Legend of the Book Keeper

by Daniel Blackaby

  They had escaped.

  Its two glowing red eyes squinted as the vehicle disappeared into the horizon. The creature’s long black tongue ran slowly over its lips, lapping up the smeared blood. The taste produced a moan of pleasure. It had been close, but the Book Keeper was proving more difficult than it anticipated. The creature smiled. After three thousand years of hibernation, the sport of a good chase was exhilarating. A growl came from its stomach.

  Raising its head it sniffed the air, a pleasant smell carried on the breeze: the smell of fresh blood. Its sharp eyes found the fat figure of a man lying on his back, fighting for breath. The Book Keeper wouldn’t get far, but for now . . . it was meal time.

  The Diner Lady

  The steady hum of the tires racing over the smooth dessert road lured Cody into a dreary trance; he entered somewhere into the neutral zone between sleep and wakefulness. Cody made out the light sound of snoring. Looking ahead, he saw Jade sprawled out gracelessly in the passenger seat. After their frantic getaway, they had driven several miles without slowing. Eventually satisfied that they were free, they had pulled over and Randilin had relieved Jade of her driving duties. Few words had been spoken during the drive; Randilin had explained nothing. Before they had even refastened their seat belts the van had screeched away, eventually settling into its steady pace.

  Cody knew that Jade would be horrified to realize she snored. He smiled. He couldn’t bring himself to wake her. She needed the sleep. So do I. Looking out the front window, he watched as the road raced beneath the vehicle. The two faint headlights offered the only light to the thick Nevada sky. Cody felt his eyes drooping and jerked his head to stay awake. His hand ran across the smooth surface of the object in his lap: the Book. He pulled it tightly against his chest.

  He glanced up to Randilin, who gazed forward with a blank stare. Only the thick, clotted, bloody wound across his cheek distracted attention from the otherwise humorous sight. Due to his short stature, he looked to Cody like a child pretending to be grown up behind the wheel.

  The encounter with Dunstan and his men had proved that the situation was more involved and dangerous than Cody had thought. Dunstan had mentioned his employment, but for whom? Cody shuttered. By the sound of it, the employer seemed like a man Cody hoped never to meet. As for the Beast, it left no mystery as to how it fit in. It was on its own side. Cody remembered the pale, horrified look on Dunstan’s face when he saw the Beast. How much more about this creature do we still not know?

  And then there was the question of Randilin. He remained a mystery to Cody. Whose side is he on? Are there even sides anymore? He had proven himself a valuable ally, having already saved them several times. Still, though, maybe Dunstan was right; maybe they had been too quick to label good guys and bad guys. Maybe Dunstan was trying to save them from Randilin? Cody didn’t even know where Randilin was taking them. There was one thing he did know: Dunstan knew something about Randilin that Randilin was determined to keep secret. Cody recalled how Dunstan’s reference to Randilin’s past had impacted the dwarf. His face had become a tapestry of fear, shame, and anger. However, the emotion overarching all these feelings on the dwarf’s face had been the unmistakable look of pain and regret.

  Cody felt frightened. For the first time since discovering the Book, he also missed his home. He thought of school. No doubt Ms. Starky had already phoned his mom to inform her of his absence. Mother. Due to the rush, Cody had not informed his mother of his whereabouts. Not that she would believe me anyways. He could picture his mother arriving home and finding him missing. She would panic. He was all she had left in the world. Cody knew she would have gone directly to the police to arrange a search party. He then remembered that there most likely already was a police search party for him, as he was the lead suspect in the Wesley murder. Life has become so complicated! He fought back tears. He would trade anything to be back in ‘Slacker Row’ dozing in his desk . . . dozing in his desk . . . dozing. . . .

  Cody opened his eyes. The sun was shining brightly through the windows. A bag of sour cream and onion chips plopped into his lap. Following the path of the toss, Cody’s eyes arrived at Jade’s smiling face; she seemed rejuvenated.

  “We stopped to fill the van a few miles back, got you your favorite chips for the road, thought you’d be hungry.” Actually, barbeque is my favorite, but it’s the thought that counts! Chip crumbs flew everywhere as Cody inhaled them.

