Infernal: Emergence

by Ricky Fleet

  “Easy for you to say, he isn’t your best friend,” Kevin huffed.

  “He could very well be the best friend to all of us if things work out,” Michael replied cryptically.

  “What the fuck are we meant to do while you go all Rambo?” Kevin grumbled, hugging Chloe and Laura. The thought of being left out tore at him, but he knew his ability to fight was limited to fists, not guns.

  Jacob walked over and spoke to the three, “Go home, pick up your kid from the babysitter, and wait. We will send someone to fetch you as soon as we are able to.”

  Laura pulled him back as he turned away, “What do you mean fetch us?”

  “For safety, just in case. Their reach is vast and we need to keep you out of harm’s way,” Jacob replied and would not be coerced into giving any more information.

  “We need to move out now,” Michael informed everyone, “If you follow us there is a public carpark near to the facility. From there we go on foot through the surrounding woodland to get right on top of the place.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Desmond and Legacy agreed in unison and the bar started to empty.

  As the sports cars started to follow the strangers in convoy, Desmond leaned out of Legacy’s car to talk to Kevin, Laura, and Chloe who were feeling useless.

  “As soon as we get him I will call you,” he smiled, trying to ease their fear, “We got the baddest mother fuckers this side of the Caribbean on our side. They don’t stand a chance.”

  They couldn’t find any words and just nodded. With wheels spinning, the car shot off into the night, leaving them alone.

  “Let’s go home,” Kevin said morosely.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Malachi worked at the aged leather straps, rubbing them against the corroded bedframe. Moonlight penetrated weakly through the broken windows, casting a luminous square onto the dust covered floor. Sections of the ceiling had collapsed and joined the wind-blown debris. The padded walls, once white, were now mouldy and torn at floor level; probably the work of rats seeking comfortable nesting material. Dark patches on the square foam could have been general grime, but the resemblance to hand drawn smears spoke of the likely cause being blood or excrement. A new noise caught his attention and he cocked an ear quizzically. Muffled vibrations carried through the jagged window and it could only be a helicopter landing somewhere within the grounds.

  “Come on, come on,” Malachi said through gritted teeth.

  It had been several minutes since Dr. Llyod had last peered in. His manic excitement and constant need to assure Malachi of his safety was more terrifying than if he had pointed a gun through the inspection hole. The lengths they had gone to, assured him that he was anything but safe, and the silenced pistols carried by the police officers only confirmed his fears. Any official armed response unit had a very unique mode of tactical dress, certainly not common beat uniforms. Flickering light bounced around on the wall outside the room which he could see from his prone position. They were using candles which seemed an unreliable source of illumination when battery operated lanterns were so cheap.

  “Malachi, there is really no need for that,” chastised Dr. Llyod and he flinched in surprise. The doctor must have returned stealthily to the door after apparently walking off earlier.

  “Funnily enough your words don’t fill me with a lot of confidence. I’m already in a locked room with bars on the windows so where am I supposed to go if I could get free?” Malachi sneered.

  “The door doesn’t lock,” Dr. Llyod informed him, opening and closing it a few times to prove it, “The mechanisms are rusted.”

  “So why keep me bound to this rotting bed?”

  “For our safety,” Dr. Llyod said without a hint of irony.

  Malachi laughed derisively, “Your safety? Who the hell do you think I am?”

  “Mr. Creighton will be here any moment and he will explain everything.”

  “Who the fuck is Mr. Creighton?” Malachi demanded.

  A look of fear twisted the man’s face, “He’s the boss and the one man on this planet you need to convince.”

  “Convince? Of what?”

  “I can’t say,” murmured the doctor.

  “I’m sick of all this bullshit,” Malachi sighed to himself.

  Dr. Llyod’s face changed and he beamed through the hatch, “You will be so excited when you find out the truth.”

