From The Dark

by Tobey Alexander

  ‘Drink this while I clean up your mess.’

  Keeping his eyes closed Logan could only imagine what the woman looked like. Her accent was German or Austrian, and the way she spoke to him was harsh. He expected her to be a portly middle-aged woman with a thick furrowed brow glaring at him through tired eyes.

  ‘Where am I?’

  The woman did not answer. Instead, a different voice replied from across the room.

  ‘A very interesting question and one perhaps to be given when you are a little more capable of taking it all in?’

  The new voice was male, distinctly well-spoken and undeniably tainted by a strong Italian accent. Oddly, without seeing the source, it felt strangely sinister.

  Logan forced his eyes open slowly and allowed the sinning room to finally settle.

  His attention fell to the woman first who cleaned the floor beside his bed. She was exactly as he had expected except she carried a little more weight than he had thought. Looking down at her she had the look of a stern school teacher, and he avoided making eye-contact with her through fear of her wrath.

  Moving his head slowly he directed his attention towards the far side of the room where a young man stood just inside the doorway to the room.

  ‘My name is Vincenzo, and I am the one you saw on the field before you crashed.’

  ‘It was Viktor.’ Logan replied, confused.

  ‘You would be forgiven for thinking that, but I assure you it was in fact me.’

  ‘The Mask.’ Logan stammered.

  ‘You mean this?’

  Vincenzo removed the familiar mask from behind his back and held it up for Logan to see. The mask was silver in appearance, and from the right eye, a series of intricate lines had been carved into the surface. The gouges appeared like an explosion from the eyehole and had been painted with blood-red paint.

  ‘It was Viktor’s!’ Logan repeated.

  ‘Indeed this is the mask reserved for the tip of the Trident, it did indeed belong to Brother Viktor until,’ Vincenzo paused for a moment. ‘Until you killed him.’

  Vincenzo’s words were filled with accusation, but it was not angry.

  ‘He deserved to die.’ Logan answered matter-of-factly. ‘He killed my mother.’

  ‘I know what he did,’ Vincenzo interrupted. ‘He dishonoured our order in many of his actions in Namibia, including the murder of your mother.’

  Logan wasn’t sure what to make of what the Italian man was saying.

  Dressed in a crisp linen suit, it was difficult to guess Vincenzo’s age through the tailored clothing and olive skin.

  ‘So why were you wearing it?’ Logan expected he knew the answer.

  ‘Because in the interim, in the chaos created by Viktor’s misguided behaviour he has created a void in the order of Veks. A void I must temporarily fill until the rightful Trident Point ascends.’

  ‘You are Veks?’

  Logan tensed and what fog of confusion was left evaporated in an instant.

  ‘Before you act irrationally you need to hear one thing.’

  ‘You’re from the same cloth as that bastard!’

  ‘Hardly.’ Vincenzo fought to stay calm, Logan’s hostility had been expected after all. ‘Viktor decimated the structure of our order. He killed the second point and twisted the third to sacrifice her life for his ultimate power. That is why the seat of power for the Veks has also been three, it is too much for one person to hold.’

  ‘But you worship that monster, you would seek to release it on the world at the cost of thousands.’

  ‘Twisted perceptions of our Order young Logan.’

  ‘So what would you do with the Magdon?’

  Vincenzo chose his answer carefully, he could see the bubbling rage in Logan from across the room.

  ‘Logan, if we were as cold and callous as Viktor then I would have left you in the field. As it is I brought you back here to offer you recovery and recuperation in payment for your service to the Veks.’

  ‘My service?’

  ‘You removed a cancer from our ranks and have allowed us to move to reform and a return to a time when the Order of Veks was pure in our intention.’

  ‘I would do it again.’ Logan snarled.

  ‘For what though?’ Vincenzo retorted. ‘Viktor killed your mother, I am simply a servant of a power long forgotten. You do not strike me as a young man who would kill based on another’s ideals and beliefs.’

  Logan was caught short and could not pull himself to answer. Vincenzo allowed him to stew for a moment before a disarming charming smile appeared on his face.

  ‘Until your wounds are healed you are a welcome guest here. We shall see to your recovery, and when you are well enough, you may leave these walls without fear.’

  ‘And where exactly is here?’

