Not Against Flesh and Blood (The DX Chronicles Book 1)

by Brian Cody

  “Nine-ten…” Bryen murmured as he glared at the GPS screen, “Nine-fourteen…Nine-fifteen”, he continued as he looked to a homestead on their left, “Nine-nineteen…nine-twenty, nine-twenty-one, -twenty-two, -twenty-three, -twenty-four”, he continued as he looked out. “…Nine-twenty-six”, he hummed as he watched the numeration appear on the GPS and present a distance—fifty yards. “I feel like the government had something_”—Bryen grunted as the car decelerated from fifty miles per hour to twenty, while David angled his vehicle along the left side of the road. “What?” he muttered.

  “What side was Nine-twenty-four on?” David asked as he deactivated his engine, leaving only the glow of the dashboard and the electronic digits making up the time—1:35—to provide radiance.

  “Nine-twenty-four was…on the right”, Bryen replied.

  “Then Nine-twenty-five should be on the left side”, David replied as he unstrapped his seatbelt, pulled out his keys, and opened his door.

  “Wait, what_?”—Bryen grunted as the sub-freezing temperatures of New York’s late-winter sped into the interior and usurped the warm atmosphere.

  “What’s he doing?” Shawn asked as he covered his arms and zipped his brown fleece.

  “No idea”, Bryen replied as he opened his door, unbuckled his seatbelt, and lobbed himself out of the vehicle. Shawn pivoted upright and then opened his door, stepped out, and breathed, his expiration both visible and soothing to his lips. “The gas station’s only a mile back if you really have to go”, Bryen noted to David, who stared across the road and into the trees.

  “I think that address is right”, David replied as he crossed his arms and exhaled. “CORGI couldn’t have screwed up, so I think that Nine-twenty-five was the most approximate address for Sterling Blue’s home.”

  “So then you think it’s in there somewhere?” Shawn asked as he pocketed his hands.

  “Yeah.” David turned to Bryen and Shawn. “I know it’s almost two in the morning, and I know it’s freezing as crap, but if you guys could give me thirty more minutes, that’s all I’ll need.”

  “What do we do if we can’t find his place for whatever reason?” Shawn asked.

  “I don’t want my parents to know I was around here…we’ll find some place to park and crash in my car; maybe head back after sunrise”, David replied.

  “Not just that”, Bryen remarked as he crossed his arms. “What are we going to do if we find his house? What if it’s occupied? CORGI didn’t list a family or spouse, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t someone living with him.”

  “Huh…well, I’ll think about it as we’re walking”, David replied with a shrug. “Let’s grab our gear and get going.” David, Bryen, and Shawn crowded around the Escape’s trunk, opened it, and grabbed three luggage items—two book-bags, a black one for Bryen and a grey one for David, and a blue duffle bag, bloated and nearly overflowing, for Shawn. After gathering their items, and after David locked the Escape, the trio jogged across the road, glancing down both sides in search of traffic or onlookers, before marching into the woods. The sounds were few, with only their cold breaths and the momentary crunches of an inch of snow and ice making known their presence. After three minutes of pressing into blackening forest, they stopped, leaning against separate trees and applying extra gear—a pair of black baseball gloves and a dark green hoodie for David, and Bryen’s black trench coat. They waited an extra minute as Bryen removed his contacts concealing his yellow irises and then pocketed them, before continuing on.

  After another minute through leafless brush, they sighted increasing light, and, after thirty seconds of walking, the tree line came into view. They stopped at the tree line and looked to a field which stretched to three hundred yards before once more being enveloped by the forest. As their eyes readjusted to the lunar light which leaked through the sparse cloud cover, they sighted a monolithic shape in the center of the field. Unlit and appearing as a standing silhouette atop a short slope, it was the only manmade structure in view.

  “Is that it?” Shawn asked as he stepped forward.

  “Let’s find out”, David replied, “B, does it look like there’s anyone around here who could be watching?”

  “No one within immediate view”, Bryen replied as he leaned alongside of a tree and scanned the field, the forest, and then the structure itself. “The building doesn’t seem to be occupied either, but I’m not one-hundred percent able to confirm that.”