  “So . . . where . . . are . . . we?” Cody asked between bites. After a moment of silence, Jade reached down and pulled up a map as it seemed that Randilin was in no mood to repeat their earlier conversation.

  “Well, we’re about in here somewhere,” Jade pointed to a northbound highway road, “and we are heading here.” She pointed up the map to a large blank desert zone. “Which, although nothing shows up on the map, Randilin says it is the location of . . .”

  “Area 51,” Cody finished. The sound of the name still seemed more fairytale than reality to Cody. He looked to their driver, who had yet to utter a noise. “You seem quiet today Randilin? I think Jade and I have been very accommodating up until now, but it’s time for some answers.”

  When Randilin finally spoke, his voice no longer resembled the sarcastic whip Cody had become accustomed to; instead it was distant and shaky, almost nervous. “It’s none of your business if I decide to be quiet. And, I heartily agree, it’s unfair of me to leave you in the dark. . . .” His voice trailed off, following an unseen rabbit. Jade cleared her throat, reminding him of the conversation. Randilin blinked. “But not now. We will need to brainstorm a strategy for entering Area 51, as well as gather equipment, and well . . . there’s someone we need to see.”

  By the silence that followed, it was crystal clear to both Cody and Jade that no further explanation was to be given. Without any other choice, they settled into their seats to rest, and to wait.

  Shawn was bored out of his mind. Every second that clicked on the obnoxious clock was yet another reminder to him how mundane his life was. School had seemed like such a waste of time; however after a month working at Fingo’s Gas, he was beginning to reconsider. The lone bright spot in the day had occurred several hours ago when a strange midget of a man had come barging in. He had rambled on incoherently in a thick smoker’s voice, had grossly overpaid for his gas, and then waddled out the doors again. The female accompanying him, however, had not been hard on the eyes. Speaking of eyes, those green eyes of hers had been like nothing he’d ever seen before.

  Ding. Shawn turned angrily toward the door to see the customer whom had ruined his daydreaming. He gulped. The figure in the doorway was seven feet tall and cloaked in a dark purple robe. A rank smell intoxicated the room. Shawn stood petrified, unable to utter a word. The large figure sniffed the air and turned to face him. From beneath the robe, two chilling red eyes burned into Shawn’s with unbearable intensity as though branding onto his very soul. The sun flowing through the window reflected off the creature’s large talons as they tapped against the floor. With lightning speed the creature pounced. There was a painful scream—and then all was silent.

  The van slowed to a stop. After the bizarre events of the past few days, Cody had definitely expected more from their mystery detour. In front of the van sat a rickety building, resembling more of a trailer than an actual structure. Above the door, painted in messy yellow paint was: Sally’s Diner—Best Hot Chocolate in the Desert.

  Filing out of the van, Cody glanced over at Randilin; his face was pale and he looked sick to his stomach. As they neared the steps, the front door burst open. Standing in the doorway was a woman; and like the diner, she was far from what Cody had expected.

  To his surprise, she stood at roughly the same height as Randilin. Billowing out, stringy and un-kept beneath her white lace bonnet, were two long, frizzy, dirty-blonde pigtails. Her face was not overly beautiful, but it had a friendly warmth to it. Her lips were caked with several lays of clumpy, bright red lipstick and, even from a distance, the smell
of her potent perfume congested their noses. Her blue eyes were welcoming, and her large dimples gave her a youthful appearance.

  “Well, blow me over. If it isn’t Mr. Randilin himself; what a pleasant surprise! And you brought friends, you adorable young dearies! Come in; come in! I’ll have a fresh batch of hot-chocolate out in a jiffy!”

  “Oh, that really won’t be necessary,” argued Randilin, but Sally paid no attention. Randilin leaned over, and whispered in a shaky voice, “Keep your heads about you lads. This woman is not to be messed with. I’m warning you, don’t look her in the eye, she’ll suck out your soul.”

  “I heard that Randy! Fortunately for you, you have no soul in that heartless carcass to suck out!” she called out the window, over the clinking sound of mugs. Once inside, they grabbed a table. They were the only customers in the homely diner. Apparently hot chocolate wasn’t a popular commodity in the smoldering desert.

