The Telling

by Mike Duran

  Tamra shook her head, eyes drifting in thought. “He’s had a hard life, that’s for sure. Either way, this whole thing is creeping me out. This place is creeping me out. All this talk about miracles and prophecies. And dark angels. Whatever’s going on in this city, whatever that thing was that attacked Zeph, people have to know. I don’t care if we look like a buncha kooks. And if one more thing happens, I promise you I’m calling the police.” Tamra yanked her phone out of her pocket and waved it at Annie. “I don’t care who finds out. There’s plenty of normal folks around here still.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Tamra cast a long gaze at Annie. She stuffed the phone back in her pocket and said, “Okay. Even if some of the police are in on this, they’re not all in on it. Other people know what’s going on here. They have to.”

  Annie did not concede Tamra’s point. Instead she said, “If we’re really dealing with some type of spirit beings, no police force in the world will be able to stop them. And who knows how far they’ll go to make sure they aren’t found out?”

  Tamra chewed her gum slowly. Her eyes revealed that she shared Annie’s fear.

  “I’m not sure I believe Weaver,” Annie said flatly.

  “I could tell. But why would he want to trick us?”

  Annie shook her head. “I don’t think he wants to trick us. I’m just not sure about his motivations. Or whose side he’s on. I’m just not sure. Hopefully he’ll decipher something from that journal and whatever formula he thinks it contains. Maybe they’ll uncover a way to stop whatever is happening up there. But I’m skeptical, I can’t deny it. We’re dealing with demons here, Tamra. Fallen angels who want to become like us. Weaver can talk all he wants about parallel worlds and wormholes and that scientific mumbo-jumbo. This is something spiritual. All the theories and computations in the world can’t change that fact. I don’t care who Weaver thinks he is. Only the prophet can stand before the gates of hell.”

  Tamra sighed. “Okay. I’m running by work to tell Mr. Farner I need a couple days off. I’ll stop by Zeph’s and check on him and make sure everything’s all right. Then I’ll be back here in an hour or so. Just lock your door, and don’t open for anyone but me.”

  Tamra stared at Annie and then leaned across and kissed her on the cheek. “Love ya, Nams.”

  Annie watched as Tamra slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked down the hall.

  Seeing her granddaughter and Zeph talk together outside last night had rekindled something in Annie, something she’d believed had died long ago. All she had ever wanted was to make a difference, to leave behind a godly lineage. After watching her son play the prodigal, squander his gifts, and give himself to drugs, Annie had all but abandoned her dream. Yet standing there watching Tamra, a sense of hope flickered to life inside her.

  And hope was not something Annie Lane had been used to lately.

  She hurriedly gathered up a week’s worth of belongings into her only suitcase. Before she could leave Marvale, however, there was one thing she had to finish. In fact, completing their mission might even depend on it.

  She slipped the Velcro cuff on her thigh, inserted the Swiss Army knife, and checked the flashlight to make sure it was working. Then Annie stepped into the hallway, gently pulling the door shut and locking it. Behind her another door clicked shut. Annie turned to see Vera’s son standing across the hall, two large black plastic bags lying on either side of the doorway. The last time she had seen the young man, he was ranting that his mother had changed.

  They exchanged glances, and then he did a double take.

  What conclusions had he reached about Vera? And what else had he uncovered in his search for the truth? Perhaps he could be a comrade in their resistance.

  “Pardon me.” Annie approached. “Your mother, how is she?”

  He straightened and studied her, eyes roaming along her features with an inquisitive calculation. “She’s better now.” His eyes sparkled. “We’re both better.” Then a hard smile crept across his face.

  Annie stumbled back and gasped. “What happened? Where are they?”

  He tilted his head, retaining the chilling smile. “They? I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  Down the hall Violet left her apartment and approached with her handbag draped at her elbow. She looked from Annie to Vera’s son.

  He said, “She wants to know how mother is.”

  Violet turned to Annie and looked at her, studying her features as the man had done. When she spoke, her tone was defiant. “Vera’s fine. You know,” she tilted toward Annie, lowering her voice to a whisper, “you really should watch yourself, Annie dear.”

