jenny Downs. I saw what happened to you on the boat.” says Aiden as he struggles to get the words out.

“Much like you, I was chosen by the King In Yellow.” she says pointing to the yellow robed wraith.

“The King In Yellow?” asks Aiden in bewilderment as he looks over.

“On the day of my death, I went in with Professor Jeffries and it was than I was chosen. I acted as his eyes and my sacrifice was well worth the price to serve Hastur.” says Jenny.

“I don’t understand.” says Aiden, his face conveying fear and confusion.

“Cthulhu is not worthy to rule in this realm! He’s already proved that with his abysmal failure eons ago in his struggles against the Elder Breed! He is the shame of Yog-Sothoth and it is us who shall lay him low! For the King is The Feaster and we are his Feasting!” says Jenny as she places her hands on Aiden’s cheeks.

Blood begins to pour out of Aiden’s nose and eyes as he let’s out another agonized shriek…

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XIII: Jail Break

The white prison bus looms silent against the dark night sky. A row of about twenty inmates, all wearing their signature orange jumpsuits, are methodically lined up just inside the south exit of Deathridge Gate Prison. Each one of the twenty prisoners is a hardened and violent offender serving either a life sentence or on death row. At the very back of the line, Marcos waits, his ankles and wrists handcuffed and joined by a chain in the middle. As the prisoners are ordered to start marching out by an overseeing guard, Deidre Lundy stands at the side of another guard who is stationed at the entrance of the bus. In his hands is a large rifle which he holds with authority.

“Are you and Officer Jackson ready?” asks Lundy in a whispered tone.

“We know what our duty is and we consider it an honor to give our lives in service of great Cthulhu.” says Officer Cobb.

“Your sacrifice will always be remembered.” she says as she brushes Cobb’s shoulder as she slowly walks back towards the barracks and disappears through a side door.

As the line of inmates approaches the front of the bus, Cobb speaks up “Alright listen up! You’ll board in a timely and orderly manner, no shoving or pushing, you should know the drill by now. As soon as you reach your designated spot, you’ll take a seat and you’ll shut the fuck up for the duration of the trip! It’s about a four hour drive till we reach Whatley Island Correctional, so I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. Board up!”

As the inmates begin to board the bus slowly, Marcos is steadily making his way towards the doorway in order to exit with the others. Just before he walks out he hears a faint whisper “Colonel…”

He looks over to his side and is forcefully grabbed by two men, who jam a black hood over his head and drag him to a dark back room. Before he even has time to react, Dr. Lundy injects him through the arm with a syringe after which he immediately falls unconscious.

“Alright, go! Your clear to make your exit through the prison’s westbound checkpoint. Father Emmett will be waiting.” says Lundy as the two men drag Marcos’ limp body out through another door where a black car awaits. They dump the man in the trunk and one of the men quickly climbs into the driver’s side.

“How long do we have till he wakes up?” asks the second man.

“The dosage of Etorphine was high enough that he should be out for the next three hours at least.” says Lundy.

The second man just nods as he enters the passenger’s side, and the car quickly peels off into the night.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the white bus steadily makes its way down the dark and winding roadways, an hour had elapsed from the time it had departed from Deathridge Prison. The inmates were in a state of calm. Some had fallen asleep, their heads resting against the seat windows. Some engage in light but hushed banter, while others just sit quietly and stare outward onto the darkened landscape.

A convicted serial rapist and murderer named Monroe Chalice, casually looks around with a confused expression. He slightly stands up to get a better view of everyone on board and smirks in inquiry.

“Sit down Chalice, we still got a long way to go.” says Daunte Meadows, another inmate sitting across from Chalice.

“That’s fucking weird.” responds Chalice.

“What?” asks Meadows.

“Where the fuck did Morales go? I coulda sworn he was ridin with us.”

“Maybe they pulled him last minute. Paper work didn’t through or some shit.” says Meadows in a matter of fact like tone.

“Quiet it down back there!” shouts Cobb from the other side of the steel grate that separated the correctional officers from the inmates. As soon as the talking had ceased, Cobb walks up to the driver’s cage “I think it’s time.” he says to Jackson in a hushed voice.

Jackson looks at Cobb and just nods before planting his eyes back on the road. Cobb slides down three heavy metal sheets from overhead that completely seal off the driver’s cage from the rest of the upper bus cabin. He then retrieves a distorted looking gas mask from a small compartment and dons it.

This is noticed by Chalice as he squints his eyes “Get a load of this.” he says drawing attention to Cobb.

The corrections officer takes a moment to look out at the prisoners “In your death, you will serve the greater purpose of The Old Ones!” he shouts just before releasing another heavy sheet of metal that slams down from on top over the steel grate, completely sealing off the front cab of the bus from where the prisoners were seated.

“What the fuck is going on! Hey!” shouts Meadows as the rest of the prisoners are all alerted to what’s going on.

A foul and noxious gas starts to seep in from under the floors and quickly envelops the entire back half of the bus. The inmates scatter out of their seats and start to bang and kick at the front steel grate. But before too long, they begin to choke and vomit as one by one, they drop dead. Their bodies piled up at the front, a testament to their futile attempt at escape. On the other side of the grate and the metal partition, Cobb just stands with his rifle, listening to the muffled screams without showing the slightest hint of emotion. He just slowly breathes in and out through his gas mask.

Jackson continues driving as he squirms in the cocooned off driver’s cage. His face betrays that he’s clearly not as comfortable with what’s happening as Cobb seems to be “I will not question you great Cthulhu. All in service for the better world you bring us.” he whispers to himself.

When the inmate’s screams die down and eventually stop all together, Cobb flips a lever which springs the heavy metal partition back up, revealing the piled up bodies on the other side of the separating grate. Cobb opens the door of the grate and slowly begins the arduous task of dragging each prisoner’s body back to their original seats. He then opens all the windows on the bus to expel all the lingering gas present. The entire process takes almost two hours, but finally when the bus is clear and all the dead prisoners are back in their seats, Cobb carefully removes his mask and exhales a sigh of relief.

“Who would’ve thought that you bunch of worthless fuckers would be a thousand times more valuable in your deaths than you ever were in life. The universe is definitely funny that way.” he says before making his way back towards the driver’s cage.

Cobb then flips up the steel sheets that had encased Jackson and the driver nonchalantly looks at his fellow officer “All done I assume?”

“All done. How far away is the impact spot?” asks Cobb.

“About twenty minutes. You’d better get the accelerant ready if we’re gonna do this.” says Jackson in an almost disapproving way.

“What do you mean if Brother Jackson?” asks Cobb, the menace rising in his voice.

“Nothing…” says Jackson.

“Your not having second thoughts, are you brother?” asks Cobb as he haphazardly points the rifle in Jackson’s direction “Because if you even think about betraying the Church…”

Jackson narrows his eyes “So what are you gonna do? Shoot me while in route, sending this bus careening off the side of the road while in turn sending the Church’s entire plan for the Eldritch Prophet right off the rails?”

Cobb brings the gun closer and firmly presses the weapon to his chest as he looks directly down it’s sights, aiming the barrel at point black range to Jackson’s head “I’ll take my chances.”

Jackson doesn’t flinch “My loyalty is just as unwavering as yours Brother. I would never betray The Church and certainly not Cthulhu. Now get ready to pour the goddamn accelerant if you don’t mind. We’ll be reaching the impact site in just a few minutes.” he says all without once taking his eyes off the road.

Cobb steadies the rifle, but doesn’t get the gun off his colleague. After a few seconds, Jackson once again casually turns to look at Cobb, his expression one of arrogant confidence as if he knows that the man wouldn’t shoot him “Are you gonna get the fucking gasoline or not?” asks Jackson.

Cobb finally does lower the gun and goes to retrieve a large gasoline container from the same compartment he found the gas mask. He then proceeds to thoroughly douse the dead inmates as well as the rest of the back-end interior of the bus until the can is emptied. He walks back up to Jackson and the two men just give each other a telling nod.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


A short while later the bus pulls up to a remote bend in the road surrounded by large trees. On the shoulder sits a black van with two men sitting up front. The bus stops in the middle of the road next to the van and the two men exit the smaller vehicle, whilst Jackson and Cobb get off the bus.

“Right on schedule.” says the driver of the van.

“All went without a hitch.” says Cobb as he hands the other driver the gas can.

“Is the Quintulpa ready?” asks Jackson.

“Indeed it is.” says the passenger of the van.

The van’s occupants then unload Macros’ Quintulpa double, which is dressed in a duplicate jumpsuit, out from the back of the van and drag it into the bus followed by Cobb and Jackson. They place the dead creature in the middle of the isle.

“That’s incredible, although I have to say, the damn thing doesn’t look like Morales at all.” comments Cobb.

“The fucking thing is going to be burned to a crisp by the end of all this, so it won’t matter. No one’s gonna be the wiser. Blood type, dental plates, even fingerprints…every single genetic marker they need to identify. He’s got em all.” says the van driver.

“It’s unreal to think what the Necronomicon is capable of.” remarks Jackson.

“It’ll be dawn soon Brothers, are you both ready?” asks the van passenger.

Both Cobb and Jackson look at each other, than back to the other two men when Cobb answers “Yes, we are.”

“Be blessed both of you in your journey to the realm of the Star Spawn.” says the van driver.

The van passenger than lights a match and tosses it directly onto the Quintulpa, which than instantly ignites the surrounding gasoline setting the entire bus ablaze. The van driver and passenger rush off the bus as Cobb and Jackson run to the front. Jackson turns the key and grabs the wheel. He looks over to Cobb and smiles “Praise be to the Old Ones.”

Cobb closes his eyes and responds, “Praise be to the Old Ones.”

Jackson steps on the gas and drives the flaming bus directly into one of the large surrounding trees in a tremendous crash that results in the tree being knocked over and a small explosion bolstered by the already blazing fire onboard the bus. The van’s driver and passenger rush over to the crash just a few yards away and discover that the staged scene has had the desired effect. Jackson is slumped over the steering wheel bleeding from a large gash on his head and Cobb has smashed through the windshield, his shredded body landing a few feet in front of the flaming wreck. All the inmates bodies as well as the Quintulpa are left to burn inside.

“Mission accomplished.” says the van driver as both he and his companion rush to their vehicle and hurriedly speed away from the scene.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As his eyelids slowly start to creak open, Marcos catches the slightest bit of light. His breathing becomes more intense as his senses are starting to fully awaken. His eyes fully dilate as he slams right back into reality. But instead of seeing a wider vision of the world, all he can make out is a dull shade of faint light that manages to pierce the thick black cloth over his head. Without warning, the hood is ripped off and the harsh shine of the overhead lamps momentarily overwhelms his sight, causing him to squint severely.

“Welcome back Colonel, so good to see you again.” says Father Emmett, who is standing just a few feet away.

“Are you ok Colonel Morales, breathing fine?” asks Lundy who stands beside Emmett.

Marcos takes a long pause before responding before he says “What the fuck just happened?”

“Not a lot is going to make sense to you at this moment Marcos, just know that your safe and your now in the custody of the Church of the Sinking City. You don’t know it, but you will soon serve a great purpose in the restructuring of the world itself.” says Emmett.

The former Colonel looks down and finds that he is still handcuffed and strapped very tightly to a chair. Quite unexpectedly, he starts to emit a laugh that conveys his feelings of the absurdity of his situation. He looks back towards Lundy “Just an old family friend whose a bit eccentric huh Lundy?” he says with more laughter “You gotta be shittin me.”

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XIIII: Home Life

The expansive kitchen was quite large with two center islands, beautiful wood carved cabinets, state of the art refrigerator and every other modern luxury one could imagine. It set the tone for what someone would see if they ventured into the rest of the two-story suburban town house. In fact, this house, from the outside anyway, would be considered the pinnacle of modern American success.

As morning slowly gave way to the midday sun, Gabrielle Morales slowly makes her way into the kitchen. Gabrielle is in her late forties, but still just as radiant and beautiful as she was fifteen or even twenty years prior. Her long dark hair showed just a hint of gray and her tanned skin was just as smooth and soft as any of her younger contemporaries. Her face was equally as well kept, the tiniest of smile lines beginning to form around her mouth complimented by the seductive beauty mark that sits just inches above the right side of her lip. However, in contrast to these attributes were her eyes. Even though they were a shade of hypnotic brownish green, there was something worn and diminished about their appearance. They seemed cold, hopeless and lacking any spark of vitality. Gabrielle starts to rummage through one of the top cabinets, shuffling through liquor bottles in various states of emptiness.

After a moment she stops and hangs her head in a defeated manner “Adri, baby…you know what happened to the Vodka?” she says and after another moment of silence she yells “Adrianna!”

Another few seconds pass before Adrianna Morales rounds the corner into the kitchen, holding an empty Vodka bottle “Sorry mom, Ruben and I kinda polished it off last night.”

Gabrielle sighs in annoyance “That was the last goddamn bottle I had.”

“So I’ll buy you another one tonight, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is you know that I have to start my days with a Vodka Tonic.” says Gabrielle getting more irritated.

“Start your day? Jesus mom, it’s twelve thirty in the afternoon. Just drink something else, god knows you have plenty to choose from.” says Adrianna as she swings open the liquor cabinet “SoCo, Jack, oh here’s one you haven’t guzzled in a while…Grey fucking Goose.” she says as she slams the Grey Goose onto the counter “What’ll it be?”

“I don’t want fucking want Grey Goose, I want my Vodka!” screams Gabrielle as she smashes the bottle of Goose into the sink, the bottle breaking into several pieces.

Adrianna stammers back, frightened by her mother’s outburst, so much so that her eyes begin to water. Gabrielle crouches down near the sink than lays with her legs to the side as she holds her head in her hands and sobs lightly.

“Alright, I’m sorry, ok. I’ll get your stupid Vodka.” says Adrianna, her voice trembling as she walks past her mother on the floor.

“No wait, I’m sorry. It was my fault.” says Gabrielle as she tries to compose herself, raising to her feet.

Adrianna turns around and just stares at her mother, not quite knowing how to react. Gabrielle wipes her eyes and blows her nose as she breathes deeply “So how is Ruben, you two starting to get serious?” asks Gabrielle in a feeble attempt to get a normal conversation going.

Adrianna walks back over “Look mom, I think you need to see someone, we both do.”

“…and tell them what Adri? What am I supposed to say to people anymore?” asks Gabrielle as she bursts into tears once again.

“I don’t know mom…” Adrianna says as she sits down next her mother and rests her head on the older woman’s shoulder “You know you should’ve been there.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I visited Dad.”

“No I couldn’t. Truth is I don’t know if I could ever face your father again. He destroyed our lives.”

“But I know you still love him.”

“No, I didn’t know your father. No one did.”

“Oh please. Just drop the fucking act mom! I pass by your room all the time and hear you talking to his picture, toasting with a drink in your hand…and yes I know what your about to ask. He did ask for you, asked how you were doing.”

Gabrielle’s eyes seemed to widen when she heard this from her daughter “…and, what else did he say?”

Adrianna smirks “You see, all I have to do is mention dad and boom. You know what your problem is, you can’t be honest for a single solitary second with me or yourself!”

Mother and daughter just take a long and awkward pause to stare into each other’s eyes before Adrianna breaks the moment “I have to go, Ruben’s waiting.” she says as she quickly gets up and walks towards the front door.

“Wait…wait!” quips Gabrielle as she hears her daughter walk out the door “What else did he say?” the woman hysterically calls out as she shrivels up into a fetal position and cries.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The large wall mounted television blares with the typical background laughter common with that of a studio audience. Ruben Alvarado, 24, sits content eating popcorn as Adrianna snuggles next to him watching to the TV with a sullen expression. Ruben looks over and notices that his girlfriend doesn’t seem to be enjoying herself.

“Babe you ok, want some popcorn?”

“No, I’m fine” she says in a low an uninterested tone.

“Well what’s wrong, I thought this was one of your favorite episodes?” asks Ruben.

“It is, I used to watch it all the time with daddy.”

“Ya know I wish my parents were into Seinfeld as much as you say you and your dad were.”

Adrianna smiles “You know I always remember the very first time he sat me down and showed me Jerry cracking a joke with Kramer. I was about six and the episode was The Ex-Girlfriend. I laughed so hard that I had chocolate milk coming out of my nose.”

“You were lucky you shared such good times with him.” Ruben says warmly “I mean ya know, not counting the whole serial killer thing.” he says as Adrianna raises an eyebrow “Ok that came out completely wrong…”

“It’s ok, let’s just not talk about my parents anymore, huh.”

“Sure, I’m cool with that. But if you do need to talk, I’m always here, you know that.”

“I said forget it Ruben, I’m gonna go lay down for awhile.” she says as she storms off the couch and down the hall to Ruben’s bedroom in the small apartment.

The young man sits, somewhat despondent as he continues to watch television and munch on his popcorn. Twenty minutes later he’s in better spirits having gotten engrossed in the sitcom once again when he hears soft crying coming from his room. He immediately shuts off the TV and goes to check what’s going on. He knocks gently on the door and a moment later quietly enters to find Adrianna laying on the bed with tears flowing down her face.

“Hey babe, I didn’t mean to upset you. Tell me what’s wrong.” he says kneeling beside the bed.

“I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to snap at you…it’s just that I had another fight with mom this morning. I just feel like everything’s falling apart.” she says sitting up as Ruben embraces her.

“Hey it’s ok, you don’t need to apologize for anything. I know how rough this has all been for you.” says Ruben as he kisses her on the forehead.

“I’m lucky to have you.” she says through emotional induced stuttering.

Ruben rubs her hair and picks up her chin “No I’m the lucky one. I think I might be the luckiest guy in the world.” he says chuckling a bit.

Adrianna laughs in turn and the young couple start to kiss “Promise me you’ll never leave.” she whispers.

“Your not getting rid of me pretty lady.” says Ruben as the two continue to make out, eventually leading to them tumbling onto the bed in each other’s arms…

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gabrielle sits near the kitchen counter and happily pours a helping of vodka into an awaiting glass. Just a few inches in front of her is a poignant photo of herself and Marcos cutting into their wedding cake. She sits and drinks, lovingly staring at the photo as the television plays in the background.

“I’m gonna try and guess what you said about me Marc. Adri doesn’t understand how important this is to me. She tried to get me to drink SoCo first thing, can you imagine Southern Comfort when you first wake up? Fucking uncivilized if you ask me.” she says giggling in a drunken haze “Did you tell her how much you missed me? Or how much you know that I can’t carry on the perfect life that we had, because without you, people talk Marc. They think I’m a failure” she says taking another long swig “But I did everything right, it was you who fucked this all up. We had it all and one day you decided you wanted to be some psychotic son of a bitch who liked to bomb people.”

As Gabrielle lays her head down ,a news report begins to broadcast “Coming to you with late breaking news this afternoon. Reports are now confirming the tragic bus crash that happened early this morning. A prison transport from Deathridge Maximum swerved off the road near Providence Road and I-90. Carrying over twenty inmates all of whom were to be transferred to Whately Island Correctional. Police are investigating the crash but we are told there were no survivors.”

Gabrielle slowly brings her head up and stumbles into the living room, still carrying her liquor glass. She grabs the remote and raises the volume as the report continues “…inside the wreck were the charred remains of convicted rapist and killer Monroe Chalice, mafia hitman David Dexter Ward and possibly most notorious of all, Marcos Miguel Morales, the infamous Prophet Bomber. Police are still trying to determine the cause of the crash but…”

A pale look crosses Gabrielle’s face as her mouth hangs open in shock. A single tear falls from her face as the glass slips out of her hand and shatters on the ground.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Adrianna snores lightly as he arm brushes up against Ruben’s sleeping form. Unconsciously she pulls the sheets closer to her chest and turns in bed in order to lay in a more comfortable position. No sooner does she settle back in, than the shrill ringing of her cell phone, breaks the room’s silence.

The young woman reaches for the device and glances at the caller I.D. which indicates that it’s her mother “Hello…mom?”

“Adri, it’s your father…”

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XV: Loose Ends

Aiden is jolted awake by the ear-piercing ringing of his cell phone going off on his nightstand. He is surprised to find himself back in his bed, the birds chirping outside, the bright luminescence of sunshine radiating through his window blinds. The agent wipes the stray beads of sweat from his face as he lays back slightly in relief.

The ringing continues for a few more moments before he finally decides to answer it “Aiden…” he says in a groggy tone.

“Rough night Agent Aiden?” asks Parkes on the other end.

“Jordy?” he asks exhaling deeply “Jesus, I didn’t have that much last night did I?”

Parkes giggles “You tell me hon.” she says with another laugh “But listen, if your feeling up to it, I got a hot lead on Jeffries. Seems he had a secret lover’s getaway out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere…hello?”

“Uh yea I’m here, sorry, just a little hung over I guess. I had Dave over last night. Anyway, where’d you get this lead?”

“I got my little sources, but hey I’m headed out there right now. Think you can drag your ass outta bed and gimme a hand with this?”

“Sure partner.”

“Great, I’m working off a shitty hand drawn map right now. As soon as I find the place, I’ll have dispatch forward you the address.”

“When you do find it, wait for backup ok. We don’t know who…” he pauses and looks towards a mirror in the room “…or what we might be dealing with.”

“You know me.” Parkes says mischievously.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” responds Aiden with concern.

“Alright, I should be pulling up to the cabin in a few minutes according to this. See you in a few.” she says hanging up.