  After a few moments, Sally came shuffling back from the counter with a teetering stack of hot chocolates in her hands and slid a mug to each of the visitors. “Now,” she began, plopping herself in a chair next to Randilin who, apparently feeling the close distance was unsatisfactory, scooted his chair away several inches. “I believe Mr. Randilin has yet to offer the courtesy of introducing us.” Randilin opened his mouth to speak, but Sally continued, “My name, as you may have guessed, is Sally Peatwee. And, who might you two youngin’s be?”

  Jade introduced the two of them. Meanwhile Randilin sat silently with a dejected look on his face, wavering between pouting and humiliation. His attitude did not seem to hinder Sally’s good spirits in any way; she continued to chatter on.

  “And, so what are two children such as yourselves doing out here in the Nevada desert? And with this blacksheep?” She winked over to Randilin. Cody looked to his two traveling companions, unsure as to how much to reveal to the lady. Randilin saved him the trouble, speaking for the first time, “I’m afraid it’s not good news. They come carrying the Code.” Randilin’s answer had a visible impact on Sally’s face. Her happy-go-lucky expression warped into a look of terror and confusion.

  “Good heavens! Randy, this is no time for jests,” she exclaimed, troubled. Randilin’s silence confirmed that her fears were true. “How? When? What are we going to do? What about the Hunter? Are you here on your way to the Second Passage Way? How much do they know about A . . .” Randilin’s hand shot up, placing a finger on her lips. She stopped talking.

  “Sally, there is no need to speak of things,” he glanced toward Cody and Jade, “which do not need to be spoken of. I know it’s an impossibility for you, but try to hold your tongue.” He took a deep breath, showing, for the first time, heavy signs of fatigue. “It is true. That is where we are heading. As for the Hunter . . .” Randilin paused before finishing, “he has already feasted.”

  Sally gasped, holding her hands over her mouth. “Then it has finally awoken? Please don’t tell me, what of Wesley, I’m afraid to ask, is he . . . did he . . .” Randilin nodded slowly, “Unfortunately, Wesley is the first casualty of the coming war.” All the while, Cody and Jade sat stunned, listening intently, but unable to make sense of the conversation. Suddenly, Sally stood up, surprising her three guests. The look of terror was gone, a look of determination shone on her face. “What’s our first move?”

  Cody gave a sly smile to Jade; they both realized the value of their newly-gained ally. Randilin, too, was unable to suppress a grin, “Oh, Sally, you old harpy, you make a wretched dinner companion, but I sure wouldn’t want to be your enemy! We have little time to waste. We pack the gear and head for the passageway . . . tonight.”

  A Brewing Storm

  Thunder shook the sky as the clouds exploded into a fury of rain. Pulling down his hat tighter to block the onslaught, a man trekked across the street, his feet splashing in the accumulating puddles. I don’t have time for this! Crossing the street, he entered into a brisk walk down the empty pathway. He checked his watch: Quarter ‘til midnight. I still have fifteen minutes. He picked up the pace knowing full well that his night’s business would not allow him to be a moment late.

  Spinning down another dimly lit street, the man was relieved to see his destination before him. Glancing around quickly he ensured that he was, indeed, alone before crossing the street. A rickety, abandoned house towered before him; the doors and windows had been boarded up. Whatever ancient use they once served was long since lost. Crossing around to the side of the house, he knelt down, fumbling with the keys in his pocket. The heavy rain left red streaks across his face as it pounded relentlessly against it.

  Finally, with key in hand, he unlocked a sturdy wooden door, which was mostly concealed by the un-kept foliage swallowing up the house. Stepping into the darkness, the man pulled the door down firmly above him.

  Scurrying down the ladder, he flicked a match and lit several torches around the perimeter of the room. The warmth of the fire felt instantly soothing on his soaking wet skin. The thought of removing the heavy clothes sticking like glue to his damp skin gave him pleasure. But after, only after. He had no time to spare. Having lit the final torch, he walked to the corner of the room. Without looking down, he stepped over the crumpled lump on the floor. Hello, Charlie. Against the wall was a table, upon which sat a solitary phone. Taking a deep breath, the man picked up the receiver and pressed the speed-dial, there was only one. The phone rang once—then twice. When the phone rang a third time the man became uneasy. I know you’re there, just answer the phone! The man got his wish. Following the third ring a voice came over the speaker, “Report.”

