The Serpent League

by Brendan Walsh

  “That’s all the questions for now. Thank you all for coming.” He began to raise it as he waved with his unbroken arm.

  “One second if you please, Mr. President.” An older looked female reporter squirmed to the front of the crowd.

  Gregory Gear nodded to his secret service agents compliantly. They backed away from him. “Fine. One more. Go ahead, madam.”

  She paused for a moment, providing more dramatic ambiance with just a few blinks of her eyes. “Many people are now saying that we’ve been wrong about the Raven Gang all along. That those kids: Patrick Buchanan, Gary Frost, Johnny Mars, and Slate Kilroy are all just hapless vigilantes thrust into the light to mask what’s really going on here.”

  The president had nearly gone all the way back to his podium, taken in by the first intelligent reporter of the night.

  “I assume you are referring to the several witnesses of the National Association of Scientists gala that occurred a few days ago.”

  “That’s correct.”

  He tightened his lips. “I am informed that authorities are still largely in the dark about many details. Some witnesses claimed to have seen strange huge animals thrashing around inside the building. That claim probably has degrees of validity because it wasn’t just me that saw the…. bird save me.”

  The reporter wrote furiously on her pad. “What about the disappearance of Samuel Elder? And the belief that he was involved in the gala attack and the death of his friend Jefferson Black?”

  “The findings are inconclusive so far. The man has seemingly gone off the grid so he is surely hiding something. Whether or not the Raven Gang and Elder are working together or if they are on opposite sides still remains to be seen.”

  She nodded, satisfied with all she had catalogued from the president’s answer.

  “Thank you, sir.” She gave an ominous smile. There was something unnerving about the woman’s looks. She looked to be pushing 50, and her eyes were unyielding, merciless. Whatever job it was that she had as a reporter, she had clearly not minded leaving others in the dust.

  He didn’t want to stare at her any longer for fear of being turned into stone.

  “Thank you, all.” The president smiled. “That’s all the time I have for today. Have a good night.”

  The buzzing of the mesh of voices dissolving away relaxed President Gear. His secret service agents were silent as he got back into his black limo and drove back home.

  The first thing he wanted to do when he got back to the White House was to take a handful of sleeping pills. He couldn’t sleep without them in light of current events. Crises in the Middle East and the vanishing middle class were not even at the top of his mind.

  That spot was reserved for the Raven Gang.

  He was probably one of the only people on earth who was aware of the multi-species group’s true purpose. He recognized now that they had shown selfless bravery under threat of death many times, and have never failed to do what they tasked themselves with. That’s why at night, only a few days prior, he was willing to give them a vital piece of information they needed.

  Not many people knew about the dreadful contents of that thick envelope. It was during a dark time, and the heads of the organizations were ashamed that they even considered the mad doctor’s proposal those years ago. But who knew his prideful endeavors would bear such tempting fruit? Either way, it was deplorable, and he was glad there were people out there willing to work under the radar to make sure no information like this ever got out.

  His bedroom was unoccupied for the night. His wife was out gallivanting with several men and women of the Virginia senate, so he was left alone to his own devices for the night. With a quick gulp of sleeping pills and an uncertain, glazed look at himself in the dressing room mirror, he approached the bed hoping to get at least six hours of sleep.

  But there was no chance of that. Before he could lay a finger on a fluffy comforter a thunderous bellow of massive wings hovered over the house. He jittered at the quaking the massive animal caused to his room. He lunged for a nearby golf club ready to strike. The giant beast, whatever it was, was gone as soon as it had arrived. The only evidence it had been there at all came in the form of an innocent envelope slipped between the crack of his window.

  He hesitantly approached, wary of a possible ambush by whatever monster his nemesis had conjured up this time. His fears were sated when he saw the outline of some enormous winged creature through the reflection of the moon already miles away from him.

  With an unsteady hand, he tore the envelope open. Its only content was a small typewritten note. It was a short message, but its weight was heavy enough to sink Gear’s heart.

  Dear kind President, you are a fool if you believe I am not wise to your meeting with the gang. They paid you no more visits afterwards which leads me to believe you gave them what they wanted, and that could only have been one thing. I know what it is. You may have rejected me before but my mission will come to pass. And once the big hand tocks its first chime, you and all politicians will scrap for food in order to survive.

  Best Wishes,

  S. Elder.

  He felt the note drop to his lap and then to the floor as he slowly rose from his warm bed and faced the window. If what Elder wrote was true, the beautiful view he had of the mundane world of Washington D.C. would no longer exist. Leaders like him would be a thing in the past. Because one cannot be a leader if there is no one to lead.

  “God,” the President said softly. “if you’re out there watching over us, you need to stop this man.”

  2

  Insomnia

  The materialization of several large figures back into the solid universe created an obstruction in the cool basement. It was an action that required more energy than most economies could produce. But for some reason, that supernatural amount of power could be generated by two old pocket watches.

