The Knight's Circle... Part Two.. The Book of the Darkspawn... (End of first storyline)

Singh loaded and mounted the stallion as all three turned and made their way toward Mission Station to meet up with Constantine, who was arriving with other members of the Circle who were aboard his personal train. They gathered at the tracks shortly before midnight as the sleek-silver & gold steam locomotive known as The Acropolis rolled to a stop into Mission Station. The steam clouds slowly dispersed as the door to the main passenger car was pulled open as Constantine appeared in the doorway. He looked down at them, motioning all three inside the Locomotive. Moments later-after introductions to Caleb Doolittle were made, he was being debriefed as to the activities of Isabella Dragomir and her cohorts. The new recruit-one Caleb Tristan Doolittle of Bristlecone Texas sat quietly to the side, listening carefully to the fast-paced conversation, trying desperately to make sense of it all. They sat gathered at a long table in the main dining car of the Acropolis, discussing theories, exchanging ideas and going over strategies of how they were going to deal with Isabella Dragomir. What would happen next would take them all by surprise, oddly enough it was Caleb Doolittle that was the first one present to hear the distant footsteps falling on the roof of the train. They all stopped talking at once. Doolittle had already drawn his gun and was moving toward the door.

“Someone is topside, I’m going to have a look.” He told them.

“Or some-thing!” Cassidy Blaise chimed in, drawing her own weapon.

Together they followed along under the footsteps into the next car, at one time, Doolittle had looked up to see a large hulking figure leaping from the top of one car to the next.  He dropped to the tracks outside the third rail car followed by Cassidy Blaise both had now focused their attention to the backdrop of the full moon to see the silhouette of a very large lycan moving along the top of the Acropolis.  Doolittle fired five shots at the dark figure, with Cassidy Blaise once again backing his play, until the large lycan disappeared from view. Now fully perplexed and puzzled-both Blaise and Doolittle instinctively went back to back, neither of them taking their eyes off of the top of the train. Inside, they could hear the distinct sounds of hurried footfalls of their companions running inside the Acropolis to catch up with them. One by one, they all came out of the train, each drawing their own weapons.  they all began to fan out, each searching the top of the train with their eyes. Aiden Clairemont appeared over the right shoulder of Caleb Doolittle.

“Did you see it?” He asked… “What the hell was it?”

Doolittle didn’t answer back at first, his eyes carefully studying everything that moved. He nodded his head to the affirmative, his eyes never seeing Aiden Clairemont.

“Lycan.” He said calmly.

They all began to fan out along the length of the Acropolis, when at the very end car-the situation took an unexpected turn, when a deep chilling voice in almost a growl, from the top of the train cut through the cold night air.

“Before you try to kill me, Aiden Clairemont- it may serve you more than you know to hear what I have to say.”

Aiden Clairemont immediately recognized it as the voice of the savage lycan called Kojo. He tried to train his weapon on the voice, his hand wavering slightly. for all the lycans that he had encountered over   the past five years, Kojo was the only one that he’d ever heard speak as a human, and his voice never failed to chill him to the bone. Caleb Doolittle studied the top of the train car, stopping on two blood-red spots peering through the darkness.

“I must speak with Constantine-  Immediately.” Kojo said.

Aiden Clairemont disappeared down along the tracks to find Constantine, leaving Caleb Doolittle and Cassidy Blaise alone with Kojo. moments later, he returned with Constantine.

“We have much to discuss, Abraham.”  Kojo growled.

Constantine’s eyes focused on the voice.

“And what do I have to discuss with the likes of you, Kojo?” Constantine asked.

“Isabella Dragomir.”

He cast a nervous glance at Aiden Clairemont and then at Cassidy Blaise.

“What about her Lycan?”

“I know why she is here Abraham, her and her pet- Koda Kahn, I know of what they seek.”

Constantine thought carefully for a moment before answering.

“And why would you help us in our struggle with Isabella Dragomir?”

He could hear the lycan inhale, making a slight gurgling sound as he did.

 

“Let us say-that it would serve both of our interests to have you find her.”

“And what is in this proposition for you, Kojo?”

He could almost feel the lycan smile through the cold darkness.

“Revenge, Constantine- sweet revenge.”  He was almost laughing then. “You get Isabella Dragomir- and I get the traitor Koda Kahn.”

Once he’d determined that he had their undivided attention, he cautiously moved closer, more so to Constantine than the others. He came to rest at the very edge of the top of the Acropolis. His blood-red eyes carefully studying their every move, especially those of Aiden Claremont, his head cocked to one side as they made eye contact for the first time. He could feel it to his core that there was no fear at all in Claremont’s heart.  Satisfied that there would be no confrontation, he returned his attention to Constantine, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of the lycan.

“So tell us a story, Kojo, what exactly is it that Isabella is after?” He prompted.

“It is a book Constantine, a very special- and very old book with a valuable gemstone embedded in the cover. It was stolen from the Darkspawn by a team of ten men over one year and a half ago, many on the elders' council have determined that it was brought here, somewhere in the United States. They sent Isabella and fifteen others, including me, to retrieve it. We almost had it in a place called Matlan, Koda Kahn was leading five of us into the encampment where the book was being kept. The humans were waiting for us, silver bullets and all, they killed two lycan, I was severely injured, and barely escaped, Koda Kahn and the remaining two darkspawn left me for dead in the woods, unknown to them, I survived and have been tracking their every movement for the past six months.”

Constantine gave it careful consideration before raising the obvious question to Kojo.

“And just what is precisely so special about this book aside from its age?” He asked.

Kojo inched his way closer.

“In its contents-lies the origins of the Darkspawn race, their whole belief system lives in its pages, it is for all intents and purposes their holy bible. but perhaps most importantly, to you? the exact location of the Darkspawn citadel.  You see, Constantine- if this book should fall into the hands of the Knight’s Circle, then you could locate the actual home of the Darkspawn. That, I would think-would be of great value to you. would it not?”

Aiden Clairemont stepped forward then.

“You would help betray your own kind Kojo and you expect up to trust you?” He asked.

“They-are NOT my kind! I was born like this, Aiden Clairemont! never knowing human form, because of the deeds of the darkspawn, I have lived my entire life- as little more than a slave to them. Kept at the end of a chain, only to be released when there was dirty work to be done. And as soon as it was convenient to them, their precious little soldier Koda Kahn left me to die alone. Now? My only allegiance lies with my own survival. Now-my sole purpose on the earth is to see the whole lot of them bathed in their own blood!”

Kojo's heightened sense of smell would be their compass, and as it turned out all he had to do was get close to them and he could lead them right to their exact location. Both Caleb Doolittle and Cassidy Blaise loaded their horses with supplies for the trip east to Stockton, with Abraham Constantine, Aiden Claremont and Mahavir Singh remaining in tow to keep a wary eye on Kojo. having left the Acropolis in the railyard, they rode east toward Stockton having picked up the trail from The Midnight Star with help from Kojo, Caleb Doolittle having remarkable tracking skills of his own, had taken the lead of the single file group of riders as they made their way across the Tungston gap and up into the Del Puerto hills where the trees grew thicker along both edges of the trail. Caleb pulled rein and raised his hand to motion for a full stop of the group. Kojo caustiously  moved up beside his horse, he raised his snout into the air and took in a deep slow breath.

"You feel it too don't you?" He asked Caleb Doolittle.

Constantine rode up beside them.

"What is happening Caleb?"

Caleb Doolittle got off of his horse and walked out in front of the column by twenty feet, he knelt down and studied the dirt for a time. He rose and turned to Kojo and Constantine. 

"Somebodies about an hour ahead of us in the trees, at least two riders on horseback with a pack animal in tow, probably a spotter off to the right of the trail."

Kojo's eyes narrowed, he reared his head back taking in the scents. He looked at Caleb Doolittle.

"Your instincts are impressive- Caleb Doolittle is it?" He asked.

Doolittle nodded,

"We should ride up along the rim of the gorge, keep the treeline below us, they are probably going to be watching for riders at their rear." 