  “Well, like I said”, David began as he stepped onto the field, “let’s find out.” David paced from the trees and into the open. Bryen and Shawn followed, then walked beside him, scanning over the forests, the uncut but short grass underfoot layered in frost but devoid of snow, and the skies above them populated by the scattered, dragging clouds. After another minute across frigid grass and the occasional but unchanging frequency of passing gusts, the building became more detailed: first its outline—an evenly sized, four-story quadrilateral array; then, of the bulk of its construction. The bottom floor contained the top of the foundation, its exterior covered in white cement, while a series of wooden columns surrounded its sides. The three floors above that were layered in wood with two square windows on each of its four sides and alternating per floor, with the second and fourth floors having two tinted windows, each, on the same side, and then the first and third floors following suit on the opposite side. The roof was jet black, while the base was covered in gravel.

  “Does anyone see an entrance?” David asked as he looked around the building’s perimeter.

  “Uh…” Bryen bowed to look past the pillars. “Maybe on the other side of the house? It looks like the gravel forms into a driveway.”

  “Let’s do it up”, Shawn spoke. They walked along the edge of the gravel and came to an empty driveway and then to an ascending arrangement of twelve steps leading to the maroon door on the second story.

  “So…” David hummed as they stopped in front of the steps.

  “Not it”, Bryen interjected as he stepped back.

  David spun to Bryen on his right, and then to Shawn also stepping away. “I freakin’ drove!”

  “You’re the one who’s related to him”, Bryen noted.

  “Dang it”, David grunted as he ascended the steps. His footsteps landed in hesitant contacts, and his legs jolted in order to feel for the areas along those steps least likely to squeal or to groan. After thirty seconds, David cleared the final threshold and stepped to the door, which stood close to ten feet and was nearly four feet in width. David looked down the steps, finding Bryen and Shawn side by side and looking up. Bryen sighed as he kept his hands in his pockets; and Shawn nodded as he crossed his arms, his duffle bag hanging in front of his waist and vibrating from his shivers. David then turned to the door, lifted his right, and banged it once, twice, and then a third time, before stepping back.

  He was still for the next few moments, his left leg tapping, and his own arms crossing. He glanced back to Bryen and Shawn after a minute, and then knocked three more times. Another minute went by, and David knocked once more in a trinal burst, his taps increasing in strength to pounds dynamic enough to shake the door, and the breaks between each knock increasing from a few instants to a few seconds.

  “Doesn’t sound like anyone’s home.”

  David spun to his left and jumped as he found Bryen standing behind him with hands pocketed. “B-money”, David gasped, “seriously, make noises when you’re walking so I don’t accidentally hurt you.” He then looked down the steps to Shawn ascending after them.

  “What do we do now?” Shawn asked.

  “Either someone’s home and doesn’t want to speak to us, or this place is empty”, David replied. “B, can you do that intangible thing with the door?”

  “Maybe, but not through the door; the door’s too obvious; I usually do the wall next to the door”, Bryen replied as he stepped to the right of the door, knelt, and, with a slow lifting of his arms, conjured a line of his shadow that slithered up the wall fo
r three feet before expanding.

  “Wait, so we’re going to break in?” Shawn asked as he looked to Bryen and then to David.

  “For the greater good”, David replied, while Bryen kept his arms outstretched towards the wall. “So, I get the feeling that you’ve done this before.”

  “Maybe”, Bryen replied. “This is taking a little longer than expected. Telling by the increase in force I’ve had to apply, I’m thinking there’s some sort of metal lining within the walls, or, at least, something matching structural metals in durability.”

  “How thick?” David asked.

  “I’m thinking no more than an inch”, Bryen replied. “It’s not too much, but it is probably some sort of deterrent in case of attack…or something”, Bryen explained. “And…done”, he finished, his right still outstretched while he lowered his left. Before him, along the wall, was a six-foot obsidian blotch. “You guys go first; it’ll be easier for me to maintain this.”