  The voice was a male’s voice, but not overly deep. It had a chillingly steady tone to it, completely purged of emotion. The rain-drenched man’s voice faltered slightly as he spoke, “My Master, the Book is still in the possession of the children. They appear to be guided by a native—Sir Randilin. Also, Sir, our men have encountered the Hunter, unknown casualties.”

  The man on the other end spoke in the same emotionless tone, “Casualties are of no concern. I sacrifice their lives willingly for the cause.” The indifference of his words sent a chill down the caller’s spine. “What of the children?” asked the icy voice.

  The caller’s mind raced over the memorized report in his mind, but the words still came out slow, hesitant, and clumsy, “Cody Clemenson and Mari Shimmers, Sir.” There was a long pause. The caller held his breathe.

  At last the man on the other end responded, “Curious . . . this is a fascinating development. Don’t underestimate them. Any leads on their course of action?”

  “Yes, Sir, we are tracking them now. We have reason to believe they will lead us directly to the entrance. It should not be long.”

  “Indeed. I believe it is time for CROSS to handle the situation personally. I will dispatch one of our agents. Success is crucial.” The rain-drenched man shivered; he did not like the direction the conversation was leading, “What of the hired mercenaries? Shall I dismiss them?”

  “No. We cannot afford to leave any traces. CROSS does not exist . . . ,” the cold voice paused as though savoring the words the way one enjoys a juicy thanksgiving turkey, “. . . eliminate them.”

  “Yes, Master,” the man responded dutifully.

  “Well done, Dunstan. You have played your role well; the world will remember you for it. See to it, for your sake, that there are no mistakes. ”

  “Yes, Sir.” At the sound of the dial tone, the man exhaled loudly. He had done well. He stripped off his drenched clothing and collapsed onto his bed. He needed his sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. Tomorrow—the war was going to begin.

  The Break-In

  A chorus of howls sailed on the midnight desert draft. With the retreat of the sun, a cool air settled in, driving away the tyranny of the day’s scorching heat. The soft breeze slithered across the earth like the rhythmic breaking of ocean waves. The setting sun had ushered in the ritual nighttime circus of creatures, predator and prey alike, basking in the lux
urious night chill. Joining the animals in their festivities was a boy, standing on a sandy dune as though the captain on the bow of his ship.

  Cody gazed across the eternal sea of sand. Off in the distance he could faintly make out the dim flickering of light, a dying candle illuminating through the darkness. At the sight of the distant lights, Cody shuddered. On any other day the cool air and the solitude of the continuous desert would have been a welcome, soothing experience. However, on any other day he would not have been preparing to break into the most protected, dangerous location in America—Area 51.

  A subtle cough crackled to his left, startling Cody, and announcing that his privacy had been forfeit. Randilin ascended the sand dune and joined Cody in his lookout. For several minutes, the two soaked in the view, watching as a lone star raced across the sky before quickly vanishing from sight.

  “Well, son,” Randilin began, “don’t waste a single glance. You people foolishly take this sky for granted every single second you hustle to and fro underneath its splendor.”

  Cody knelt down, grasping a fistful of sand and allowing it to slowly trickle through his fingers. “You keep mentioning you people as though I am so different from you. I’ve been lugging this Book around with me for days now and still have no idea why. Dunstan was right you know, I am just an ignorant child.” Reaching around to his back, Cody pulled the Book out of his backpack. He rubbed his fingers across the smooth leather of the cover and felt the familiar surge of energy rush up his arm. So many questions remained unanswered. He had now witnessed the Book’s power twice; and on both occasions it almost seemed as though the Book was somehow protecting him. He shook his head. “Maybe Jade’s right, maybe I’m just seeing what I want to see and letting my imagination get the best of me. Perhaps it really is nothing more than a stupid Book.”