by Aiden James
“Jack! Damn it, stop!!” he pleaded, moving up into Jack’s face. “I’m the only one here who can help you—the only one you can trust!”
“I’m…not…CRAZY!!!”
Jack mustered every ounce of malice within him as he glared at Peter, his eyes morphing from hazel to a brighter green. Peter flinched.
“I know, man—I know you’re not crazy!” Peter assured him. “That was never my point…. I believe in you. I wouldn’t have bothered to drive two hours up here to spend the evening with you if I didn’t!”
Jack’s fury lessened, just slightly.
“You and I share a common experience with this thing, this Genovene creature from our mutual past,” continued Peter, his tone compassionate...pleading. “What happened to you and Bobby might be a little different from each other. But, in the end you know and I know that this thing is still out there someplace, waiting to strike again.”
Peter studied his face for confirmation, and Jack nodded this was true.
“Like I told you earlier, man, you and I share the same hell,” said Peter, his voice just above a whisper. “You won’t find a better ally anywhere—definitely not here. I’m the guy who has your best interests at heart. You’ve got to trust me, Jack.”
The irises in Peter’s eyes deepened toward cobalt. An indication of his sincerity? He stepped back to the table and motioned for Jack to rejoin him there. Jack studied him in silence after he picked up his chair, and continued to watch the agent as he sat down again. Peter repositioned the recorder that had almost been knocked off the table and sat back in his chair.
“There’s quite a bit of material to confirm most of what you’ve described so far, Jack,” said Peter, picking up his latest journal and paging to a paper-clipped section. “Like the temple you described. Many legends throughout the world describe similar golden structures. Even the name ‘Genovene’ has been referred to in several medieval documents as a demonic entity. Furthermore, your description of the ‘villagers’ matches alien life forms I’ve studied, and your angel is almost identical to several accounts we have on file in Richmond.”
“There’s more,” said Jack, lifting his gaze to meet Peter’s. Wary now that something else might happen to raise his ire again, he couldn’t help himself. The release of painful secrets trapped inside for so long proved too cathartic to give up just yet.
“I know,” Peter replied, his smile almost impish.
“But, if there’s anymore talk about my past, as it relates to my state of mind…. I swear that’ll be it for what I’ve got to say.”
“I promise, Jack. I really want to hear the rest of your story…your incredible adventure!”
“Okay. Be forewarned there’s wilder shit to come. Though there’ll be no more trees with sinister faces,’ said Jack, releasing a subdued chuckle.
“I’d love to hear it.”
“And you’re sure?”
“Yes! That’s why I’m here.”
Jack waited to resume his tale until after he visited the restroom. Once finished, Peter did likewise, musing aloud on the similar affects of coffee and Coke. He grabbed one more steaming cup of coffee and rejoined Jack at the table.
“Would you prefer water, or anything else?” offered Peter, once Jack waved off another soda. “How’s your stomach holding out? If you’re about to describe another of your grandpa’s home cooked meals, I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait until your story’s finished, Jack!”
“Well, I believe I won’t be able to do my story justice without at least one more trip to Grandpa’s kitchen,” said Jack, grinning at the thought. “I’ll try not to spend too long on describing food, though.”
“I’d certainly appreciate it!” Peter teased, raising his cup in mock salute. “All right, I’m ready to hear what happened next.”
“So good to be home again,” said Jack, resuming where he left off. “As soon as I entered the back porch door and smelled the pot roast simmering on the stove, I felt safe and secure at last. Jeremy continued an endless barrage of questions he’d launched at me from the moment I was within earshot of the porch steps. My answers brief and to the point, when I mentioned my trip to the golden village his response was a derisive snicker. Sick of his dismissive sarcasm, I ended the interrogation right there. Leaving him standing in disbelief at my own brash indifference, I headed upstairs.