Aiden places his phone down on the bed and hops off. His instincts immediately tell him to check his firearm as he ejects the magazine to find it full. He sighs in reassurance, as he re-holsters the weapon. Only temporarily calmed, Aiden travels out to the hallway, then downstairs. As he meticulously inspects his apartment, a small green scrap on the floor in the living room catches his gaze. He rushes over to pick up the scrap and discovers that it appears to be a rotting piece of seaweed.

“I’m losing my fucking mind.” he says raising to his feet trying to contemplate just what exactly he experienced the night before.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


F.B.I. field office headquarters buzzed with all the milling about that Benito Garcia was all to accustomed too. He rifles through some files as he makes his way to his back office with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Just before entering the door to his office, he glances over to find that the desks of both Agents Aiden and Parkes are unoccupied. He narrows his eyes slightly as he slams the files onto his desk, he retrieves his cell phone and dials in a number.

“I’m sorry, but the cellular customer you are trying to reach is not available. Please try again later.” rattls the pre-recorded generic voicemail.

In frustration Garcia storms out of his office and encounters a young female agent with short cropped red hair “Agent White, you happen to know where Agents Parkes and Aiden got off to?” he asks impatiently.

“Uh yes sir, Parkes came in early this morning, said she was gonna follow up on some kind of lead on that Jeffries guy.” says White somewhat confused.

“Did she say what kinda lead?” asks Garcia more forcefully.

“Something to do with a contact Jeffries had at the university, but she didn’t go into details. Is everything alright sir?”

“Thank you Agent.” says Garcia as he almost runs across the busy field office on his way towards the exit.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In no time at all, Garcia is power walking through the parking garage and reaches his car within seconds. He dials in another number and places the phone to his ear.

The ring tone sounds off exactly three times before Joshua Aiden picks up “Aiden…”

“What part of letting me handle the Jeffries angle did you and Agent Parkes not understand?” asks Garcia, his voice dripping with malice.

“Assistant Director?” asks Aiden sheepishly.

“That’s right Agent and I’m still waiting on an answer to my question.”

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t know the full story myself. Agent Parkes phoned me just a little while ago and said she had a hot lead on Jeffries. I just assumed she had filled you in on it.”

“No Agent Aiden, she hasn’t! There’s a chain of command for a reason here Aiden! I expect to be kept abreast of every detail of an ongoing investigation. Now I’m gonna tell you exactly what your gonna do next. Your going to find Agent Parkes, your going to sit tight and wait for my call, do I make myself abundantly clear?!”

“Yes sir, very clear. I don’t know what else to say about all this. But I’m enroute to meet Agent Parkes right now and I got the address to some cabin. Would you like me to text it to you?” asks Aiden, his voice a little shaken up.

“I know exactly where it is.” says Garcia as he coldly hangs up and gets into his car.

____________________________________________________________________________________________


Marsha Hess, a bright and energetic young black woman rushes out of her room as she hurries to answer the insistent doorbell that had been going off for almost a full minute. As she had just gotten out of the shower not a moment before, Marsha quickly wraps a towel around herself and dons some slippers.

“Just a minute, coming.” she says looking out the peep hole “What the hell?” she mutters, partially opening the door but only with the security chain still fastened.

“Hey Miss Hess, remember me? I’m Agent Garcia, I spoke with you just the other day about Professor Jeffries.” says Garcia is an overly friendly tone.

“Of course Agent Garcia, what can I do for you?” asks Marsha through the door, being sure to keep the chain fastened.

“We may have turned up some leads on his whereabouts and I just needed to clear some things up about your last statement if that’s ok.”

“Um, right now? I just got out of the shower and I’m late for a class.” says Marsha.

“It’ll just take a second I promise.” says Garcia insistently.

Marsha pauses and doesn’t answer, almost as if she’s contemplating what to do when Garcia speaks up again “Marsha the F.B.I. may have reason to believe that Calvin might be in danger. If you could answer just a few questions we could get to him before anything happens.”

At this the young woman unlatches the chain and swings the door open “What kind of danger, is Calvin ok?”

Not a moment after she opens the door, Garcia impatiently steps right through “Before we get into any of that, did you happen to speak to another agent recently? Anyone else come around asking questions besides me?”

“Sure, an Agent Parkes I think she said her name was. She said she found me through some people she knew at the university. Is Calvin ok?”

“…and what exactly did you tell Agent Parkes if you don’t mind me asking.”

Marsha blinks in confusion when Garcia didn’t answer her but continues “Just what I told you I guess. That Cal and I had been kinda involved when I was his teaching assistant.”

“…and the cabin, you told her about the cabin?” asks Garcia trying to probe further.

Marsha nods “Yea I told her about his cabin and drew a map just like the one I gave you.”

Garcia intakes a deep breath, barely able to hold in his anger as he looks at Marsha “That may complicate things.”

“What is going on, what’s happened to Cal? I wanna know if he’s hurt.”

Garcia looks over and takes special interest in the small staircase in the apartment before he glances back at Marsha “Tell you what, go upstairs, get dressed, put on your face or whatever and I fill you in on everything in the car.”

“Oh My God, something did happen.” says Marsha, the panic flooding her voice.

“Just go get ready and we’ll talk about it after. I promise everything’s gonna be alright.” says Garcia, his voice suddenly taking on a much calmer demeanor.

“Ok, I’ll be two minutes.” says Marsha as she rushes back upstairs.

“Take your time.” Garcia says with a creepy grin.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________


True to her word, Marsha is dressed and ready to go in under five minutes flat. She opens her door but stops in her tracks when she finds Garcia only feet away at the top the stairs, crouching down staring at the banister as if he were intently studying something.

“Is something wrong?” asks Marsha with a bit of suspicion in her voice.

“No, not at all, just kind of running some things through my head.” Garcia answers with a curious smirk.

“Ok well I’m ready. You said you were gonna fill me in on Cal?” the young lady says walking just a little past the F.B.I. agent and onto the first step.

“You know it’s funny how some things seem to work out. I’ve been with the F.B.I. for about thirteen years now and you’d be amazed what you pick up about how certain crimes are committed. Hell, if you really wanted to, you could plan a crime scene yourself and almost make it look like an accident.” says Garcia.

“I’m not following. What does any of this have to do with Calvin?”

“Well, do me a favor, come stand right here and I’ll tell you exactly how this relates to Calvin” says Garcia motioning with his fingers on where he wants Marsha to stand.

The teaching assistant wrinkles her face in a mix of annoyance and puzzlement but nevertheless complies and moves over on the first step to where Garcia is pointing “Ok are you gonna tell me what this is all about, cuz it’s kinda weird.”

Garcia glances over her shoulder as he peers at the steps below with one eye squinting “That’s perfect, thank you.” he says before unexpectedly lunging forward and brutally pushing Marsha off the first step, sending her tumbling down the stairs. The young woman barely has enough time to let out a scream as her body ricochets off the banister rails, breaking several of them before ultimately ending up at the bottom of the steps, her body contorted and splayed out. Garcia calmly makes his way down the stairs and casually crouches over the woman’s lifeless body. He grins taking stock that her neck is now bent in an unnatural position, her eyes wide open “I couldn’t have planned that any better.” he says looking back up the steps “You see Marsha, what happened is that you tripped at the side of the first step there which caused you to lose balance, your body bouncing off the fifth and sixth steps, your head than careened into the railing struts, breaking them in the process. You bounced back due to the force of the impact until you landed right in this position here, tragically breaking your neck just below the second vertebrae. Falling down the steps is a hazard that just happens all to often. It’s a shame really.” he callously says before getting back up and walking over to the door “I’ll be sure to give Calvin your regards though. It was a pleasure, Miss Hess.” he says before nonchalantly walking out the front door.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The small cabin is overrun by squad cars and federal agents. Crime scene tape rims the perimeter around the surrounding woods as suits swarmed in and out carrying out several pieces of evidence. Inside the back room which served as Jeffries’ shrine to the Old Ones, Parkes and Aiden stand observantly as forensic photographers take pictures of the scene.

Aiden looks at his watch “He should be in any minute.”

“Look, Garcia can tear into me all he wants, but when he sees all this, he’ll thank me.” says Parkes in a huff.

“All I know is, that man was pissed with a capitol P when he called me. Why wouldn’t you bring him in on this Jordy?” asks Aiden.

“You know me Josh, sometimes I just work off of impulse. I stepped out of line and I know that.”

“You goddamned right you did. Now look, I’m not Garcia’s biggest fan, but he’s right. The F.B.I. has protocols in place for a reason Jordy. He could reprimand us both for this.”

Parkes doesn’t respond, opting instead to give her partner an angered and telling stare. She walks over to one of the C.S.I. operatives taking pictures of the grotesque Cthulhu statue and altar “You ever seen anything like that?” she asks.

“All I can tell you is that whatever it is, it looks pretty old. Judging by the weathering it may have even been underwater. The statue shows signs of water current erosion.” says the photographer.

“But what is it? Some kind of an ancient god or something? Egyptian or Babylonian, something like that?” asks Parkes.

“Couldn’t tell you ma’am. Once we process the evidence, we’ll run it through our data base. Should be able to come up with something.”

Back in the distance, Aiden is beginning to experience the same head pains he was before. The monstrous statue of Cthulhu is making him increasingly on edge and he starts to feel a tightness in his chest. A subtle voice echoes in a soft but persistent resonance in his head.

“That is the enemy, Cthulhu is the enemy…” the voice rambles on in rapid succession.

Unaware of what is going on, Parkes turns around “You got any theories Josh?” she says before she notices her partner’s distress “Hey are you ok?”

“Yea I’m fine. I guess I’m not exactly done with that hang over. I’m gonna go get some air for a second.” says Aiden, quickly making a hasty exit out of the cabin.

While cooling himself off outside, Aiden notices a car slowly barreling down the dirt road approaching the cabin “Oh shit…” he whispers to himself.

Garcia wastes no time as he exits the car. Trying to run interference, Aiden walks up to him “Assistant Director Garcia, the Forensics team was already out here when I arrived sir. Agent Parkes…”

“You better choose your words very carefully Agent Aiden, because your future with The Bureau itself is on the line here!” shouts Garcia, cutting Aiden off.

“I understand your upset sir, but Agent Parkes and I…”

“You let me deal with Agent Parkes!” yells Garcia as he rams right past Aiden and into the cabin, followed closely by his subordinate.

Garcia makes a B-Line for the back room when he confronts Parkes directly “Well, well Agent Parkes, I’m so glad to see you hold protocol and the chain of command in such high esteem!”

“Assistant Director, let me explain. None of this is Agent Aiden’s fault, I take full responsibility for this sir.” says Parkes.

With his face turning red, Garcia almost gives Parkes a death stare “Ok Agent, go ahead. Explain yourself…this outta be good.”

“Sir I gotta tip that Professor Jeffries might be out here. Agent Aiden and I had run the marina leads just like you asked, and we met a rental place owner that gave us a good description of what could have been Jeffries. On a hunch, I contacted the university and got in touch with a former T.A. that had a fling with Jeffries back in the day. She led me to this place. When I arrived…”

“Without backup and without informing me while you were under explicit orders to do so…” Garcia interrupts.

“…I discovered the cabin and this backroom, where as you can see, an apparent violent struggle took place.” rebounds Parkes.

“Sir we found blood spatter on the far wall as well as on the floor and all around the altar. We think Jeffries might’ve used this place as some kind of sacrificial place of worship to a deity of some sort. This strongly suggests occult activity that may link to the disappearance of the three students.” says Aiden.

“Sir, I understand I broke protocol, but I felt like I couldn’t wait. We have three missing kids whose lives may at risk if they’re not already dead. I couldn’t sit on this.” says Parkes.

Garcia clenches his fists and looks directly at the female agent “Get all the evidence bagged and shipped. Once it’s back at H.Q. nothing, and I do mean nothing, gets processed without my direct sign off. Do you fucking understand me agents?”

“Yes sir.” says Parkes looking down.

At that moment another agent bursts into the room “Excuse me Agent Parkes, but did you hear the news?”

“What news?” asks Parkes.

“It’s all over the networks.”

“What are you talking about Agent Ferris?” snaps Garcia.

“Sorry sir, but there was a bus crash this morning. Buncha prisoners were due to be transported from Deathridge Penitentiary to Whately Island. Bus must’ve veered off the road and got into a wreck…one of the inmates was Morales, he’s dead. I just thought Agent Parkes and Aiden should know since they were the ones that…”

“Thank you Ferris, you should get back to processing the scene.” says Parkes in slight shock.

“Holy shit, that’s unreal.” says Aiden as he notices his partner’s reaction “Look Jordy, I know…”

Parkes immediately recoils “Just gimme a minute will ya.” she says walking out of the room, the look on her face one of disbelief.

Aiden tries to follow but is stopped by Garcia “You’ve bigger things to worry about Agent Aiden. Now you and Parkes finish up out here and get your asses back to the field office A.S.A.P. We gotta a lot to talk about.”

Aiden just nods obediently as Garcia exits the cabin, gets in his car and drives away.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XVI: Back To The Wild

“So let me see if I have this straight. My family is part of an ancient bloodline that was started in the eighth century by some Arab wizard who worshipped primordial gods called the Ages Ones?” asks Marcos as he slightly leans back, but still restrained in his chair.

“The Old Ones.” says Emmett with impatience.

“Right, The Old Ones. So anyway, one of these Old Ones, Pazuzu or whatever the fuck, ruled over a corpse city in the middle of the ocean hundreds of thousands of years ago but was engaged in a war with another alien species for control of the Earth. He lost that war and his city sank below the waves, but because my lineage has a direct connection with Goo Goo due to some special bacteria in our blood, the ancient city is now rising out of the sea and somehow all this has to do with my fiftieth birthday. Am I in the ballpark here?” asks Marcos, his voice exuding sarcastic and comical skepticism.

Emmett crouches down to look Marcos in the eyes “Of course I wouldn’t expect someone like you to possibly comprehend the greater significance of the history, our faith or your place within the grand plan, and for the record, his name is Cthulhu.”

Marcos smirks loudly “…and I’m supposed to be the psycho around here?”

“The presence within your blood, something we call the Hyksos Uranum, is a unique genetic marker that’s only found in the lineage of Abdul Alhazred, your great ancestor who compiled and wrote the Necronomicon.” says Lundy.

“Alhazred was specially chosen by Cthulhu as his psychic anchor to this realm and through his descendants, the Great Dreamer would rise again to bring the Earth beneath his sway.” says Emmett.

“Say that for a single second, I believed any of this horse shit…why me? If this unique genetic marker was present in my family, why not snatch up my dad when he was alive, or hell even my two daughters? Why go to all the trouble of breaking me out of prison?”

“The Hyksos Uranum is only present in the male members of your bloodline.” says Lundy.

“To your other question as to why specifically you, first you must answer me something Colonel. At what age did your father die?” asks Emmett.

“He was forty-nine, lung cancer.”

Emmett nods “Yes and the other men in your family? As far back as you can recall, have any of them lived past the age fifty?”

Marcos narrows his eyes “I don’t know.”

“Than allow me to fill in the blanks Colonel. The Church of the Sinking City has done extensive research on your family tree and as unbelievable as it sounds, not a single man in your ancestry has ever lived up to fifty years. That is of course, for you.” says Emmett.

“So what?” retorts Marcos.

“For reasons that we have to fathom, in order for Cthulhu and Ryleh to rise again, one of Alhazred’s descendants must reach the age of fifty. Once they surpass this specific milestone, they than become The Eldritch Prophet as foretold in the Necronomicon and will usher in the way for great Cthulhu to awaken.” Says Emmett.

Marcos than begins to whistle in a mocking tone “Well that’s quite the fucking story Father.”

“We understand that it’s a lot to take in Colonel, but it’s all true. You are The Eldritch Prophet, there’s no denying it.” says Lundy.

“So what now doctor? Do I go all Linda Blair with my head spinning around until I get a call from ole Cthulhu or whatever the hell his name is?” asks Marcos.

“Your true function will by fully explained in due time my dear Colonel. The most important thing now is that we have you in our custody. But if you’ll excuse me, right now I have a Sunday night Mass to teach. We all have to keep appearances after all.”

“So your just gonna leave me tied up down here, not even a cold beer for god’s sake?” asks Marcos light heartedly.

“I’ll be back before to long. In the meantime, young Brother Lawrence will guard you.” says Emmett pointing to a young priest standing just outside the caged enclosure “He’s a new recruit for The Church, very well versed on the faith and our revered Old Ones, isn’t that right Brother Lawrence?”

“Yes Father.” says Lawrence as he looks down menacingly at Marcos.

“Excellent, come Doctor. I’ll have Father Davenport relieve you in about an hour.” says Emmett as he and Lundy exit the underground catacombs.

The pair ascend a dark winding staircase that leads to a secret door in a back hallway of Saint Thomas’ Cathedral.

“We’ll transport him first thing in the morning. I’ve coordinated a rendezvous point with Admiral Walsh. We’ll have a full naval escort out to the site of Ryleh.” says Emmett.

Lundy nods “Ok, I’m going to head over back to the lab. Run some more check ups on the blood sample. I wanna be absolutely sure we didn’t miss anything.”

“We have the right one doctor. The Colonel is The Eldritch Prophet, there can be no doubt.”

“I certainly hope so.” says Lundy as her and Emmett part ways down the hall.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

As Deidre Lundy briskly walks down the darkened halls of the expansive and large church, she suddenly stops dead in her tracks, overcome by the sense of a supernatural presence. From behind her, one of the many doors that line the hall slowly creaks open and out steps a shadowy figure of a very tall entity. The silhouette of the humanoid figure suggests that whatever it is, it’s wearing an overcoat of some kind, a rain hat topping it’s head with all other features obscured by darkness. Lundy, with her back still turned towards the entity, exhales deeply, her breath clearly visible as the temperature drops around her.

“Is that you my king?” she asks, slowly turning around.

The entity cannot be seen speaking, but Lundy simultaneously hears a disembodied voice echo in her head “Is Cthulhu’s prophet secure?”

“Yes my king.” says Lundy.

“Than I shall take it from here. You’ve done well my Feasting servant.”

“Thank you my lord.” says Lundy lowering her head and steepling her hands in reverence.

The entity doesn’t say anything further and it’s gigantic stature simply lumbers back into the room that it came out of, carefully closing the door behind it. Overwhelmed with curiosity, Lundy walks back towards the room and she sees the small name plate on the outside reads Father Fredrick Davenport. Reluctantly she opens the door only to be taken aback to find a lifeless body hanging from the ceiling over top a desk in the office. Father Davenport’s body dangles by a belt loop attached to a ceiling fan. Lundy swallows hard as she immediately shuts the door, and quickly heads to the exit the church.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Marcos slowly rocks back and forth in his chair, his restraints jiggling against the arm supports “Hey kid, you mind if I get some breathing room? My ass is really starting to get numb.”

“You’ll be taken care of as soon as Father Emmett gets back. Now kindly shut up.” says Lawrence continues reading the antique book in his hand.

Marcos just smiles as he looks around the dungeon like enclosure, gothic and grotesque drawings and sculptures depicting the octopus faced demon glaring at him from several points around the cell “You really believe all this bullshit? Ancient prophecies, primordial gods and sunken cities? All seems like the stuff of a bad acid trip at a drive-in movie.”

“I said shut up.” says Lawrence.

“You do know that Emmett and Lundy are a buncha fruit loops with delusions of grandeur.”

“I said shut up!” shouts Lawrence as he forcefully stands up to face Marcos through the cell bars “Father Emmett is a great man! He personally communes with the Old Ones, I’ve seen it for myself! When Ryleh rises fully and we sacrifice your blood to great Cthulhu, we are promised to rule at his side. We’ll become gods in our own right!”

“Oops, did someone just spill the beans? I don’t think I was supposed to know about the whole sacrificial part, huh sonny?” says Marcos smugly.

A look of worry crosses Lawrence’s face when the door to the catacombs opens and in steps Astur, the very large man encountered by Parkes and Aiden. He is dressed in the same get up as before…yellow rain coat, hat, boots and bandanna around his face.

Lawrence looks on perplexed “Who are you, you can’t be down here.”

“Relax, Father Davenport sent me to check on the prophet. He’ll be down himself in a few.” says Astur as he opens Marcos’ cell door with a set of keys.

“Wait what are you gonna do?” asks Lawrence.

“Quick pat down, just makin sure he doesn’t have any weapons. We can’t afford and escape” says Astur as he enters the cell.

“But why did he send you, I could’ve checked him.” asks Lawrence.

“This man is very dangerous; you might not know what to look for.” Astur says looking down at Marcos “Aren’t you friend?”

Marcos looks up at the imposing man “I’d call you the jolly green giant but you gotta little bit of a different color motif going on there.”

Astur crouches down, his green eyes conveying that he’s smiling behind his bandanna mask “A real honor to finally meet you. You’re everything that I’d envisioned.” he says as he begins to lightly rub his hands around Marcos’ person.

“I hate to break it to you bubba, but I’m kinda fond of the female species if you know what I mean. But if you untie me, I might be up for letting you buy me dinner.” says Marcos.

Astur quickly places his hands behind Marcos and silently snaps the ropes holding the prisoner’s wrists while simultaneously placing something metallic into Marcos’ palm “Careful what you wish for.”

Marcos widens his eyes with a telling stare when he realizes what the other man has just done but is careful not to move a muscle in order not to alert Lawrence.

“He’s clean.” says Astur standing to his feet and walking by Lawrence.

“You barely touched him.” exclaims Lawrence, quick to slam the cell door shut.

“Sometimes you can just tell. Father Davenport will be down soon. Praise be to the Old Ones.” says Astur as he walks through the door and out of the catacombs.

