by J. Thorn
Sage exhaled and sat with her back to the wall and waited for the night.
***
She awoke, startled and fumbling about the cot, trying to determine where she was. Sage leapt up and nearly fell over the stainless-steel toilet before finding her bearings. The night had come, and the moon left a brushstroke of silver on the wall for her to admire. She yawned and stepped to the bars, looking down the hallway toward the dispatch desk but seeing only an empty chair behind it.
“Taking a piss?” she asked herself, realizing that cops were people, too, though she found it odd that nobody was at the station. Sage walked around the perimeter of the cell and then stopped. She thought about lions in a cage and suddenly decided she would never go back to a zoo.
The radio crackled, with a heavy, southern drawl speaking in police code. Sage waited, looking as far up and down the hallway as she could without sticking her head through the bars. She waited. Sage could not hear a toilet flush or the sound of polished, patent-leather shoes on linoleum. She waited a few more moments.
The station felt dead, and Sage glanced at the floor to see if the last jelly donut may have been the one to push the man into cardiac arrest.
Sage stepped back and placed both hands on the bars. She slid to one side like a little girl hanging from monkey bars at a playground when she felt something give. Sage pushed to the left with both arms as the door slid open with a low snarl of metal on metal. She stood in the threshold and on the track, looking both ways for the second time.
“Anyone here?” she asked with her chin out to project her voice as far as possible. “Hello?”
No response.
She stepped out of the cell and walked down the hallway to the dispatch desk. It was empty, as if someone had left at the end of a shift, but the computer and radio were still on. Sage looked around the room, almost blinded by overhead fluorescent lighting, and her gaze stopped at the two black rectangles sitting in the opposite walls like dark eyes. The glass doors looked out upon an empty parking lot softly bathed in copper fog from the lights of the highway.
Go.
Sage walked around the room and saw a closet with the word “Evidence” on it. She yanked at the knob with the expectation that it was locked, yet the door flew open in her hand. She stepped inside and saw a shelving unit with cardboard boxes, all of which were crudely marked with black magic marker. She decided not to let her curiosity get the best of her and scanned the ones closest to the door. In a matter of moments, she found a plastic bag containing her wallet, keys, and a few other items she’d had in her pockets when they brought her in. Sage grabbed the entire bag and turned, slamming right into the officer’s chest. The chill in his eyes was as cold as the ice in her veins.
***
“I knew you was trouble the moment I pulled you over.”
Sage stumbled backwards into the evidence room, clutching the plastic bag to her chest. “I was . . .”
“Yeah, I know what you was gonna do, sweetheart. Why’d you think I came back to check on ya?”
“Where is everyone?” Sage asked, an attempted diversion.
“Guess I could ask you the same,” he said, stepping forward and driving her deeper into the evidence closet. “When I first pulled you over, I thought you was jailbait. Now it turns out you’re a jailbreak. Funny, ain’t it?” The officer laughed with pride at his own play on words, a phrase he had rehearsed the whole way over.
“The cell door was open. I was hungry and looking for something to eat.”
“Can you and I cut the bullshit, missy? It’s all right if I use a bit stronger language witcha, right?”
“What do you want?” Sage asked even though she already knew the answer.
“How’s about you and I find a bit more private spot to continue this here conversation? We got us a shift room in the basement with furniture a bit more comfortable than the cot and cold toilet ya got back there.” The officer thumbed at the cell over his shoulder but remained in the doorway of the evidence room with Sage pushing as far back into it as she could.
“How’s about you go fuck yourself?”
“I was hoping it wouldn’t turn this way.” The officer pulled his baton off his belt with one hand and his handcuffs with the other. He shook his head at Sage and stepped into the closet, a smile creeping up from the corners of his mouth.
Without saying a word, Sage jumped, leading with her right leg. She drove her heel into his knee, which buckled inward with a sickening crunch. Sage brought her left hand around with an open palm that smacked the side of his face, pushing a blast of air into the man’s eardrum and knocking his hat off his head. Before he could even cry out in pain, Sage punched him in the nose with her right hand. The officer fell on to his back, his hands scrambling to cover his head while the cartilage and tendons in his damaged knee felt like they were on fire.
She clutched the plastic bag to her chest, hopped over the injured officer, and ran to the glass doors. Sage pushed through and into the chill of the evening, spotting the stolen rental car parked on the side of the station. The men had been too lazy to pull it into the locked impound lot, and she was thankful for that. Sage ran to it, jumped in, and touched several wires together beneath the dashboard. She tossed the transmission into reverse and spun the tires hard until she had cleared the side of the building. She dropped it into drive and sped past the police station without a second glance, fishtailing when the tires grabbed the asphalt, pulling the car out of it and hitting sixty miles per hour before the ramp dumped her back onto Interstate 81.
You only have twenty minutes before he puts out the APB and they start looking for the car.
Sage nodded and smiled when she saw the sign for the next rest stop. It was ten miles away, open twenty-four hours, and had a food court. She would have her pick of vehicles to get her to Pine Valley, and this time she’d pick one with a much better sound system. Nine Inch Nails always sounded better when it was fucking loud.