  Malachi ignored the ramblings of the lackey. If the one who was behind all this was on the way, he may as well lay back and compose himself. He had to stay strong and hide the gnawing dread which threatened to rob his strength. Maybe he could brazen it out, convince them he was the wrong man or wasn’t a threat to whatever they had going on. All he wanted was to go back to his quiet life and try to build something with Chloe. Instinct told him it wasn’t going to be that simple.

  “Here he comes,” gasped Dr. Llyod at the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Malachi could identify two separate approaching footfalls, one clumping and heavy on the floor, the other graceful, like a cat. It could have been his overactive imagination, but after all he had witnessed in his dreams, he wouldn’t have been shocked if a feline visage appeared, surveying him hungrily like prey. The reality was almost as shocking and he couldn’t stifle the gasp. A horrifically scarred mask stared in, square jawed and utterly without emotion. It was only a nervous tic that caused his left eye to squint a little which told Malachi this was a real face and not some ghastly Halloween prop.

  “Krauss, get out of the way. You will frighten the poor boy,” came a soft voice.

  “Good,” grunted the monster and his face rose out of view to show his broad chest. He had actually been crouched to look through the spy hole which put his real height at over six and a half feet. Mouth going dry, Malachi could only watch in apprehension as a new face appeared. The differences were stark; beast had been replaced by beauty. It was the only word that Malachi could think to describe the grinning face that peered in. His proportions were perfect and the brilliant, white teeth actually twinkled like a toothpaste commercial from the moonlight. Brown eyes and carefully shaped eyebrows were topped with hair which wouldn’t look out of place on a movie star. Unbeknownst to Malachi was the fact that the man paid for a famous stylist to fly from the states to carry out the cut on a weekly basis.

  Opening the door, he stepped in and shook Malachi’s bound hand, “Hey, buddy. It’s great to finally meet you in person. I’m Drake Creighton.”

  Unable to avoid the grip, Malachi instead wiped imaginary filth from his palm onto his trousers. The massive, scarred guard scowled and took a menacing step in the room.

  “Hurt him?”

  Drake looked shocked, “Goodness me, no! Malachi has had a trying few days and our rude collection of him can have only exacerbated the problem.”

  “A little?” begged the brute.

  “Krauss, go and stand in the corridor, your presence is scaring our friend.” Drake waved him away and he left slowly, all the while staring at the bound man.

  “If I’m a friend, why the fuck did you kidnap me and hurt my friends?” Malachi demanded and he could hear the hulk growling just outside the door. He clearly didn’t like his employer being spoken to in this fashion.

  “You have my sincere apologies for the manner in which we approached you, but if my men are speaking the truth, then it was your friends who instigated the altercation,” Drake replied, holding his hands together and begging forgiveness. Malachi couldn’t argue the facts of his statement, but the nature of his kidnap was another matter.

  “When you say your men, you mean the fake police and medical personnel?”

  “Well, yes,” Drake shrugged, “I had to improvise quickly and it seemed the easiest way to ensure compliance. I could have arranged some of our legitimate contacts to collect you but that would have taken time and left a paper trail.”

  With his hunch confirmed, Malachi knew his situation was far more dangerous than before. The desire to have no official
records didn’t bode well for his chances of survival if the meeting was unsatisfactory to his captors. Steeling himself, Malachi decided that if he was going to die, at least he would go to his grave with some answers.

  “So what is it you want from me?”

  Drake stood perfectly still and appraised the youngster for a few seconds, the turned his head and asked for a chair. Staring again in silence, Malachi became increasingly uneasy at the gaze. After a minute, a sweating Dr. Llyod returned with a rusty chair and placed it by the bed.

  “There you go, sir.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Drake asked impatiently.

  Dr. Llyod looked around the room mortified, until he followed his boss’s eyes to the filthy seat covering.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” he gasped, hastily removing his jacket to place on the stained upholstery.

  “Thank you, now get out.” Drake glared at the man as he retreated and then turned his attention back to Malachi.

  “That’s a good way to upset your workforce,” Malachi chided, “I can see why Mr. Krauss is so upset too.”