  “Or maybe you just don’t want to get shot at by any residents who think they’re being robbed!” Shawn suggested with a point.

  “…That too, but, seriously, it’s easier for me to maintain the intangibility field for others when I’m not having to pass through first.”

  “Sure”, Shawn replied as he lifted his duffle bag to face level, and then stepped towards the ethereal stain. He stopped but a few inches from it, squinting as his exhalation rubbed across the indiscernible gape and rippled the blackened outline. “So, what does it feel like when I’m passing through this stuff?” Shawn asked as he looked to Bryen, whose head had tilted. Bryen turned to David. David then turned to him before turning to Shawn and shoving him through the wall. Shawn slid through and then vanished, while sharp undulations were left along the wall’s surface.

  “Do you hear gunshots?” David asked.

  “Nothing; we’re good”, Bryen replied.

  David stepped through the gap, passing with an effortless stride and with the only sensation of contact being the gust-like sways of altered mattered. Bryen appeared behind him after only a few seconds. As David and Shawn looked back and Bryen stepped to clear the wall, the blotch of shadow condensed into an opaque line that slithered into Bryen’s silhouette, which, even in that dimmed area, was several times darker than the floor.

  “Sweet”, David uttered as he glanced to an empty room on his left that was not much larger than his dorm room. He then looked to the wide hallway darting for the back of the house, while alongside of that corridor’s right was a staircase that levelled off on the next floor before pivoting and continuing to the fourth floor. “Well…I guess we should look to see if anyone’s here or if anyone still lives_”

  “Wait”, Bryen interjected, his hand raised as he scanned the foyer. He traced the corners of the ceiling four feet above them, and then looked over the bare, forest green-walls lining the room and the hallway.

  “B, Is something wrong?” Shawn asked as he stepped to him, the wooden floor, hiding under brown linoleum, squeaking by his pace.

  “Nothing”, Bryen humphed as he lowered his hand.

  “Are you sure?” David asked as he stepped to the door. “Is something bothering you?” he whispered as he squeezed his fists.

  “You know—besides us breaking into someone’s home?” Shawn spoke as he looked down the hall.

  “No”, Bryen humphed as he glanced into that room. “I mean there’s nothing here—no security alarms; no silent alarms, no motion detectors, and no automatic lights. If this is Sterling Blue’s home, it’s not very well_”—Bryen looked over his shoulder, towards the door, and then spun back. “Never mind.” David and Shawn looked to that doorway’s interior face—a metallic slab connected to the wall by a trio of foot-high, iron hinges and locked in place by five crossbeams that fit into individual steel braces and were fitted with holes for five different keys.

  David stepped to and banged on the doorway twice, his pounds, unlike on the outside, clanging throughout the house. “The outside was definitely wood”, David explained as he stepped back and clasped his arms around the center crossbeam, “but this feels like solid steel. The outside must’ve been a disguise to avoid suspicion.”

  “While the inside is military grade”, Shawn continued as he rubbed the door.

  “Probably bullet-proof up to light artillery, maybe more”, Bryen furthered, “I bet the few windows are bulletproof as well. Sterling Blue didn’t need any alarms. The odds of someone not gifted getting into here are extremely low without them.”

  “So we can safely conclude that this is Sterling Blue’s place?” Shawn asked as he spun back.

  “Either his place or a paranoid rich person’s”, Bryen replied.

  “I’ll take the first choice”, David answered. “It doesn’t look like anyone is home right now, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a while. Let’s take a look around, but stick together for the moment.”

  “Where’s a light switch?” Shawn asked as he examined the walls.

  “Leave them off”, Bryen remarked. “We should limit whatever power we use, and we probably shouldn’t stay here for more than a few hours. If this place is rigged or being watched, we’ll want enough time to investigate and then leave.”

  “Agreed”, David replied. “We’ll leave this floor for last. We’ll do the third floor, the top floor, the bottom floor, and then this one—in that order. Any objections?”

  “Lead on”, Shawn answered.