  Patrick and the others inhaled breaths of fresh air as they planted their feet back at the base, and happily released. Every attempt of that maneuver was a danger to themselves. Their ignorance as to how the remarkable machines worked would likely one day send them into some matter-less infinite void, as far as they knew. They were more than thankful each time they realized they were still on earth.

  The two that hadn’t joined the mission, Gary and Johnny, approached them with satisfaction.

  “You know one of these times you guys are going to vanish and reappear in Zimbabwe or the south pole?” Johnny asked as he gave his partners each a high-five.

  Edgar was the first Gary greeted. He gave him a quick pat on the head and accepted everyone else’s greeting. “You guys got it? Is everything in there?”

  “I think so.” Lindsey handed the heavy envelope to Gary, who gave the front page a quick read. “That was all that the safe had. I’m thinking that if we want to put all the dirt on Elder once and for all, this is how we’re going to do it.”

  “This looks like it could be damning.” Gary sealed the envelope back and tucked it under his arm. “Here’s what I’m thinking: give Johnny and I about an hour to go through this stuff and connect it with what we’ve been putting together so far. At midnight, we’ll call you guys into the main room.”

  “Great.” Lindsey and Slate said in unison.

  Patrick smiled and started towards his room. “If things work out for us, we will be done as the Raven Gang and we can get back to our boring lives.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll make you all something for lunch.” Johnny said. “Since we’ve all mostly been active at night, I figure it’s probably healthier to make our metabolisms aware of it.”

  “Fine by me.” Patrick’s tongue washed over his front teeth. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in days. What do we have?”

  “We got some stuff I can put on the grill down here. The normal stuff like chicken strips, burgers, bacon-”

  “Did you see any portobellos or anything like that in the kitchen?” Gary interrupted.

  Johnny blinked twice.
“Uh yeah, I think I did. Why?”

  “I’m a vegetarian.” Gary said plainly.

  “How didn’t I see that coming?” Lindsey remarked.

  Patrick laughed and put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “You know what, put me down for a portobello sandwich as well. I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

  “That’s not food!” Johnny protested.

  “Make that three.” Jane added with mirth.

  “Alright. If anyone needs me, I’m going to be busy in the kitchen. Just so you guys know, tips are very much appreciated at Cucina Johnny!”

  Everyone gave some kind of grateful laugh before heading back to their own section of what had become their new base of operations.

  The new hideout of theirs was way more expansive than their former wooden cabin in the woods of middle California even including the secret laboratory below ground. Their current base was the basement of the Bronstrom building, the building that held the scientist gala a few days prior where they stopped hordes of Elder’s creatures from escaping and taking over who knows how much of the country. Though the ending of the battle was mostly inconclusive, the basement of the building had been as apt as they could wish for. With the president gracing them with privilege to continue secretly working, being heroes had never been so easy.

  But they were most thankful for showers and washing machines. The cabin had on old bathroom beneath, but this one accounted for the number of people inhabiting the basement. For laundry, the only clothes they had with them were the small amount they had on themselves when they were abducted to Washington. That was the simple black sweats and shirts with purple pinstripes lining the sides. They were comfortable and sufficient for their needs, which involved a lot of running away and jumping. Anything else was stolen with Edgar’s help from local department stores, like winter coats and anything with long sleeves that would keep them warm from an east coast winter.

  And one of their outings included a small raid from a blood donation stand for sustenance for their non-human friend. It was conveniently located right outside a target where they were looting several large bedsheets for Edgar because he had recently become obsessed with warm things.

  Patrick retired himself to his cubby of a room. It didn’t have any room for a bed or a desk, but there was enough for a lump of sheets to rest his head on. Besides the simple rooms, there was a generous bathroom. After pulling his denim jacket off his shoulders and tossing it to the pile of laundry under his coats, he turned for the bathroom to wash his face. Some of the dust from the old library books got stuck in his eyes.

  He flushed on the faucet, cupping his hands full of water. It didn’t provide much hot water for his cold face. He didn’t expect anything else from the rusty basement of a building that was closed for most of the year, save for pompous scientists. It helped him stay awake. Since most of the gang’s outings were in the dusky hours, he sometimes needed any force he could to keep his mind sharp.

  In reaching for a paper towel to dry his eyes, Patrick caught a half-dead figure staring back at him in the mirror.

  The cold water nearly started to steam from his horror.

  Whoever’s zombie-fied carcass was on the other side of the wall was unrecognizable. Its eyes, nose and any open hole on his skin was sloshing out blood. With trembling palms, it grabbed for the corners of the mirror, its fingers stretching for the border between some undead realm and Patrick’s reality.

  But before the strains could crack revealing a fray of rotting fingers, its rigor mortified mouth cracked and snap with each inch it opened, mouthing one name over and over.

  “Patrick,” its tongue slithered out between its shriveled lips. “Patrick…Patrick...”

  “Patrick!” a feminine voice screamed behind him.

  He caught himself on the edge of the sink, his clammy palms nearly unable to get a grip. His knees locked on command, and Patrick was able to revolve himself. Lindsey and Slate was stopped at the door, confusion worn on their faces.