Kojo nodded in agreement.

"Constantine, I will travel below you at the top of the treeline, Koda Kahn keeps watch for Isabella Dragomir.

They continued east be ever so careful to stick to the top of the rim of Goldpan gorge, Caleb Doolittle kept a watchful eye on the treeline below them until something new caught his eye, he raised his hand to stop the column, Kojo once again joined him at the top of the rim. He climbed down from the saddle tying the reins of his horse to the notch in a tree, Kojo carefully studied his every move. Caleb Doolittle climbed down the side of a washout and walked across short flat plane stopping at a small grove of trees, Kojo shadowed him stopping at his side, his study slowly growing into curiosity as he looked up at Caleb Doolittle. He knelt down in the sandy dirt and studied the fresh tracks, before turning to face Kojo, and then turning his eyes back to the trees.

"Human's?"

Kojo nodded silently as Caleb turned and headed back up the ravine to his horse.

"Well Kojo, if there's something I've learned about regular people, there are alot of us that can be bought for a price, You should go tell the others about this, I'm going to pick up their trail."

"I should go with you Mr. Doolittle, Koda Kahn is with them, and he will smell you coming before you can close distance, if he doubles back, he will attack you from the side. Wait for me here, we'll go together." Kojo answered. 

He complied with Kojo's request, and after several minutes  he reappeared at Caleb Doolittles side with Constantine and the others spreading out slightly behind them. they pressed on into the trees and heavy brush which made the going slow and gradual, they went a half a mile in before Kojo cut away from them and went wide to their left, within minutes Caleb Doolittle yelled for the group to spread out and take cover just as a smaller lycan attacked and took a surprised Cassidy Blaise off of her horse, and a much larger one on their right set it's sights on Caleb Doolittle who had gotten between the smaller one and Cassidy, it charged at him forgetting about her and before it could turn he was already off of his horse and on the ground with both short blade drawn it's first pass took it over the top of his head and he sliced open it's underbelly with a long quick stroke it screamed as he buried the second blade right through the top of it's skull. it went down instantly and lay still.

The larger Lycan made it's charge at Caleb Doolittle but before it got to within twenty feet a blurry black and gray figure caught it in mid leap and had it on the ground and began ripping savagely at it's flesh, and finally had his jaws firmly clamped around the neck of what he thought to be Koda Khan the body finally grew still before he relented, Kojo's attack was brutal, swift and final. The pure strains had taken notice of the attack and began firing on Constantine, Mahavir Singh and Aiden Claremont from the cover of the trees, they pulled Cassidy Back behind some rocks out of harms way as Caleb Doolittle and Kojo began attacking the enemy in concert forcing them into full retreat.  Soon Constantine had the Circle regrouped and readied them to the attack as well, Kojo concentrated on the third Darkspawn who was trying desperately to draw him away from the group. Mahavir Singh had rode through between the pure strains and cut them down leaving two remaining riders fleeing in two different directions. The moon had broken free from the clouds in time for Singh to see the figures clearly, he removed the Spencer Rifle and set it's sights on the back of one of the rider's and fired off a round knocking it from the animal.

He retrained the rifle on the second target aiming this time just above the animal, his shot was true and the horse stumbled and fell trapping the rider beneath it, Aiden Claremont and Constantine were already on the first rider Singh had shot, the bullit had found it's fatal mark and the body had already begun to decay but not before they could see that it was female but not Isabella Dragomir. Singh rejoined them after killing the second rider and informed Constantine that the body was that of a male and as with the first had turn to decay as soon as he shot it with a silver bullit through the heart. They returned to the trees to find Kojo, Caleb Doolittle and Cassidy Bliase unloading the two pack animals that the Darkspawns companions had brought with them, inside one of the saddlebags was what felt like a solid square object wrapped and bound in heavy cloth, when they unbound it Constantine was surprised to see a thick leather book with a gemstone embedded in the cover.  He looked to Kojo who watched as he opened the book to reveal it was written in a text he did not recognize, Kojo turned to face him.

"The Darkspawn have written the book in their own language, I do not recognize this Constantine, the book is real but the text will have to be decyphered, Isabella and Koda Khan were not a part this group or so it would appear, I believe they rode into a trap. They are not going to this place you call Stockton to feed again. They are trying to escape, I sense that Isabella Dragomir is seriously wounded and perhaps Koda Khan as well."

Aiden Claremont stepped forward and stood beside Kojo.

"I don't think I wounded her that badly. only one shot landed" He told him.

"You didn't wound her, I smelled her and koda's blood on the two Lycans that Caleb Doolittle and I killed, the human's that they were to meet, brought them and the Incubus that Mahavir Singh killed with them, it would appear as though the high council did not trust her to bring back the book after all, she is bleeding badly, and koda as well, they will be dead soon. Take the book back to the circle, the Darkspawn Elders will send others to try and retrieve it."

"We will have our language scholars try to translate it into English, but it will take time I suspect. and what will you do now Kojo?" Constantine asked.

"I will track down their bodies and make sure they are indeed deceased, and then I will follow your trail back to New Orleans and wait outside of the city Constantine, They will send others and I will be waiting for them." Kojo answered.

Then it was Caleb Doolittle who spoke up.

"I'm going to ride with Kojo until we find the bodies and dispose of them, If you want me to be a part of your team Constantine, go back to San Francisco and wait for us on the train, we will meet you there."

Constantine reluctantly agreed, and they took the book and placed in his saddlebags, the rest of the group and he watched curiously as Kojo and Caleb Doolittle disappeared over the hill and headed to the northeast to find the bodies of Isabella Dragomir and Koda Khan, An odd silince fell over the group as they watch them slowly disappear from view. Cassidy Blaise then on horseback appeared at his side.

"Do you think he can be trusted?"  

"Did you see how well they worked together Cassidy? I think in some strange way Kojo trusts Caleb Tristen Doolittle of Bristlecone Texas, and who knows?  We may have finally found our edge in the war with the Darkspawn. If we can fully gain his trust in some way maybe a fully functioning lycan will provide us with the upperhand."

The group turned and headed back to the San Francisco railyards, then they would return to New Orleans and wait for their two newest members to rejoin them in the Circle.

Scratch/A.B.T. © Copyright 2022

The Knight's Circle... Part one.. Coming of The Darkspawn.

New Orleans, Louisiana, September 22nd, 1882.

There were several candles lit behind him reflecting off of the large looking glass in front of him, The light shinning back off of it was enough to blind and keep him off balance. Although he could not see, he could tell that both of his wrists and ankles were shackled to the wall, he was in chains in a dark room. there were at least three different voices that were conversing in whispers. the voices would trail off, and one by one the candles went out, and then on either side foot falls went by him at almost a frantic pace. He heard a female voice in an accent that he didn’t recognize yell back across the room.

“Remove the black cloth from the windows, it's coming out!”

Outside the window on his right, he could see up into the black midnight sky, as the clouds parted and revealed the most brilliant full moon that he had ever seen. he took a deep breath and waited to see what would come next, he waited for what felt like hours and nothing happened, it was then that he first heard the deep male voice instruct them to release the shackles. He felt a pair of hands gently grab his wrists, heard the rattle of chains, the metallic sounds of a key entering through the metal locks, a soft muffled clicking sound as the shackle on his left wrist came free, and then the right followed by both ankles. and then whoever had freed him retreated back into the shadows, and then there was silence for a time.

“Mr. Doolittle.  Please come this way, sir.”

They led him down a dark hallway into an even larger room lit with oil lanterns, one wall adorned with various maps of the western states, and on the other there were rows of books on shelves that were built into the walls themselves, above them hung a wood carving of a serpentine dragon coiled around a long sword beneath it were the words “Light into the darkness.”  There was a large wooden desk in front of three connected rectangular bay windows.  Standing in front of them was a tall, broad shouldered man with long black hair traveling down his back pulled into a queue. He wore a well tailored suit and had rings of silver and gold on every finger, and when he turned to face them, his dark blue eyes flashed with just the slightest hint of menace. He waved his right hand at the high back leather chair in front of the desk.