  Then Violet leaned back and nodded to the man. She bent and picked up one of the trash bags. The man picked up the other. Then they turned and walked back down the hall, side by side.

  Annie watched dumbly as her heart thudded in her temples.

  How could she have missed it? The world was changing. The people she had lived among, laughed with, and shared memories with were no longer there. In their place was something alien. It was happening all around them—it had been happening without her notice. Subtly. Imperceptibly. How long before the whole facility—the entire city—was swapped by hideous others? Dark angels disguised as humans, plotting an invasion the likes of which the world had never seen.

  She meandered to the nearby reading area and dropped listlessly into the chair.

  There was no way to stop this—what kind of fool would ever believe that? Hell does not yield to peons. And that’s what Annie Lane was. An impotent, undependable peon. Perhaps it was infused into her DNA. You can’t escape your destiny. She was destined to fade away, to find hope only to lose it. To leave the earth without leaving so much as a thumbprint, much less a godly lineage.

  Stop it!

  Annie straightened. This is how it starts: a slow surrender that becomes a complete sellout. She had to fight it! How else could she stand in the gap?

  Annie rose and looked back down the hall. Monsters or not, she had a mission to accomplish.

  She would start by recruiting Easy Dolan.

  Chapter 49

  Why, if it ain’t Miss Annie!”

  Easy stood with his apartment door open, but upon seeing Annie, his bright smile faded. “You look like ya done seen a ghost.”

  Annie pushed her way inside, closed the door, and leaned against it, panting.

  Easy was wide-eyed. “What’n the world—?”

  “Something’s happening, Easy. Something terrible.” Annie strode past him into the living room, where she started pacing.

  “You didn’t git yerself into trouble again, did ya?”

  “I think we’re all in trouble,” Annie gasped. “Big trouble.”

  “Oh, come now—can’t be that bad.”

  “Oh, yes it can.” Annie said firmly, “I need your help, Easy.”

  He peered at her, then walked to his desk. “Have a seat, Miss Annie.”

  She barely noticed the chemical smell and, without resistance, wandered to the Victorian wingback and sat.

  Annie inhaled deeply, hoping to compose her thoughts and sound as persuasive as possible. Convincing Easy to assist her could be the difference between life and death. “Everything we talked about—the Madness, the Rift, the ninth gate of hell. It’s all true, Easy.”

  He remained standing, strumming his fingers on the back of his chair. He looked long and hard at Annie. “I encouraged you ta dive right in. So, I take it you have.”

  “Last night I saw one.”

  “One what?”

  “This is going to sound crazy,” Annie said. “They’re dark angels.”

  “Angels?”

  “Fergus calls them the fetch. It’s some sort of Irish folklore concerning elves or dark fairies that come to fetch someone’s soul. But these things aren’t fairies, Easy. They’re … monsters. Real-life monsters. Fallen angels of some sort. They want to duplicate us. It’s how they cross over to this side.�
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  Easy shook his head and scratched under his cap. “And you saw one of these things?”

  “It was awful.” Annie stared blankly, recalling the hideous mutation. “Whatever they are, Fergus is the one who opened the way. I’m not sure how. His mother killed herself, just like you said. And they thought they could bring her back. You were right about his father. It’s part of some military cover-up. And it’s still going on.” Annie scooted to the edge of the chair. “Easy, they opened a door to another dimension. A place we weren’t supposed to go. It’s necromancy!”

  Easy stared, incredulous. “I’ve believed some far-out tales in my time, Miss Annie. But this takes the cake. Either you got a wild imagination, or somethin’ mighty odd’s goin’ on ’round here.”

  “It is mighty odd. But I’ve seen it with my own eyes. You have to believe me! Genie, Vera, Violet. And then last night …” She shivered. “People are being swapped, murdered. They’re bodies are disposed or hidden. I can’t believe I’m saying this.” She slumped forward, exhausted from the weight of it all. “I don’t know anymore.”