  “We’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute.” Lindsey stepped inside. “What’s wrong?”

  Patrick gave himself a few seconds to calm his lungs. “I, well,” he huffed. “It happened again.”

  His two friends eyed each other, unsure what to say.

  “It’s been getting worse. I don’t know what is going on with me.”

  “Do you think your using of the watch to teleport has worsened your condition?” Slate asked.

  Patrick coughed. He stumbled over to the wall and sat against it with defeat. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. All I know is that it’s gotten worse since the battle upstairs.”

  He looked up at his friends. He was now slumped in a sitting position, his eyes weary.

  “I was dying, you guys.” His voice was coarse. “I died in the battle.” Looking away from his friends and the unkempt shelves with cleaning supplies, he continued. “When I was fencing with Elder he stabbed me in the back. Literally. I saw the point of his sword go through my chest, and I was sent into another one of my dreams.”

  “You…you didn’t tell us that before.” Lindsey slumped down next to him.

  “The dream was of my father. I confronted him about the things Elder claims he was involved with, but all he told me was that everything would come out in the end. The truth would surface soon.”

  “Maybe you should sit the next mission out. Your well-being is the biggest priority now.”

  Patrick gave a crooked smile. “You make it sound like I’m crazy.”

  They both stared at him, smirking.

  “You know what I mean.” He got back up to his feet with Slate and Lindsey holding up his arms.

  “But we still don’t know the million-dollar answer,” Slate began. “If you were stabbed through the chest, how come we didn’t find any blood, and how come you don’t have any wounds?”

  “Are you absolutely sure that’s what happened?” Lindsey asked. They helped Patrick all the way to the main room, seating him on the couch. “Maybe Elder drugged you or something.”

  “At this point I’m not discounting any possibility. But what I am certain about is that my visions have something to do with what’s going on here. If we can figure out how, then that might tell us what Elder’s next step is.”

  “I hope you’re right about that. We’re going to need it.” Gary rushed into the room, a pen and notepad in hand.

  Patrick wobbled to his feet. “Did you and Johnny finish with the files?”

  Gary’s shoulders slumped. His arms were crossed bitterly over his chest. “You guys need to see what we’ve put together.”

  She locked the door on her way in. Not that it was necessary. There was nothing of value anywhere. Unless you were looking for a wanted high priority fugitive. In that case the building had the jackpot.

  Laura walked the length of the hallway in a rush. The dead silence between each stride of her feet made her too anxious. And she already had enough of that going on with her son being in so much trouble. She untucked her blouse in one motion, nearly starting to run to the far room where the boss’s office was.

  Upon entry she unbraided her tight blonde hair. There was something about women with hair like hers that seemed unprofessional, but she hated it any other way. The only reason she tolerated it for so long was because she had a job to do.

  The man wasn’t in the chair like she was expecting. Instead the middle-aged man was slumped in the corner, wearing his same white dress shirt and slacks that he wore days ago.

  “Have you not left this building since our last meeting?”

  The unkempt, unshaven man heaved his head up to see her. “I’ve been meditating.”

  Her eyes grew. “For close to a week?”

  He nodded sluggishly.

  “Well, while you’ve been sleeping and doing nothing for days some of us actually had to get some work done.”

  Elder shrugged to himself. “Did you do what I asked?”

  She frowned
, tossing her notebook onto his desk several feet away from him. “I did. I asked the president the questions you wanted me to. But he didn’t say anything that you couldn’t figure out for yourself.”

  “That’s what I was expecting. But, Mrs. Buchanan, you know as much as I do that it’s what people leave out that ends up speaking volumes.”

  “You’ve known me for a long time. Call me Laura.”

  Elder slowly extending his legs. He moaned weakly as pain from his unused muscles beamed up his body. Grabbing on to the edge of the window behind him, he could stand up on his feet but his stiff body was still in an acute position.

  “Fine,” the doctor paused to take a deep breath, then exhaled gracelessly. “I have enough to go on from here. I think it’s time I set the wheels in motion.”

  Before he could inch himself close to the door Laura jumped in front of him.

  “We have an agreement, Samuel.” She pointed a finger at him. “You do everything you can to keep my son out of this from now on.”

  Elder straightened himself out. “He’s a stubborn kid, Laura. I can only do so much. But you know what happened at the battle days ago. He’s not going to stop coming after me.” His tone suddenly changed, becoming relaxed. “Patrick is a special boy. With Gordon’s grace…he has a remarkable ability.”

  “I didn’t ask you to do that!” she shouted.

  “No, but your husband did, even after what he knew happened to my daughter. You know Patrick would be dead right now if not for me!” he leaned in close to her, his body no longer aching. “I gave him life, Laura! I gave him a second chance those many years ago, it won’t be in vain!”

  “And it will be the death of him if you don’t change your plan.”

  Laura fought back the urge to smack him in the jaw. She turned around and made for the door.