“Mr. Doolittle-do sit, make yourself comfortable. Please forgive the bindings, but we couldn’t be sure if you had been bitten by the spawn, exposing you to the full moon was the only way to be certain. You are not infected, so it would appear.”

His eyebrows arched slowly in surprised at the sound of his own name coming from the lips of a complete stranger. He slowly sat down in the leather chair, his eyes never leaving the tall, dark haired man towering in front of the bay windows.  A young oriental woman brought in a silver tray of two empty cups and two pots filled with what he took to be coffee and tea. He motioned toward the one that carried the aroma of coffee. The young oriental slowly poured the swirling dark liquid into the cup. His eyes returned to the stranger. He was talking to another shapely young woman with long dark raven colored hair, her facial features made her look exotic and mysterious. The tall man leaned forward toward him.

“Now then, Mr. Doolittle, to the matter at hand, please tell us how you happened into the encounter with the Darkspawn.” He said.

“Darkspawn?”

“The creature that you killed, Mr. Doolittle.”

“Wait-now that we’re asking questions here, how in the hell is that you know my name? and I don’t even know where in the hell I am- let alone who YOU are? and why was I being held prisoner?”

“Very well then. It would appear as though you have more questions than do we, so let me clear up a few things for you- and then you can clear up a few things for us. Fair enough?”

He nodded to the affirmative.

“Very well.  Mr. Doolittle my name is Constantine, I am the current leader of a secret society of hunters that started in Europe over 450 years ago called  ‘The Knight’s Circle.’  since our beginnings we are now across the entire world, hunting in secret-creatures of myth and legends, creatures that normal human beings aren’t even aware of. Creatures like the one you killed Mr. Doolittle, who stalk and murder the pure strains, they are called the Darkspawn. and they have existed here far longer than us.” 

He shook his head in disbelief at the thought of such things existing.

"And you somehow know who I am?"

“Yes, I- or should I say WE, know who you are, you-are Caleb Tristan Doolittle of Bristlecone Texas, you are an educated man and one of the best trackers in the entire western hemisphere. You were hired by the people of Pinewood to track down the creature responsible for killing off their livestock, not to mention the four people that it mutilated before you arrived. You took five men with you up into the mist laden mountain side to find it, and find it you did-just before it ripped apart your entire tracking party. But you-Mr. Doolittle, you didn’t back down, even when it attacked you, you fired your weapon striking it in the belly, but it didn’t stop, so you pulled out your knives and stood your ground cutting it several times before finally killing it with a fatal thrust to the heart. it did, however, manage to cut you in such a way that we couldn’t tell straight away if you had been bitten or not. it was our own doctor that stitched you up.”

“Wait-the Darkspawn?  The pure strains? This is all very confusing, and a bit much, I fear.”

“Can you describe the thing that you stabbed to death, Mr. Doolittle? do you remember what it looked like?”

“Well, when I first saw it, it was kinda dark outside, the only light came from the moon, it looked a lot like a huge wolf from a distance. There were four other fella’s with me when we tracked it up into the woods along the tree line, about a quarter of the way up the damn thing doubled back and ambushed us, it took four men clean off of their saddles and ripped them to pieces. I got a closer look at it then.”

“And was it a large wolf, as you suspected?”

“It had the head of a wolf, but different somehow, it almost looked part human, it reared back up on its hind quarters as it turned to face me. that’s when I knew this weren’t, no ordinary wolf, it ran toward me on its hind legs I pulled my gun and fired two shots into it. I think I hit it in the chest, but it didn’t even slow down. as it leapt up over the top of my horse I pulled my long blades and cut its belly open, it cut me pretty good as you know- but I knew if I went down I was a dead man for certain. It came again a few minutes later and went high, I went low and buried my blade with one thrust right into its chest, it took my first blade with it but still had the second, I buried it in its heart right next to the first on It's very next pass, it slid to a slow stop in the dirt deader than dead, That thing wasn’t a wolf.”

“You are correct in that observation Mr. Doolittle, so allow me to enlighten you, it was neither wolf nor man. what you killed was a very large lycan.” Constantine told him.

“A lycan?”  Doolittle's eyes raised in surprise.

“Yes. A human being that can turn into a wolf like creature, a shape-shifter if you will.”

In all of his years on this earth, to the very best of his recollection, Caleb Tristan Doolittle had never been rendered speechless-until now. Constantine rose from his chair and walked to the large bay window overlooking the town of New Orleans. Caleb Doolittle studied his every move carefully then. He leaned back in his chair, slowly raising his coffee cup to his lips. Constantine then turned to face him fully.

“Mr. Doolittle, not everyone can do what you did to the lycan. you have some extraordinary tracking skills, not to mention being quite handy with guns and long blades. We have our own personal train that will be leaving for San Francisco, California within the hour. we would very much like you to be on it with us when we leave.” He told him.

“Are you offering me a job, Mr. Constantine?”

“We have a small team on the ground in San Francisco, Mr. Doolittle. they have been on the trail of several of the darkspawn, being led by the spawn called Isabella, we believe that she will try to feed there, much as the lycan you killed tried to feast on your companions. we don’t have a lot of time to waste, Mr. Doolittle, what do you say?”

The tall blonde man rose to his feet, leaning forward cautiously to pick up his flat brimmed hat from the table-top. he slowly placed it on his head and looked back and forth at Constantine and then the young woman.

“I trust my horse is here as well?” He asked.

Constantine nodded.

“Alright. I have a few more questions, but I’m in.”

San Francisco California, September 25th, 1882.

From the time that she had stepped off of the train at union station anyone that had crossed paths with Isabella Dragomir knew that there was something unusual and off putting about her. The way her dark calculating eyes seemed to watch everything all at once, the demeanor in the way she carried herself even for a beautiful woman, gave her a strange menacing presence. It was just after 5:30 PM in the early evening when she first entered the Midnight Star Hotel and Saloon on Allen Street. She had picked him out almost immediately, he was kind of a short, plump, unassuming older fellow, with thinning black hair, he wore a wrinkled brown suit that looked old and more than slightly dirty. When he saw the beautful young woman staring at him, it made his spectacles steam up. His posture suddenly straightened and the very sight of this dark haired beauty made all of his problems seem trivial and petty. Avery Terrace up to that point, was having a very bad day, unknown to him, it was about to get much worse.

She slowly made her way across the smoke filled room, ignoring the raucous laughter of drunken cowboys, few even seemed to take notice of her as she moved up beside of him at the bar, but Avery Terrace on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She cocked her head to one side and slowly ran her forefinger down along his cheek stopping and his round plump chin. His lips pulled into a nervous smile as he lifted the whiskey glass to his mouth drinking it all in one gulp. He pulled out his handkerchief and began to wipe away the small beads of sweat forming on his forehead as she briefly pulled her gaze away. He pulled himself up straight, carefully searching his mind for just the right thing to say. He had to tread lightly as to not offend her.

“I. I- Don’t recall ever seeing you here before, are you new in town?” He asked her.

She nodded, but offered no response in return. He leaned forward slightly as she returned her eyes to meet his nervous stare. Slowly her own lips pursed into a seductive smile as she silently looked him up and down, he could feel the lump in his throat growing. Through great effort, he pushed his fear aside and with all of the boyish charm that he could muster- he somehow summoned the courage to offer to show her his room in the hotel upstairs. She nodded in agreement softly taking his hand as he led her across the room toward the stairs.  As they made their way to the upper floor a tall younger man entered the saloon behind them, his eyes quickly sifting through the smoke, looking for her. He moved through the crowd to the bar and motioned to the barkeep.

“A woman came in here a few minutes ago, dark hair, well dressed, she may have looked out of place, have you seen such a woman?”

“Yeah.” He answered wiping a whiskey glass, he nodded to the stairs. “She just went upstairs with Avery Terrace of all people.”

“What room?”

“Room number 25, second floor  all the way to the end of the first hall.” He smiled. “Your wife?”