  “A shepherd must tend his flock, my friend. Sometimes that requires being less than civil and I am afraid Dr. Llyod has made some mistakes which could’ve had catastrophic consequences for myself and our organisation,” Drake explained.

  Dr. Llyod leaned around the doorway to defend himself but Krauss’s massive hand closed over his mouth and pulled him back out of sight.

  “I’m sure physical abuse is also grounds for a grievance procedure,” Malachi said.

  Drake smiled and called out, “Do you wish to make a complaint Dr. Llyod?”

  The answer was muffled through the meaty fingers of Krauss, “No, sir.”

  Drake turned back to Malachi once again and smiled with satisfaction, “There, see, no harm done. My employees understand they are all small parts in a very big wheel. Parts which can be replaced with relative ease.”

  “Jesus Christ, you talk as much incoherent bollocks as the bloody shrink,” Malachi slumped down on the bed in anger.

  “I’m sorry. Having the company of Mr. Krauss leaves me little conversation so I tend to waffle on a bit when I meet someone of importance.”

  “Happy to disappoint you,” Malachi laughed, “I’m just a gym bum. I fold towels and help people get in shape; I’m as far from important as you are likely to find.”

  Drake wagged a finger, “That is what you do, not what you are.”

  “And what is it you think I am?” Malachi asked with baited breath.

  Instead of answering immediately, Drake stood up and leaned in towards Malachi’s stomach, “May I?”

  “I normally expect a meal and a movie first, but if you insist.”

  Lifting the shirt, he pressed at the muscles in an effort to find a sign of the stab wound. Finding nothing, he pursed his lips and let out a whistle of appreciation.

  “Amazing.”

  “Look, if you aren’t going to blow me, then at least give me some answers,” Malachi pleaded.

  “I can’t tell you everything,” Drake said apologetically, “But before you complain, it’s not because I don’t want to. I am simply not permitted to.”

  “I’m sure your bosses wouldn’t mind,” Malachi coaxed.

  “It is they who will explain everything… if you can be persuaded to join our cause and commit your talents to them without question.”

  “My talents?” Malachi asked.

  “Your visions, your healing powers, your growing telekinetic gift, plus any others which may not have manifested yet,” Drake replied with the same excitement which Dr. Llyod had displayed earlier.

  “You know what is happening to me then?”

  “Yes. After being told of your dreams we initially thought you were simply a seer. By your age, most people who have observed the things you have would be totally insane. The fact that you are still a fully functional member of society shows a remarkable resilience. You have my respect.” Drake bowed a little on the chair.

  “There are others like me?” Malachi asked in a whisper, “People that can see all the horror and death?”

  “Yes, of course,” Drake smiled reassuringly, “Many are born every year, but often commit suicide before we can save them.” He left out the eye and tongue removal from the explanation.

  “How do they live with it? It has destroyed me, and my life.”

  “This will come as a shock, but they are easy to control if you know how,” Drake shrugged.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me.” Malachi could only shake his head in disbelief, “I’ve tried to stop them all my fucking life and here you are telling me it’s easy?”

  “Please, forgive my nonchalant reply, I have never been afflicted, so I can’t relate. If you had approached one of my clinicians sooner, we could already have you shutting them out and getting on with your life.” He smiled down at Malachi like a father calming a child after a bad dream. Only Malachi’s nightmare had lasted for over a decade.

  “How long would it take?” Malachi needed to know.

  Smile broadening, Drake could see that he had the young man hooked, now all he needed to do was reel him in, “It can take anything up to a week to condition the mind properly. In your case, though, I would estimate about two to three days.”

  “Holy shit,” Malachi could hardly believe it, “That quickly?”

  Drake nodded enthusiastically and Malachi nearly fainted with relief. Finally, some respite from the vileness which pervaded his slumber.

  “What about my healing? Am I some kind of freak?”

  “Not at all, the healing is part of what you are. In time, like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, your ability will be greatly enhanced. To the point that short of a brain or heart injury you will be able to withstand any amount of punishment.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Honestly,” Drake beamed, “It is an amazing gift you have and we can nurture it to its full potential.”