***
When Doug hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket, he knew something was bothering her. Taylor usually understood long nights away at the station or when duty would keep him working for days. She had never acted hurt or jealous of that, and yet that was how it felt now. He had called to tell her he had to stay overnight at the hospital with a victim, and she had questioned it. But there was more to her voice than uncertainty. Doug thought he detected a burning ember of deceit, as if she wasn’t telling him everything. Was she upset because he wasn’t coming home, or was she feigning disappointment, allowing him to think it was his fault he would not be there?
Doug shook his head, trying to clear the confusing and conflicting emotions from it. He would deal with Taylor when he got home, if there was a home left for him. Doug believed the situation was far more desperate than the man in the bed was telling him. He thought that maybe Ravna was hiding the most hideous truth in order to keep some semblance of hope alive.
A Hunter is coming.
“Who?” Doug asked, surprised that Ravna was awake already. He hadn’t wanted to rest, but Doug had insisted.
Another. Gaki tried to stop the Hunter, but the demon was unsuccessful.
“Who is this Hunter? Is he big, a kick-ass fighter?”
Yes, she is all of that.
Doug smirked and held his hands up as if the wrong assumption was not his fault.
I met her a few times and did not realize who she was. She is more my type than yours.
“What do you mean by that? How do you know what my ‘type’ is? Besides, I’m married.”
I know. I’ve seen images of your wife in your mind, which is why I say Sage is not your type. If you weren’t married.
“Classic beauty?”
Classic Goth beauty.
Ravna coughed, and the monitors in the room beeped and buzzed. Doug looked at them, not understanding what the noises meant but realizing that Ravna’s body was fading.
You must wait here for her so that you two can coordinate
against Gaki. His minions are running through the town, and I fear what nights will look like should we fail.
Doug thought of his children and his wife, knowing that their best chance for survival was with him and the other Hunter on the way. “Do you know where the fight will take place?”
Gaki has taken hold of the Portal near Williams’ Place. That’s where he will try to open the gates of Hell, and that is where you must make your stand.
Doug knew of the place and all of the filthy, disturbing stories that went along with it. “Near it? Can you be more specific?”
The crypt. That is where the blood curse must end.
***
“Make a right and follow ’er up ’nother mile or so.”
“Thank you,” said Sage, winking at the old man wearing a green baseball cap and driving a tractor. She hadn’t needed to ask for directions but felt compelled to reach out. Being this far south in black stockings and dyed hair, Sage wanted to get a sense of how the locals would respond to her. Anything below the Mason-Dixon line might as well have been another country, as far as she was concerned.
Sage drove through the night, barreling deep into Virginia after leaving Maryland and Pennsylvania in her rearview mirror. The new stolen car served her well. She giggled at times as she sat behind the wheel of a luxury sedan that was more appropriate for wealthy soccer moms than young women in torn fishnets and body piercings.
She drove toward University General. Landscapers walked the grounds with leaf blowers, and people in blue scrubs hurried through pedestrian intersections. Sage parked at a meter in front of the main entrance and fished through her purse for a quarter before stopping. The car was not hers, and she would not be coming back for it.
“Let the meter maid have a blast,” she said as she turned and walked toward the main entrance, not looking back at the car parked illegally. “I’m so over cops right now.”
Mashoka had not spoken to her for hours, yet she knew where to go and what to do. She figured that his spirit was either close to a Portal or preparing to go through and on to the next cycle. One way or another, she was going to be on her own as a lone Hunter unless the man she was going to meet had what it took to be one, too.
A few people in the main lobby glared at Sage, mostly at the tattoos covering her arms. She winked at some and blew kisses at others, as she enjoyed the attention but tried to be respectful, as well. This was their home, and she was the outsider. Sage walked past the welcome desk and the administration cubicles into a wide, domed food court. She immediately scanned for a coffee shop and tried to hide her disappointment at seeing yet another outpost of the monstrous coffee conglomerate based in Seattle.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she said, walking toward the disgruntled teen behind the espresso machine who looked as unhappy as she had been at that age.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Before Sage could respond, a man stepped up beside her and dropped a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “I’ll have a large dark roast. And whatever the young lady wants is on me.”
Sage turned and looked up into his face. She saw gray streaks in his widow’s peak and crow’s feet around his eyes, but she also saw raw strength in his biceps and chest. He could be old enough to be her father and young enough to be her lover.
“Cappuccino,” she said to the barista before turning back to her new acquaintance. “I don’t put out for a cup of coffee.”
The surly teenager behind the counter smiled, trying not to show how amusing she found the comment.
“I should hope not. Your daddy would disapprove.”
Sage put her hands on her hips and bit her bottom lip.
“I’m Doug,” he said, extending his hand to her. “You must be the Hunter.”
“Do you like Nine Inch Nails?” Sage asked Doug.
“What the hell would you need nine-inch nails for?” he asked in return.
Sage smiled and picked up the drink the barista had set on the counter. “If you have to ask, you’ll never know,” she replied while winking over the top of a frothy cappuccino.
***
“Can I see him?”