“Not hardly.”  He answered, turning toward the stairs.

He had to be fast about it, he was almost running up the stairs in fact- pulling out his revolver at the same time, as he got to the top of the stairs everything seemed strangely quiet to him. He moved down along the darkened hallway until he could make out the muffled sounds of squeaking bed springs. He hurried his pace and when he reached  the door of room 25 he could hear the faint sounds of someone choking for air as though they were being strangled- or bitten.  As he kicked in the door; there was Avery Terrace lying on the bed. His throat was covered in blood, still making soft gurgling sounds as his eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. And there was a half naked Isabella mounted on top of his now lifeless body feeding furiously, until she saw Aiden Claremont standing in the doorway with his weapon drawn. She turned and hissed at him, and with a speed that he’d never before seen, she leapt from the bed and through the closed window, send shards of broken glass in every direction.  

 

He fired five rounds at her, striking her twice as best he could see, but it didn’t even slow her down. He calmly walked around the bed and looked out the window into the cold rainy night.  In the hallway behind him he heard the frantic sounds of running feet as people clamored around the open doorway to see what the gunshots were all about. There were people standing in the hallway, trying to look inside to see what had became of Avery Terrace, some had seen but turned their faces away repelled by the horror of what had happened. There was shock, mass confusion, people coming, people going, some yelling for help while others  stood calmly shaking their heads in disgust. He covered the body with a blanket and turned to the barkeep who was pushing his way through the thinning crowd into the opened doorway. He looked at Aiden Claremont in shocked disbelief.

“Alert the local authorities. I’m going after her.”  He told him.

The barkeep nodded frantically as Aiden Claremont pushed through the thinning crowd. He made his way downstairs and pushed open the two swinging doors of the saloon and stepped out onto the wooden walkway. From around the side of the Midnight Star came a rider on horseback, the female rider pulled rein directly in front of him some thirty feet away. She motioned towards Claremont’s own horse and he silently nodded releasing the reins from the hitching post, he mounted up and followed her down the alley behind the saloon. His eyes raised to the broken hotel window and began to scan the ground in front of them, he turned in his saddle to look at Cassidy Blaise. She shook her head no but said nothing.  Isabella had all but disappeared into thin air. She looked up at the broken window and then back at Aiden Claremont, her eyebrows arched in question. He shook his head no.

“He’s dead Cassidy, I was a half of a step too late to stop her.” He said.

“I know this much Aiden, you did wound her, but I’m afraid the rain has washed a lot of the trail that she left behind away. She was headed east though, that much I know for certain.” She gave him an inquisitive look. “So what now?  Do we go after her?”

He studied the alleyway for signs of movement.

“No. We’ll never catch her now anyways. lets get to the shipyards, Singh will be arriving from India anytime now. That and Constantine’s train will be here by morning. We need to fill them in on all of the Spawn’s recent activity. We’ll come back here at dawn to try and piece together a trail.”

He raised his eyes slowly toward the clouds searching through the dark rainy skyline.

“She won’t feed again tonight.”

He came walking down the gangplank somewhere around 10:30 PM, The only bags that Mahavir Singh carried with him contained a couple of changes of clothes, A Spencer Rifle, two Kaiken’s and a Talwar sword that was constantly by his side. Cassidy Blaise had almost not recognised him without his usual turbin wrapped around his head. This time his long black hair fell freely to his shoulders, his clothing, while still very much indian seemed have a western flair to them. He seemed much more at ease than before he left New Orleans for India almost a  year and a half ago. They watched in silence as his animal, a large black muscular stallion was being led down the gang plank from the ship. Mahavir Singh turned to face Aiden Clairemont and Cassidy Blaise. He slowly walked toward them removing his black leather gloves.

“So what news do we have of the darkspawn my friends?”

“Isabella Dragomir.” Aiden Clairemont explained. “She was here and has fed on a man at the Midnight Star Hotel and Saloon some five hours ago, she fled the scene but I don’t believe that she was alone.” He said.

Singh’s eyes narrowed in concern, his stare never leaving Aiden Clairemont.

“Koda Kahn perhaps?”

“Either him or  that savage Kojo, we can’t be certain which at the moment, we never made visual contact with her accomplice, we only saw her, but we know that there was someone else with her.”

He stepped forward extending his hand to Mahavir Singh who smiled broadly as he shook his hand.

“So where are we off to then my friend?” Singh asked.

“We have to meet Constantine’s train at the station, he should be arriving very soon, we have to update him before we resume of search for Isabella. we suspect that she may have headed east towards Stockton.”

Scratch/A.B.T. © Copyright 2022

Tales From The Lost Highway... One.. Murderer's Moon.

 

The black storm clouds rolled in around 5:30 pm in the late afternoon almost as if on cue, combined with the scorching desert temperatures it made the air hot and sticky. What little residents there were along highway 51 knew when they heard the familiar wail of police sirens that it was best to stay locked away indoors, for something bad was going down. there were three police cruisers roaring down the 51, a little over a half of a mile ahead of them was a black late model sedan, they had been chasing it for the past twenty miles. Inside the lead cruiser, the radio roared to life.

"Sherrif Hastings! the sedan was carjacked in Hadlerville two days ago, witnesses say the two suspects in the vehicle beat the owner over the head with the butt of a gun, they died from their injuries. Suspects are two Caucasian males believed to be connected to a string of robberies along the 51, suspects are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous approach with caution."

Sherrif Lloyd Hastings pressed the pursuit, but the sedan pulled farther ahead and when he breached the next hill he could see it almost a mile ahead as it almost rolled onto its side as it slid into the turn onto highway one. Hastings felt his heart sink, his foot eased off the gas pedal, the lead pursuit cruiser slowly rolled to a stop, blocking off the turn onto highway one. He slowly opened the driver's side door and stepped out of the vehicle. The other two pursuit cruisers screeched to a stop behind him, the officers almost leaping out of their cars.

"Sherrif Hastings! what did you stop for? They're going to get away!"

Hastings walked to the shoulder of highway one and bent down to scoop up a handful of dirt. He eyed it curiously as the hot desert breeze slowly blew it from his outstretched hand and moved it across the sun parched asphalt, he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving the desert horizon, he looked back at the three officers standing behind him.

"Our pursuit ends here." He told them.

They stood in shocked silence with looks of disbelief on their faces, one of them approached him almost cautiously. his eyes moving almost panicked back and forth between the sherrif and highway one.

"So that's it? because the turned here, they get away?"

Hastings removed his sunglasses and stared him straight in the eye.

"They didn't get away, son. those boys will be dead by morning, and we're never going to see that car again."

Dead End

When Martin Keller looked back from the passenger seat through the rear window, and he didn't see flashing lights or police cars, he breathed a sigh of relief. But his elation was short-lived as the car began to convulse around him, Jake Dixon cast him a startled look from the driver's seat, steam began to roll in from under the dashboard there was a loud bang and the vehicle lurched to a sudden stop, he aimed it for the shoulder as it slow rolled to a complete stop both men got out and studied the surrounding terrain, to the sides, desert, sand, rock and cactus. To the front and rear, scorching hot asphalt. The sun was sinking on the horizon, it would be dark sooner rather than later. They took everything they could carry from the car and began to walk the shoulder toward the sunset. 

 

The sun sunk lower and the darkness began to move in around them, Jake Dixon had been in the desert many times before, but there was somehow something different about this desert, the air moved different, it sounded different, it felt dark and foreboding, they had two flashlights, and ten extra batteries but even still they could barely see where they were going. they walked for what seemed like hours along the dark, deserted road, until Martin Keller put his hand on Jake Dixon's shoulder and nudged him.

"Jake? Is that a light up ahead?"

They hurried their pace and headed toward the source of the light, slowly a sign came into view: "Fester's Last Chance Filling Station." they moved up around the side of the run-down building.  A single dim light was on in what Jake Dixon assumed was the office, off to one side was an old beat up pickup truck, the tires were still holding air so they guessed that it was operational. Martin Keller opened the door quietly and checked the cab for keys, but found none. He looked at Jake Dixon and shook his head no, Dixon stepped up to the door of the dimly lit office. There was one older man inside who was sitting back in his chair with both feet propped up on the counter reading a book.  