  ‘Aggstein Castle on the banks of the Danube in Austria.’ Vicenzo allowed the proud declaration to sink in. ‘The Veks purchased it many years ago and have recently, in the wake of Viktor’s betrayal, closed it to the public under the guise of renovation so we may reform ourselves. It holds a certain historical significance to the Veks.’

  ‘That being?’

  Vincenzo had his hook.

  ‘Perhaps while you are nursing your injuries you could find that out for yourself. There is a sizeable and well-maintained library off the main hall.’ Vincenzo’s smile did not falter. ‘I am reliably informed that your wounds consisted mainly of a dislocated shoulder and a broken rib, or three. Aside from the obvious bumps and bruises of course.’

  Vincenzo pointed to the wall beside Logan’s bed, and he noticed, for the first time, a mirror mounted on the wall. Sat on the bed Logan could not get a view of his reflection.

  Slowly and with great care, Logan sidled himself to the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the cold stone floor. Steadying himself, Logan raised himself up and shuffled across towards the mirror.

  The reflection that finally looked back at him was bruised and battered. The left side of his face was a mix of red and purple. Bruising spread from his hairline, around his eye and down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. His red hair was matted with blood, and a series of grazes and cuts marked the side of his chin.

  Moving his gaze from his face, he looked at the heavy bandaging around his shoulder and chest and tentatively prodded the flesh beneath the bandage.

  ‘The ribs will take some time to heal, but your dislocation was easy enough to remedy.’ Vincenzo moved to his side to speak. ‘You have the hospitality of me, my Brothers and Sisters, as long as it is required young Logan.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It felt odd for Logan to say it. ‘I think I need a little time to process everything.’

  Logan was suddenly very tired, and the colour had begun to drain from his bruised face. Shuffling back to the bed he quickly laid himself down. As his eyes became heavy, he watched Vincenzo leave the room and felt an odd feeling that he could not place.

  Sleep took him, and Logan fell into an empty and dreamless state.

  11

  Coming Home

  The journey back from Poland had been challenging. Using their passports and legal route out of the country, Gabe had decided, would be too risky. Although he had done his best to secrete the battered rental car, he knew it wouldn’t take long until they were discovered.

  From there it would only be a matter of minutes before they knew who had signed the lease.

  Although Gabe knew all too well that the European justice systems were convoluted. It would not take much time to flag a request across to England and confirm Gabe and his family were in the country. Deciding their best option was a more salubrious route they had made their way out of the City as discreet as they could.

  Boarding a train, they travelled as far as they could towards the German border.

  They had arrived in Szczecin in the very early hours of the morning. The sun bathed the Main Railway Station in sickly orange light but devoid of passengers. A sleeping man occupied the only bench as they m
ade their way up the steps leading out of the station.

  Admiring the graffiti that adorned the buildings and industrial units down the parallel street to the station Gabe had soon found a small hotel tucked away off the main roads. Dank and undesirable the hotel was enough of a place for them to disappear while Gabe had made his final plans to get them back to England and home.

  ‘It will hardly be easy or even comfortable getting back.’ Gabe had said when he returned from a lengthy enquiry the following morning. ‘I’m happy for you to go back through normal channels Reg, you’ll be questioned, but they won’t believe I involved you in the chase.’

  ‘What?’ The old man had quipped with a grin on his wrinkled face. ‘And miss the adventure, I think not. It’s been a long time since I felt this alive.’

  There was a curious look on Reg’s face that told Gabe there was more behind his words but now was not the time to press.

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘Young man!’ Reg had scorned. ‘Get on with your plan and stop pestering me about being sure.’

  As the three of them had eaten their pre-packed lunches, Gabe had explained his plan.

  When night had once again settled the three of them had auctioned the plan, and before long they found themselves cramped in the back of a large shipping container mounted on the flatbed of a massive haulage truck.

  The driver, a well-built Romanian whose name Gabe cared not to ask, had accepted 500 Euros for each of them after an hour of negotiation in a seedy bar. As night had fallen the heavy wagon had met them at their agreed place, and they had clambered aboard.

  The drive to Calais was over a thousand kilometres, and with stops, they made it in just over twenty hours. Cramped and confined they had hunkered down a narrow makeshift compartment at the far end of the container.

  ‘Seems like we aren’t the first to use this.’ Claudia had remarked as she panned her torch across various etched names scratched onto the metal surface of the hideaway.

  ‘You’d be surprised how many get into the country this way.’ Gabe replied.

