by M. J. Sewall
Ehrhardt was glad to be onto another subject. “I would kill for a long shower. What movie will you watch?”
Derek laughed. “Strange. I wish you could still just go rent a movie, just stop at a rental store like years ago. I have the strangest desire to watch an old movie.”
“Which one?” the elder brother asked.
Derek shook his head at his own silly impulse, “Tarzan.”
CHAPTER NINE - JOHN
John Billings got off the train in Santa Helena. Like most train stations nowadays, it was in a rundown part of town, even in the affluent seaside town. Seeing the glittering city from the coast side, it was stunning at any time of day. The multi-million dollar estates climbed up the mountains, the entire city resembling a large half-circle, nestled between the tall mountains and the ocean.
Despite the city’s splendor, the trains were deeply unreliable. He had arrived at the station a full two hours late. The train was supposed to continue to the next stop, Sea Valley, within the half hour, but John was dubious.
He stretched his legs, walking off the train to the smell of fresh air mixed with salty sea. He rubbed his dark, shaved head. He looked around at the fellow passengers milling about, most of them white. He wondered what the black population was in this area. Not being noticed was his best talent, so he promised himself to look it up on his phone. He couldn’t afford to stand out as he searched for the teens.
The flashes were getting more frequent now, but their meaning was still unclear. He feared stretching out his mind too far. Anyone could be catching flashes. He only hoped they were correct. A true breakout, thought John. So many false leads these days, and no one left to interpret them. The Amartus numbers had grown so small, fewer re-births each cycle. And John feared the same was not happening to the other side, the Rageto. Their elders always seemed so much stronger, always recruiting, cycle after cycle.
In the small train station waiting room, John glanced over the wall display of tourist brochures to help allay his worries. ‘Santa Helena, The American Riviera’ caught his eye. He smiled to himself. Naming yourself America’s Riviera seemed overly pretentious. But he was headed north, away from this Riviera by the sea. The place he was drawn to was fifty miles north, and divorced from the ocean a few miles inland. Sea Valley was a quiet workman’s town. Probably no glitz there, and hopefully he would find the teens quickly.
John opened his own mental cabinet, just a touch. It was dangerous, with the Rageto surely on the same trail. Plus, John was not the best finder. All the real finders were gone. Both his Amartus side and their Rageto side were just fumbling around in the dark now, hoping for the great River to deposit gifts.
He would have to find a connection outside the struggle, confer with the Sect. His last contact in the City of Commerce had told him of a small shop in Sea Valley. The Sect’s old habit of keeping agents in smaller towns continued. John glanced toward the horizon of the north. It was full dark now, the electrical haze lighting just the outlines of the hills and small mountains ahead.
He had no flashes. John opened his cabinet wider and looked to the north again. The breath caught in his throat at the bright green glow that hovered over his destination. John thought, what’s coming is big.
This was not just one or two teens he was looking for. This was the biggest breakout that John had ever been close to.
I can’t be the only one that will see that. A new birth? Even one could change everything.
John rushed onto the train, hoping for no delays. Mostly, he hoped he was not too late.
An hour later, John walked off the train into the night just as it was finally cooling off. He had his checked bag in his hand. The train left, and he was alone. The small unmanned train kiosk stood silent in the dark, lit only with a few lights.
He could hear the ocean, but could barely see it; this part of California was ruled by fog and a thick marine layer. He kept his back to the water, letting the power of the sea crash into his ears. It helped steel him for the dangerous work ahead. He bent down and retrieved his sheathed short sword from the bag, strapping it to his back. He ditched the empty bag in the nearby trash can. John breathed the sea air, then abandoned the ocean and walked toward the city.
John passed miles of farm land, nestled between the ocean and Sea Valley. The rows of cabbages and flower fields made the walk pleasant. From this close, the glow over the city was stunning. John wondered if anyone from the Rageto had shown up yet. He locked his mental closet, and the glow disappeared. It was too dangerous to leave his thoughts wide open. John would find these teens with stealth.
The route from the ocean was not the main way into the city. Highway 1 ran through Sea Valley, the older main highway of California. It was the first major auto vein, during the time of ‘kicks on route 66’ elsewhere in the country. Tucked away, some twenty miles from the main California Highway 101, Sea Valley was a very unlikely spot for a breakout. But John understood there was no second guessing the great River.
Using his smart phone, he found the address for the small shop. Sea Valley was laid out on a grid pattern like most cities built after the 1880s. Urban planning was the norm, so it was very easy to find his way around. John thought back through many lifetimes, remembering cobbled streets and winding roads. He allowed himself a little smile at the wonders of the modern world.
John’s main talent was his ability to hide from other finders, to be invisible. He needed help to search for the warriors, especially if one or more was a new birth. The Sect is my best shot.
The small building had only one old, yellow exterior light illuminating the entry way. A one story structure, with decayed California stucco, the faded painted sign read “Bird’s Eye Television Repair.” Old junk and ancient televisions were stacked haphazardly in dusty piles along the wall leading to the door.
John smiled, knowing that the residents must drive by every day and either not notice the business, or wonder how they could still be in business at all. There were rusty bars on the windows, all the glass blacked out. He knocked on the plain door.