"We ain't got no gas." His frosty light blue eyes raised to look at Jake Dixon. "But then again, we both know you ain't here for gas are ya Mr. Dixon?"

Jake Dixon took two steps backward while pulling the gun into full view.

"Do I know you, old man?"

"No, but we know all about you Jake, The first diner that you robbed on the 51on the other side of Hadlerville, you got away with $350.00 and shot three people dead. robbed two more stores along the way before you carjacked the sedan and beat the driver to death, you've always had a black heart Jake, and when we heard you were in the area we knew that you would end up here somehow. Oh, and by the way, the keys are above the driver's side visor."

Jake Dixon raised the weapon and without hesitation fired point-blank into the old man's chest, causing him to slowly sink back down in his chair.

"Bet you didn't see that coming, did you, old man?"

Martin Keller turned the key and the truck's engine fired up right away, Jake Dixon got in the passenger side as the spit dirt and dust up in the air getting out of the parking lot, as he looked back he was shocked to see the old man standing in the doorway unharmed as they sped away. they had no idea what was waiting for them. The stretch of highway one was long and dark the night air was hot and humid, with both windows down it still offered them no relief from the heat, the truck wouldn't seem to go above 50 mph. In the rearview mirror, something caught martin Keller's attention, two headlights coming on fast. it wasn't a police car.

They were still trying to figure out what was going on when the strange car slammed into the rear of the truck. Martin jerked on the wheel, trying desperately to maintain control of the truck. The car backed off but then sped up again and slammed into the driver's side of the bed of the truck, when it backed off and then hit them for the third time it forced the truck off of the road and sent them flying over the top of a sand dune, finally crashing into a large boulder. stunned both men staggered from the vehicle, Martin Keller hid behind the boulder while Jake Dixon headed out into the desert still dazed by the crash.

Martin could hear the sounds of the car coming back and stopping nearby. He heard the door open and then close, he heard the heavy footfalls walking through the sand up the side of the dune.  and cautiously peeked around the side of the boulder just as the tall dark imposing figure standing at the top of the dune. It made its way down toward the boulder, as Martin Keller watched and waited he slowly pulled his own gun free and held his breath as he trained it on the dark figure, when it moved into his line of sight he fired on it to no effect. The dark figure cocked its head to one side as Keller fired again.

He felt its cold hands wrap around his throat cutting off his air, lifting him off his feet, death cold fingers digging into his flesh collapsing around his Adam's apple ripping it out in one motion. Martin Keller stared blankly, his lips slowly turning a dark shade of crimson, his mouth made gurgling sounds as his body twitched in death throes. When he finally became still, the figure dropped his body and began tracking Jake Dixon's footsteps. he quickly closed distance, it could hear Dixon's frantic footsteps trying to run across the sand. He wheeled the gun around and fired directly at it.

"What the fuck are you, man??" He yelled, almost panic-stricken.

The moon had pulled free of the clouds as the dark figure stood over him then, now he could clearly see the black suit, the long white hair and the soft glowing blood-red eyes.

"My name is Xander Kraven Mr. Dixon, I am a denizen of a place you know as Hell, I am also a soul hunter, and I've come to take you home."

There was no one to see him suffer the very fate that a life dedicated to the pain and suffering of other people had made for him, no one saw him get the flesh ripped from his body, no one heard his screams, but a dark, silent empty desert.

Epilog.

It was 6:00 am when Sherrif Lloyd Hastings was driving by the turn onto Highway one, when something caught his eye just off of the shoulder of the road about twenty-five yards from the turn. he spun the cruiser around and turned onto the highway, there on the shoulder sat the still form of the black sedan that they had been chasing two days earlier. He trained the Maglite on the drag marks that led across  a trail leading out into the desert, curious, he followed it. Fifty yards in he found two bodies bound at the wrists hanging from a pair of large mesquite trees. On one of the bodies was a note written in blood that read:

"Born onto this earth, to lives of misery and pain, I free thee from these earthly bodies, and take thee home." 

~FIN~

~Scratch/Rantshack. A.B.T. copyright © 2022~ 

Twenty Years Gone.. (Complete)

 Cedar Creek National Forrest, Jackson County Wy.

October 17th 1997.

The hardest part about  the hunting season to some was choosing which part of Cedar Creek to venture into to  lock onto the trail of some whitetail deer which were in great abundance everywhere you went in Jackson County. For three friends the answer however was always the same, the deer in the section of the woodlands that the locals called the Vale  were somehow different, something always seemed to make them more skittish than the wildlife in other areas, they were extremely difficult to track, and even moreso to get a clean shot at.  For Michael Weston, Tommy Langley  and Matthew Warren that very challenge was what always brought them back there year after year.

They always came in seperate vehicles, met at the same spot along the same side of Franktown rd, each brought their own provisions, made their base camp in the same spot, every year like clockwork, they got at least one whitetail, every year.  This year however as soon as Michael Weston stepped out of his truck something felt different, the fog was thicker than usual, the chill in the air had more bite to it, and the Vale itself was extremely quiet and had a creepiness to it, almost too quiet, when he saw Tommy and Matthew's vehicles pull over to the shoulder of Franktown rd, he managed to push the uneasiness aside for a time.

 The three old friends exchanged warm greetings and began unloading their gear and getting ready to head for base camp, halfway down the trail the uneasiness returned, and Michael Weston could feel a knot forming in his stomach, he carefully studied Tommy Langley and Matthew Warren for any signs of discomfort, they both looked very relaxed and confident. They walked about three quarters of a mile back into where they would drop their gear, set up camp, and get ready to make the long trek back into the Vale to find some whitetail sign. As usual it seemed as though they had it all to themselves yet again. They were almost a mile from camp then they split up to look for deer sign, Matthew Warren stopped to look back at them, he raised his hand to wave at Michael Weston and Tommy Langley before turning and disappearing into the foggy woods.

Usually by the time they had gotten a couple of miles from base camp they would begin to at least see signs of deer, this time such was not to be the case, it was approximately one mile from where they had went in different directions when Michael Weston began to realize that there was something definitely off about today. The air drew even colder, the fog was more dense, below his feet he watched as it seemed to move in strange circles, he shouldered his weapon to study his surroundings for a time, he was getting a bad feeling and  had seen and felt enough when he finally turned back to the direction from which he came. He'd made it all of the way back to the three fork trail head when he heard Tommy Langley coming down one of the other trails, he had a similar look of confusion on his face  soon concern would replace the feeling of uneasiness. There, were no birds, no small game, no deer, no sound, no nothing only the air carried a strange feeling, every small move that they made seemed to echo out in every direction.

They'd waited almost an hour for Matthew Warren to return from the trail that he'd taken into the woods to look for deer sign, he never reappeared. They decided to both make their way down the west fork sticking together the whole time,  about a quarter of a mile in they began shouting Matthew Warren's name, there came no answer, now almost panic stricken they both began to hurry along the trail, almost a half of a mile in they found something that made their hearts sink. There resting in plain sight sat Matthew Warren's rifle resting up against a tree.  It hadn't been fired.  They began yelling his name again at a frantic pace, that odd echo returned and carried their voices out into the Vale in every direction, they strained against the silence to listen for his voice, there came no reply,  and then thirty feet from where his rifle sat, they found his supply pack, after that Matthew Warrens trail had abruptly ended, it was as if he'd disappeared into thin air, into the belly of the Vale.

"Matthew!! Matthew!! Matty?" 

They would search for another two hours before returning to Franktown road to seek aid. when they couldn't get a cell signal Michael Weston drove to a nearby ranger station while Tommy Langley returned to their base camp. When Michael Weston arrived at the ranger station there was only one ranger on duty, he began to frantically tell the entire story to ranger Aaron Jeffreyes upon hearing what Michael Weston had related to him he agreed to help search the area. Search and rescue was notified, ranger Aaron Jeffreyes  would follow Michael Weston back to the base camp, soon the woods would be crawling with people. The search would consume 14 days and 22 square miles. Matthew Warren had completely vanished into thin air.