“Praise be to the Old Ones.” says Lawrence a little bewildered “That was certainly strange.”

Meanwhile Marcos feels the object Astur had placed in his palm and a malevolent grin crosses his face. He than starts to hack and cough quite loudly. Lawrence comes back over to the cell and notices his captor’s distress “What the matter with you?”

Marcos throws his head back and begins to gurgle up saliva, his breathing becoming increasingly shallow. Lawrence immediately opens up the cell door and rushes over to the Marcos to render aid “What’s wrong, Morales! What did that guy do?!” he says as Marcos continues to wheeze and cough.

“I see him.” says Marcos through his intense breathing.

Lawrence grabs Marcos’ head with his hands frantically “What is it, what do you see?”

“I see him…he spoke to me.” says Marcos over dramatically.

“Who did Morales, what are you talking about?”

Marcos stares at some of the glyphs and drawings on the wall behind Lawrence, which causes the young man to look behind him. “The Great Dreamer? Did Cthulhu speak to you? Did he confirm our place on Ryleh? Tell me!” he says looking directly into Marcos’ eyes.

The convicted killer suddenly stops, smiles and in one lightning quick move, drives a small knife through the underside of Lawrence’s jaw. The young priest twitches, blood slowly starting to seep out of his mouth as Marcos sinks the blade in deeper.

“You know I once saw this in a movie, and I always wanted to try it out. Gives my regards to Squidward for me, huh.” Marcos whispers as he drops Lawrence’s body on the cold stone floor, his hands now completely covered in blood. The serial killer calmly stands up and throws off the frayed bits of rope that Astur had snapped off and looks down at Lawrence, a large puddle of blood now pooling under his body “You know what, come to think of it, all this gives me an idea.” he says as he looks over to a carving of the grotesque Cthulhu.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

A short while later, Marcos carefully emerges from the underground catacombs, dressed in Lawrence’s priest robes. He cautiously moves about, trying to maneuver his way through the hallways and avoid detection. Eventually he comes to the one darkened corridor that had been traversed by Lundy just a short while before. Hurriedly trying to make his way through, he passes a room with an open door when he hears a faint “Colonel…in here”.

Marcos stops and looks inside the room, which is pitch black “Hello?” he says as he moves closer to the entrance.

“Come closer…” the voice says.

“Father, Doctor Lundy, that you?” he says walking deeper into the room. Exploring further, he sees the room is an extended storage closet, with clutter tossed about nearly everywhere “Whose there?”

The door suddenly slams shut of it’s own accord and Marcos is seized by an invisible force that causes him to go numb. His body slowly levitates off the ground as the yellow robed entity with the horned mask, steps out of the shadows.

“Who are you?” says Marcos now genuinely struggling to breathe.

The entity says nothing as Marcos is thrown across the room by the same invisible force and pinned to a far wall. His head is forced to the side by an unseen hand as blood starts to drip from his nose. He than hears the same disembodied voice heard by Lundy, that now echoes in his head.

“Listen carefully descendant of Alhazred. You are being used as an unwitting pawn of Cthulhu’s return. Yet you could prove to be of great use to me in the same vein. The answers you seek are to be found in the black bound book located in the sacristy adjoined to Emmett’s office. Take it. Forty four, twenty nine, zero.”

Marcos is than released as the yellow entity vanishes into the darkness. The escaped convict coughs repeatedly as he gains the ability to breathe freely again. Wiping the blood from his nose “What the fuck was that?” he says searching the room for any more sign of the specter “Ok, the sacristy you say? I suppose I can make one little detour.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Navigating his way through the rest of the church, Marcos finally locates the sacristy that leads to Emmett’s office. He carefully sneaks in the door and looks around. The office is a standard, a large desk surrounded by a few bookshelves. In a matter of just a few minutes, Marcos quickly ransacks the entire desk as well as flipping through several of the books on the shelf but comes up empty.

“Well I don’t think I’m exactly looking for a New York Times bestseller here. Where would I hide a scared book if I were a bat shit crazy cult who worshiped a scaly monster with tentacles on his face?” he says scanning the room when he comes across a mid-size painting depicting The Last Supper adjacent to the one of the bookshelves. As he removes the painting, he uncovers a false panel embedded in the wall. Carefully he peels the panel away and discovers a metal safe “Bingo. But ain’t that some shit, I planted bombs, not cracked safes.” Then he remembers what the yellow entity had conveyed to him “Forty four, twenty nine, zero.” he says, slowly turning the dial to the corresponding numbers. Grabbing the small lever, he slides the door open. Inside is a single black covered parchment book, with a rendition of Cthulhu’s likeness on the cover “The Necronomicon, I presume.” he says quickly seizing the book. Marcos closes the safe, places the false panel back and re hangs the painting over top. After which he slips out of the office with none the wiser.

Just before exiting the church and completing his escape, Marcos looks down from one of the high balconies and spies the Mass still going on. He hears the unmistakable voice of Father Johnathan Emmett as he commences in his sermon message.

“…just as our savior escaped the bowels of Purgatory on that blessed Sunday morning, so to must we escape any bondage that holds us prisoner from seeking his glory. Let us pray brethren.” says Emmett, his voice echoing throughout the sanctuary.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself Father.” says Marcos under his breath.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“An inspiring message as always Father.” says Sister Farnsworth, one of the elder nuns at St. Thomas’.

“Thank you sister.” responds Emmett as the parishioners start to clear the sanctuary and he steps down from the pulpit.

“Father Emmett, I was wondering if you could schedule me in tonight for some counseling? I’ve been studying the first few chapters of Matthew like you suggested, and it’s really been speaking to me.” says an older man who comes up to shake Emmett’s hand.

“I’m really glad to hear it Bill and I’d love to schedule you in, just not tonight. We have some meetings with a few of the Cardinals till late, but if your good for Wednesday I think I’m all clear.” says Emmett in a jovial manner.

“Thanks so much Father, sounds like a plan.” says Bill walking away.

“Father, you have phone call in the lobby.” says one of the nuns from behind.

“Not right now sister Mary, I’m late for an important meeting. Tell them to call back.” says Emmett as he scurries to get all his sermon notes together.

“He sounded pretty insistent Father, said his name was Brother Morales?”

Suddenly Emmett’s face goes deathly serious as his gaze obtain a laser like focus “Thank you Sister, I’ll take the call in my office.”

At that, Emmett rushes towards his office and discovers his desk ransacked. Gritting his teeth, he picks up the phone and receives the mysterious call “This is Father Emmett.”

“Hello Father, really riveting sermon today, I especially like the part about breaking one’s bondage.” says the voice on the other end.

“Who is this?” asks Emmett.

“Just a little sacrificial birdy who may have flown the coop.”

“Just how did you manage to get out?” asks Emmett, the anger steadfast in his voice.

“You know the one thing I don’t understand Father, a bit of a philosophical question I suppose. Do you think it’s ever truly safe to release a predator back into the wild? It could have some dire consequences.”

“I don’t know what game you think your playing Colonel, but I promise you won’t get far.”

“Well I always was a sucker for a challenge. By the way, while I’m frolicking about, do you think you could suggest any good books about The Last Supper? Kinda working on a little thesis.”

Emmett’s blood suddenly runs cold as his eyes drift over to the Last Supper painting on the wall, his hand slightly trembling.

“Oh I’m terribly sorry if I caught you at a bad time Father, some other time perhaps.” says Marcos with a taunting chuckle as he abruptly hangs up.

Emmett slams down the phone, rips the painting down and tears away the false panel. He opens the safe and to his horror, finds it empty. In a fit of rage, he flips over his desk letting out a scream of primal anger. Just than another scream, this one of a terrified woman, echoes through the hall just a short distance away. Emmett rushes out of his office to check the disturbance and finds a small crowd of nuns and priests gathered around Father Davenport’s office. Pushing his way past, he sees Davenport’s corpse swaying back and forth as it hangs from the ceiling. His face now flushed with fury, Emmett runs out of the office and back down towards the secret catacombs. Entering the enclosure, he opens the cell door to find Lawrence lying in a pool of blood. Lawrence’s right hand had been crudely severed and placed inside his mouth, the fingers in a claw like configuration protruding outward, as if to mockingly imitate a perverted representation of Cthulhu.

Emmett walks over and kicks the severed limb out of Lawrence’s mouth as he looks around, fixating on a statue of his monstrous god “That pompous son of a bitch.”

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XVII: Ruins

Vice Admiral Jacob Walsh stares out of the port window of his cabin and into the distance. The magnificent ruins of a sunken city were steadily rising out of the ocean about one nautical mile away. An impressive Flotilla of battle ships, carriers and surveillance craft from many different nations had assembled in an encircling perimeter around the imposing edifices. As he continues to stare off into the distance, the ringing of his satellite phone near his bed, brings him back to reality.

“Admiral Walsh.” he says answering the device.

“We’ve experienced some complications on our end Admiral, the rendezvous has to be postponed.” says Emmett on the other end.

“What kind of complications Father?”

“He got loose.” responds Emmett with dead seriousness.

“What, how?” asks Walsh in disbelief.

“Because we underestimated him Admiral, that’s how.”

“Father, I have a deck officers meeting in a half hour with several of the delegated nations. The U.N. has been pressing for at least a scouting mission on the ruins and I can’t stall them for much longer!”

“We’re handling the situation as we speak Admiral. I’m confident we can re-apprehend Colonel Morales within a few days.”

“I don’t have a few more days Father! The Secretary of the U.N. has been breathing down my neck. They’re demanding some kind of action.”

“Than give them what they want.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simply assemble a team of your most disposable assets. It’ll obviously be a suicide mission, but it should buy us more time.”

“Are you so sure that whoever we send out there, won’t make it back?” asks Walsh.

“Come now Admiral, you know as well as I do that without the protection of the Necronomicon, whoever sets foot on the shores of Ryleh is as good as dead. No doubt the city will be infested with the Star Spawn, most likely left to guard the central pyramids by great Cthulhu.”

“What if some of the Flotilla decide to fire on the city? The Star Spawn will start attacking the ships, I‘d be eviscerated along with everyone else! ”

“Well than if you value your life, you’d better find some way to keep your little naval blockade in check, at least until we find Morales and meet you out on the site as originally planned. Is there anything else Admiral?” asks Emmett condescendingly.

Walsh sighs heavily “No Father.”

“Good, keep me apprised. Have faith Admiral, once we bring The Eldritch Prophet before great Cthulhu, The Church of the Sinking City shall rule at his side. Praise be to The Old Ones.” says Emmett just before hanging up.

“Praise be to The Old Ones.” says Walsh lowering the phone.
_____________________________________________________________

The Deck Planning Room was alive with several sailors and personnel of different national militaries carefully monitoring the rising ruins. About fifteen high ranking naval officers, again of differing countries, stand around a large grid mapping table with Walsh in the center.

“Alright, so, what’s the plan here Admiral.” says one Edward Case, official liaison for The United Nations.

“Well first things first Case, what’s the situation on the web? Gotta be sure none of this is getting out.” says Walsh.

“All social media is being closely monitored, algorithms, search engines, blog sites, even fringe sites on the Deep Web. Nothings been detected as of yet.” says one officer.

“What about news stations?” asks Walsh.

“A total media blackout has been ordered and officially sanctioned. The situation won’t be on any news broadcasts.” says Case.

“…and the blockade?” asks Walsh.

“In addition to the eight nautical mile perimeter we’ve set up around the ruins, we have a lookout and recon squad ships patrolling a further three miles out that’ll turn away any vessel that gets too close. A strict no fly zone has been imposed as well. Official cover story is that there a pending underwater eruption in the region.” says another officer.

“So our secret’s safe for the time being.” says Walsh as he looks towards Case “So what’s the word from the U.N.?”

“Delegates are requesting at least a scouting mission to be sent out. They want some kind of feedback as to what exactly we’re dealing with out there.” says Case.

“Any word on the two Coast Guard guys that sent out the S.O.S.?” asks Walsh.

“No sir, we’ve had no further contact with Commander Humphries or Lieutenant Hilton. On an initial flyby of the site, we may have picked up a visual of their chopper on a derelict that might be a missing freighter by the name of the Viagem , but it hasn’t been confirmed. They’re presumed dead at this time along with the crew of that ship.” says a female French officer standing to Walsh’s left.

Walsh wipes his face “We have any updates on the seismic activity?”

“Nothing that would indicate a city that size to spontaneously pop out of the waves like that. Some of our researchers have suggested some kind anomalous tectonic rift in the ocean floor causing a swell, but there’s nothing really in marine geology to explain this.” says a young Norwegian officer named Bergan.
“Your stalling here Admiral. Are you going to order that a team be sent out or not?” asks Case impatiently.

“Under one condition. It’ll be strictly scout and observe and I have full supervision of the team.” says Walsh.

“That’s not the deal we have with the Delegates.” says Case.

“Not according to Washington. Now when this Flotilla was assembled and sent out, it was explicitly stated that I had governing control over this armada.”

“Your governing control isn’t absolute Admiral. I have administrative say over the actions taken by this Flotilla.” says Case.

“If you wanna try and countermand the President’s direct orders Mr. Case, be my guest. But I don’t think your gonna get very far.”

Case crosses his arms and narrows his eyes “Tell me Admiral, do you have any theories of what exactly that thing is out there?”

“I haven’t the slightest goddamned clue Mr. Case. Who knows, maybe it’s fucking Atlantis.”

“Atlantis wasn’t in the Pacific sir.” says a voice coming from behind.

Walsh turns around and smirks “Well please enlighten us Ensign Sharp.” he says rather sarcastically.

Sharp smiles nervously “Well it could be a number of things Admiral. There are several legends that tell of Mu, a lost continent supposedly located somewhere near the Eastern Trenches. Or ancient Lemuria, a lost kingdom spoken of in a book called the Secret Doctrine. Or even…” says Sharp before abruptly stopping.

“Or even what Ensign?” asks Walsh intently.

“Well sir, in some cuneiform texts of the ancient Hyksos, they speak of a lost city that sank beneath the waves eons ago named Ryleh. The city was swallowed by the ocean after one of the old gods lost a great war with an opposing supernatural race called the Elder Breed.” says Sharp as everyone looks at him with fixed expressions “I’m just really into this kinda stuff sir.”

“Right well, I’ll get the recon team on upper deck ready to deploy. Dismissed for now.” says Walsh.

Case gives Walsh a probing eye as both he and the other officers disperse back to their duty stations. The Admiral walks over to Sharp and gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“You seem to know your ancient legends Ensign.”

“My apologies sir, this stuff has just been a passion of mine since I was young.” says Sharp.

“I like that kind of enthusiasm. How about I make you a part of the recon squad? Your trained for scout missions aren’t you?” says Walsh.

“Eye sir.” says Sharp, his smile going from ear to ear.

“Good, suit up with all your gear and meet the rest on upper decks in an hour.”

“Eye sir!” says Sharp as he exuberantly rushes off to his cabin.
_____________________________________________________________

The small six man team, including Ensign Troy Sharp, pilot a small landing craft that inches ever closer to the mysterious ruins. It takes them about twenty minutes to reach what they unanimously decide is the closest thing to a shore on the city’s east side. The landing craft run aground on a giant stone platform with enough dry ground to walk on.

“Alright we’ve come up on some kind of walking stone square. A lot of it is still underwater, but there’s some little islands that have broken the surface.” says one Captain Craig Hodges, over a walkie talkie.

“What else do you see Captain?” says Walsh over the radio.

“It’s incredible Admiral, like nothing I’ve ever seen.” says Hodges as the team disembark from the landing craft. All of them marvel at the tall spires, half submerged pyramid like structures and black obsidian likes temples “It’s definitely a city of some kind. Some of the buildings remind me of something you’d see in Egypt . A lot of the masonry is jet black, some of it shiny like Obsidian I think. Sea weed and dead fish everywhere.” he says as the team cautiously walk along further down a semi submerged causeway.

“Remember, your only there to observe and report. You think things are getting to hot, you get your asses outta there, that’s an order.” says Walsh.

“Eye sir.”

“This is like something outta fucking Neptune’s revenge.” says Sears, another officer with the team, as he holds his assault rifle out in front of him.

“Alright steady people. Doesn’t look like we’re gonna make it to far down this causeway. Everything is still pretty soggy.” says Hodges.

“Captain, check this out.” says Sharp as he points to a far temple like structure “Part of that entrance looks like it’s above water.”

Hodges looks over “Ok let’s check it out. Everybody stay together and be ready to blast any creepy crawly that comes out of that hole.”

The team slowly make their way over to the partial entrance, their own bodies waist deep in inky black liquid, and find that only the top half is above water. Hodges retrieves a small flashlight and shines into the dark interior “I’m getting nothing, can’t see a thing.”

“Well let’s go in Captain. We’ve got some diving helmets on the boat.” says Sears as he wades closer to the entrance.

“To risky Sears.” says Hodges.

“Come on Captain, maybe there’s something inside valuable, ya never know.” says Sears with a greedy glint in his eyes.

“We’re here to observe and report Sears, this isn’t a fucking treasure hunt.” says Hodges.

“Oh c’mon Captain, I promise I’ll…” starts to say Sears when a slithering black tentacle splashes out of the water and wraps itself around the man, pulling him under and out of sight in the blink of an eye.

“Sears!!” yells Hodges as he frantically feels under the water with his hands.

“Holy shit, what happened?” screams Sharp.

“I’m going in!” says Hodges as he gets his body halfway through the opening before being stopped by Petty Officer First Class Jenkins, another recon team member.

“Captain wait, you don’t know what’s in there! Whatever that was could grab you too!” says Jenkins.

Suddenly the inky black water just in front begins to bubble up violently and something floats to the surface in the commotion. Jenkins instinctively reaches for the object and pulls it up only to find that he’s holding Sears severed and mutilated head. Sears’ eyes pop open and bright green fluid shoots out of them, quickly enveloping Jenkins. He screams in horror as the fluid begins to solidify into a viscous mass, faceless heads as well as anthropomorphic arms start to materialize in the green sludge around Jenkins body as he yells in absolute terror.

“Get back to the fucking boat!” yells Hodges as the rest of the team slosh their way through the black waters in a panic trying to make it back to the landing craft “Command come in, we’ve been attacked by something in the water! It already got Sears and Jenkins, we’re attempting to recover!” Hodges yells over the radio as another officer, Petty Officer Sarah Sanders is violently pulled under the water by a large snake like creature.

Ensign Sharp begins to fire off his rifle blindly into the water where Sanders was taken “Sanders!!”

A moment later, disemboweled organs float to the surface, surrounded by a pool of crimson.

“Hodges, what the hell is going on! Report goddamit!” yells Walsh over the radio.

“Just send out a pick up crew Admiral! We’re being picked off by the second!” responds Hodges.

Before to long, both Hodges and Sharp reach the landing craft and scramble onboard. Hodges looks around “Wait a minute, where’s Wallace?”

“Wasn’t he right behind us?” asks Sharp, his voice trembling.

“Wallace!!! Where are you?!” yells out Hodges.

“Wallace, c’mon man!” screams Sharp as he looks over the rail of the landing craft. Than without warning, the bloody and shredded body of Seaman Joseph Wallace lunges out of the water and lands right on top of Sharp.

Wallace’s eyes are nothing but empty sockets and a horrific crab like monstrosity is clawing it’s way out of a gaping and gory hole in his throat. Sharp screams as he struggles to push the mutilated cadaver off of him, all the while the crab like creature is barreling it’s way out of Wallace’s neck and ever closer to Sharp’s face. Hodges takes aim with his rifle and blasts the creature, causing it to literally explode into several pieces, it’s liquefied remains oozing all over Sharp’s face. Hodges runs over and kicks Wallace’s body off of Sharp as the two remaining men start to steer the landing craft away from the ruins and back out to sea.

“What happened back there?” asks Sharp, tears in his eyes.

“Just keep your eyes front Sailor, that’s an order! Our only objective now is to get back to the Carrier!” says Hodges.

Sharp wipes the tears from his eyes, when the landing craft slams into a submerged sand bar. The two officers are flipped over and splash into the water. After struggling a bit, Sharp resurfaces, gasping for air. He is grabbed from behind and yelps in fear only to see Hodges behind him.

“It’s only me Ensign, relax.”
“Oh Captain, thank God. What did we hit?” asks Sharp.

“I dunno, maybe another submerged building coming up, maybe a sand bar…” he says before stopping.

“Captain?” asks Sharp.

Hodges begins to gurgle up blood as Sharp recoils in horror as another crab like creature starts to burrow out of Hodges’ mouth.

“Captain, no!!” screams Sharp as another slimy tentacle wraps around Hodges and swiftly pulls him below “Oh God no, please! Somebody help, help me!!” yells Sharp.

In terror, Sharp looks beneath him, his eyes filling with fear as he notices a gargantuan shadow emerging from the deep waters below…

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XVIII: Captured Memory

The soft glow of the laptop screen pervades through the large and nicely furnished living room of Jordan Parkes’ downtown apartment. She scrolls through Netflix while eating a bowl of chocolate, vanilla and caramel ice cream.

“C’mon Netflix you can’t give me one suggestion that isn’t dull, uninspired or Woke?” she says leaning back in her chair. Just than her phone goes off and without even checking the I.D., she answers “Parkes…”

“Hey partner, rough times huh?” says Aiden on the other end.

“ You can say that again.”

“So what did Agent Anal Garcia hand you?”

“Two weeks administrative leave pending evaluation, with pay.”