  Finally, Easy said, “I dunno, either, Miss Annie.”

  Taking a nearby rag, he poured some liquid on it and dabbed at a model lying on his desk. Over his shoulder he said, “It’s quite the conspiracy, that’s fer sure.”

  “It must sound crazy.”

  “You got that straight!” He chuckled. “And you’re sure about all this?”

  Annie nodded. “I’m sure about it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And you saw those papers. We need to do something.”

  “Like what?” He stopped his work and looked at her with his eyes creased in suspicion. “Call the cops, or the military? Why, if it’s that bad, what can we do?”

  She hesitated and then said, “There’s a young man. He has … powers.”

  Easy raised one eyebrow. “Like Superman?”

  “Not quite. He’s a prophet.”

  “Pshh!” He brushed his hand through the air.

  “No, really. I believe God has put him here. He has the power to control the Rift, to stop whatever they started. In fact, I think he has more power than even he can imagine.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “I do. It was predicted a long time ago. Someone with a brand, a scar on his face, would heal the land.” She nodded, as if to reenergize her confidence. “They’re going up there today. We can only pray they stop it.”

  “Up where?” Easy turned and looked at her quizzically.

  “To the Rift,” Annie said. “I’m just afraid Fergus will find out. That he’ll do something and try to stop them. I mean, if he’s tied in with this, if he’s conjured some power, some evil, who knows what kinds of things are on his side? We need to stop him, Easy. Keep him from trying to thwart this.”

  “We?” Easy uncorked a brown jar, poured some of the liquid onto the rag, and corked the bottle.

  “You and me. We can … we can do something to keep him from going up there.” She inched forward on the chair. “I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe we can orchestrate something to distract him. You know, a diversion.”

  “You sound like a regular sleuth, Miss Annie.” Easy laughed and held the sopping rag out. “And as much as I hate ta say it, I believe you done stumbled onto somethin’.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “Me? I tried ta warn you.” The liquid sweetness struck her nostrils. “So I figured, well, if curiosity done killed the cat, then maybe settin’ out some milk’ll speed the process.”

  She squinted at him. “What’re you talking about?”

  Easy walked toward her.

  She wanted to ask him why he was walking without his cane. He approached her remarkably fast, the rag extended.

  Had she not been caught off guard, Annie Lane could have given the old man a fight. But as usual it was the element of surprise that won out. Any respect Miss Marple had for Annie would have vanished that instant. Easy Dolan stuffed the sweet-smelling rag over Annie’s face and held it in place with very little resistance.

  “Chloroform,” he said, as Annie’s world faded. “Makes a great solvent.”

  Rather than attack, her body surrendered to the sweet liquid. As her world went black, a strange amber glow tinged Easy’s eyes.

  Chapter 50

  At the time Annie had no idea what it meant.

  You will stand in the gap. You will be a remnant.

  Her life was in shambles back then, and the words seemed to be senseless. What gap was she supposed to stand in? And what kind of remnant was she to be a part of? At first there was confusion. Then resentment. She expected something more specific. When God spoke, you knew it. This word had none of that specificity. Still, it had lingered in her brain.

  After years of angst and second-guessing, Annie realized those were the exact words she needed to hear. They had given her hope. From that day on it became her mission to find the remnant, to be part of that remnant. And to stand in the gap with them, whatever that gap might be.

  She woke to nausea. As she did, that word was on her mind. And she wondered if she would ever live to fulfill it.

  Her lower back was throbbing again. Annie tried to rise, but she couldn’t. She fought to call out, but her mouth wasn’t working. Something was stuffed in it. Instinctively she flailed in panic. Her feet were free, and she managed to hoist her torso into a sitting position. A small, dark space swirled around her. It smelled of bleach and moisture. Where was she? Pain seared her wrist, and she realized her hands were tied behind her. Then she attempted to scream, but only a garbled yelp emerged.

  She was bound and gagged!

  Panic streaked through her, and her mind struggled to reassemble the pieces.