“He’s not in great shape, I have to be honest. He doesn’t look much better than he did when I pulled him from the rubble.”
Sage smiled and took another sip of her coffee. “I can handle it. I’m a big girl.”
“Wasn’t saying you weren’t.” Doug waited as Sage remained silent. “Okay. I’ll take you to the room, and you can talk to Ravna for a few minutes before we head out. According to him, we’ve got a lot of work to do for tonight.”
Sage bit down on her pinky finger and winked at Doug. “I’ll follow you.”
Doug turned and led her through the main lobby and into the labyrinth of halls and elevators that would eventually take them to the ICU Ward. “You and Ravna, you two were . . . ?”
“Um, right. I was his barista,” she replied while shaking her head. “And I only met him a few times. He was kinda cute, though. I totally would’ve fucked him.”
The coffee spurted from Doug’s lips as his face exploded in crimson. They passed an older couple who had not heard Sage’s comment but gave them a sideways glance anyway.
“Okay,” was all Doug could manage.
They arrived on the floor, and Doug led Sage past the nurse’s station, which was temporarily unmanned. He stopped in front of 5467 and looked at her.
“He’s not talking. You’ll hear him inside your head. At least I think you will.”
Sage put her hand on his arm and smiled. She looked into his eyes to let him know she understood perfectly well what he was saying. “Go on,” she whispered.
Doug entered the room first, and it appeared as it had since Ravna had been brought there by EMS. He walked over to the bed and pulled two plastic chairs away from the wall, sliding them closer to the railing.
“I believe you know each other,” Doug said.
Hello, Sage. The voice entered Doug and Sage’s heads at the same time.
“Hey, hon,” she replied.
You bring me a coffee, maybe some biscotti to go along with it?
“Just this big lump of man next to me.”
Doug smiled and leaned back in his chair.
Thanks for coming, Sage.
“I had no choice. Mashoka.”
Yes. I know. He won’t be around for much longer. He’s at a Portal.
“We’ve got something to do. Something important.”
You and Doug. I’m sorta tied up, here.
“I’m sorry about Karen. Never met her, but, you know.”
Thanks.
“Time is money,” Doug said, injecting a bit of urgency into the conversation.
He’s right.
“What do I need to know? This Gaki . . . this is big-time shit, ain’t it?”
Yes.
“I’m ready.”
No, you’re not. Doug is not ready. You’ll both probably die.
“Why else would I have driven all this way?” Sage replied.
Mashoka has told me that others have been recruited by Gaki and are gathering powers right now, as we speak. The demon wants to blow open the Portal on the ridge above Pine Valley. Doing so will be the death of this plane, except for those who slip before the creatures consume everything. You can’t eliminate the hungry ghost, but you need to stop him from gaining control of the Portal.
“Where is it?”
Doug has all of that. I need you to fill in as many gaps as you can for him. I now know you’re a Hunter, and that is a great advantage for us. You will need to share as much with him as you can before the confrontation. However, you’re an inexperienced Hunter, and you will need Doug’s strength.
“Fuck off, dude. Doug’s strong because he’s a man? That’s bullshit.”
That’s not what I meant. Doug brings an inner strength developed from acting in extreme and dangerous situations. He has a muscle memory you do not.
Doug winked at Sage, sticking his
tongue out at her.
Develop a plan and get to the crypt at Williams’ Place by nightfall.
“What about you, Rav?”
Where am I going to go, Sage?
It was not the question she had wanted to ask and not the one Ravna wanted to answer.
***
Officer Jones pulled the patrol car to the side of the road, where rabid weeds hung over the curb. He had driven past Williams’ Place hundreds of times, and now that he thought about it, he had never had to bust a teenage beer fest or take kids in for tagging the joint with cans of spray paint. Not once. It sat on the ridge and back from the road as if the old structure were a hulking, menacing beast poised to throw itself down the mountain and onto those in the valley. He watched as a tattered curtain licked an old window frame and then curled itself back inside the darkness of the house.
Peter felt vibrations coming through his feet and up his legs. He got out of the car and stood in the middle of the road, facing the house, which did little to lessen the tremors. He walked past a mailbox that had been tilted by time and weather. Most of the windows in the house had been shattered long ago, giving it the look of an ancient skull with black, empty eyes. Jones continued up the sidewalk until he came to the foot of the steps that led up to the front porch, the door slightly ajar. He leaned forward, hoping to keep as much of his body out of the house’s aura as possible. As he turned to look over his shoulder, a soft moan came from within the house. He put his hand on his gun and spread his feet shoulder-width apart. Peter waited, hearing the moan again a few seconds later. He turned and walked back to the patrol car.
Officer Peter Jones knew the house was not really important. Gaki had told him to protect and serve Williams’ Place, but he meant the crypt. Something very important—epic—would be happening in that old, overgrown cemetery, and Peter would need to make sure it was secure. The house could whine and moan as much as it wanted. Jones would need to come up with a plan for protecting the perimeter.
Had Peter stayed at the door for another minute or two, he would have heard the moans turn into cries for help, and that may have altered what would happen next. But he hadn’t.