“Same, but something’s off about this whole thing. Garcia can definitely be a dick, but I’ve never seen him act like this.”

“Well you said it yourself, I broke protocol, went over his head and stole his thunder. Higher ups tend to not like it when their subordinates outshine them.” says Parkes as she pops another spoonful of ice cream.

“Yea I get that, but I can’t help but think there’s something more here. But anyway, how are you dealing with the whole Morales thing?”

“Look Josh, Marcos Morales was a sadistic mass murderer who killed well over two hundred people. I’m not loosing any sleep over that son of a bitch dying. It’s just the way that he died. To think that he only spent a year and half in prison. It doesn’t even begin to amount for justice for all those lives he stole.”

“Understood, but hey, the bastard went out char broiled on a flaming bus that careened into a tree. You can bet he didn’t go peacefully. I suppose that’s gotta count for something.”

Parkes smiles at this “Yea your right I guess. But I was just about to head to bed, maybe take in a few episodes of Desperate Housewives. Call you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be waitin by the phone.” says Aiden with a chuckle.

“Ok great, talk to you soon.” says Parkes as she casually hangs up.

The young F.B.I. agent takes a sigh and heads up to her bedroom. She opens up her walk in closet and pulls out two large foot lockers and flips the lid open on one of them. Inside is an assortment binders, scrap books and folders. She opens up one of the top binders and the first thing to greet her stare is a large newspaper headline that reads ‘AFTER 25 YEARS OF TERROR: PROPHET BOMBER FINALLY APPREHENDED’ Parkes glides her hand across the page as her mind travels back…

___________________________________________________________

March, 2019

The large briefing room held over thirty agents, some sat and others stood. There was an anxious feeling in the air as this meeting had been an emergency gathering called just hours before. There was a giant projection screen that was cast onto a white board at the front and just below stood Agent Jordan Parkes.

Chris Spicer, head Agent on the second Prophet Bomber Task Force stood up and addressed the room “Ok everyone, let’s get this started. Agent Parkes here thinks she’s made a breakthrough. The floor is all yours Agent.” says Spicer as he gestured towards the young woman.

“Thank you Agent Spicer, now everyone here knows how tirelessly we’ve all been working on this. Taking very specific and key elements of this case and essentially working backwards. Over the course of twenty five years, this mad man has struck nearly forty targets in cities all across the continental United States. He has claimed nearly two hundred lives and has yet to answer for his crimes.” said Parkes as she began a power point like presentation on the projection screen “The suspect’s first known target was a small federal bank in Westridge California in the fall of Nineteen Ninety Four. He planted a mid sized pipe bomb that killed three people. Three days later, a letter containing a four line message was delivered to the Westridge Tribune. This was a pattern that repeated itself over the next twenty five years. Agent Aiden.” said Parkes as she looked over to Joshua Aiden.

Aiden stood up and came over beside Parkes to address the room “The messages that were delivered to these media and news outlets would eventually be deciphered as various excerpts from the writings of one Michael Desmond Carr, a.k.a. The Westridge Bomber. As stated, Carr was a serial bomber and arsonist active from the years of Nineteen Seventy Two through to Nineteen Eighty Seven. In that fifteen year time span, Carr terrorized all of northern California and part of Oregon as well as Nevada and lower Washington Sate, claiming the lives of about thirty people. He was finally confronted and gunned down by police near his isolated cabin just south of his home town of Westridge, California, hence how the media would give him his name. When combing through his belongings, it was discovered that Carr had written over twenty in depth manifestos that all described how he fervently believed that his crimes were enacted to disrupt what he dubbed The Simulation. You see Michael Desmond Carr had concocted a feverish delusion in which mankind existed inside a digital illusion created by beings he called the Olden Creed.”

“So somebody took lines out of Carr’s manifestos in order to be a copycat?” asked another agent.

“Well it was much more complex than that. This new bomber seemed to painstakingly go through every line of Carr’s writings in order to construct his messages, always delivered in a four line riddle. The first task force put it together that these riddles were formatted exactly like quatrains, stanzas most famously used by the philosopher known as Nostradamus. After the suspect would strike a target, he would deliver these quatrains to a news outlet as a riddle or a clue, pointing to where his next bombing would occur.” said Aiden.

“After the press gotta hold of the Bureau’s theory about the messages and in particular the name Nostradamus, they dubbed our guy The Prophet Bomber. A nice catchy little surname that sold a hell of a lot of papers.” said Spicer.

“…and that leads us to present day. It was clear that the suspect revered Michael Desmond Carr, maybe even saw him as some kind of a messiah figure. His first ever known target was in Carr’s hometown of Westridge after all. The Bureau has compiled every single one of the riddle messages and gone over them with a fine tooth comb, and our potential breakthrough has come as a double edged sword so to speak. Back in Nineteen Ninety Eight, four years into the Bomber’s campaign, one of the quatrains was delivered to the Phoenix Daily Star three days after the suspect struck in the city, targeting a prominent law firm, the blast killing ten and injuring over a hundred. On the back of the message was a tiny hair follicle that went unnoticed for some twenty years, and we managed to get a complete DNA profile just recently. We ran it through the data base and didn’t come up with a match. I’ll turn it back to Agent Aiden.” said Parkes.

“There was a general profile made of the suspect in the early days of the investigation. For our killer to have hit so many different cities all around the country, we figured he had to be a traveling man of sorts. Businessman, CEO or possibly military. Now the interesting thing about the latter assessment was that in every city hit by the Bomber, a military base of some kind was nearby and due to the intricacy of many of the explosive devices, our man had to be extremely proficient in demolitions. So we took a gamble and stuck with the military angle, specifically focusing on Officers, Enlisted and even civilian contractors who dealt with bombs, explosive ordinances and I.E.D.’s and came up with a list of over five thousand associated names that had ties to every military base in cities specifically targeted by the Bomber. Cross referring the names and dates, we narrowed the list down to about eight hundred people. The Bureau has tracked down all eight hundred of these men and women to obtain a DNA sample. With only ten of those names who have not voluntarily given up a sample. In addition to all this, both task forces have had several cryptographers analyze every single quatrain under a microscope to decipher their meanings…and sure enough in every single case the clues inside the message correspond to the next target that was bombed at a future date. For example, this message that was delivered to the Swift Headliner, a small broadcasting firm in Panama City three days after the Jefferson Arena was bombed, reads as follows

‘A man that runs through darkened waters
Badgered, beaten and skated forever in blood
A worthless reflection of himself in refuse and mud
Through the mind, a sullen centrifuge’

“Nine weeks later, The Dark Waters Skating rink in Badger City, Iowa was targeted and bombed, killing seven people all under the age of twenty five. The Skating rink’s main attraction was a center court named The Centrifuge. About thirty miles from the skating rink is located Doverfield Army Base. I’m sure you see the correlation.” said Aiden.

“Incredible, and all these quatrains were constructed from different lines and words found all throughout Carr’s twenty manifestos?” asked another agent.

“Correct, you see the level of sheer detail and dedication our killer has in elevating Carr.” answered Aiden.

“Our Bomber last struck six months ago near Oklahoma City, where another quatrain was delivered. This quatrain…”

Looking at infinite space, a sea full of diamonds
A haven of hearts, souls and minds
Separating a rabble of sheep from a den full of lions
Look to the circle in the quarry full of wonders and signs

“Knowing what we do about the suspect, I ran this latest stanza through a special software. It’s my personal belief that the next target will be the Diamond Bridge, located in Haversville, Virginia. Interestingly enough there’s a coal mining operation not more than a mile down river from the Diamond Bridge called The Lion’s Quarry…and you guessed it, Fort Monroe is one of Haversville’s most prominent tourist attractions.”

“What about the ten names that wouldn’t submit a DNA sample?” asked an agent in the back.

Just than one of the technicians, a young blonde woman named Rose, dressed in the traditional lab coat, busted through the back doors “I’m sorry to interrupt everybody, but we have a match, it’s Colonel Morales!”

“Rose you couldn’t have timed that any better.” said Parkes with a big smile “Well ladies and gentlemen, of those ten particular names was one Colonel Marcos Morales. An O-6 with the Army, he’s an Intel Officer who specializes in weapons systems and yes, High Grade Demolitions. I personally interviewed the Colonel and he fit’s the profile almost perfectly. When he refused to give up a sample, a few of our field agents got a hold of a used coffee cup. We submitted it through forensics and here we are.”

Spicer shook his head with a wide grin “People, meet Colonel Marcos Morales, our Prophet Bomber. Good work everybody, I want Morales’ last known location, where he’s stationed now, the works. Let’s finally bring this son of a bitch down.” he said as the room came alive with everyone rushing out to get on task. Spicer looked at Aiden and Parkes “Damn good work Agents, let’s catch us a bad guy!”

_____________________________________________________________

The motorcade that consisted of about twenty vehicles, filled with squad cars and a HUM-V leading the way. It raced through an out of the way suburban neighborhood approaching one specific house. In the lead car rode Agents Parkes, Aiden and Spicer.

“You really think his wife will know where to find him?” asked Spicer as he drove.

“We have to try, the Army says that Morales has been AWOL for a week. He must’ve gotten wind that we were closing in.” answered Parkes.

“We should’ve kept the fucker under surveillance.” said Spicer.

“We had to tread lightly, tip toe around Army Security Forces. Technically it was supposed to Homeland Security’s call.” said Aiden.

“Well the Army has no choice but to comply now, we’ve got all the evidence we need to make an arrest. Just gotta find this asshole.” remarked Parkes when her cell phone goes off “Agent Parkes” she said tentatively.

“Hello Agent Parkes, I have reason to believe the F.B.I. is after me.” said the voice on the other end.

“It’s him…” said Parkes covering the phone’s mouth piece “Yes Colonel we are. I would advise you not to make this any harder on yourself. The Bureau, Homeland Security and the Army have issued a nation wide manhunt. Whatever you think your doing, you won’t get very far.”

“This is how it’s gonna go down Agent. It’s me you want, so your gonna leave my family entirely out of this. No busting down the door of my house or hauling in my wife or my daughters in for questioning, they know nothing about all this. I’m sure the fallout will be more than enough for them to bare when and if you manage to catch me. That’s rule number one.”

“…and what’s rule number two Colonel?”

“Well that’s for you to decide Agent. You’ve managed to identify me and by the way, you might wanna tell your field guys to be a bit more conspicuous when roaming through a guy’s trash, it’s a dead giveaway. But anyway, I knew it was only a matter of time before I was found out and I’m sure The Feds have cracked my little calling card messages, so you probably know where I’m gonna strike next. But than again maybe you don’t. I guess we’ll find out won’t we. See ya under the stars.” said Marcos as the line goes dead.

Parkes looked over to Spicer “Pull over.”

Spicer gave the signal for the rest motorcade to pull to the shoulder and slowly the entire operation came to a halt.

“We have to call this off.” said Parkes as she exited the car.

“Look whatever that psycho said it’s not gonna save him…” started to say Spicer.

“He wants us to leave the rest of his family out of it. If we don’t he may strike at random. I say our best bet is to stick to Aiden’s plan.” said Parkes.

“Ok than, we’ll order a swat team and bomb squad over to the Diamond Bridge and set up a perimeter of stakeout units.” said Aiden enthusiastically.

As Aiden spoke a look of stark realization washed over Parkes’ face as she went into deep thought “Wait a minute…under the stars, under the stars.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Spicer.

“It was something that Morales said, under the stars.” she said looking directly into Spicer’s eyes “I have a plan, your gonna have to go with my gut on this one.”

_____________________________________________________________

As Spicer sat in the car with two other agents, he trained his binoculars on a lone figure that walked along the side railing of the crossing known as the Diamond Bridge. As he stayed within the scope of Spicer’s eyes, the figure was dressed in a long overcoat and wore a serviceman’s Army dress cap with the silver full bird Colonel’s insignia.

“All units, target within sight, approach with caution.” said Spicer.

A moment later three unmarked police units pulled onto the bridge and swiftly surrounded the man in the overcoat and Army hat. Spicer jumped out of the car, with his gun aimed directly at the man “Freeze Morales, Federal Agent!”

The man lowered his head and begins to weep as Spicer and the other agents moved in closer. As they approached, the man’s cries became louder when Spicer realized the man in the coat and hat is not Marcos Morales “Get on the ground, put your hands on your head, now!”

Still crying the man complied “Please, you have to help me!”

“Who are you, where’s Colonel Morales?” yelled Spicer.

“Please don’t shoot. He ordered me to do this, said he would blow me up if I didn’t do what he said.” said the man through his tears.

Spicer got close enough and ripped the man’s coat off to see that he was dressed in a full Army dress green uniform, his name plate reading ‘Morales’. But even more horrifying, the man had what seemed to be an explosive device strapped to his chest and a digital timer that was rapidly counting down from five minutes “Holy shit, don’t move.” he turned around to address the other agents “Get the goddamned bomb squad in here now!”

The timer than flashed over red and the countdown went from five minutes to just five seconds “Oh God…” said Spicer as the numbers reached zero. But instead of an explosion, the digital readout displayed ‘GOTCHA’. Spicer breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered his weapon and handcuffed the man.

_____________________________________________________________

As the sun started to fade over the horizon, Marcos Morales, dressed in a black hoodie, briskly made his way along side the walkway as the evening traffic started to kick up on the busy bridge. Over his shoulder swung a large sack and in his right hand was a small cylindrical object. As he stared out over the darkening river, his breath could be seen in the cold air. Crouching down, he unslung the bag from around his shoulder and placed it beside him. It was than that he felt the unmistakable signature of the barrel of a gun pressed firmly at the back of his head.

“Don’t move one fucking muscle and drop whatever is in your right hand. Nod if you understand.” said Parkes as she stood over Marcos with her weapon.

Marcos nodded and grinned “Well aren’t you the clever one. Tell me Agent Parkes, how’d you figure it out?”

“It’s what you said on the phone, under the stars. I figured you were too much of a compulsive narcissist to not deliver on your little quatrain prophecy, you just had to bomb some kind of a bridge tonight. But what if you decided, at the last second to throw us a fake out and substitute diamonds for a night under the stars. From that point it was a simple matter of going from the Diamond Bridge to Starlight Bridge just ten miles away.”

“Like I said, clever as all hell.” said Marcos slowly raising to his feet and turning to face Parkes.

“Don’t try anything stupid Colonel or I will shoot you where you stand.” said Parkes.

“I don’t think you will Agent.” he said raising his right hand to reveal the object he was holding “Be cause you see Agent Parkes, you don’t know what this is wired to. Now this could be a remote detonator or I could have already set the detonation sequence on the device inside the bag. Life’s full of hard choices ain’t it? he said as his thumb slowly moved over the red button on the detonator.

“Don’t do it Colonel.” said Parkes, as her own finger tightened on the trigger.

“I could see it in your eyes when you first interviewed me. You got one hell of an instinct Agent. There was no fooling you. What exactly was it about me that gave it away?”

“It was in your eyes.” said Parkes.

“You know, you really should’ve bright in some back up.” he said chuckling to himself.

Suddenly a loud gunshot rang out from behind and a single bullet ripped through Marcos’ right wrist with blood and bone exploding outward. The man screamed out in agony as his entire hand went limp, the small detonator dropping to the ground. Marcos fell back as Agent Aiden stood a few feet behind, his gun aimed and still smoking from the recently fired shot “She did motherfucker.”

Wasting no time, Parkes ran up, kicked Marcos unconscious and retrieved the fallen detonator. A few seconds later a platoon of swat and bomb squad units descended on the scene.

Aiden smiled as he put his arms around his partner “You took one hell of a risk out there lady.”

“So did you.” she said as both of them shared a good laugh.

__________________________________________________________

The ringing of her cell phone once again breaks Parkes out of her reminiscing and back into the present. With a contented smile she picks up “Hello?”

“Well there’s a beautiful voice I haven’t heard in a while.” says the voice on the other end.

“Well if ain’t Chris Spicer. I’ll be damned if I wasn’t just thinking about you.”

“Should I be excited?” asks Spicer.

Parkes laughs “What’s up stranger?”

“Listen, I was wondering if you had some time on your hands. I got something down at the city morgue you might be interested in seeing.” says Spicer.

“What is it?” she asks.

“It’s Morales, or what’s left of him.”

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XVIIII: Last Dance

The sky has just begun to transform into the dull gray of overcast, soon accompanied by light drizzle that pelts the windshield of the unassuming black hatchback as it drives down the isolated road. Marcos gingerly undoes the top collar of the clergy shirt he had taken off Brother Lawrence after killing him.

“I’m gonna make a brief stop off at an old girlfriend’s place, you don’t mind do you Chuck? says Marcos as he looks into the rearview mirror. The reflection shows a slumped over body in the backseat, the mouth hanging open in a lifeless pose “So goes the life of a used car salesman I guess. When you go for a test drive, you just don’t know who your getting inside the car with. Honestly I probably did you a favor pal, another few years of doing this, you probably would’ve killed yourself, what with all those quotas you fellas gotta meet.” Marcos says as he slightly adjusts the mirror to get a better view of the body “I guess you’re the queit type huh? No problem, as soon as I’m done with Gabby, I’ll dump ya off in the nearest lake or somthin, sound good?” he says with a smirk.

The escaped killer than fiddles with the radio until he happens on a static filled news broadcast “…prison officials are still looking into the tragic and unforeseen crash. All twenty inmates, as well as the two guards perished in the fiery wreck. Amongst the dead were mafia hitman David Dexter Ward and mass murderer Marcos Morales, also known as The Prophet Bomber…”

“Well I’ll be damned. How’d those cult motherfuckers manage to pull that off? But on the bright side, the cops ain’t gonna be lookin for a dead man…right Chuck!” he says glancing into the mirror at the dead man in the back.

_____________________________________________________________

The rain had increased by nightfall and is a full and consistent downpour as Marcos sits inside the parked car. He was about two hundred yards out, staring at the house he once shared with his wife and two daughters. Across the distance on the other side of the street, is another parked vehicle that carries two men in the front and an obscure third figure in the back seat who watches the house as intently as Marcos is.

“I guess they figured this would be the first place I’d come. Damn good thing I spotted them first.” he says sitting back in the front seat “I know it’s stupid for me to be here, but it’s something I gotta do. You get what I’m saying right Chuck?” he says looking into the rear view mirror at the corpse “You know I gotta level with you buddy. Gabby isn’t just an old girlfriend, she’s actually my wife and yes that is present tense.” he pauses and looks back “Yea I know, I was just as shocked as anybody that she didn’t file for divorce when I went to prison. Boy I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on her. I had just graduated from O.C.S., a fresh faced twenty three year old butter bar. Willis and I had gone on a short leave to visit his family back on the West Coast. Incidentally, Willis was a good friend I met in training, fast son of a bitch, made the two mile in less than twelve minutes. But anyway, I didn’t really have any family to visit, so he brought me along.

We were both decked out in our Dress Greens, he had those fucking birth control glasses that we called em, and as soon as we walked into his parent’s house, his little sister Gabby comes walking down the stairs. Let me tell you Chuck, sexy doesn’t even begin to cover it. I say this with all sincerity, believe me. She had to be one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid my eyes on, I shit you not. Dressed in a skin tight knee length skirt, high heels and a turtle neck. She had the darkest long black hair that contrasted so perfectly with her tanned face, the most mesmerizing brownish green cat eyes and the most gorgeous full red lips. But you know what the secret is Chuck? You never let their beauty affect you. That’s where so many guys go wrong and I knew how to conduct myself. Ya know what her first words to me were? My brother’s friends aren’t usually this hot…That set the stage right then and there. Poor Willis, he didn’t get to see much of his sister that trip, and you know, right after our first date I hit that little federal bank with the pipe sparkler, the rest is history. A year later we got married and the two sides of my life were set on their paths.” Marcos says adjusting the mirror again and pausing as if waiting for a response “I knew you’d understand. I’ll be back soon, I hope.” he says getting out of the car and pulling on a hood he had stolen from Chuck’s body.

Being careful and using the weather to his advantage, Marcos goes the long way around the neighborhood block and manages to evade the detection of the car on the far side of the street with the two men in it. The serial bomber cuts his way through several back yards and porches until he reaches the well kept back lawn of his former home. He climbs over the mid size fence with ease and skulks over to the outer basement entrance and to his delight, finds it unlocked. He swings open one of the doors and slips into the basement all within a few seconds.

_____________________________________________________________

Strewn across the bathroom counter is an assortment of medications and pills. Gabrielle Morales looks down at each one as she runs her fingers through her hair. She picks up one of the bottles and narrows her eyes.

“It wouldn’t take more than three or four.” she whispers as she begins to place the various bottles back into the medicine cabinet. But as she closes the cabinet door, the reflection that greets her is of two people…herself and the damp figure of Marcos standing just inches behind her. The woman gasps and turns around, but before she can let out a sound, her husband jams his hand over her mouth and holds it tightly.

“Shhhh, Gabby, Gabby, it’s me, it’s Marc.” he says with a low voice.

Gabrielle’s eyes widen in terror and disbelief, a stifled whine escaping her lips as she looks up at the much taller man.

“Now I’m gonna take my hand away from your mouth and you are not gonna scream. Nod if you understand.” he says.

His wife weakly moves her head up and down once, fear still ever present in her eyes. Marcos breathes in deeply as he very slowly lowers his hand away from Gabrielle’s mouth.

Her eyes immediately begin to well up in tears as she emit’s an exasperated cough “Marc, it can’t be you, your fucking dead! They came to the house, I saw it on the news, you died!” she whispers, her cheeks already drenched in tears.