  ‘It’s lucky you knew about it,’ Reg had smiled. ‘Suppose your work has benefits of inside knowledge.’

  ‘Tru, but I also know the Border Agency is likely to inspect every inch of the container if they have any suspicion.’

  ‘Here’s hoping our driver is a little switched on then.’ Claudia answered.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, he seemed well-versed in what we were arranging.’ Gabe soothed. ‘I don’t think this is his first rodeo!’

  Crossing the English Channel had been uncomfortable, and by the time they were through Dover and customs, something overcame Gabe with sickness. As the rumbling engine fell silent Gabe had all but thrown the lid of the compartment aside and clambered to the far side of the container.

  As the driver unhooked and opened the small concealed entrance on the side of the container Gabe threw his head through the gap and emptied his stomach out onto the roadway.

  ‘Ride not comfortable?’ The Romanian driver laughed as Gabe crawled out, avoiding the puddle of sick.

  ‘I’ve had worse.’ Gabe retorted as he wiped his hand across his mouth.

  The driver thrust a bottle of water out to Gabe who snatched it and downed the contents.

  ‘Where are we?’’ Gabe asked as she pulled the bottle from his lips.

  ‘Made-in-stone?’ The driver attempted to pronounce.

  ‘Maidstone!’ Reg corrected as he struggled to pull himself out through the narrow hole.

  ‘Something like them.’

  ‘We can make it from here.’ Reg added, and the driver nodded.

  ‘Best you do, five-hundred gets you here. More further, will cost more.’

  ‘We will be fine.’ Reg replied, it was clear he did not trust the Romanian.

  ‘What he means is thank you,’ Gabe interjected. ‘You’ve done more than I would have hoped.’

  Settling the rest of their agreed price Gabe, and the driver ended their deal with a handshake.

  ‘Good luck Englishman.’ The driver had bellowed as he climbed back into the cab.

  Watching the HGV disappear into the distance the three of them felt relieved to be back.

  ‘We can’t risk going home.’ Claudia said as they walked in towards the central town in the afternoon mugginess.

  ‘Not to stay,’ Reg continued. ‘But there are things we must retrieve as I think we will need them.’

  ‘That’s something I can do,’ Gabe added. ‘Alone.’

  ‘And what are we supposed to do?’ Claudia snapped.

  ‘Find somewhere to hide, we need somewhere to settle ourselves and come up with a plan of what we will do.’

  ‘Anywhere near home and the police will look for us.’ She replied.

  ‘I know somewhere they will never think, it won’t be comfortable, but it will be somewhere nobody will ever think to look.’

  ‘Considering the journey we took to get back I don’t think it could be any worse.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Reg chuckled as he sniffed his clothes noticing they were far from odourless and fresh. ‘What say we get cleaned up and get ourselves back home?’

  Boarding the National Express coach an hour later they began the last leg of the journey home. All three of them slept through the entire trip until the coach pulled into the bays at the Broadmarsh Bus Station in the heart of Nottingham.

  ‘Sorry, but we’ve arrived.’ The young driver whispered as he shook Gabe’s shoulder to wake him.

  Gabe woke with a start and for a moment could not work out where he was. Disorientated his eyes went wide until he saw Claudia and Reg sprawled across the two rows of seats on the other side of the coach.

  ‘Oh sorry.’ Gabe apologised and roused Claudia with a subtle nudge. ‘It’s been a long few days.’

  ‘Looks like it.’ The driver replied with a smile. ‘No rush, I need to log up my miles and stuff so when you’re ready.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  All three of them disembarked and thanked the young driver who, Gabe noticed, paid a little too much attention to Claudia. Awash with a feeling of protectiveness Gabe encouraged his daughter away from the coach and in towards the city centre.

  ‘So Reg, what’s your plan of somewhere to stay?’

  ‘You’ll see once we’ve got the car.’ The old man added with a wry, all-knowing smile.

  It didn’t take long to retrieve the car from the car-park. Back in the familiar confines of his own vehicle, Gabe felt he could relax a little. As he pulled through the barrier of the car park, he paused for a moment at the mouth of the junction.

  ‘What’s wrong dad?’

  ‘I need to remember where the cameras are,’ Gabe added. ‘Where are we heading Reg?’

  ‘Get us out towards the old theme park.’

  Gabe turned to look at Reg. He knew where the old man meant but having been derelict for fifteen years, it was a curious suggestion.