“I trudged up the old staircase, scarcely aware of the usual spookiness. I didn’t even think about it until I’d already reached my bedroom and removed the grimy clothes from my tired and sore body, throwing them in the upstairs hamper on the way to the bathroom. About the time my grandfather entered the house after giving Banjo his bath, I stepped into the shower, allowing warm jets of water and soap to rinse the dirt and fatigue away, soothing my injuries. When the water’s temperature had gotten noticeably colder, I stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed enough to face Grandpa and Jeremy. I dressed and moved gingerly downstairs, suffering from soreness that’d only get worse. Jeremy met me at the foot of the staircase.
“‘So, what really happened, Jackie?’ he demanded. ‘It’d be wiser for you to just ‘fess up. And, please...spare me the bullshit about some ‘golden village’ this time. ‘Think you can handle that, peckerhead—’
“‘Lay off him, son!’ Grandpa intervened. ‘Let Jack eat something first, for God’s sake! He’s obviously got some explaining to do, and I’m sure we’ll get the story of what happened in due time. Now, come on over to the dinner table, ya’ll. Supper’s waiting and it’ll get cold soon.’
“Jeremy regarded me suspiciously before relenting to Grandpa’s words. He led the way to the kitchen and we all converged on the table. Famished, since the fudge cookie was the last thing I’d eaten, I literally shook when I pulled my chair out from the table. I used the rest of my energy to sit down and pull myself up to my plate. Observing my condition, Grandpa placed some roast, creamed potatoes, and steamed vegetables onto my plate, and then buttered a piece of warm bread, giving that to me as well.
“As usual, there wasn’t much conversation at the dinner table, though Grandpa and Jeremy briefly discussed the remarkable progress the firefighters made with the dwindling fire in the woods. After that, an awkward and tense silence pervaded the overall mood. My brother and grandfather kept a watchful eye on me throughout our meal. Both were anxious to hear my story, regardless of what Jeremy had said.
“The flashing red lights from the fire trucks parked on the other side of the backyard’s wall flickered eerily in the evening’s deepening darkness, their reflections dancing on the kitchen walls as they trickled through the back porch door and kitchen windows. Frankly, the emergency lights being visible at all surprised me, given the truck’s location and the obstructions of the wall and oak tree. It presented a grim reminder of what’d happened that day.
“‘Jack...Jack! Snap out of it, son!’ Grandpa jolted my mind back to the present. ‘Go on and finish eating so you can tell us what’s been going on with you.’
“He stood up and my normally aversive brother joined him in the early stages of clearing off the table.
“‘Do you want any dessert, Jack?’ Grandpa asked. “I baked an apple pie if you’d be interested in having any.’
“‘No thanks, Grandpa,’ I said. ‘I think I’ve finished eating.’
“I felt much better, and not to be outdone by Jeremy, I stood up and brought my dishes over to the sink.
“‘I might have some later.’
“‘That’ll be fine, son.’
“Grandpa motioned for Jeremy and me to go on into the living room. He planned to join us after he cleared the dinner table first. Jeremy waited for me to walk with him, which I wasn’t too keen about after the ruthless interrogation I’d endured earlier. He didn’t say anything this time.
“When Grandpa joined us, he switched on the overhead lights so we could all clearly see each other.
“‘Make yourselves comfortable on the sofa, boys.’
“We
took our usual places on either end of the sofa. My brother turned toward me, and I could feel his heavy stare while I gazed down at the floor. Grandpa brought his recliner over to where it directly faced me and then sat down. After a moment he spoke.
“‘Okay, Jack, let’s have it,” he said. “I’d prefer that you start from the beginning and work your way from there. Oh, and Jeremy. Please don’t interrupt your brother, all right, son?’
“Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and offered a half smile. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then I began speaking about my incredible adventure. Easier to tell the tale than I’d figured it’d be, at some points I lacked the words to adequately describe what I’d seen and gone through. I told them everything. Everything, except for my intimate encounter with Genovene. Until this evening, I’d never shared that with anyone, hoping someday it’d be as good as forgotten. Since that’s never happened, I guess you’re as good an audience as anyone, I reckon. Besides, you asked me to tell you as much as I possibly could. Hopefully it wasn’t more than you bargained for.”