“Baby, you don’t know the half of it.” he says.

____________________________________________________________

As the two men continue to conduct surveillance on the Morales household, one of them peers into a pair of binoculars, trying to look through the passenger’s side window, but finds it difficult because of the heavy rain “You know this clearly isn’t working. We need a much better vantage point.” he says.

“Relax Corden, just try the best you can. We can’t risk getting out of the car, else we give our position away.” says the driver, a man named Ferris.

“…and you heard what Father Emmett said. Despite our advantages, Morales is an extremely dangerous target, he’s already killed Brother Lawrence. Our guard must be up at all times.” says the woman in the back, still obscured by shadow.

Ferris tilts the rear view until he captures the woman in the mirror, revealing her identity as one Deidre Lundy “You never did tell us why you were so insistent on coming along doctor. Isn’t this kind of grunt work a little below your pay grade?”

“I’m as dedicated to finding The Eldritch Prophet as anyone else in The Church.” says Lundy.

“This is fucking pointless! Instead of sitting here in the pouring rain, why don’t we just bust in, shoot the wife and wait for Morales to show up?” says Corden.

“Father Emmett doesn’t want anymore foul ups that could lead them to The Church. Leaving dead bodies around, especially as high profile as this one, is just an unnecessary paper trail. You remember Brother Jeffries screw up with the three kids right? He was made to pay Penance for that one.” says Ferris.

“Fine, we’ll kill her, than bury her somewhere in the woods. No body, no paper trail.” says Corden.

“Still too high risk, besides the Colonel could show up at any time.” says Lundy.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s one guy! What chance does he stand against The Church?” retorts Corden.

Lundy looks down, carefully reaches into her pocket and secretly pulls out a small pistol. In her other hand is a matching silencer that she quietly screws into place over the barrel “Maybe your right Brother Corden. But did you ever stop to consider that it’s more than just one guy that opposes The Church?” she says raising the gun and shooting both men at point blank range before they can even react.

After a few moments she calmly exit’s the backseat and flicks off some blood that had gotten on her blouse. Right next to her, the towering figure of the Yellow Robed entity appears out of nowhere. Lundy looks up, her breath becoming visible in the ice cold atmosphere the creature seems to emit. She smiles “All according to plan my king. Shall I obtain the Prophet myself?”

The entity doesn’t answer, and simply reaches out and tilts one of the car’s outer rear view mirrors in Lundy’s direction until her reflection comes into sharp focus. She looks down and her image distorts and twists out of shape. Her eyes glaze over until they are just hollow white orbs. Than her reflection begins to speak in the same disembodied voice she heard in her head at Saint Thomas’ Cathedral “You continue to serve me well daughter. But we must let the descendent of Alhazred steer his own course. Our guidance and suggestion should be enough to lead him into destroying Cthulhu on our behalf. Patience is key.”

Lundy looks away, her features having returned to normal as she stares off at the Morales house “Yes my king, patience is key.”

____________________________________________________________

Marcos is methodically stuffing some clothes into a small bag from the large closet in the master bedroom as Gabrielle looks on, still in mild shock.

“Damn good of you to keep some of my old clothes babe. Those prison jumpsuits aren’t exactly a fashion statement.” he says.

“So are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on here? Like how your standing in front of me right now?” shouts Gabby.

“Shhhh, keep your goddamn voice down!” says Marcos in retaliation.

“How are you alive Marc, what happened?” she asks.

“It’s called faking your death Gabby, you might wanna look it up.”

“Oh fuck you.” Gabby responds angrily.

“Sure, I got time for a quicky.” says Marcos with a smug look on his face.

“How can you joke at a time like this, dammit! Now I wanna know, what’s going on!”

Marcos looks at his wife and swallows before going over to the window and peering out “Cm’here” he says waving Gabby over as she cautiously steps forward “You see the fourth car all the way down the street facing the house?” he asks pointing towards the vehicle that contained the two operatives “There are some very dangerous and looney people after me Gabby. They’re the ones that set all this up. Of course I’m still trying to figure out how and exactly why, but that’s the story in a nut shell. I’m in prison, they break me out, I escape, they chase me and here we are.”

Gabby stands still, at a loss for words. She raises her hand to Marcos’ cheek and caresses the side of his face “If you only knew how many times I pictured you standing right here. Despite everything you did, everything you put me and the girls through, I never stopped loving you.” she says, tears again running down her face.

Marcos gently squeezes her hand with his and kisses her palm “I missed you too babe.”

Gabby leans in and the two begin to passionately kiss, holding each other almost as if no time had passed between them. After several seconds, they take a brief respite and Marcos speaks up “Oh god, I nearly forgot how much I loved your sweet lips, the scent of your hair, that goddamn perfume you always used to spray on. The same fragrance I would fall asleep with and the one I would always wake up too.” he says before his wife pulls him back for another long winded lip lock.

“Take me with you Marc, I don’t care where. I won’t let you leave me again.” she says in between kisses.
Marcos abruptly pulls away, all the passion seemingly gone from his face and replaced by a dead pan seriousness.

“What’s wrong?” asks Gabby.

Looking away slightly than turning back to her gaze “That’s not why I’m here babe.” he says.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“We have to talk Gabby.” he says as he leads her to the bed and they both sit “Let’s talk about Allison and Adrianna, let’s talk about our girls.”

“I don’t understand.” says Gabby apprehensively.

“Well first off, where are they?” asks Marcos.

“I don’t really know. Allison went off to Europe, I haven’t heard from her in months, and Adri is with her boyfriend I think. After she got the news that you had been killed, she said she needed some time to sort things out.”

Marcos chuckles “I always loved that. You called her Adri and I always called her Anna. Different parts of her name for a different parent. I have to find them Gabby. God knows if they came here, than they’ll try to get at them too.”

“Who will Marc, who are those people outside, what’s all this about?” asks Gabby.

Marcos suddenly takes on a hint of a more sinister tone in his voice as he speaks again “Gabby do you remember how both the girls came down with that mysterious illness, both at exactly the same time when they were four years old?”

“Yea the doctors said it was some kind of congenital disease, probably passed down through one of us.”

“Now’s not the time to lie to me Gabby, not when we both know the truth.” he says as his eyes take on a frightening focus.

“I don’t know what your talking about Marc.” says Gabby, her voice trembling slightly.

Marcos’s once gentle grasp begins to tighten around his wife’s wrists “Oh you know exactly what I’m talking about Gabrielle. You see I did some checking in on your background before we got married. It seems that you were diagnosed with several mental disorders including Dissociative Personality, Narcissistic Disorder, severe Bi-Polar and the Coup D’etat, Munchausen Syndrome by proxy. Now don’t get me wrong, I knew you were emotionally fucked up when I first met you, but given my psychopathy, I thought we were a match made in maniac heaven.”

Gabby begins to squirm a bit “Please Marc, your hurting me.”

“Just be still and let’s walk down memory lane together, huh. You see I knew I could handle you by yourself, because being a natural psychopath myself, I knew exactly how to act to keep you wound tight on a leash so that you’d never stray. But the game changed when Ali was born. Suddenly I found myself acting, not necessarily out of love or devotion, but the way an Alpha Predator acts in protecting his cubs. Is it love or simply natural selection in ensuring that your genes make it through to the next generation? In my case, that‘s the big question.”

“I never would’ve hurt my babies.” says Gabby beginning to whimper.

“…and I firmly believed that when Ali first got sick. You acted like a devoted and doting mother. Ali miraculously got better and all was well with the world. But than exactly two years later, Anna came down with the same mysterious illness and it started all over again. Than the wheels started turning and I became extremely suspicious of my wife. I started following you everywhere, especially when you were around Anna, and you’ll never guess what I found. You had been poisoning my daughters, putting things in their I’vy’s to keep them sick. I saw everything Gabby. You might as well come clean.”

“You were never home! When the girls were sick, everyone was so kind and caring. We had you home with us, we were a happy family together! If only for a few weeks! But I was careful to not let it go to far Marc, I swear. I would’ve never had let them die, I love them!” Gabby says through her tears.

“You’re a very different kind of monster than I was Gabby. What I think you really love is the veneer of success and happiness. You saw me and the girls as a trophy to portray to the outside world and once I was thrown in prison, everything fell apart for you. Your prefect little world just crumbled. What you really are is a sadistic selfish bitch, who cares about no one but herself.”

“That’s not fucking true!!! Besides your one to talk Marcos! You talk to me about being a monster, you of all people! Leading your double life as guy who literally blows people up to get his kicks! What were me and the girls to you huh, just fucking camouflage?” Gabby erupts.

Marcos smiles “That’s one more thing I always loved about you. You had always fire baby. But you know, your absolutely right. The moment I figured out what you had been doing to Ali and Anna, I made the decision I was going to kill you, right than and there. But than I stopped and thought about it. As much as I’m ashamed to admit it, there was one thing that mattered more to me than my girls and that was my urge to blow people up as you so proudly put it, and for that to continue, I needed my camouflage. So I let you get away with it. Ali and Anna deserved so much better than the two twisted, psychotic I'm uncultured they got for a mother and a father. But, now we get the reason I’m here in the first place. Call it a long overdue retribution.”

“So your gonna kill me are you?” Gabby says, her voice a mix of anger and fear.

“You tried to kill my little girls Gabby and I let you get away with it once. Think of it as a stay of execution.”

“No…” she says, barely holding her composure.

“You know what has to happen Gabby. Now the last thing I wanna do is cause you any pain in your passing. Despite what you did, you spent twenty seven years as my wife and you are the mother of my children, and as capable as I am of that particular emotion, in my own fucked up and perverse way…I do love you, and I owe you at least that much.”

Gabby breaks down in tears as she covers her face with her hands “No, I don’t wanna Marc! It’s not fair!” she cries as she collapses into his arms.

“Shhhh, come on Gabby look at you. As soon as I went away, everything fell apart for you. We both know this life has nothing left to offer you. Trust me, it’s better this way. You don’t have to cry or feel lonely anymore, you’ll have finally found some peace.”

After a few more minutes of crying, Gabby finally calms down. With her eyes drenched with dry tears, she looks up at Marcos, who is still holding her close “You promise it won’t hurt.”

“I promise darling, you won’t feel a thing, ok. We’ll do it together.” seemingly resigned to her fate, Gabby gives a weak nod and Marcos smiles “Ok, now go and get those pills in the bathroom and I’ll get the wine. You still keep the Chardonnay in the same place?”

Gabby grins slightly and nods “But I wanna do this right. I wanna look beautiful for you one last time.”

Marcos smiles back with genuine affection “Ok, tell you what, I’ll meet you back here in a half hour. I have to go downstairs and grab some things anyway.”

Gabby gives a small “Ok…” as Marcos kisses her on the forehead and exit’s the room.
____________________________________________________________

Down in hid old study, Marcos rummages around his office and through his desk. He looks around at all his various military commendations and awards. An old family photo of himself in uniform along with his wife and young daughters, hangs proudly over the fireplace. He goes over and ceremoniously turns it around to face the wall. Under his desk he flips open a hidden latch and out pops a sleek Ruger Pistol. He checks the magazine and finds it fully loaded. He than tucks the weapon into the backside of his pants. Afterward he flips over a small coffee table rug and removes a tiny false panel, which reveals a small safe underneath. Dialing in the combination, he opens the lid and retrieves several wads of hundred dollar bills, stuffing them into a sack on his person.

Simultaneously, Gabrielle is upstairs standing in front of her mirror and slips on an elegant cocktail dress, after which she starts to apply makeup to her face, finishing everything off with a shade of ruby red lipstick.

_____________________________________________________________

Marcos carefully pours two glasses of red Chardonnay, while Gabby sits in the background. In one glass he crushes up several white pills and pours the powdery mix in. Finally he sloshes the drink around a bit until the contents are indistinguishable from a regular glass of wine.

He turns around to face his lovely wife “Ready?”

Gabby gets up and goes over to her husband, who hands her one of the cups. They clang their glasses together but only Marcos takes a sip and laughs “I gotta say, I feel a little under dressed compared to you.”

Tears once again start to well up in her eyes as she hesitates “I’m scared Marc.”

Marcos gently strokes her cheek and holds her from behind, placing his hands on her hips as the two stare at their reflections standing right in front of the mirror “I remember you wore this dress when you first told me that you were pregnant with Ali. Your as beautiful now as you were than.” he says sensuously kissing her neck.

She closes her eyes and gently rubs the back of his head. His lips move up towards her ear when he stops to look back at her in the mirror. Gabby takes a deep breath and brings the glass to her lips as she downs all of it one deep gulp. Marcos grabs the glass and spins her around to face him. He caresses the side of her face and says “One last dance.” grabbing her phone off the dresser. Scrolling through it he smiles “How did I know you’d have this…” he says as he plays the song Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden.

The two start to slow dance, with Gabby wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands rest on her waist. Halfway into the song, her arms begin to go limp as she slowly slips into unconsciousness. Feeling her life ebbing away, Marcos looks up, as single tear falls from his eye. As the song ends, he picks her up and cradles her body, eventually carrying her to the bed. He lays her down, placing her arms crossed in front of her.

“You rest now my love.” he says kissing the back of her hand. He wipes the tear from his face, kisses her forehead one last time and walks out of the room.

_____________________________________________________________

Outside, Doctor Lundy, tired out waiting, decides to stage the scene to cover her double murder. She opens up the hood of the car, opens the oil valve and tosses in a small cigarette lighter. She closes the hood and makes a hasty retreat. Moments later, the vehicle is quickly engulfed in flames as a small explosion begins to consume the car and the two dead operatives inside. The commotion catches Marcos’ attention as he is making his way out of his old house. Turning a corner he sees the parked car set ablaze when a voice from behind catches him off guard.

“You know you shouldn’t be so obvious Colonel.” says Lundy aiming her weapon at the man.

Marcos whirls around, aiming his own gun in the doctor’s direction “It’s you.”

“What are the police gonna find inside? Did you kill your wife? Lots of blood and guts on the wall?”

“She overdosed, didn’t feel a thing.” he says.

“That doesn’t sound like you. Must be getting soft in your old age Colonel.” says Lundy.

“What do you want, and what’s with the fireworks? Emmett and the rest of your cult buddies waiting around the corner?”

“Not quite, at least not yet. You know how they say some people have a guardian angel, well in your case it might be a guardian devil. But it’s been decided that you have to be free to run your due course. We’ll be seeing each other in time Colonel.”

“Decided by who doctor, what’s really going on around here?” asks Marcos.

Lundy doesn’t answer, she simply walks backwards still aiming the pistol at Marcos before disappearing behind a neighborhood bend. As the flames of the car fire intensify, Marcos runs back to the black hatchback, tosses the small bag with his clothes and money in the passengers seat and hops in himself “Well Chuck, sorry I took a little longer than expected. Let’s get the fuck outta here, drop you off at the nearest Waffle House back dumpster.” he says as he pulls out and speeds down the rainy road.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XX: Next Of Kin

Florence, Italy

The flashing lights and loud techno pop reverberates through the spacious dance hall. Partiers of all kinds pack the house of the impressive four tiered building whose style reflects classic Greco-Roman architecture complete with lavish balconies that overlook a main dance floor. This is the swanky Passerella or Club Catwalk in English , one of the foremost premiere hot spots of the Florence night life. Out amongst the party goers is attractive twenty two year old Allison Morales, dressed to the nines as she sips a cocktail in one hand and holds her phone with the other. The beautiful young woman takes turns dancing with several young men as she snaps selfies with each one of them.

Another youthful young man, twenty five year old Carlo Vicente, handsome and tall, taps Allison from behind “Ali, it’s getting late amore. Think you might wanna call it a night?” he says, his thick Italian accent ever apparent.

While still dancing with someone and with her back still turned towards Carlo, she asks “What time is it?” sounding as if she only half heard what he said.

“It’s almost four in the morning.” he responds.

Allison casually waves off the guy she was dancing with, turns around and throws her arms around Carlo with abandon “Oh Carlo, I could always count on you to be my Mother Hen. Maybe we should get married?” she says sarcastically.

“Yea maybe.” he says with a longing in his eyes as a romantic slow tune begins to play.

Allison rests her head on his chest “Just one more song, ok? Than I promise we’ll leave.”

“Whatever you say love.” says Carlo, placing his hands ever so gently on Allison’s waist as the song continues.

___________________________________________________________

As the young pair stumble their way up the steps of Allison’s apartment building, Carlo is extra careful to keep her steady. The night club wasn’t far from where Allison lived and being that Carlo’s own villa was nearby in and of itself, the duo simply walked the route back. Before too long they were at the door to her flat and the young woman drunkenly fumbles through her various keys, finally finding the right one.

“Well this was fun.” says Carlo with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Allison smiles warmly at her friend as she squeezes his face “I love you Carl, your like the big brother I never had.” she says, kissing him on the cheek.

He grins sheepishly “Anytime Ali, you know I’m always here.”

“I do…” she says slurring her words as she opens her door “Call you tomorrow, kay.” she says as she struggles to maintain her balance while walking into the apartment before abruptly closing the door in Carlo’s face.

Left standing in the hallway at a slight loss for words, the young Italian just looks towards the ground and whispers to himself “Sure, tomorrow.” he says in the most defeated tone as he slowly walks back down the stairs.

_____________________________________________________________

As he exit’s the apartment building, Carlo looks over and notices that the sun is just about to break over the horizon, signaling another morning in Florence. A grin crosses his lips as the dawn of another day seems to reassure him “C’e sempre un altro giorno.”(Always another day) he says to himself as he begins the trek back to his small flat.

As Carlo walks along, he passes several alleyways and about half a mile into his walk, he hearsthe sound of a female voice call after him “Mi scusi giovanotto!(Excuse me young man)”

Carlo turns around to see a well dressed woman with short dark hair coming out of the alley and holding a map “Mi dispiace, potresti auitarme a trovare qualcosa?(I’m sorry, could you help me find something)”

Carlo smiles, thinking this woman to be some kind of lost tourist. He gingerly walks back to aid his assistance “Certo singnorina, cosa stai cercando di torvare?(Of course miss, what are you trying to find)”

“Sto cercando visitare la Loggia dei Lanzi.(I’m trying to find Loggia dei Lanzi.)” she says in friendly manner.

Carlo chuckles a bit as he wipes his mouth “Temo che tu sia dalla parte sbagliata della citta”(I’m afraid your on the wrong side of the city”).

The woman places her hand on her chest as if frightfully embarrassed “Oh solo la mia fortuna, ma forse puo auitarme.”(Oh just my luck, but maybe he can help me).

Carlo looks puzzled for a moment and glances behind him to see who the woman is talking about. A split second later, he sees a fist flying towards his face which connects with such force, that Carlo could hear his jaw almost dislocate from the rest of his mouth. The punch sends the young man tumbling into the alleyway and he crashes into some trash bins before landing on the ground with a hard thud. Given no time to recover, the male assailant grabs Carlo by the collar and violently backhands him, which results in the young man being knocked out cold.

The woman joins the assaulting man in the alley and smiles, looking down at the unconscious Carlo “They’re so gullible aren’t they?”

The man tries to wipe away some of the tiny spurts of Carlo’s blood that had gotten on his shirt “Always.”

“Alright, let’s get him up to the staging room. We don’t have a lot of time to get this done.” says the woman.

The man nods as he follows the woman deeper into the dark alleyway, dragging Carlo’s body in tow…

____________________________________________________________

Allison had only managed to make it to her sink, bending over it for support. The drinks had really caught up with her and she found herself dry heaving. She splashes some cold water onto her face before taking a few sips. Feeling a little better after having the water she slides down the side of the cabinets coming to rest on the kitchen floor. Her phone goes off with the notification of a text message and she opens it.

Adri Sis: Ali, please call me! I’m worried about mom, I think something’s up!

Allison just sets the device down without responding. This was the tenth text that Adrianna had sent, but Allison hadn’t replied to any of them. Another text comes through.

Adri Sis: Love you…

The text is accompanied by a little heart emoji and this seems to send Allison over the edge. Whether because of her inebriated state or her own repressed emotions about her family, the young woman breaks down, sobbing profusely. She hurriedly gets up and this time vomits into the sink, a guttural cry of sheer despair escaping her lungs. After wiping the excess bile from her mouth, the desperate young lady stumbles to her bedroom, where she collapses onto the bed. Grabbing a small photo on her nightstand, one depicting a happy scene of her and her father Marcos swinging at a park, Allison is almost blinded by tears. She runs her thumb over the glass “Why…” she says “Why!!!” she yells as she suddenly hurls the picture across the room, smashing it against the far wall “Fuck you!! Fuck you and everything you did to us!!” she screams. She begins to stomp the picture as it lay on the floor with such rage that before too long, the image is reduced to mere fibrous shreds when she is finished. But this seems to bring no relief to her pain as she cannot stop her tears. Every single emotion she had ever had seemed to flow through her all at once. All the pain, frustration, grief, anguish and sadness all took hold at that very moment. The horror of finding out her father was a serial killer, all the lives he had so mercilessly stolen; how the media demonized herself, sister and mother…and to top it all off, getting the news of his gruesome death. It was all too much for Allison to bare. She threw herself onto the bed once more and just continued to sob, her cries transforming into agonized whimpers, much like that of a child who had lost something dear to itself “Daddy…I miss you.”

_____________________________________________________________

Carlo suddenly flinches awake as he feels a cold and calloused hand lightly tap against his cheek. The young Italian finds himself strapped to a chair, with dried blood trialing from his nose. Both he and his abductors are situated in a sparely furnished hotel room that sits just across from Allison’s apartment building.