No one came, so John knocked louder. There were rustling noises inside the small shop before a muffled voice said, “It’s nine o’clock. We’re closed. Especially to strangers in hoodies.”
John put down the hood of his sweatshirt and used a phone app to draw a symbol with his finger.
It looked like a spiral.
He held the image up to the peep hole in the door. He heard more shuffling sounds and the door swung open. A large man filled the doorway, peeking around John. Sure that no one else was with John, the giant man with the bushy beard ushered him inside. Both inside, the man replaced the heavy wood bar across the door.
The man shook hands. John felt like his hand was being swallowed by the man’s enormous paw. “Name’s Pete.”
“John.”
“Sorry I was leery. We’ve got a drug and homeless problem in this part of town. Never a good knock after dark, you know?”
John smiled, “I thought it was a black man in a hoodie kind of thing.”
“Never that,” said Pete, “This is a very diverse part of California. Who has time for racial nonsense? It’s the twenty first century. I just wasn’t expecting anyone so soon.”
“What made you expect anyone at all? Does the Sect know what’s happening here?”
Pete said, “We’re still outside the struggle, playing referee between the Amartus and the Rageto. The Sect is made up of us ordinary folk, what one side calls ‘inferiors.’ I won’t say which side.”
John laughed at the jab toward the Rageto.
Pete scratched his head. “We monitor a lot of activity with the Rageto Elders and their agents. Two agents are headed this direction right now. Makes sense you Amartus are in these parts too. We don’t know what they’re looking for yet. My bet is on a relic. Can you enlighten us?”
John nodded. “I’m here because I felt a breakout was happening. Maybe they got the same idea.”
“
You mean somewhere on the Central Coast?” asked Pete.
John shook his head. “No, I mean right here, in this city. I’m sure of that.”
“That’s a troubling coincidence,” said Pete, “Come with me.”
John followed the man to a set of stairs leading down. He noted how Pete’s head barely missed the ceiling. “I didn’t know you had any cellars in California.”
“Cellars? That dates you a bit. We call them basements, and you’re right, no one has basements in California. Earthquakes and basements don’t go together. This one was built special. The walls and floor are lined with lead, nearly a foot thick, and two feet of concrete around that.”
“Lead?” John looked closely at the walls, “Is this a station?”
“Yep,” They arrived at a metal door. “What’s your warrior name, John?” Pete asked, unlocking three separate locks.
“Pentoss,” replied John.
Pete stopped, “The legendary Pentoss in my place? I’ve read some Sect histories about your exploits. You’ve been around a long time.”
“In one body or another,” said John, “Happily, no one’s given me a true death. But the Rageto keep trying.”
“The Sect is neutral.” Pete whispered, “but off the record, I hate those Rageto jerks.”
The lights came on automatically. They walked down a staircase into a large room. In one corner, Pete pulled a thick blanket to reveal a clear plastic bookcase full of ancient books. The bookcase was enclosed in its own thick plastic case.
Pete said, “It’s locked and temperature controlled. What you’re looking at are many important spell books the Rageto elders would love to get their hands on again.”
John smiled, “Glad you’re leaning a bit toward us good guys.”
“I speak only for myself. Your side has done things we’ve disagreed with. But it’s clear to see who has the better intent. The Amartus don’t want to enslave anyone, at least.”
“No,” John said grimly, “But it’s very troubling that these books are in this area at the same time a major breakout is happening.”
“I take it you don’t believe in coincidence.”
John asked, “Do you? Sometimes it feels like the River has some crazy plans. Other times it feels like it’s screwing with us for fun. Is that Egyptian papyrus?”
“Yes. An early Egyptian Book of the Dead.” Pete pointed, “that scroll contains a part of Lord Joland’s Thirteen Principles, with hand written spells. There is the Demonis Codex. We also have both volumes of the Xemaricon Journal.”
“Why not just destroy them? I’ve never understood why the Sect keeps them.”
“Balance. You’ve been around a while, Pentoss. The same awareness of the River that brought you here is shared in some way by all the ancients, warriors, and elders on both sides. To destroy these works would release this knowledge back into the consciousness of the River. Imagine a renaissance of books being written like these. A new flood of dark knowledge being rediscovered, flowing through the imaginations of Rageto elders. No one would consciously know why these ideas were coming to them, but they would slowly make it back into the world all the same. We keep these secrets safely out of play.”
An icy hand touched John’s spine at the idea. “But the Sect is made of, no offense, regular humans. You don’t feel the connection to the river.”
“Yes and no,” said Pete, “’Normal’ minds are less in tune with the River. The Sect learns what it knows from traditional methods. We read books, do the leg work, pass down knowledge. The Sect might not have the mastery of instinct that you Amartus have, or the ability to use magic like the Rageto, but many can tap into the continuum of the River. Nostradamus was human, Einstein was human. Stephen Hawking is human. They all have understanding, a connection to the River.”
John said, “I see your point. I suppose all humanity is touched by the River somehow. Sorry, I was never much of a theologian. How long do these books stay in each station?”