“Absolutely not,” assured Peter. “On the contrary, sharing your most personal experiences in regard to all this gives me deeper insight into what this monster is truly like. You couldn’t ask for a more appreciative audience. Trust me.”
“Okay, then,” said Jack. “Jeremy surprised me in that he did manage to contain himself this time. At some points of the story, he looked genuinely impressed by what I described, though never frightened by the scarier stuff I talked about. He remained seated for the duration of the tale; smoking the last few cigarettes from the scrunched-up pack in his shirt pocket.
“Grandpa also gave his full attention to me, listening quietly in his chair and occasionally puffing on the pipe he’d lit soon after I began. He seemed a bit more sad than usual, especially when I related information about my parents and Allyson, the little girl from the village. He raised his eyebrows and puckered the side of his mouth on his pipe, nodding his head, as if those particular points really captured his interest.
“Once I finished, we all sat in silence. Grandpa finally stood and walked over to a row of portraits hanging on the living room wall, depicting my grandmother and us, along with a larger family photograph that included our parents. Jeremy and I followed him with our eyes until my brother grew restless.
“‘Well, Jackie. I suppose I owe you an apology for giving you a hard time about your golden village, man,’ he said. ‘I have to hand it to you, regardless of how much of what you told us is true or not, that was a good story. An interesting and damned good story, I’d say! There’s just some parts that are pretty hard to believe, and would take some ‘seeing’ before I could believe it all.’
“I nodded, pleased he found any of what I said relevant, and in complete shock he’d actually apologized to me. By my count, only the second time in my life he’d ever done that. He let me know he wasn’t finished talking yet, so I encouraged him to go on.
“‘But that bizarre fire today, and the goddamned thing you brought in here last night...the talisman? I saw those things with my own eyes, and to be honest with you, Jackie, I may have seen something myself last night. I could’ve sworn I saw a light glowing out in the woods when I got myself a drink before I went to bed. Gold and misty, it seemed to get brighter by the second.
“‘Grandpa was out cold by then, snoring in the recliner. I woke him up and told him what I saw. We both ran out to the back porch to take a look, but whatever it was vanished by then. It just fucking disappeared, so I haven’t got any proof. I’m pretty sure it was there, though I guess it could’ve been an optical illusion or some shit like that.’
“He shrugged his shoulders and opened a brand new pack of cigarettes, tapping out a fresh cancer-stick. He placed it between his teeth while he searched for his lighter.
“‘I saw it too, Jeremy,’ I said.
“Grandpa turned around to look at me, and Jeremy dropped the virgin cigarette out of his mouth, wearing perhaps the closest thing to true surprise we’d likely ever see on his face.
“‘I saw it when I went to bed and looked out my window last night,’ I explained. “I watched it until it died down. But ya’ll were still awake downstairs. Grandpa even called upstairs to make sure I was all right.’
“‘Wait a minute,’ said Jeremy, looking confused. ‘You went to bed before midnight, if I remember correctly. I saw the light around one or one-thirty. Hell, it could’ve even been a little later.’
“We all reflected silently on this. Given the implied nature of the information we’d just exchanged, whatever caused the strange glow in the woods had done so more than once, maybe even several times throughout the night. Its source might’ve moved the sphere in the backyard while we slept, or while we conversed in the living room as we watched the baseball game, completely unaware something lurked outside in the backyard. Perhaps it crept up to the house and watched us sitting in the living room through cracks in the curtains, or spied on Jeremy and myself as we stared at its strange glow through the back windows, knowing what it planned for me the next day. I shuddered while Jeremy shrugged his shoulders again.
“Grandpa came back over and stood behind the recliner. He continued to smoke his pipe, leaning on the back of the chair as he eyed me. My brother and I watched him, expecting him to say something profound. He waited awhile longer as if sorting his thoughts one last time.