The man who had attacked him stands looming overhead as he crouches down to look Carlo in the eyes “Fucking finally. Thought you’d never wake up.”

“Cosa sta succedendo aqui?(What’s going on here)” asks Carlo, obviously shaken and frightened.

“Yea I don’t do the whole Italiano bullshit ok pal, English por favor.” says the man.

The woman who had lured Carlo in is also present as she makes an appearance “Forgive my friend little one, he’s just a bit to high strung sometimes. Didn’t mean to rough you up so bad, but we’re on kind of a tight schedule here.” she says wiping some of the dried blood from Carlo’s face.

“Look just take my wallet and let me loose, you don’t have to do all this.” says Carlo, his voice breaking.

“That’s not what this is about Carly, not even close. Sadly your just a useful prop that we’re gonna use to lure your little friend out.” says the woman.

“It’s pretty simple Luigi, your gonna make a phone call to little miss Allison and engage her in a small conversation of what exactly we tell you to say, otherwise we’re gonna put a bullet in your head.” says the man.

“What do you want with Allison?” asks Carlo.

“That’s not really your concern son, we just need you to do what we tell you to do, understand?” says the woman.

A look of anger suddenly flashes over the young man’s battered face “No! Your not gonna hurt Allison. Do what you want to me!” he says defiantly.

“I told you this was a waste of time! Why don’t we just burst into the apartment and shoot the bitch? No questions asked.” says the man.

“No, don’t hurt her!” yells Carlo out of reaction.

The man cracks Carlo across the face with the butt of his pistol, causing the young man to spit out a wad of blood “Shut up, will ya!”

“For fuck’s sake Boyd, calm down! Now you know we have our orders. Father Emmett specifically wanted it done this way.” retorts the woman.

“Oh c’mon Charmaine! This girl’s father has already killed four of us! Brothers Lawrence, Corden, Ferris and Father Davenport! Who cares how it’s done! The message will be sent regardless and our brothers will be avenged!” shouts Boyd.

“Boyd, enough! The Church‘s vengeance will be had. But we have to do it right and by Father’s Emmett’s instruction. ”

“He’s all about his goddamn poetic flare isn’t he?” says Boyd staring out the window.

“Are you questioning the authority of The Church and by extension the will of The Old Ones, Brother?” asks Charmaine, her voice taking on a menacing tone.

“No, I am not. I just question the logic of going through this entire charade when we can just…” Boyd starts to say.

“Good! Than we proceed as planned, correct?” says Charmaine cutting him off.

Boyd looks down as if put in his place “Correct…” he says reluctantly.

Charmaine than turns her attention back to Carlo “Now as we were saying, you do what were asking and we promise not hurt Allison. But if you don’t, my friend here is going to knock her door down and shoot her while she sleeps. You don’t want that do you?” she says as Boyd cocks back the slide on his gun in full view of Carlo.

“Oh God no.” says Carlo, his false face of bravado having fallen away as his eyes begin to tear up.

“You gotta little thing for her don’t you?“ asks Charmaine in a mocking tone as Carlo whimpers “Now like Boyd said, it’s real simple. We’ll tell you exactly what you gotta say.” says Charmaine as she begins to scroll through Carlo’s phone.

_____________________________________________________________

Back inside the apartment, Allison had somehow managed to get to sleep when the shrill ringing of her phone causes her to slowly open her eyes. Reaching for the device, she doesn’t even check the I.D. and immediately answers “Hello, sis?” she says expecting it to be Adrianna on the other end.

“Ali, it’s me.”

“Carlo?”

“Look Ali, I don’t have a lot of time, but I need you to meet me at my villa, now.” says Carlo.

“Carlo, what’s wrong?” says Allison, worry splashed across her features.

“I don’t have time to explain Ali, just please do as I ask.”

“Carlo I don’t understand what’s…”

“Ali please, it’s about your father! He’s alive Ali and if you want to see him you have to do exactly what I’m telling you! Please, this isn‘t a joke!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Meet me at my place as soon as you can. I’ll explain everything.” says Carlo as the line goes dead.

“Hello, Carlo…hello!” shouts Ali as she drops her phone. With nothing but instinct and adrenaline coursing through her, Allison grabs her keys and bolts out of her apartment without a second thought.

_____________________________________________________________

Charmaine takes the phone away from Carlo’s ear and powers it off “That was perfect Carlo, really well done.”

“What now?” asks Carlo.

“Well I really don’t think your gonna like the answer to that question.” says Charmaine.

“I did what you asked and you promised not to hurt me or Allison!” yells Carlo.

“Oh here she comes. Slide him over, he’s gonna wanna see this.” says Boyd as he stands by the window.

Charmaine drags Carlo over, still bound to the chair until he is situated directly in front of the window. Boyd unfurls a length of duct tape and jams it tightly over Carlo’s mouth.

“You like fireworks Mario? Well get ready, cuz your about to see something we in the States like to call the grand finale!” says Boyd as Carlo struggles against his bonds.

A few seconds later, Allison runs out of her building and jumps into her car, which is parked on the side of the road in direct view of the hotel room in which Carlo is being held.

“Wait for it.” says Boyd with sadistic enthusiasm.

Carlo tries to scream through the tape in a vain attempt to get Allison’s attention, but too late. As soon as the young woman turns the key in the ignition, the vehicle explodes in a violent fireball sending flaming debris in all directions and sends shock waves a few feet around. Carlo just let’s out a helpless gasp as tears run down his face as his sobs reach a manic and uncontrollable pitch.

“Oh don’t feel so bad Mussolini, cuz your next.” says Boyd as he coldly shoots the young Italian in the head, silencing him “I do believe that’s a wrap.” he says addressing Charmaine.

“See what I mean, poetry.” the woman says as she picks up the phone to dial in another call “Father Emmett…Brother Boyd and I have completed the task. Our Brothers are avenged.”

“Excellent Sister Weiss. Be sure to apprehend the body of young Miss Morales and The Church will proceed with our retrieval plans for the Colonel. Very well done, both of you.” says Emmett on the other end.

“Yes Father.” says Charmaine as she hangs up.

_____________________________________________________________

Emmett lowers his phone with a look of triumph on his face and turns to Lundy “All according to plan.”

“According to plan? I really fail to see how killing one of his daughters is bringing us any closer to finding the Colonel. After this he’ll come after us even harder. He’s going to want…” says Lundy.

“Revenge?” says Emmett finishing her sentence “Exactly. You see the Colonel will be so blinded by rage that’ll it’ll make him careless. He should come right to us.”

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XXI: Emissary

Admiral Walsh moves swiftly through the cramped corridors of his Aircraft Carrier, being led by one of his junior officers “What’s the status on the retrieval team?” he asks.

“The team made it back safely with the lone survivor sir.” says the young officer.

“What do you mean lone survivor?” asks Walsh as he stops dead in his tracks and grabbing the officer’s arm.

The officer look back in apprehension as he gazes on Walsh’s expression of concern and confusion “I’m sorry I thought you knew Admiral. Ensign Sharp was the only one to be picked up. There was no sign of the others. Captain Hodges, Lieutenant Sears, all presumed dead sir.”

“…and what’s Sharp’s condition, what has he said exactly?” asks Walsh.

The young officer’s eyes glaze over slightly as his throat quivers “I think you better see for yourself Admiral. He’s down in med bay fourteen, in quarantine sir.”

Walsh intakes a deep breath as he releases his officer’s arm and after another tense moment, both of them continue down the ship’s hatchways en route to the medical bay.

_____________________________________________________________

Medical Bay Fourteen wasn’t the standard small and tight space cabin that was retro fitted to look like a doctor’s office. This was a high tech and highly sanitized laboratory that specialized in the care and quarantine of sailors and officers that had contracted suspected pathogens. In one of the stark white chambers and behind the thick separation of a viewing window, lay an emaciated Ensign Troy Sharp. He was still soaking wet and outfitted in his issue tactical gear. His mouth hung wide open, remnants of stray seaweed still visible on the roof of his gums. But most bizarrely and disturbing of all were his eyes. Both of them are completely covered over in a hardened black substance that stretches as far as his eyebrows. The unknown substance is shiny and easily reflects the light of the overhead observation lamps. In the adjacent viewing room that peered directly into the bay, stands Edward Case with a few medical personnel that monitors different apparatus that are hooked up to several points on Sharp’s body. After a few minutes, Walsh swings open the door to the observation room accompanied by the junior officer.

“What’s the status here, what’s wrong with him and why wasn’t a search put out for Hodges and the other team members!” Walsh blurts out.

“Calm down Admiral, there was a search put out, but the retrieval team found no sign of the other team members. They had no choice but to bring back the Ensign quickly given his condition.” says Case.

“So what condition is that Mr. Case?” asks Walsh impatiently.

“We’re not sure Admiral.” says Commander Jackson Knowles as he walks up behind Case.

“This is Commander Knowles, one of the head doctors aboard…” starts to say Case.

“I know who he is Case!” interrupts Walsh as he addresses Knowles “Well what about it Commander? What exactly happened out there?”

“Like I said, not sure. Sharp hasn’t said a word. When retrieval picked him up, he was floating on his back, his face exactly as you see him there.” says Knowles.

“What the hell is that stuff on his eyes?” asks Walsh.

“So far we’ve been unable to get samples, but whatever that shit is, it’s harder than diamond. So far it resists anything we throw at it, scalpels, solvents, hell we even tried burning the stuff off, no dice.” says Knowles.

“Commander Knowles thinks that whatever attacked Sharp and the others could’ve been some kind of a contagion. So we have to keep the Ensign in strict quarantine until we know one way or another.” says Case.

“Look I heard Hodges transmissions, whatever happened out there sounded like they were getting ripped apart. I don’t know of any virus that can do that.” says Walsh.

“You know the protocol here Admiral! We can’t risk endangering the entire ship until we know what’s wrong with Sharp or until he comes out of whatever coma he’s in to tell us what happened.” says Case.

“I assume you reported this to the U.N.?”

“Yes Walsh, I did, and I’ve been given administrative authority to issue the assembly of a submarine convoy to be put on standby.”

“What the hell for?”

“Seismology readings are coming off sonar indicating that city or whatever it is, will be fully emerged out of the water within the next few days or so. If we are dealing with some kind of a deep sea infection, we can’t take the chance of it escaping out into the rest of the world.”

“So what are you suggesting here Case?”

“What do you think Walsh? Now I’m gonna wait till we have some more readings or maybe till the Ensign comes around to possibly find out what we’re dealing with here. But if it comes down to it, I’m ready to issue an order to blow that goddamn city out of the water using all the fire power we can muster and in case you were wondering, yes tactical nukes are not out of the question.”

Walsh gets up a little closer to the U.N. liaison “We’re talking about the biggest archaeological event in world history, an ancient city suddenly rising out of the ocean, and you wanna nuke the fucking thing?”

“Global safety and billions of lives at risk are of more concern to me than a bunch of water logged ruins. Now all of our options are still on the table, but we’re running out of time Admiral. The ordered media and internet blackout will only buy us so much time before the world finds out what we’re hiding here. Little snippets have already started to leak out.”

“Are you of kindred allegiance?” a voice suddenly booms inside Walsh’s head. He glances over, a look of bewilderment on his face “I know you can hear me follower.” the deep and raspy voice says. Walsh walks closer to the viewing window and peers at Sharp’s motionless body “Yes follower, I am speaking to you through the subconscious cortex of your mind within the confines of this inoperable vessel.”

“Admiral, what is it?” asks Case.

Walsh gazes back, still with an expression of puzzlement “Keep me in the loop Mr. Case. Despite what the U.N. says, I’m still in nominal command.” he says, storming out of the viewing room.

“What the hell was that about?” Case asks as he and Knowles give each other a curious stare.

_____________________________________________________________

A short distance away, Walsh has retreated to an elevated tier that over looks the medical bay that holds Sharp. Through a small window in the bay, Walsh can still see the disabled sailor as he paces back and forth “Can you still hear me?” he asks silently in his mind.

“Yes follower, I can.” responds the voice.

“Who are you and how are you contacting me?”

“My origins are a far too complex for your limited mind to comprehend. However, because of my function to begin ushering in my kind to your world, you may call me Emissary.”

“Than I take it you are Star Spawn and you know of my allegiance to great Cthulhu?”

“I am and I do. The moment you stepped in, I sensed your kindred subconscious in serving the one Cthulhu.”

“So why have you contacted me and what exactly is your purpose?”

“Not so fast kindred follower. First you must tell me of your exact purpose and the nature of your following to the Great Dreamer.”

“Fair enough. I belong to a secret sect known as The Church of the Sinking City who revere and follow Cthulhu as well as many other of the Great Old Ones. Our brotherhood started over five hundred years ago when one of our founding members, a French Arch Bishop by the name of Father Michel Andreas discovered the sacred Necronomicon buried in the deserts of Mesopotamia. Through it’s arcane knowledge he learned of the Great Old Ones as well as the history of Ryleh and The Star Spawn. In so doing he helped to found our current Order. The prophecy of the re-emerging of Ryleh has indeed come true and The Church will see to it that Cthulhu will once again bring the Earth beneath his sway as foretold in the great tome.”

“…and what of this tome you speak of? In our many eons of serving The Great dreamer, we Star Spawn know of no such book.”

“The Necronomicon was written and compiled by an Arab mystic named Abdul Alhazred. He descended from ancient an civilization of men known only as The Hyksos. This mysterious empire held the worship of the Old Ones in great regard. Many centuries later, Alhazred found special favor with Cthulhu and through this union, he was able to write and compile the Necronomicon.”

“Most fascinating, but our time grows short. Ryleh will soon be fully unveiled and with it, the great Cthulhu himself will rise. The Star Spawn must begin the assimilation of your human species.”

“The Necronomicon doesn't say anything about any assimilation? How will this be brought about”

“Much in the same way this vessel was procured. Once I have made the necessary internal repairs for this body, I shall spread the mutagen strain to everyone on this ship. The process will repeat by many more of my Star Spawn brethren and eventually we shall assimilate the entirety of your kind.”
“But why must the whole of the human race be assimilated in such a way?”

“Your wretched species is most unworthy to serve great Cthulhu in your current physical forms. You must be properly cleansed and remade in his image. Much like my own race was, millions of years ago when The Great Dreamer first made contact with our world.”

“But the Necronomicon tells us that after we help in securing Cthulhu’s return, The Church of the Sinking City will rule at his side. It makes no mention of this assimilation you speak of.”

“Do not fool yourself follower, your little sect are a vast second string to the Star Spawn. It is we who are his true heirs apparent. You are simply here to be an auxiliary aide at best. You have served your purpose and must now step aside in order to be assimilated with the rest of your ilk.”

Walsh narrows his eyes in suspicion “Of course Emissary, I meant no disrespect. I shall begin preparations for the assimilation. How long before you finish repairing Ensign Sharp’s vessel?”

“The restoration of this shell is almost complete that I may walk about in this human form to begin to spread the mutagen strain.”

“Very well than. I will announce your coming to the rest of The Church and together, we shall start the assimilation to the beginning of our glorious servitude to great Cthulhu.”

At that Walsh nods and starts to head back to his cabin deck, his gait taking on a noticeable urgency.

_____________________________________________________________

Back in his cabin, Walsh continues to pace back and forth. He rubs his face as he tries to think of a solution to the unforeseen problem of the Star Spawn. He goes over to a small dresser and opens up the top drawer. Inside are several of his mementos strewn about. In the corner is a little jewel case which he opens. Walsh dumps the contents out all of which consist of tiny trinkets, talismans and charms. But amongst them is a miniature dagger, it’s golden hilt in the shape octopus head with many tentacles and feelers. The Admiral grabs it and presses the sharp blade to the inside of his palm. He closes his eyes and begins to chant in the same garbled language that Emmett had in the summoning of the Quintulpa. After a few seconds, he slashes the inside of his hand and winces in pain. Walsh brings his now bleeding hand to his mouth as he takes a few sips of his own blood. He hurriedly wraps his injured palm with gauze and dials in a number on his satellite phone.

“Yes…” says the voice on the other end.

“Father, I think we may have a problem.”

“What is it now Admiral?” asks Emmett.

“Our sacrificial scouting team was ambushed by the Star Spawn, just as you said. But one of them took possession of one of our sailors. Calls itself Emissary. Once he repairs the host’s body enough to walk around in, he’s going to start something he calls assimilation.”

“Go on…”

“Look I don’t know exactly what it involves, but suffice to say that The Star Spawn want to transmutate the entire human race to resemble more of them.”

“Just how do you know this Admiral?”

“Emissary is inhabiting Ensign Sharp’s body. He was communicating with me telepathically. Once I got back I performed a simple mental blocking ritual that I hope works. Father, the Necronomicon said nothing about turning us into Star Spawn. We are supposed to rule beside great Cthulhu but in our current human forms.”

“That is our understanding of the prophecies Admiral, but it seems the Star Spawn have a different agenda that perhaps not even great Cthulhu himself is aware of.”

“What do we do Father?”

“I’ll have to consult about this. We’re still working our end in finding the Colonel and getting back the book. Can you keep this Emissary from escaping your Carrier?”

“Oh I don’t know Father. Can we really afford to start a fight with something like the Star Spawn?” says Walsh, beads of sweat now dripping from his brow.

“Just because the Star Spawn consider themselves servants to Cthulhu doesn’t mean that even they cannot be replaced.”

“But they are his chosen! Don’t they have dominion over us as well?”

“We are his chosen Admiral! We serve Cthulhu and the Old Ones, not the Star Spawn. We’ll see who the Great Dreamer chooses at his successors. Do what you can to confine that creature on the ship. The Church should have the Necronomicon back with us very soon, that will be our edge.”

“I’ll do all I can.” Walsh says with a look of extreme worry.

“I know you will…” says Emmett hanging up.

_____________________________________________________________

Back in the Deck Planning Room, Walsh walks up to one of the operation system techs manning some patching lines “How are you Seaman Rosario.” he says leaning over the counter top of Rosario’s work station.

“Admiral, doing fine sir. Can I do something for you sir?” says Rosario, the young woman a little taken aback.

“Yes Seaman, I need you to patch me through to Admiral Kenshin Ito. Japanese fleet, he might be in submarine convoy.”

“Yes sir, I’ll look him up.” says Rosario as she checks her service laptop “Right here sir, I can patch you in through line two.”

“Thank you Seaman.”

_____________________________________________________________

Aboard a Soryu Class Japanese submarine in heavy convoy with several other attack subs of different nations that are stationed near and patrolling the rising city, Admiral Kenshin Ito studies several sonar screens when he is approached by another officer “Admiral sir, you have a patched line call.”

Ito nods and follows the officer to a station line wall where he picks up one of the telephone receivers “This is Ito.”

“Brother Ito, good to hear your voice.”

Ito smiles with relief “Walsh, I’ve been waiting to hear from someone. Is it true, is this really Ryleh?”

“Yes it is Brother, but we have a problem. We may have come into conflict with the Star Spawn.”

“But the Star Spawn are supposed to be servants of The Great Dreamer. I thought we were in tandem?” says Ito.

“Brother I don’t have time to explain right now. But the Star Spawn are not what we thought them to be. They may be traitors to great Cthulhu. I have one aboard my ship that I can’t allow to escape. I need your help Brother and I obviously can’t go through normal channels. When the time comes, I need you to torpedo this carrier.”

“What! How?”

“Like I said, no time to explain. I’ll send your sub incoming coordinates on where to pick me up. When I signal you, we need to sink this carrier!”

“How are we going to explain this to the bureaucrats and politicians?”

“Just let me handle the red tape Brother. I’m sending you telemetry now. Be there when I swim over!” says Walsh hanging up.

As soon as Ito hangs up, one of the other officers calls out “Admiral, we’re getting some kind of telemetry coordinates from one of the American carriers!”
_____________________________________________________________

Once again Admiral Walsh finds himself navigating the cramped and twisting corridors of his carrier. He rounds a corner when he hears a voice from behind him “Admiral Jacob Walsh, was it?”

Walsh turns around only to come face to face with Ensign Sharp, who seems to be back to normal “Sharp?” he asks in a cautious tone.

“Not quite. However the young man’s memories are still intact. You, his knowledge of this ship, I managed to save all of it when I was enacting my repairs.” says Sharp with a malignant grin on his face.

“Emissary, is that you?” asks Walsh.

“These bodies of yours are quite clumsy, but workable I suppose.” says Emissary.

“How did you get out of the med bay?”

At that moment, Commander Knowles comes walking out of nowhere, in a sort of an absent minded trance. Emissary pulls him over in mid stride and spins him around as if the Commander were a malleable puppet “Oh Commander, show him how I got out of the med bay.”

Knowles opens his mouth wide and Walsh is horrified to see a stream of black tentacles jutting out from the man‘s tongue.

Emissary smiles wide and pats the husk of Knowles on the shoulder “Assimilation, Admiral. Glorious assimilation. Aren’t you excited? Now if you’d be so kind as to give me a tour of this ship, we’ve much to do!”

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XXII: Body Of Evidence

The Forensics lab at the F.B.I. field office is quiet, with just the dim light of some of the built in counter top lamps illuminating the interior space of the moderate size department. The head Forensics Agent, one Christina Yang, is examining some blood slides under a microscope when another colleague, an Agent Tapper, walks briskly past her headed for the front door of the lab.

“Alright. I’m headed home. Any last minute touch ups you need?” asks Tapper.

“I’m good, thanks for staying late Taps.” says Yang warmly.

“No problem boss, see ya tomorrow.” says Tapper on her way out.