  David started for the stairwell and ascended the first tread in a quiet rise, his legs feeling the give from decades-old wood, and his ears picking up the creak of each step. As he pressed on, he heard Shawn and then Bryen follow. As David reached the top of that flight and looked to a hallway moving from left to right, he paused and inhaled, detecting the slight increase in temperature from the ambient air. He stepped to allow Bryen and Shawn to rise behind, and he then turned to face them. “Well, left or right?” he asked. Bryen and Shawn glanced from side to side. The hallway ended after a little over fifty feet. There were six doors, three on the left and three on the right; and, as they scanned the floor, then the walls, then crepuscular dead-ends, they found no furniture—nothing hanging, and nothing inanimate able to populate that hallway and to prove that someone had once lived there. A chair, a desk, a wardrobe, or a picture frame—none were in view; before them stood only linoleum and green walls. “…Right it is”, David murmured as he started for his left and their right.

  They walked for twenty feet before David stopped in front of the door on the left side of that hall, a white surface, wooden, or, as they supposed, covered in a wooden outline. David glanced to Bryen and then to Shawn before looking to the silver doorknob, the item bearing a slender keyhole marked with overlapping scrapes due to, as it seemed, decades of use. He breathed, clasped the knob, and motioned it over several seconds as he, at first, expected to find its movements locked. His eyes widened as he felt a snap of momentary resistance, with the knob turning past halfway and continuing on. He held the doorway so that only an inch of black space could be seen between the door and the surrounding frame; then, he looked to Bryen and Shawn.

  “Would he really keep his doors unlocked if no one were home?” Shawn whispered as he looked into that crepuscular glimpse.

  “I guess we’ll find out.” David nudged the door onward before letting it open and letting that opaque corridor come into view. He stood in place for several moments, squinting as he sought to adjust to the darkness.

  “Clear.” David looked to Bryen, whose glasses sat atop his forehead, and whose own eyes were squinted, while his pupils had dilated into ovular gapes. David then pulled out his phone before squeezing its side to produce a platinum-white light. The farthest wall was about fifteen feet in front of them; placed on that wall and to the right of the door was a king-sized bed a yard off of the ground and shrouded in a comforter pulled to a foot before the bed’s top, where it stopped in front of a contoured pillow. David turned to the rightward wall to fi
nd a wardrobe planted between two closed doors on the near and far corners of that wall. The wardrobe was about the same height as the bed, with its top, about five feet of space, devoid of any supplies or personal hygiene items. David aimed his phone to the wall adjoining to the door, finding a three-tiered dresser, parallel to the bed and topped with a television that was perhaps a decade in age with a twenty-inch screen and two antennae at its peak.

  “Do you smell that?” David asked as he stepped in, while an odor, festering and thick, filled his nostrils, “it kind of smells like_”

  “Old person”, Bryen finished as he stepped in, scanned the room, and inhaled. “Yeah, like a nursing home; not a horrible smell, just…there.” Bryen turned to the wall ten feet to their left. “Hey”, he grunted while stepping forward.

  “What is it?” Shawn asked as he stepped in. David aimed his light against that far wall and raised his left to block its reflection from a square mirror. He lowered his phone, but stopped as he found, surrounding the mirror, square pieces in an uneven pattern. He then lifted his phone and circled it around the mirror, noticing the pins holding the pieces and then discerning their texture and their monotonous tones. “Newspaper clippings”, Shawn muttered as he stepped past David.

  “Are you sure?” David asked.

  Shawn looked over his right shoulder and flung his left. A heavy rattle sounded across the wall as each of those individual squares fluttered from left to right before settling. “I hate the title, and I’d much rather have heat-vision or something, but both I and my predecessors have been called the ‘Napkin King’, and there’s a reason for it. I can strongly sense every piece of processed paper-like plant matter within fifty yards of my position… They’re all newspaper clippings”, Shawn replied as David glanced to Bryen and then stepped to the wall. “One hundred and eighty-four of them”, Shawn continued as he pointed towards the mirror. “Telling by the decay, some of these older ones immediately around the mirror are about sixty years in age. The dust indicates that they haven’t been moved in a while, and the composition makes me think that most of them were processed along the eastern seaboard_”