Michael Weston and Tommy Langley would relive that horrible day for years on end, going over every second, everyday, they would talk about it on local radio interviews, they would go over it time and time again with the police, with search and rescue, they tormented themselves, wondered, often, what they could have done differently. There were people who came and went, over the years, that would point accusing fingers and attempt to cast suspicion on them, and under all the pressure and scrutiny they had stuck to their stories, Matthew Warren was nowhere to be found, and  when it was all said and done their friend that they had both known for most of their lives was gone, and as day passed into months, and months into years, it became painfully obvious that he wasn't coming back.

Friday, August 19th, 2022. 5:30 AM.

Along the stretch of highway 21 known as Iserling pass, there had been a total 57 car accidents over the past year, 40 of which that had resulted in fatalities. all caused by the strange swirling, dense fog that would roll out into the small valley from the Vale. It became of major importance to the men and women of the Jackson County highway patrol to be alert when traveling the pass at night. Officer Loren Jeffreyes had been on patrol for only three hours when he found himself on highway 21 heading into Iserling, thick woods lined either side of the pass when he'd reached mile marker thirteen. Two miles west of The Vale.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw something moving  and he instinctively slowed down and when the lone figure staggered out onto the highway ahead of him he jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes causing the cruiser to veer sideways.

Surprisingly he maintained control and  didn't roll it, shaken but unhurt he jumped out of the cruiser and grabbed his flashlight while drawing his firearm with his free hand. He slowly moved the light along the side of the road stopping on the shivering half naked figure of a man lying in the grass.

"Sweet Jesus. This is  Patrolman Loren Jeffreyes I'm just past mile marker 13 westbound on highway 21 two miles west of the Vale I need a ambulance and back up units at this location, we have a white caucasion male  down on the side of the road who may be injured, there may be a possible assailent nearby." 

 He moved slowly up next to the pale looking young man, and took his coat off and covered him with it, to the touch his skin seemed cold as ice. and Loren Jeffreyes found himself pulling away from him when he'd felt the small static electrical charge that ran across his cold pale skin, and although it had only started raining moments ago he was already soaking wet, and by the look in his eyes, was quite terrified. In the far distance through the cold rainy morning air he began to hear the familiar wail of sirens.

"Hang in there son, help is on the way."

The sirens drew closer and then he could see the first flashing lights coming around the western curve of highway 21, he knelt down beside the shivering young man, and when he saw his face clearly for the first time, he could feel his blood freezing in his own veins. Something familiar began to tug at him, and as the ambulance slowly rolled to a stop he began to remember something from his childhood, something almost forgotten. something his father often talked about, a cold case that he himself had taken an interest in, it had only been a week in fact since he had last looked at the pictures, He rose to his feet and returned to his cruiser,  Loren Jeffreyes watched as they loaded the young man into the ambulance, what he was thinking was firmly within the realm of the impossible, but he would have to re visit the file once again to be certain. He drove back to the station house his mind racing in every conceivable direction all at once.

He called Aaron Jeffreyes  who had long since became the chief of Cedar Creek highway patrol, and instructed him to meet him in the cold case room, it took him twenty minutes to reach the station, as soon as he walked in the front door Aaron Jeffries was waiting for him, he held his finger up hurrying down the long dark corridor with the Chief in tow, he turned on the lights, he went right to the folder, his father now puzzled appeared over his right shoulder.

"Dad? did you happen to hear the call that I radioed in?"

"Yeah you found an unidentified man on the side of the road." 

"No dad, he staggered into the road, I almost hit him, and he isn't just any man."

"No?"

"No.. We have to get to the hospital now."  He threw a picture from the file on the table in front of his father.  "The man I almost hit dad, is Matthew Warren."

"Loren- Matthew Warren has been missing since 1997 twenty five years can put a lot of age on a man son, how can you be sure it's him?"

He spun around on his heels the color had drained from his face.

"Dad, He looks exactly the same as he does in this picture, it looks like he hasn't aged a day."

They drove to Mercy General hospital together, each wrestling with their thoughts each in their own way, they discussed how they were going to get in touch with his family, and most importantly to Aaron Jeffries, he was going to need to locate the whereabouts of Michael Weston and Tommy Langley, Matthew Warren's  mother and father were now both deceased, He had one brother who had moved to Germany and a younger sister who moved back east, both Michael Weston and Tommy Langley as it turned out were still living in town. It didn't take long for Aaron Jeffries to find Michael Weston's number. He instructed him to find Tommy and meet them at the hospital. He didn't say why.

They entered through the emergency room the morning nurse listened to their story, she led them to the room where the young man was resting, she walked hurriedly ahead of them, her eyes darting every which way nervously, she pointed to room 213. The doctor approached the two officers, motioning them to the side.

"You're here for the young man that they found on the side of the road this morning?"

"Yes we are." Answered Loren Jeffries.

"That one is... Well... Complicated." 

"Complicated how exactly?"

"They tried treating him, as they were pulling into the emergency entrance, the whole ambulance lost power, since then, both paramedics were treated for high voltage electrical burns on both hands, and both have been complaining about severe headaches. HE, on the other hand hasn't spoken a word, he just lies there staring at the ceiling. no indentification, we have no idea who he is."

Loren Jeffries stepped forward.

"Well, we think we may be able to help in that regard."

Moments later the forms of Michael Weston and Tommy Langley appeared in the doorway Aaron Jeffries immediately recognized them, after they all exchanged greetings he took them to the side to talk to them in private. 

"First of all, thank you both for coming, instead of trying to explain the situation, to which I'm not even certain that I fully understand it, there's someone in room 213 that we need you to indentify for us. if you could both come with us, we can get this over with."

Loren Jeffries appeared beside his father he looked all three men up and down.

"The doctor says we can go into the room but only for a moment. if you will? this way gentlemen."

He walked over and opened the door to room 213 and held it, with some hesitancy Michael Weston and Tommy Langley cautiously entered the room. both men slowly approached the bed, and when they saw Matthew Warren they lost it.

"M.M.Matty? What in the hell?"

They both both exited the room in complete shock.

"What in the fuck is this? Where? How is this possible? He- looks exactly the same?"

Loren Jeffries sat them both down.

"I was on patrol this morning on highway 21. Two miles west of the Vale he appeared out of nowhere stumbled out in front of my car, I almost hit him. I wish I could explain this to you. But I can't, no one can, the only person who can give us any answers is lying in that bed, and he hasn't spoken a word."

Michael Weston's eyes were watering, Tommy Langley was outright crying. Twenty five years, their lives had gone on, they married, they raised their children, they aged, they grieved daily for the loss of their lifelong friend, they aged. He hadn't. 

 

In all the days immediately following the sudden appearence of Matthew Warren, he hadn't responded to anyone, in all of 14 days. He barely blinked, let alone spoke, and in all of those 14 days Michael Weston became a fixture at Mercy General hospital. Tommy Langley on the otherhand was a complete mess, it was too much for him to take, he would keep his distance, to which everyone understood, Michael Weston checked on Matthew Warren daily, he brought pictures of when they were all together, growing up, younger times, happier to be certain. He would sit for hours by Matthew Warrens bedside, talking to him, telling him about all of the things he'd missed. Filling in the gaps of an absent life void of any memories. He sat in a chair across from him, when his eyes became too heavy for him, he drifted off to sleep. He almost didn't hear the timid voice coming from across the room.

"Michael? you look like hell... Go home now... Get some rest."

Michael Weston sat upright in a start. his eyes were wide as saucers. he stared at him in disbelief.

"Matty? do you remember me?"

He stared up at him his eyes blinking slowly, and for the first time Michael Weston could see something was registering, he was still quite weak but now he was aware.

"Matty, wait- don't try to talk buddy, I'm going to get the doctor." 