“See ya.” says Yang just as Benito Garcia slides his way past Tapper as she exits.

“Headed home so soon Agent Tapper?” he asks jokingly checking his watch.

“Yes sir, I gotta five year old and a husband to feed. But hey, you always have Agent Yang over there to hold down the fort. In fact come to think of it, for the past few weeks, she’s a bit of a work-a-holic if you ask me.”

Garcia glances over towards Yang and smiles “Yes she has.”

Tapper chuckles “Well goodnight.” she says walking through the door.

“I’m told the last few sealed boxes were shipped through Evidence and put under permanent filing.” says Garcia after making sure Tapper was out of sight.

“Just as you ordered.” says Yang with an impatient tone as she walks over to a sequencing apparatus.

Garcia smiles deviously as he walks up behind her “What would I do without you?”

Yang turns around “I shutter to think.”

With a cocky grin, Garcia leans in and gives the female agent a deep and lingering kiss. Yang smirks after Garcia pulls away and shakes her head.

“You owe me a hell of a lot more than that Assistant Director.”
“Of course, dinner tomorrow night? “ asks Garcia slyly.

“You have to start being more careful Ben. I can’t tell you the all nighters I had to pull cleaning up your messes. All the shit you left behind at Jeffries’ place was just plain sloppy. Do you have any idea how many samples I had to scrub in order to make look like you weren’t there?”

“Cut me some slack Christina, it’s not as if Jeffries gave me a lot of time to clean up. I had to get out of there as fast as I could, not to mention I had to make the whole return trip with the bastard in my trunk. Give me a little credit.”

“…and what about the Hess girl?”

“I was careful. I made sure not to leave a single print behind.”

“I hacked the local PD’s database that investigated the scene. Their guys managed to pull up two partial shoe prints.” Yang says as she looks down at Garcia’s feet.

“Big deal, how many people wear a size eleven loafer?” asks Garcia dismissively. He notices the concerned look on Yang’s face and calmly rubs her shoulder “You worry to much. Besides, you know we have the protection of the Church.”

“What’s the status on Ryleh?” she asks in an unconvinced tone.

“I don’t know all the details as of yet, but Walsh seems to be handling things. As for Morales, he’s still on the loose but we’re getting close. In fact Boyd and Weiss just checked in with Father Emmett, we got his oldest daughter down in Florence. They’re bringing the body back to send him a message. Son of a bitch doesn’t know who he’s fucking with.”

Yang nods “Good, oh one more thing you might find interesting.” she says leading Garcia to a nearby laptop “We might have some security hacks that came through.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well some of us have been noticing some very telling breaches in particular to the files we have on Morales. We haven’t been able to pinpoint any source as some of the streams are highly encrypted save for some snippets of a possible old login handle.”

Garcia raises an eyebrow “…and?”

“Let’s just say I have strong suspicions that it might lead to the guy you replaced as Assistant Director.” says Yang.

Garcia menacingly narrows his eyes “I’ll handle it.”

“See that you do. With all the bullshit that’s gone wrong thus far, The Church can’t afford another set back.”

“Amen to that. Pick ya up at eight tomorrow?” asks Garcia flippantly.

“Make it nine, working late as usual.”

Garcia winks as he urgently heads out.
_____________________________________________________________

As he looks down at the cold and deeply charred cadaver with it’s midsection cut wide open, Chris Spicer’s eyes dart to the nearby microphone that is capturing his every word “The subject seems to have suffered third degree burns over ninety percent of his body, similar to his fellow inmates. Cardiovascular system as well as digestive tract seem normal. But just like the others, I have my inkling suspicions that Mr. Barnes here wasn’t killed by the crash or the fire that resulted…” he says as the harsh tone of a buzzer echoes through the room. Spicer looks over towards the door and smiles beneath his medical mask, instantly recognizing the young woman behind the small window. The man switches off the microphone and gingerly goes over to open the door “Well as I live and breath.” he says with a hint of excitement.

Jordan Parkes smiles wide “Working late doctor Spicer?”

“Well as a matter of fact, you caught me mid cut.” he says with a hearty laugh “Come in.”

Jordan gladly obliges as she walks through the door and takes notice of the corpse on the autopsy table “Sorry it took me so long to follow up on your call, but I can comeback later if your too busy at the moment.”

“No your fine. I’ve been doing these autopsy’s all week, I could use a break.”

Parkes nods knowingly as she looks back at the cut open body “So who was he?”

Spicer begins to walk back over with Parkes following closely behind “Daniel Barnes, thirty one. Convicted of five murders and was being transported to Whatley Island along with Morales and all the others.”

“Speaking of which.” says Parkes.

“Right…” says Spicer as he casually removes his medical mask and leads the young agent over to a wall of cold storage lockers. He opens one of them on the far side and pulls out a long tray containing a stuffed body bag. Unzipping it, revealing the putrid remains of the deceased individual within.

Parkes slightly covers her mouth with her hand as she looks at the severely burnt body “So what did you find that has you on edge?”

“Well despite the body being burned to a crisp along with everyone else, I don’t think whoever this is died because of the crash or the fire. As odd as it may seem, I think John Q. here was drowned.” says Spicer and is met by a curious stare from Parkes “The subject’s lungs were filled with some kind of black fluid that I’ve been unable to identify, that might I add, was not found in any of the other inmates.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s just something about this body that’s not right. We’ve run every single test, dental, fingerprints and it all comes back as a definitive match for Marcos Morales, but my gut is saying that this just isn’t him.”
“You think he faked his death somehow?”

“Well faking your own death is doable, but what somebody would have to explain to me is how you replace your own dead body with a near perfect genetic duplicate.” says Spicer exasperated “But the weirdest part is that I don’t think the other inmates died of the crash either. Now what I found in the three autopsies I’ve already done is a discoloration of the cell walls in some of the lung chambers, very consistent with inhalation of cyanide gas…and even weirder is that this thing that supposed to be Morales didn’t have that.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of weird. Ok, just so I have everything straight. The body that you don’t think is Morales, shows signs of drowning and wasn’t killed in the bus crash, but yet doesn’t show signs of cyanide gas inhalation like the other inmates you’ve already autopsied and that you think weren’t killed by the crash either but by said gas poisoning…” she says taking a comedic breath “…but at the same time could point to him somehow faking his death and possibly killing the other prisoners to cover it up.”

Spicer closes his eyes and takes a deep breath “Yea when you say it out loud, it just sounds crazy as all fuck. Funny thing is the only two deaths that consistently fit with dying in a fiery crash were the two guards. ”

“Look I know Morales was approaching genius level intellect but he would need next level resources and planning to pull something like that off, saying nothing of the number of people that would have to be involved.”

Spicer gives Parkes another side eyed stare “But wait, there’s more.” he says as he motions for her to follow him into one of the back offices. Flipping open a few laptops, Spicer points to some pulled up surveillance footage “Ok about three nights ago Morales’ wife, Gabrielle, was found dead by apparent overdose, some of the local PD has been keeping it under wraps. This is security footage taken from one of the houses directly across the street from the Morales house.” says Spicer as he points to the grainy image of a man in a hood “Now, I know it’s raining and the image is far from clear, but whoever this guy is was spotted leaving and entering the camera’s view within a two hour time frame from the time Gabrielle Morales was thought to have died. I’m trying to run the pixilated face through image enhancing software but nothing as of yet.” he says as Parkes just looks at him with a confused expression “Look I know it’s circumstantial as hell and it could be just a coincidence, but there’s more!

On the day that his wife died, about twenty miles away a guy was spotted at Spritzer’s Auto, a small used car dealership on the outskirts of town. The owner, Chuck Spritzer was last seen going on a test drive in a black hatchback Chevy on the lot. The descriptions of the guy that Spritzer took out on the test drive were of a slightly older middle eastern or Hispanic male wearing a priest’s shirt, approximately six feet two inches tall, one hundred ninety five pounds with gray hair and a white beard. A dead ringer for Morales. The house surveillance footage shows whoever this guy is getting into what looks like a black hatchback although we can’t make out a plate. Spritzer’s body was found in a dumpster behind a Waffle House twenty four hours after he was reported missing and if you can believe it, there’s even more.

Two blocks down the road from the house, a car fire was reported containing the bodies of two unidentified men who were both found shot in the head on the very same night that Gabby Morales died.” says Spicer out of breath.

Parkes rubs her temples, clearly reeling from all the information she’s just been given “How the hell did you find all of this out?”

“From the day you and Josh apprehended him, I’ve developed this obsession with Morales. I’ve been keeping close tabs on him all the time he was at Deathridge Gate. I have contacts in the local PD who leaked me both the report on Morales’ wife and the surveillance tapes. I also might’ve hacked some of the F.B.I. files on the case.”

“Look I know you didn’t part ways with the Bureau on the most amicable of terms.”

“That’s putting it lightly. That son of a bitch Garcia was gunning hard for my job and when he finally managed to drum me out…well I always had medicine to fall back on.”

Parkes smiles “So you decided to become a top ranking county coroner.”

“Pays damn good.” says Spicer which elicits a giggle from Parkes.

“But still, why all the focus on Morales after he went to prison?” asks Parkes.

“When we were kinda seeing each other behind the scenes at the Bureau, I saw how important catching The Prophet Bomber was to you. So after everything I just wanted to keep you safe, make sure he never got loose again. Truth is after all this time, I still have feelings for you Jordan.” he says as he leans in and the two kiss each other.

“I do to Chris, but let’s not get side tracked. If Morales did somehow fake his own death we could be sitting on a bomb shell here. Now the implication is that his wife didn’t commit suicide. Morales escapes from prison, kills his wife and than for some reason shoots two randos sitting in their car before firebombing the damn thing and leaving them inside. None of it makes sense and doesn’t fit Morales’ known M.O. What would be his motivation for doing all this?”

“Jordan, Morales is a homicidal psychopath whose favorite pass time was blowing up complete strangers. The motherfucker is criminally insane, he doesn’t need a motivation to do anything.”

“I suppose you have a point, but if all this is true and Morales did kill his wife, than he could be going after his other family members, namely his two daughters.”

“Your right, somebody’s gotta warn them.” says Spicer.

Parkes hurriedly grabs her coat “I gotta bring Aiden up to speed on all this, he’s not gonna believe it.”

“Let me finish up here and I’ll catch up to you.”

“Got it.” says Parkes as she swiftly exits the autopsy room.

Spicer runs to the back office and closes out the laptops when he again hears the familiar buzzer of the autopsy room door. Confused and thinking it was Parkes returning for something, Spicer looks out and is surprised to see the silhouette of a man now standing behind the window of the door.

“Yes, who is it?” asks Spicer.

“Open up Agent Spicer, we have to talk.” says the man on the other side.

Narrowing his brow in suspicion, Spicer cracks open the door only to find Garcia looking directly at him. “Oh I’m sorry, it’s Dr. Spicer now isn’t it?” says Garcia.

“You? What the hell are you doing here?”

“You an I have some business to discuss doctor.”

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XXIII: A Father’s Reckoning

Boyd and Charmaine sit in their parked vehicle directly across the way from a run down apartment complex. The street side was littered with trash and vagrants as well some very unsavory looking people loitered in and around the entrance to the old brick building.

“I wonder if the son of a bitch will actually show up?” asks Boyd as he peers through a pair of binoculars, observing the steady stream of bodies walking in and out of the front door.

“Our moles say he was spotted in and around downtown, specifically this shit hole.” says Charmaine as she lights up a cigarette “Still, how stupid do you gotta be to try and lay low only a few miles from where your wife supposedly committed suicide. You’d think he want to get out of the city altogether.”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as all that. You gotta remember, Morales has a big advantage here. Everyone, including the cops thinks he’s dead. I guess he figures no one else, besides The Church is going to be looking for him. Secondly, he might not be in the clearest state of mind. From what I’ve studied on the guy, he seemed to actually care about his wife. Her death probably hit him pretty hard.” says Boyd.

“Than why would he kill her?”
“Could be a number of different reasons. From what I know about Morales is that he’s one cold hearted bastard. Court records say he showed absolutely no emotions at his trial even when confronted with the families of the kids he killed in his bombings. All he would say was that he saw everyone as nothing more than meat sacks on two legs, they meant nothing to him. So it really says something when he chooses to kill his wife in such a non violent way. Even going so far as to pose her body making it look like she was merely asleep. I think he actually cared about her.”

“Maybe he was making some kind of a morbid statement. Morales is a sociopath, I don’t think he cares about anything or anybody but himself.”

“Common misconception. Morales is a psychopath, not a sociopath. There’s a clear difference between the two.”

“Like what?”

“There’s a lot that goes into it and every case has variances, but boiled down to it’s essence, psychopath is nature while sociopath is nuture.”

“Wow look at you. Ya know Boyd we’ve had a number of different targets over the years and I’ve never seen you as into one of them as you seem to be about Morales.”

“I was always fascinated by The Prophet Bomber, even before being inducted by The Church. So I when I learned about Morales’ link with Alhazred, it all just seemed to fit into place for me.”

“The Old Ones have definitely left their mark on humanity, in more ways than one.”

“Yes they have.” says Boyd with a contented grin.

“Well in any case, The Church hasn’t been able to get a fix on Morales’ youngest daughter. Probably decided to skip town.” says Charmaine.

“I’ll bet odds he’s looking for the both of them.” says Boyd as he spots a hooded figure exiting the old building, indistinguishable from the throngs of other faces entering and exiting. Boyd smiles in instant recognition as he zooms in his view of the man “Bingo…”

“We got em?” asks Charmaine perking up.

“Front and center. He just stepped out, gray hoodie with brown cargo pants walking east.” says Boyd as he hands his companion the binoculars.

“Yup, there he is.” says Charmaine as she spies Marcos walking with a purposeful pace down the street and away from the building.

“Alright, we gotta hurry.” he says looking back at a large black suitcase sitting in the backseat with a number of buzzing flies scurrying about it’s top “Excited to see daddy again sweetheart?”

___________________________________________________________

After roughly twenty minutes of walking, Marcos ends up in a crime ridden part of the inner city. Typical of what one would see in a place like Compton or south side Chicago, the streets are lined with Project like dilapidated homes and are infested with gang land activity. Marcos begins to move in the direction one particular street corner with a few rough looking youths who seem to be engaged with an slightly older looking Hispanic man covered in tattoos. As Marcos approaches he zeros in on a distinct tattoo on the side of the older man’s neck. One of the youngsters givess the other man a large wad of cash and in return is handed a small baggie with a white looking substance inside. The group than head off leaving only Macros and the other man on the street corner.

The tattooed man looks at Marcos and narrows his eyes “What’s your business cabron?”

“You Neta Set?” asks Marcos.

“Claro.”

“Macho Castillo sent me. I just got outta federal, said I could get the hook up around here.” says Marcos.

The man’s demeanor lightens slightly as he nods “Oh yea definitely. Macho is a big name around here, he’s got that clout. How you know him?”

“We got along on the inside, said he was gonna bring me into the familia, but I got out just before the jump in.” says Marcos.

“Nice, yea well you need to talk to Neives, he’s the one that runs shit around here. He’ll get you jumped in for sure. He’ll probably wanna get you on some missions before, but if you got it good with Macho, that’ll go a long way.”

“Bueno, but listen in the meantime, I need some supplies.”

“Si, ta bein. I got snow, rocks, quality lettuce, anything you got the fix for.”

“Nah, I’m not in the market for any of that.” says Marcos as he pulls the Ruger from his backside and slides the magazine out “I need some heat.”

The man glances down and scrunches his eyebrows “Yea I got you on that too. But all that is back at the crib and it’ll cost.” Marcos smiles as he pulls out a few hundred dollar bills from his pocket and is met with an immediate grin from the other man “Alright than, follow me.”

___________________________________________________________

As Boyd lugs the heavy suitcase, he and Charmaine carefully maneuver their way through the vagrant crowds that clutter the streets in front of the apartment complex. As they enter the front entrance, they see the lobby is nothing more than a chaotic free for all. The walls are slathered in graffiti and several people are seen cloistered in dark corners partaking in every illicit substance and activity imaginable.

“How does anywhere get like this anyway?” asks Charmaine in disgust.

“Well when your in a Democrat run cesspool like this, it’s just kinda par for the course.” says Boyd.

Charmaine gives him a telling stare and the pair make their way over to what passed as the front counter. Behind the desk is a grungy overweight man on a cheap laptop drinking quite liberally out of a jug filled with milk.

“Sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if you could give us some info on a tenant of yours.” asks Charmaine.

The man smirks “Tenant? What the fuck does this look like, the Four Seasons? We don’t have tenants lady, we got extremely temporary renters.” says the man without even looking up from his laptop.

‘Be that as it may pal, you ever see this guy around the building?” asks Boyd holding up a photo of Marcos.

The man grabs the picture and half heartedly glances at it “We got so many sleazy clowns comin in and out of this place and you want me to I.D. this jackass? I got no clue who that is.” he says tossing the image onto the counter dismissively.

Boyd rolls his eyes as he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two twenty dollar bills “You wanna try looking at it again grandpa?” he says crinkling the money in his palm.

The fat man eyes the money, sneers and picks up the photo “Yea I guess he does look kinda familiar, but I can’t be sure. My geezer eyes aren’t what they used to be, ya know.”

“Son of a bitch…” Boyd mutters under his breath as he reaches in for two more twentys “How about now?” he says slamming the money onto the counter.

The obese man grins “Yea I seen em’. Came in here about three days ago wavin a stack of cash around. Seemed a little desperate for a room.”

“Where’s he staying?” asks Charmaine.

“Room 3A, one flight up, directly above the office.” he says pointing up.

“Anything else you can tell us about the guy? Was he armed?” asks Boyd.

“I dunno, probably. Shit, everyone else around here is. Come to think of it there was this goofy looking black book he was carryin under one arm. Looked like some kinda antique or somethin.” says the man as he reaches to grab the cash Boyd had laid down.

Boyd immediately slams his hand down over top the cash “Come to think of it, I am a little strapped. Maybe we can work something else out.”

The man’s expression sours profusely as he reaches down and grabs a large shot gun strapped to the underside of the table and casually places it atop the counter “Don’t you fuck with me chump. I eat chodes like you for breakfast.”

“Take it easy gramps. I just had something else in mind for payment. Right Charmaine.”

Charmaine smiles at the fat man seductively as she slides her hand over his chin “You go on up to 3A, I’ll settle the bill.” she says casually walking behind the counter and leading the fat man into the back office. He puts up no resistance and follows her like a mesmerized puppy.

“Girl’s definitely gotta way.” says Boyd as carries the heavy suitcase up the stairs presumably on his way up to room 3A.

__________________________________________________________

The Neta member slowly leads Marcos through a confusing maze of back alley houses until they reach a non descript apartment door near a high rise. Looking around cautiously, the Neta briefly fumbles through a set of keys before jamming one into the doorknob and turning.

“Hey I didn’t catch your name papi.” asks Marcos as the two men climb a rusty flight of stairs inside.

“They just call me Locito around here and that’s the only name you need to worry about, sabe.”.

“Fair enough.” says Marcos as they finally reach Locito’s apartment.

Inside, an attractive young woman lays on the couch with a game controller in her hand “What’d you bring me?” she asks still absorbed in her video game.

Locito looks at her with a scowl on his face “Goddamit Luisa, it’s two o’clock. Are you gonna do anything else besides play that fucking thing?”

“I wanna beat my high score baby.”

Locito just shakes his head in disgust “Whatever…look what caliber you need? I got fifty cal, forty five’s…” he asks Marcos.

“Forty eight cal, Hollow Points.” says Marcos.

Locito just slightly nods as he walks into the hallway “Wait here.”

“You ain’t from Los Reyes are you? Loco doesn’t like them. Last week I saw him slice one of those penedjos up.” says Luisa.

Marcos just gives a condescending smirk as he looks around the living room area. He notices some pictures on the far wall and is shocked to see the face of the man he killed whiled in prison smiling in some of the photos.

“I could only spare about five mags…” says Locito as he re-enters the living room.

Marcos swiftly looks back “Are you Oscar Ramos’ brother?”

Locito pauses lowering his arms “Yea, how the fuck did you know that?”

“I knew Ramos while I as in. He was a good guy. He always talked about his younger brother.”

“Yea, you also know the cocksucker that killed him? Cuz as soon as they release that motherfucker, I’m gonna be the one that puts a bullet in his head.”

Marcos upturns one corner of his mouth “I didn’t know the guy personally. But word is that he was part of some creepy ass cult. The Church of the drowning fish or some such bullshit.”

“Three hundred for the ammo.” says Locito seemingly not wanting to discuss the matter any further.

“Look I’m sorry about your brother.”

“I said three hundred homie! Nuff said about Oscar.”

Marcos gives the other man three one hundred dollar bills as he is handed a small paper bag containing the ammunition “I got some connections of my own out here. Like I said, word is the asshole that killed your brother was linked to some pedophile cult with ties to the Catholic Church. I’ll see what I can find out.”

Locito pauses with a gaze of hatred and sadness as he contemplates about Oscar. He probes Marcos’ eyes and after several moments is convinced that the man means well “Aight, good lookin.” he says as Marcos starts to head for the door “Hey, I got an old Beretta here if your interested. I’m probably not gonna be able to move it around here since most of the boys prefer their Glocks. If you got an extra fifty, it’s yours. I’ll even throw in two free mags.”

Marcos tilts his head slightly before laying a fifty on a nearby table “Berettas were always one of my favs.”