“‘I believe your story, Jack, and I believe it in its entirety,’ he said, coming around to the front of the chair where he sat down. ‘This isn’t the first time in my life that I’ve encountered the golden object you brought in here yesterday, as I’m sure you both could tell based on my reaction last night. But, it was the first time I recognized its importance right away, for it’s an evil thing. I wish I’d realized that twelve years ago, and if I’d understood its significance when I first saw one of these things as a child, I might’ve learned what to do with it later. Maybe what’s happened since could’ve been avoided.’
“He looked really sad, and then turned away from us. When he faced us again, tears welled in his eyes like the previous evening. He wiped them with his shirtsleeve and looked at his watch. My story had taken nearly an hour and a half and it was almost ten o’clock.
“‘It’s getting late, boys, and I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day,” he said. ‘I have a story of my own to tell that should shed some light on Jack’s story. But it can wait until tomorrow. I want to take a look at the area you went to today, Jack. To see where everything happened, I think, would benefit us all.’
“I cringed, never wanting to see that goddamned place again.
“‘Jack’ he said, softly. ‘Don’t be afraid. I think you’ll find the area will look nothing like it did today. The ‘City of Gold’ you visited appears to folks only every so often. In fact, every time it’s been sighted in my lifetime, it’s vanished before it could be verified and investigated. It disappears so quickly that no one has even been able to photograph the place. You’ll see. By the time we get there tomorrow, it’ll all be long gone.’
“Of course, I’d already seen the area’s transformation after I crossed the river. What about the fire still burning in the woods? Seemingly under control, who could say it’d remain that way? Moreover, Vydora might still on the loose out there somewhere, perhaps waiting for my return to the river.
“My silent worries threatened to escalate when the doorbell rang.
“‘Who on earth could that be at this hour?’ wondered Grandpa. He walked over to the front door and turned on the porch light, peering through the peephole. Carl Peterson and Sheriff Joe McCracken stood on the front porch, squinting in the light’s brightness.
“‘Good evening, Marshall,’ said Carl, once Grandpa opened the door for him. ‘Sorry to bother ya’ll at this late hour, but we saw the living room lights on and figured someone was still up.’
“He looked genuinely pained to disturb us, but something in his eyes said it was real impo
rtant to do so. Grandpa and Carl had been close friends since grade school, even though Grandpa was nearly four years older. As kids, he never minded Carl tagging along and their friendship grew from there. The best man at Grandpa and Grandma’s wedding many years ago, he was present when my grandfather retired as manager of the local saw mill when I was ten. Also, one of the few friends that remained true once the bullshit started about my parents’ sudden disappearance.
“‘Come on in.’
“Grandpa stepped aside to allow them entry into our home. Carl was quite a bit heavier than my grandfather, with thinning gray hair and pale blue eyes that stood out from his flushed complexion. Sheriff McCracken, on the other hand, was a thin, deeply tanned man in his mid-forties, with dark brown eyes and brown hair revealing slight touches of gray along his sideburns and moustache. Though Grandpa didn’t know him well, he seemed to respect him.
“‘Well, hello, boys!’ said Carl, smiling as he extended a meaty hand out for both of us to shake. We remained seated on the sofa. ‘I don’t believe either of you’ve met Joe McCracken.’
“‘Pleased to meet you both,’ offered the sheriff, who extended his hand for us to shake as well.
“‘So, what’s the latest on the fire, Carl? It’s still under control, ain’t it?’ Grandpa asked.
“‘Yeah, it’s definitely under control,’ Carl sighed. ‘There’s not even a glowing ember remaining from it anywhere, and we’ve covered the area twice thoroughly. Nothing’s left but smoke and blackened trees. It’s by far the strangest fire I’ve ever been involved with. Almost like it started dying on its own once we got here.
“‘All I know is we encountered a few problems getting water flow from two of our trucks to work right, meaning we were operating at maybe forty- percent capacity. It turned out we didn’t even need that much. The flames died immediately once the water hit from our few working hoses. I ain’t ever seen anything like it—never in the forty-six years I’ve been doing this for a living….’