Michael Weston to the staff at Mercy General hospital must have seemed to be a man who had taken leave of his senses. He was running down the hall yelling for the doctor, and when Dr. Samuel Taylor  heard him he tried desperately to calm him down, Michael Weston was almost crying then.

"Doc, you don't understand, he spoke to me. He remembered my name." 

They both quickly walked back to room 213, and when they went through the door Matthew Warren was sitting up in bed looking more alert than he'd ever been since his arrival. Doctor Taylor gave Michael Weston an uneasy look.

"Good evening, can you tell me your name?"

"Matthew Warren." He calmly replied.

"Mr. Warren? do you remember who this gentleman is?"

"Certainly, I've only know him my whole life, Michael.... Weston, is my best friend."

They would continue to talk for the better part of three hours, with Michael Weston careful not to mention anything about them being in the Vale, he tried delicately to tell him about everything that he'd missed without ever mentioning the date or time until Matthew Warren gave him a puzzled look, he rested his hand on top of Michael Weston's his eyes scaning his face, looking for unspoken clues.

"Michael... Something is different... You look older somehow... Your eye's Michael... They look... Troubled... They haven't aged well my friend... You're holding something back... I can feel It... How long Michael?  Tell me the truth... I deserve the truth... Don't I?"

"Matty... You don't remember anything?" 

"Bits and pieces mostly... Nothing clear though... How long Michael?"

He nervously looked around the room his eyes began to water.

"Matty... You've been missing for 25 years."

His face turned away from Michael Weston but showed no emotion. Dr. Samuel Taylor entered the room and nodded to Michael Weston. He stood and  looked back down at Matthew Warren.

"I'm going to go get some coffee Matty, but I'll be just down the hall if you need me."

Doctor Taylor smiled down at Matthew Warren.

"The nurse is going to give you a mild sedative to help you rest Mr. Warren. it won't hurt, and you'll sleep better."

He nodded. The nurse gave him the shot and minutes later his eyes began to softly flutter he closed them and softly drifted off to sleep. Michael Weston decided to go home and tend to some personal business and maybe get a couple of hours of sleep of his own. at least, that was the plan. He made it home and showered, ate dinner and decided to take a quick nap on the sofa, he drifted off to sleep until the phone rang at 2:30 am, the caller ID said incoming call from Doctor Samuel Taylor. Matthew Weston answered.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Weston? This is Doctor Taylor. Just letting you know, there has been an incident at Mercy General. it's Matthew Warren."

"I'll be right there."

He drove like a madman on his way to Mercy General hospital, he turned on his flashers when he saw Loren Jeffries pull out onto the highway. Jeffries moved in behind him and after seeing the emerncy flashers, turned on his siren to clear the way. They both pulled into the hospital  parking lot and jumped from their cars. Loren Jeffries gave him a nervous look.

Mathhew Warren?" 

He nodded.

They were met in the lobby by Dr. Samuel Taylor. All three walked down the hall making their way to room 213.

"I got the call one hour ago, the nurse heard screaming coming from Matthew Warren's room, when she got there the lights in the rooms around his began fluttering, he was floating five foot above his bed and the nurse said it looked like he was in the middle of an electrical storm."

They all walked up to room 213, Matthew Warren was once again lying in his bed, peacefully everything looked completely normal. Loren Jeffries turned to face Michael Weston.

"What in the hell happened to him?"

They watched with growing curiosity as the strange men in suits hovered around Matthew Warren's room, Loren Jeffries looked as puzzled as Michael Weston, nobody called in the FBI that they knew of, and the CIA wouldn't give two cents of a rats ass about Matthew Warren. Loren Jeffreyes approached the men slowly.

"Gentlemen? May I help you?"

One man looked him up and down.

"Probably not."

"This man is under quarentine, you need to leave this area immediately, unless of course the thought of being arrested somehow appeals to you."

They both turned toward the elevator. Michael Weston appeared over his shoulder.

"Badges?"

Loren shook his head no.

"No government ID's?"

Again no.

"Reporters?"

"More than likely."

They turned to room 213 inside Matthew Warren was stirring. They both drew in a deep breath when they saw the little blue sparks moving up and down his arms. He flenched against the restraints that the hospital had put into place to keep him securely on the bed. It was becoming more and more obvious that Matthew Warren was not the same person that he was before the hunting trip into the Vale. They both agreed that it would probably be the safest thing if neither of them went into the room for the time being. Michael Weston turned to face Loren Jeffries.

"Coffee then?"

He nodded his approval.

They went into the caffeteria and ordered two cups of black coffee. Loren Jeffreyes carefully thought about his first question for Michael Weston. They both sat at the table staring into their coffee cups.

"So, Michael, what do you remember about that day?"

He drew the cup to his lips.

"I've replayed that day out in my head over a billion times in the last 25 years, and the one place that my mind keeps going back to is the day itself. I should have listened to my gut, they would have followed my lead and none of this would have happened."

"What do you mean the day itself?"

"Everything was off, nothing felt right from the time I got out of my truck, It was quiet, too quiet, almost like death. No animals, no deer, no rabbits, no birds... No sound at all, It's always misty and foggy up there in the Vale, this mist or fog? It lay different, it moved different, like it was alive, hunting for prey on it's own. It didn't lay still, not like normal, it swirled in small circles like a snake, I headed right back to base camp, damn, I knew it was off, Tommy too. When Matty didn't show, we've talked about it a million times Tommy and me, we just knew in our hearts, he wasn't coming back out of the Vale. Can I share something with you Loren?"

Loren Jeffreyes leaned forward. nodding his approval.

"Matty didn't just... Disappear... Something took him that day... Something alive... Hiding in the Vale... That? that in there Loren? that isn't normal."

"When he spoke to you, Did he say that he'd remembered... Anything?"

"Nah, he said he remembered bits and pieces, his name. who he was, his mom and dad, normal shit, but what happened while he was... Missing? he was drawing a blank."

"Do you think he's holding something back Michael?"

"Nah man, not Matty, if he remembered anything he'd have told me so."

They concluded that perhaps it was something that was beyond anything that could be even remotely constrewed as normal, no, after everything they'd seen, if anything it was bordering on the paranormal, and on the days that followed it would only get worse. Until they decided to consult someone on the outside, they decided to call The Rymen Institute. Dr. Alice Rymen at 36 years old barely remembered hearing about the story of Matthew Warren, it wasn't until she was told that he was found alive that her brilliant hazel eyes would light up. She was a paranormal psychologist that came with glowing credentials, and when both Loren Jeffreyes and Michael Weston approached her with Matthew Warren's story, She agreed to meet with them.

The Rymen building wasn't as large as they thought it would be, in fact it was quite small, perhaps 5,000 square feet or so, a two story rather unassuming gray brick structure with a simple small sign in front. They entered through the double glass doors in front until they were greeted by the front receptionist, a tall skinny older woman with grayish blond hair staring at them through a pair of spectacles, she looked them up and down.

"May I help you gentlemen?" she asked.

"Officer Loren Jeffreyes, and Michael Weston, here to see Dr. Alice Rymen?" 

Behind them, she appeared through two heavey wooden double doors. She dressed casually her blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail, her eyes looking over her glasses moved between the receptionist and them.

"It's ok Doris, I've been expecting them."

She reached her hand out and ushered them both into her office. Right away Michael Weston found the whole scene oddly plain, it was a rather small room with beige walls, there was one plant by the door,  scant wall decorations, a small bookshelf and her desk, behind her the only thing that stood out was the degree hanging on the wall, the whole scene felt off somehow. He pushed his feelings aside and they told her the story of Matthew Warren, after which she agreed to go to the hospital with them to talk with him. They were met at the entrance to the corridor leading to room 213 by Dr. Taylor nodding them in the direction of the cafeteria. He turned to face them just inside the door.

"Matthew had another episode last night, we gave him a stronger sedative, it calmed him down but it didn't knock him out, he started talking in another language? Clicking noises mixed with words of somekind? Something that I've never heard before, it's the strangest thing that I have ever encountered. I can't explain it."