  Her suitcase was packed and lying on her bed. Waiting. Waiting, just like Tamra would be waiting. She remembered Vera’s son, his chill gaze, and Violet carrying out the bulky black trash bags alongside him. Then there was Easy, his eyes glowing like fire pits in a volcanic flume.

  Above it all Annie remembered Tamra’s warning to stay inside.

  A beam of light fingered through an open doorway. She could make out boxes against the dim contours of walls. Wads of fabric or clothing littered a concrete floor, and a broom or mop tilted in the corner. The scab on her shin had been torn open again, and fresh blood glinted darkly in the light.

  The fetch! They were coming for her. It was finally her time.

  Annie bit against the gag and tried to wrest her hands free, but she could not.

  Muffled voices rose, and a shape passed in front of the light. The door opened, and a figure stood silhouetted against the bright rectangle.

  Easy Dolan flicked on the switch, and Annie squinted as a bare bulb came to life overhead. He stood smiling with his golfer’s cap tilted upward, revealing a widow’s peak of gray.

  She was in the washroom. A washer and dryer sat to her left, detergents and cleaning supplies on the opposite wall. The floor was hard and cold. Was she still in Easy’s apartment? Annie focused her eyes on him—or the creature who now looked like him.

  Easy took a step toward her, bent in inquiry.

  “No, the light don’t faze us now, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” He straightened, looked up, and blinked rapidly, as if to demonstrate. “Chalk it up ta adaptation! That’s what organisms do, in the strictest sense. Besides, we had lotsa time ta learn how to adapt.”

  He cackled his familiar laugh. But now she detected something malevolent in his tone.

  “Deception’s such a useful mechanism, ya know?” He smiled smugly. “Why, it’s the only way some animals survive! S’ppose ya could call us chameleons, in that sense. ’Cept you’re the ones we learned to copy. DNA, chemical compounds, genetic sequencing—heck, it’s all just info. Any half-wit computer programmer can duplicate the chemical makeup of your species. The rest is just details. Brains, bones, and electrical impulses. That’s all you are. Fer the most part, I know just about everything that old golfer knew. His kids’
names. His favorite food. Just data stored in his noggin. I even know how he felt about you, Miss Annie … just don’t count on me exercising his sympathy.”

  Easy leaned over her, showing his pearly whites.

  “I’m surprised at you, Miss Annie. Ya know, I thought you was more discernin’. But you missed it all. I tried to dissuade you at first. Not outta pity. No, sir! Pity’s such a useless emotion. When did pity actually advance a species? No! It ain’t pity.” He rose and spread his arms. “It’s survival. Mountains. Mines. Fields of undeveloped land. Death Valley’s the perfect place fer our endeavors. And then there’s Poverty. They’ll be hard pressed to find ya once we strip you of the essentials. We just didn’t wanna ruin such a fine vessel.” He drawled the word fine, eyed her up and down, and a lustful gaze sparkled in his eyes. “Ya know, for a woman your age, you have kept yourself in wonderful condition.”

  Annie bit at the gag and fought to free herself. She kicked toward Easy, hoping to land a heel in his kneecap, but struck nothing and fell back onto the floor.

  “I told you to just leave it, didn’t I? You were just too stubborn.” His brows creased, and he gazed at her, the edges of his eyes framing pure hatred. “It’s that faith o’ yers that’s got you into this mess, Miss Annie. Why, not a few souls have gone on to destruction for that foolish belief. But I must say, it played right into our hands.

  “See, when we learned ya found the old man’s journal, we had to lead you on. Fergus been careless with that book, yet we had no choice but to leave him with it. He’s a sorcerer, ya know? Big things in store for him. Big! If only ya hadn’t gone snoopin’ round, perhaps it wouldn’t of come ta this. But it’s played to our advantage. Ya see, we needed to get Zipperface to the gateway. With your assistance, we’ve done sealed the deal. I do believe he’s on his way to the Rift as we speak. And you were the ones that wooed him there, Miss Annie. If he’s swapped, a powerful thing will happen. Powerful! A black cherub, the rarest of all beings, will control the gateway. Then there will be no one that can stop us. Not a soul.”