Locito tosses Marcos a second paper bag “Enjoy.” he says as Marcos begins to exit “Hey look I ain‘t mean anything before. It‘s just when anybody brings up Oscar, it just really hit’s a sore spot. It‘s not that long ago that he died.”

“Trust me, I get it, and I‘m glad to help.” says Marcos with a sly grin as he exit’s the apartment.

____________________________________________________________

After a time, Marcos makes his way back to the run down apartment complex that is serving as a temporary hideaway. He pulls his hood onto his head as he enters the arched doorway, careful to be as inconspicuous as possible. He passes the front counter and takes brief notice that the obese man was not at his usual station. Not giving it anymore thought, he urgently climbs the old steps to the first floor. The hallway leading to 3A is strewn about with several homeless just laying on the floor and others curled up in corners. Stepping over a few of them, he passes a rough looking couple. The male has a shaved head with several lip piercings and the female had half of her head shaved, with the other half being a long unkempt crop of blue hair.

“Hey pops, you gotta light?” asks the male.

Marcos looks over, a look of absolute contempt on his face “Sure thing.” he says retrieving the Ruger from his back waistband as he callously shoves the barrel of the gun into the man’s mouth “Any particular place you want the light asshole? How about straight down your throat, or on second though I could always angle up.”

“Hey man knock it off, he didn’t mean anything by it, just chill.” says the female as her companion squirms as he is being held in place by Marcos.

“He? Sure your using the right pronouns? Wouldn’t wanna mis-gender anybody now would we?” says Marcos quickly removing the gun from the male’s mouth and mercilessly jamming his knee into man’s stomach causing him to double over in agony “Now take whatever that supposed to be and get the fuck outta my hallway.” says Marcos pointing at the stricken male.

The female doesn’t respond and simply tries to help her companion to his feet as they slowly hobble down the hallway. Marcos looks around and is amused to see that the commotion hardly registered on the other denizens of the hall, the rest too lost in their squalor to care. Walking into 3A, Marcos casually places the two paper bags containing the Beretta and his ammo on the kitchen counter top, as well as placing his Ruger right beside them. Exhaling deeply, he takes off his hoodie and drapes it over one arm as he leans against a wall. He looks around at the nearly empty apartment room, the walls almost stripped bare and the floors rotted out in certain places. A single mattress lies in the middle of the living room and Marcos smiles at the absurdity of it all “Well at least you’re a step above a dank cell.”

Going over to the closet he opens the door and is met by a horrific sight. Spilling out of the closet is a charred corpse that is missing both arms. Strands of long wispy hair still cling onto the blackened skull and it’s mouth hangs agape. Marcos jumps back as the body falls directly on top of him. He reacts in fashion and lets the body fall to the floor in shock. It’s than that he notices that a small photograph has been taped to the cadaver’s chest. He bends down and sees the very same photo Allison had in her apartment in Italy, the one depicting father and daughter spending time at a scenic park.

“Oh God…Ali?” he says, his voice trembling “Ali!!”

“I love family reunions…” says a voice from behind.

Marcos looks over his shoulder to find Boyd standing a few feet away brandishing a snubbed nose revolver pointed directly at him.

“Marcos Morales, the Prophet Bomber, heard a lot about you man. It may not seem like it now, but I’m a big of yours. Hell you took out four of us in record time.” says Boyd.

Marcos stands up with his hands held out in front of him “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch the name.” he says in a cold whisper.

“Your getting off track big man, where’s the book?”

“Father what’s his face sends you to track me down and kill my daughter all because you want that goddamned book?”

“Yea sorry about that, but you have to admit, you had this comin. Four of us for only one of you. The score is still heavily lopsided my friend. One of these days you’ll have to tell me just how exactly you managed to pull all that off.”

“Can’t really say I know what the hell your talking about, but if you wanna put down the Saturday Night Special we can discuss it mano y mano…” he says before Boyd fires off a warning round, the bullet just barely missing the side of his quarry’s head causing Marcos to flinch to his right.

“I’m not really one for yapping chief, and patience isn’t one of my strong points. Now I’ve been ordered to take you in alive, but they didn’t say just how alive. Now if you wanna keep both your arms and maybe a leg or two unlike your lovely daughter there, I suggest you cut the bullshit and tell me where you hid the book.”

“I think I might’ve left it inside my other pair of pants.” says Marcos with a defiant smirk.

“Well there goes one arm, maybe I’ll hit you right where your shoulder meets the joint bone. Maximum amount of pain.” says Boyd taking careful aim “Kinda like target practice. Should be a lot of fun, for me.” Just than, the man’s face goes deathly pale as he catches sight of a monstrous silhouette just behind Marcos. The Yellow Robed entity looms in the distance and Boyd’s is stricken with fear “You…it’s The Feaster.” he says in a panicked whisper.

Marcos glances to his side in puzzlement but wastes no time in taking advantage of the distraction. He lunges at Boyd, pushing the gun to one side. Coming to his senses, Boyd tries to fight back but Marcos lands a hard punch to his face, grabs the man’s gun welding arm an jams the short barrel straight into Boyd’s torso and at point blank range, empties the remaining five bullets into his adversary, creating gruesome exit wounds straight through Boyd’s back.

Marcos just lets Boyd slump to the ground “Sorry about that, but you have to admit, you had that one comin.” he says coldly wiping some of the blood mist off if his face. The satisfaction of his kill doesn’t last long as he immediately senses a foreboding presence directly in front of him. Marcos’ eyes slowly drift up and catches the menacing specter of the Yellow Robed Entity. After a few moments of silence, he intakes a nervous breath “So you gonna tell me what the hell you are or how you fit into all this?” he asks. The creature doesn’t even make an attempt to respond, and just stands there motionless, save for a single slimy tentacle that thrashes about just below it’s filthy yellow robe. Marcos notices this “So I assume your related to Pazuzu or whatever the fuck his name his? You boys seem to have that Squid Calamari theme going.” he says, but the creature still remains silent. With his frustration and anger rising, Marcos blurts out “Answer me you Big Bird lookin fuck! What are you!?”

The creature than lifts one of it’s arms out from beneath it’s robe, carrying the black leather bound Necronomicon. The entity than simply drops the book on the ground in front of Marcos with a slightly theatrical flare. Marcos looks down and feels a gust of wind blow across his face, but when he looks back up, the creature has vanished. Marcos closes his eyes in a kind of silent desperation, when his gaze inevitably returns to that of his deceased daughter.

Crouching down, he gently glides his hand across the twisted and burnt face of the body “I’m so sorry baby, I truly never meant for any of this to happen, at least not to you or your sister. A predator must avenge the loss of his cubs, I promise. I doubt there is such a thing, but hopefully your with your mother on the other side. Sleep well Allison, sleep well baby.” he says as he somberly kisses the forehead of the corpse and afterward rips the photo off the body. He than hastily grabs the black book and heads for the door.

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Charmaine spins herself around in the office chair as a four year old would in her father’s study “Oh God, I haven’t done that in forever. Sometimes you just gotta enjoy the simple things in life. Don’t you agree George?” she asks looking over to the obese man she led into the back office just short while before. He lays face down on the ground, with an ice pick buried deep into the back of his skull, the floor beneath him saturated in a deep puddle of the man’s blood. “But I am glad I caught your name before…well you know.” she says crouching down to gaze at her victim “Speaking of which, what could be taking Boyd so long? I’ll certainly be glad to put all this behind us. The Church will have the book back, we can haul Morales back to Ryleh and a whole new age dawns for humanity. That sounds great, huh George?”.

Suddenly loud muffles can be heard from the ceiling above, catching the woman’s attention, causing her to look up. Than the muted sounds of gunshots echo through the tiles before all goes silent. Charmaine’s face suddenly expresses concern, her eyes narrowing in a questioning demeanor “What the hell is going on up there…Boyd?” she exclaims before removing the ice pick from the back of George’s head and bolting out of the office.

____________________________________________________________

Marcos rushes down the upper hallway, now wearing a small back pack. Inside are his firearms, newly acquired ammunition and of course, The Necronomicon. Wasting no time, he hurries down the old staircase that leads to the lobby, but midway down, he encounters Charmaine on her way up, the bloody ice pick in her hand.

A moment of silent awkwardness ensues between the two, neither of them knowing quite what to say before Marcos breaks the ice “Subtlety isn’t big with you people is it?”

Charmaine immediately tries to attack the Colonel, swinging the bladed implement wildly in his direction. Marcos easily dodges and responds with a swift kick to the woman’s face, sending her tumbling down the stairs, the ice pick lodging itself in her side as she crashes to the bottom. Marcos quickly runs down the rest of the way and seizes Charmaine in a backwards choke hold.

“Looks like I gotta pay a dear old friend a visit, maybe find out what’s exactly in this little book you guys seem to be so jazzed about. Unless you wanna enlighten me right here and now.” he says as he tries to control the struggling woman.

“You know I could’ve sworn I heard the most pathetic whiny little scream come out of your daughter as she got blown to hell.” Charmaine wheezes out followed by a sadistic chuckle.

“Well I’ll give you one thing, that’ll definitely make the list of the most fucked up famous last words.” he says as he brutally twists her head to one side, the breaking of her neck being heard as an audible and sickening snap. Marcos smiles “Ya know, I had no idea that if you did it hard enough, you can actually hear the snap. That’s cool.” he says leaving her body to drop as he rushes out of the old building.

 

[Darrian_Gabriel]

Chapter XXIIII: Burial At Sea

Admiral Jacob Walsh’s mind is racing at break neck speed as he walks through the corridors of his carrier, closely followed by the possessed husk of what was once his trusted subordinate. Walsh is scrambling to come up with some kind of plan to stall Emissary, when the creature speaks up.

“Your countenance seems troubled Admiral, yet it seems I can no longer sense your thoughts.” says Emissary.

Walsh stops cold, his eyes widening as a mental light bulb goes off. He slowly turns around to face Sharp’s possessed body, his face now flush with renewed confidence “Such is the power of the Necronomicon, Emissary. A simple incantation to fortify my mind of any encroachment, even from the likes of you.”

Emissary walks closer “Impressive, this book of yours. I would very much like to see it for myself.”

Walsh exhales a breath of sheer validation “That can be arranged Star Spawn. Before your assimilation of the human race, I think it’s pertinent that we get our factions on the same page so to speak.”

Emissary than gets uncomfortably close as mass black tendrils can be seen writhing beneath the skin of his host on the face and neck “Agreed.” he says as his eyes dilate in an inhuman fashion.

“Follow me.” says Walsh with an unflinching tone.

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After about ten minutes, Walsh has led Emissary to the extreme lower decks of the ship. Finally they arrive to a series of low lit compartments serving as boiler rooms for the ship’s massive engine array.

“It’s funny, after spending thousands of years in stasis on Ryleh, you’d think that I would have learned something about patience.” says Emissary.

Walsh turns around and gives an acknowledging nod “We’re here.” he says opening one of the many heavy hatch doors that lead into one of the boiler rooms and walks in.

Emissary follows behind and looks around inquisitively. He takes note of the cramped space, and the noise emitted by all the large cranks and machinery “An odd place to store something so intrinsically valuable to your sect.”

“Just because you haphazardly inhabit a human body, doesn’t mean you know everything about us. You’ve still got a few things to learn.” says Walsh with a smirk.

“Such as?” asks Emissary, narrowing his eyes.

Walsh suddenly raises his hand and begins to chant, the garbled words spilling out of his mouth at an impressive speed. The incantation catches Emissary off guard as his host body begins to shake uncontrollably. The Star Spawn finds that he has been paralyzed in place, masses of black liquid oozing out of his nose and eyes. Wasting no time, Walsh grabs a nearby pipe and strikes the creature viciously across the head and mid section, sending Sharp’s host body crashing into one of the heavy crank pistons lining the walls. Walsh doesn’t relent his attack and continues to bash the creature mercilessly, gruesomely caving in the side of Sharp’s head. Emissary finds himself still incapacitated, black fluid and bodily gore dripping from the catastrophic wounds left by Walsh.

“Well, deceit and trickery for one.” says Walsh as he discards the now bent pipe.

“How did you…” asks Emissary, the words coming out as gurgled slurs, the creature still struggling to move.

“I told you Emissary, the Necronomicon is nothing to be trifled with. A rather complicated binding incantation. I’m just glad it worked. But I suspect with a creature as powerful as you, it won’t hold for very long. Hopefully it’s bought me just enough time to get this done.” says Walsh as he starts to turn several dial knobs on some of the hydraulic systems, seemingly overloading the pressure gauges. Bolts begin to pop out on the walls, releasing streams of hot gases, signifying that the systems are indeed failing “If there’s anything left of you in there Sharp, you were a good sailor. I’m deeply sorry it had to come to this. But you’ll get the death and burial at sea you deserve.” says Walsh as he performs a solemn salute. Emissary lets out an ear piercing screech as several more bolts dislodge from the walls as Walsh looks over “That’s my queue.” he says hurriedly running out of the room.

The binding incantation begins to ware off as Emissary slowly regains his footing. The head of his husk is so badly damaged, that it’s hangs at a grotesque angle leaning to the side of one of the shoulders. In a fit of rage, the Star Spawn commences to simply rip off Sharp’s nearly demolished head and slams it off to one side, leaving a gory stump saturated with black ooze and slimy tentacles slithering about the gaping hole. Walsh seals the metal door, locking the creature in. The now headless body of Sharp charges towards the door and crashes into it with the full weight of the decapitated husk causing the porthole window to crack and Walsh to shutter back. He recovers quickly, books it down the corridor and rushes out of the lower decks as fast as his legs will carry him.

Back inside the imploding boiler room, Emissary starts some kind of gruesome new transmutation. A large black bubble pulsates out of the headless stump, gradually taking the shape a new and monstrous cranium. This one taking no resemblance of anything human, but a loathsome gargoyle like form with multiple eyes. Several putrid tongues slither out of it’s mouth and the monster let’s out an enormous roar. At the same time, the pressure reaches critical mass causing several of the large pistons to buckle and collapse, tearing open a large hole in one of the walls, resulting in the room flooding with sea water. Emissary again charges for the locked door, this time completely ripping it off it’s hinges as water pours in unabated, submerging the creature.

A few moments later, Emissary emerges with a splash, now in his true horrible form, having shed Sharp’s body completely. The side of the monster’s body undulates causing it to double, than triple, than quadruple in size, it’s body now looking like a cross between a serpent and a demonic octopus. The creature dives under the flooding waters, swimming it’s way through the corridors and onto upper levels of the now crippled carrier.

_____________________________________________________________

The sound of red alerts echo all throughout the ship as Walsh frantically tries to make his way to the top decks. Personnel scramble about trying to get a handle on the situation. Pushing his way past, he finally makes it to the top level deck and emerges out into the bright sunlight. Suddenly a voice calls out to him from across the deck “Walsh, what the hell is going on?” yells Edward Case.

“In kind of a hurry right now Mr. Case.” says Walsh sarcastically and out of breath.

“There’s been some kind of hull breach, we’re have you been?” asks Case. Walsh just looks at Case with a telling, yet smug stare which causes Case to be taken aback in suspicion “You tell me what the hell is going on here Admiral! What did you do?”

“Just follow me Case.” says Walsh nonchalantly as he continues to walk on heading toward some of the life boats.

“Dammit I want answers Walsh and I mean now!” yells Case as he pursues the Admiral.

“…and you’ll get them Mr. Case in due time.” he says stopping in front a life boat.

At that moment three on deck Seamen recognize Walsh and run up “Admiral sir is that you? Why aren’t you up in the observation deck?” asks one of them.

“No time now sailor, you and the rest of the crew should readying these boats. We need to get all civilian personnel to safety first, move now!” says Walsh.

“Eye sir!” says the sailor as he goes over to Case “C’mon sir, we have to get you to a boat!”

“Not to worry Seaman, I’ll take care of Mr. Case myself, get to those other boats!” says Walsh as the sailor runs off to carry out the orders.

“Alright Walsh, what gives? What do you know about what’s happening?” asks Case forcefully, getting up in the Admiral’s face.

“Just relax Mr. Case, it’ll all seem like a nightmare after this.” he says as he savagely backhands Case, knocking him out cold.

Walsh cautiously looks around but is relieved to see that his antics haven’t been noticed. He than proceeds to casually toss Case into the life boat. Walsh un-secures the boat, hops in himself and releases the small craft, resulting in the life boat dropping to the choppy ocean below with a hard crash. Walsh is dazed and bangs the side of his head, leading to a large gash across his forehead. Taking a few moments to regain his composure, Walsh looks out in apprehension, hoping to see something “C’mon Ito, I couldn’t have given you clearer signal!”

A few seconds later, the Soryu Class sub splashes to the surface to Walsh’s great relief. The top hatch opens and a few Japanese crewmen appear, scanning the waters with binoculars. Walsh smiles as he callously throws Case overboard, jumping in himself immediately after. The cold of the water snaps Case awake as he finds himself struggling to keep afloat. Walsh swims over and grabs a hold of the man.

“Just breathe easy Case, it’ll all be over soon.” he says as he suddenly jams Case’s head under the waves and holds it there “I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time Eddie. You were nothing but a nagging little prick and you made my life very difficult, you know that.” he says as Case thrashes just below the water line. After about a minute, Case’s body goes limp as Walsh releases his grip, letting the now lifeless body float to the surface. Letting out a sigh of both relief and satisfaction, the Admiral throws his arms up, trying to signal to the Japanese and is eventually spotted by the sub.

_____________________________________________________________

Back on board Walsh’s aircraft carrier, the flooding continues to worsen as the ship’s crew of hundreds work doggedly to contain the problem. Each successive level has begun to take on water faster than the last, even though sealing off protocols have activated in earnest. On one of the mid levels, which has flooded severely, a small group of sailors, including Seaman Rosario, find that they are fighting a losing battle.

“Minor, help me get this hatch closed!” yells Rosario to one of her crew mates.

Minor splashes over and forcefully tries to push the hatch closed “I don’t think she’s gonna budge. Listen, we better get outta here, everyone else is making for the top decks.

Rosario nods “Yea maybe your right.” she says before being yanked under the water a split second later.

“Rosario!!!” yells Minor as he frantically tries to search for his companion. He waves his hands under the water, desperately trying to feel his way around. Before too long he notices something solid brush up against his leg and he immediately reaches for it “Rosario, is that you? I think I feel your hand, just hold on!” he says as he pulls something up from out of the water. To his shock and horror, he discovers that it is indeed a hand, but one that has been severed from the rest of the body. Minor screams as he drops the detached limb. Seconds later, two black and slimy tendrils wrap themselves around the young Seaman. The gargoyle like head of Emissary emerges from behind and gulps down on top of Minor’s head as the sailor’s screams echo through the flooded corridor. In an instant, the creature drags him under.

___________________________________________________________

As Admiral Kenshin Ito overlooks his command deck, a dripping wet Walsh, draped in a small towel, is escorted up by a few of Ito’s crew.

“You wanna tell me what this is all about?” asks Ito.

“Later, light it up, now!” exclaims Walsh as he looks around at some of Ito’s crew giving him confused stares “Well c’mon, what’s everybody waiting for?”

“This isn’t a good idea Brother.” says Ito.

Walsh pulls Ito to the side “Dammit Brother Ito we discussed this! As we speak we have a marauding Star Spawn loose aboard that ship. He told me their entire plan. Once Cthulhu takes over, the Star Spawn plan to possess and assimilate the entire human race effectively eradicating our entire species to be part of their collective. I saw it with my own eyes Ito. The Church can take it’s rightful place by Cthulhu’s side, but we have to start here.”

“If the Star Spawn are so powerful, what good will a few torpedoes do?” asks Ito.

“I think they‘re essence is bound to Ryleh. Emissary needed time to repair Sharp’s body. Without active and living human hosts, they can do nothing. Don’t you see that everyone aboard that carrier is already dead? Look we can use the excuse of a bio-contaminant, but we have to act now! Circle around and torpedo that ship!” says Walsh.

Ito looks into Walsh’s eyes, reflecting his own struggle with this decision to sink an entire ship. After a few moments of reluctance, Ito turns to his first officer “Circle around and lock on.”

“Sir are you sure?”

“Just do it Lieutenant.” says Ito as Walsh pats him on the shoulder for re-assurance.

The submarine does a few passes near the floundering hull before it takes up an offensive position.

“I’ll bet the other subs are starting to get mighty suspicious, so if we’re do this, we have to do it now.” says Walsh.

“Torpedoes are locked on Admiral. Awaiting you deployment order.” says the first officer.

Ito intakes a sharp breath and closes his eyes “Fire…”

The command deck officers take Ito’s queue and launch off a barrage of Kaiten class Torpedoes that slam directly into the under hull of the aircraft carrier. The blasts send up huge splash explosions around the impact regions as smoke a debris billow into the air.

“Direct hit Admiral.” says the First Officer.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to sink a carrier that size.” says Ito.

“It’ll have to do. You did good Brother Ito, Great Cthulhu would be proud.” says Walsh as Ito just glares at him with no response “Well now for the fun part. It’s my guess this sub will be swarmed with maritime MP’s. Send out a no contest sonar beacon and brief your crew. If we’re gonna survive this, we best all get our story straight.”

_____________________________________________________________

As the carrier lurches and slowly starts to submerge from the catastrophic damage, several bodies of sailors and civilians can be seen floating around various pieces of wreckage. In the midst of the carnage, the giant serpentine form of Emissary gently floats to the surface, showing no signs of life. As the monstrous corpse mingles with the human bodies, it starts to ooze out the same inky fluid, turning the water around it an eerie black color.