“Well, I could tell you that, but then I’d have to kill you,” John noticed Pete’s giant size again. Pete smiled, “Just kidding… well, kind of. The length of stay varies at each station. It’s the only way to keep the knowledge safe. The number and location of the stations will remain the Sect’s secret, Pentoss. Do you prefer I call you John?”
“John is fine. I’ve had this current life a while now.”
Pete said, “John it is. Amartus numbers aren’t what they used to be. Too many true deaths in recent years.”
John knew firsthand how right Pete was about their dwindling numbers. He changed the subject, “Have you added to your collection recently?”
“Not for a few years,” Pete said, looking back at the books, “We found the nest of the people suspected for some bad disasters. The Sect stole fifteen books from that elder in Italy. I don’t think he’s very happy with us. But our crown jewel is this.”
He handed John lead lined gloves. “You’ll want to wear these. One of your kind touching this could open a window. Someone might get a flash of where these books are.”
John took the gloves, “They’re that sensitive?”
Pete said, “Yep. Since the elder owned some of these books, touched them, used them, he has a pretty strong bond. We’ve removed most of the connection, but if he sees a flash of you handling the book. Well, I have enough problems, thanks.” Pete opened the case and put on his own gloves before bringing out the book.
John stared, “Is that really a copy of…”
“Yes, it’s a “Vitaeizicon. The legend of this book was what inspired Lovecraft to invent his Necronomicon. This book has many spells, and many tricks. Most of them concern death. There is also a spell to make relics.”
The book was clearly centuries old, with a thick animal hide binding. An intricate silver metalwork covered the book, and the back was more elaborate than the front, almost like a metal sculpture woven into the binding. John guessed it was a dark puzzle that no one should ever solve. He did not want to touch it. Pete put the book away and locked the case.
“Why did you show me that book?” John asked.
Pete took off his special gloves. “To show you what’s at stake. If this is a true breakout, they will be coming for the young warriors. When will the rest of your team arrive?”
John shook his head.
“Just you? I assume you’re not kidding.” Pete paused a moment, “Let’s just hope the young ones will be on your side. I say that as an objective observer, or course. I’ll ask my Sect brothers if we can speed up the station transfer. The books must stay at least three more days, no matter what. The Sect isn’t as big as it used to be, either.”
John understood. “Then I guess I’ll have to fight whoever is coming on my own and activate the warriors as fast as I can.”
Pete shook his head, “I’ve gotta get an easier job.”
***
The Witness shifted again in the back seat, but no position was comfortable. He stared out the window as they headed further north on the 101 freeway. They had driven through Saint Helena, and were now driving parallel with the dark coastline. To their left, the sea. Ahead, a series of cities further north that made up the Central Coast of California.
Don’t they see that? Even they can’t be that blind, thought the Witness. He stared at the intense green glow over the tall hills. At that moment, a flash came into his mind.
“What is it?” asked Ehrhardt, who was now driving. “You felt something, didn’t you?”
“No,” he instinctively lied, “Maybe. A flash of an old book.” He ignored the glow coming from the horizon, and hoped the book would be enough of a distraction for them.
“What book?” asked Derek.
This time the Witness told the truth, “I don’t know. It was only a fragment. A metal binding. A word. Vitz… nomicon, something like that.”
“The Necronomicon?” asked Derek, excited.
Ehrhardt said, “I keep telling you that book doesn’t exist. It was made up.�
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Derek protested, “But, I’ve seen…”
Ehrhardt cut him off, “You’ve seen silly books of pretend spells in shiny new book stores, people who created a hoax. You will find no actual spell books in a Barnes & Noble. Which way, Witness?”
He wanted to lie. But the last three times they had punished too many innocent people. “There, turn there.”
The highway sign read “Hwy 1, Sea Valley 17, Camp Cooke Army Base 23.”
Ehrhardt asked, “Brother, is Sea Valley on the blue and white sports list?”
Derek consulted his notes, “Why, yes brother. Yes, it is. I think we found them.”
They left the 101 and took the exit. The winding road headed west, leading straight into Sea Valley. The Witness kept his head down, but his eyes on the bright glow. It is a true breakout. Please let them find this book instead of the warriors.
CHAPTER TEN - LAST SHIFT
It was 9:50, ten minutes to closing time at Ocean Burgers. Their training had told them when customers walk in near closing, even one minute before, they were to be treated like any other customers of the day.
The girl behind the counter smiled as three men entered, secretly hoping it was a takeout order. Her smile wavered when the man spoke. It wasn’t his German accent, but something else about him that unnerved her.
Zacke was in the back room, filling the mop bucket. He’d gotten better at keeping his random flashes in check. His mental sphere was nearly welded shut when he was at work. A strong flash came anyway.
He wondered if it was that Cody kid again. He’d wanted to approach him at school, but still couldn’t figure out how to do it. Hey, you hear other people’s thoughts, too? Hey, are you a weirdo like me? There was just no easy way to handle it. No, this flash was of three men.
Zacke wheeled the mop bucket out, along with the bright yellow sign with the falling stick man, demonstrating what could happen if you slipped.