  “That leaves my random acts of telekinesis. I am told I can make curtains move and affect lights and other electrical appliances, plus…” Malachi paused, fearful of revealing the horror of what nurse Shannon had told him.

  Drake could see there was more and leaned forward, “You can tell me, I won’t judge.”

  The words felt sacrilegious as they left his mouth, “I made the dead move.”

  If Drake had leaned any closer, he would have either fallen off the chair or been close enough to kiss. “So your telekinesis was strong enough to lift a body? Your stronger than I thought.”

  “No… I mean I think they actually moved. On their own. And I made it happen,” Malachi replied and felt the bile rising.

  “You have necromantic powers too?” Drake gasped and sat back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “And you have had no tutelage?” A note of suspicion had entered his voice as he regarded the youth.

  “Tutelage? I did at school.” Malachi frowned, ignorant of the real meaning of the question.

  Drake considered this for a moment and his face relaxed a little, “We have people who know the old ways. They could help you to harness this gift.”

  “Gift? More like a curse,” he spat.

  The scowl was back and Malachi could sense they were getting to the life or death negotiations. Drake was more intent and thoughtful as he asked, “So that kind of ability doesn’t appeal to you?”

  “It sickens me,” Malachi wouldn’t sugar coat the answer just to please him.

  “Really?” Drake’s million-dollar smile was gone now and he looked more like the individual Dr. Llyod was terrified of. The man beneath the warm smile and immaculate hair was finally revealed.

  “Really.” Malachi met the stare and nodded firmly.

  “That’s a real shame,” Drake sighed, “But we can work without it. Who knows what your opinions will be after a few years?”

  “The same.”

  “Fine, be contrary,” Drake replied, “The rest of your talents would be invaluable
to our organisation. Think very carefully before you answer my next question, my young friend, I want you to be totally honest, ok?”

  Malachi nodded. He was already certain the meeting wasn’t going to go well with the disappointment that was apparent when he spoke of his revulsion at waking the dead.

  “The vision that my employers sent to you in your dream while you were brought here, what did you feel?” Drake asked slowly, studying Malachi’s face.

  Unable to suppress the shudder of horror, Malachi replied, “They made me see that? How is it possible?”

  “My employers have tremendous powers too,” Drake nodded and leaned forward again, eager for an answer, “Now how did you feel?”

  “I felt like an abomination. Giving my own family over to that fucking monster? I’d sooner put a gun to my head and pull the trigger.”

  Drake looked confused and angry, “And the promise of limitless power and immortality doesn’t sway your opinion?”

  “Even if it were possible, what is eternity without love?”

  Drake leaped to his feet, pointing and snarling, “You bloody fool! You could have had it all and instead you choose a made up concept designed to weaken us. Love? Ridiculous.”

  Malachi knew that it was all over, but he wouldn’t lie just to save himself. Instead he tried to reach out a hand, “I pity you.”

  Drake needlessly slapped the hand which couldn’t reach his, “Save your pity for yourself. What is love compared to wealth and power anyway?”

  “Everything,” Malachi smiled and Drake went berserk.

  Smashing the chair into the wall until the frame split, he looked around desperately for more items to smash. Krauss had rushed into the room to see what the disturbance was and glowered at Malachi for upsetting his boss.

  “Hurt him now?”

  “No,” Drake held up a hand, panting from the exertion, “But break Dr. Llyods arms and legs. I will deal with him later.”

  “No!” shrieked the psychiatrist who tried to bolt for the door.

  Krauss moved with an impossible speed for someone of his bulk and grabbed the collar of the doctor. Dragging him back into the room he threw him against the padded walls with enough force to stun him. Falling to the floor in a daze, he didn’t immediately feel the huge boot as it stamped down on one forearm, crushing the bone. A split second of shock preceded the ear piercing screams as Krauss repeated the attack on the other arm. Both limbs flopped uselessly with fragments of the break protruding through the flesh, blood mixing with the plaster dust into a gory paste.