He paused slightly, the color leaving his face, Michael Weston gave him a concerned look. Dr. Taylor looked away for a second, before returning his full attention to the conversation. He leaned toward Michael Weston.

"I... I don't think it was human, we have to keep this in house, if the FBI gets ahold this, they'll take over this whole hospital."

They introduced him to Dr. Rymen who agreed to try to talk to Matthew Warren. It was just past 5:30 pm when they all returned to room 213, it was dimly lit when they entered, Matthew Warren lye still, staring at the ceiling in an almost trance like state. Unprovoked, when Dr. Alice Rymen sat down beside his bed he began to talk, it sounded like him, but at the same time there was something underneath, In his voice... Trying to reach out..

"We... Are... Not... Alone... Our... Vanity... Our Arrogance... Allows us to believe this lie... But... It... Isn't So. "

"Is someone here with us Matthew?"

"Not here... There...  In the Vale..."

"Matthew? October  17th, 1997...  Do you remember that day?"

Silence.

Matthew?"

"Yes... I'm walking down the trail looking for deer sign... It's starting to get colder... Everything I'm carrying is getting heavy... I set the gun down in the fork in the tree... Take off the pack... It helps a little but it's... still... so cold... It's so strange... There's no sound here... but... ohhh... I'm not alone... There's something moving... In the mist... I... I... can't see it... But it's there...  I want to run away... But I can't move... It's all around me now... lifting me up... off the ground... I'm floating... There's... Something above me... A... Light?  Yes... it's so bright... it's blinding me... I want to scream for help... but it won't let me... There's a voice... I can't... See where it's coming from... It's telling me not to be afraid... It tells me.. I'm not the first..."

His head began to turn from side to side his eyes were wide open, dancing around the room.

"Matthew? Where are they taking you?"

"I... I... Don't know... It's black now... I feel tired... So... Tired... Like... I want to sleep... But my eyes won't close... Time... has passed now... Too much time... I can the light again... It's different somehow... Getting brighter... I can see now... I'm in some kind of huge room... There are other people here... Hanging Above me... Some below... they are... lying down... On air... Floating... Like me...Ten... Maybe... Twenty... There's someone standing over me now... They're... Holding my eyelids open..... There's a machine... Scanning my body... I... See things... In my mind... It's them I think... They're dying... They've come here to study us... To harvest our DNA... They need it to save their race... No... I wasn't suppose to see this..."

His head started to swing back and forth slowly, his syelids tightly closed then. Dr. Alice Ryman reached out and held his hand.. he slowly became relaxed and calm again. 

"Matthew? what do you see now?"

"It's showing me things... But... Not from their past... From ours... There are explosions... Wars... So much... Blood... So much pain... Needless suffering... The voice is in my head again... It says... We... Don't... Matter..."

"We don't matter Matthew?"

"No."

"To Them?"

"To us.."

"I don't understand."

"We don't matter to each other... Instead of trying to understand that which we don't... We... Destroy... They pity us... We've lost... touch with what's most important..."

"Matthew?"

"Our humanity... If we don't care if we live or die... Why should they?"

The room fell into a dark uncomfortable silence, the voice that they were hearing was indeed Matthew Warren's, but it carried with it an ominous almost alien tone, he spoke in an almost trance like state recounting the events of October, 17th 1997. It chilled everyone present to the bone, in all of the recounting he never once uttered the word "alien" He fell into a restful sleep, Dr. Alice Rymen rose to her feet, obviously shaken, she turned toward the others. She looked back down at Matthew Warren.

"That was real." She said.

Loren Jeffreyes and Michael Weston both walked up  beside her.

"Ok. that sounded like Matty, but at the same time, it didn't, was anybody else feeling like there was a slight echo to his voice?" Michael Weston asked.

Loren Jeffreyes interjected into the conversation.

"Yeah almost like someone, or something was talking through him at the same time he was talking."

Dr. Samuel Taylor slowly stood. 

"I need a drink."

They all left room 213... Both Dr. Sam and Rymen decided to compare notes over drinks while Officer Loren Jeffreyes returned to the station house with Michael Weston in tow. They sat in the parking lot giving everything that they'd witnessed a going over. they tried to make sense of the small electrical sparks that moved up and down Matthew's arms... The only conclusion that they could reach was that there was no logical explanation for what they had seen,  or had witnessed. Michael Weston tried to go back over every little detail and that day back in October of 1997.

"So, there was nothing?"

"Nothing."

"You said that you remembered the fog moving in circles?"

"Yeah that whole thing with fog man, weird, there was no breeze or anything, it was like it was moving independently. almost at will."

"But no lights, no electrical storm.?"

"Nothing but fog, but now that I think about it, there was the whole temperature thing."

"Temperature thing?"

"Yeah, every time we've been up to the Vale?  The weather is just freaky up there, it always has been, there 's an old saying amongst the old time hunters who go up there, if you don't like the weather in the Vale? wait five minutes, it'll change."

"Irratic?"

"Yeah, very, but that day? it was way off, high cloud cover, low laying fog belt, but it didn't hang in the valley like usual,  it rose up through the trees up into the upper elevations... And the temperature dropped dramatically, it got so cald, so fast, you could see your breath. when we followed the path that Matty took it was even colder there. No thunder, no lights... No sound... Only that cold ass fog." 

Sunday, September 4th, 2022, 3:45 am.

He stood silently watching from the dark doorway, waiting, contemplating, he waited untill he knew that the nightshift nurses were on their rounds and he moved along the wall up to the Janitors closet, he slipped inside, there was a pair of sneakers that fit and some coveralls, he took off the hospital gown and put them on and baseball cap that he found hanging on the back of the door, he took it  and slipped into the nurses station and took some paper and a pen and envelope. he slipped into the bathroom to write a quick message to Michael Weston,  He wrote the name on the front of the envelope and took it back to his room, he placed it on the pillow and waited until he had an opening. He knew the nurses wouldn't be checking on him for another 30 minutes or so. when the hallway cleared again he went to the stairwell, he had another 27 minutes before the nurses would know he was gone. At 4:16 am, Matthew Warren walked out the front door of Mercy General Hospital. The restraints were still attached to his bed.

Dr. Samuel Taylor was notified as soon as they discovered Matthew Warren was missing. They called Aaron Jeffreyes who had sent everyone in a cruiser out to find him. Doctor Taylor himself called Michael Weston. he walked in  forty minutes later. Dr. Taylor greeted him as he got off of the elevator. 

"Michael, thanks for coming down."

"What happened?"

"He somehow got loose from his restaints, they're still attached to the bed, he waited until he knew the night nurses were on their rounds , he stole some coveralls from the janitors closet with some shoes, The camera shows him walking out the front door about an hour ago. he left this for you, I didn't read it."

Michael Weston took a deep breath.  

"He always was the more resourceful one of our group of friends."

he opened the envelope.

Michael,

In a perfect life, a better time, I suppose I could work my way back into having something that would resemble a normal life here. But my friend, as much as I would have enjoyed that fairytale ending I think that we both know that it could never be. My time here has passed, and now it is time for me to face my new truth, I no longer have a place here in this time, I am a relic from the past, and to the past I must return. Don't bother with searching, they won't find me. They are waiting..  I'm going home now, please know Michael, I have always been, and shall always be honored to call you my friend.

Love and respect.. 

Matthew. 

Loren Jeffreyes appeared at his side.

"Any ideas where he might have gone?"

"How did he get loose? Not only from his restraints but from them?"

"You have any theories Michael?"

"I think they let Matty loose, to come back here, to warn us, we the people are our own worst enemies. and we'd better be getting our shit together, sooner rather than later. Call off the search Loren."

"Do you think Matthew is headed back to the Vale?" He asked.

"Matty went home."  

They stared out the dark window at the vast mountain tops known as the Vale, they watched for a time as the strange glowing appeared and then slowly grew more distant before fading into nothing.

~Fin~

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