She was studying for a math test, a subject she loathed. She was not incompetent with numbers—basic math was no problem. Algebra, on the other hand, was torture in addition to being useless. Whoever came up with all the rules, variables, and equations should have been tarred, feathered, and flogged for even thinking of such nonsense and making her life miserable. The last half an hour had been a lesson in mathematics torture, the numbers, and letters jumbling together.
Leaning her head back to let the weight of the work slide off the top of her brain onto the floor, she massaged her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She stayed poised like that for a few moments, taking a deep breath, relaxing her thoughts. That was all it took. What she intended to be a momentary respite turned into a twenty-minute power nap. It would have been longer, but she was awakened by a tickle on her right forearm. She wasn’t sure at first if it was real or a part of her dream, suspended in that place between consciousness and night visions. As she looked down, it didn’t register in her brain initially, her eyes still adjusting, attempting to come into focus. When they did, they opened wide.
On her arm was a spider. Brown. Hairy. It parked on her arm motionless as if trying to hide in plain sight. Either that or it was taking a nap. On her arm.
She shrieked, shooting out of her chair, shaking her arm as if it was on fire while using her free hand to scrape the intruder onto the floor. Her heart pounded against her breastbone, threatening to burst out of her body. That's when she realized she had let it loose in her room with no idea where it had fled. That would not fly. There was no way she was sleeping in that room with the knowledge of that creature lurking somewhere. She took off down the stairs.
“Dad!”
Her father met her at the bottom of the stairs, alarm etched into his face.
“What? What's wrong?”
“There's a spider in my room!”
Her father's face relaxed, replaced by a mask of incredulity.
“Are you serious? All of that for a spider?”
“I can't sleep in there tonight dad. It was on my arm!”
Her father sighed, his eyes narrowing.
“Don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit?”
“No. What if it's poisonous?!”
The dilemma was causing her father to struggle to be patient with her and it showed. “
“Fine. I will go, kill the spider, and you can sleep in your room tonight without me worrying about you screaming like a crazy woman.”
Moments later, the spider lay dead, flattened onto a roll of newspaper. She gave a sigh of relief, happy she could finish her math homework in peace. Afterward, she got a late snack and went to bed.
It was an hour later when she woke from her sleep, sweating. She reached over to the lamp next to her bed to inspect her arm which was burning. The spot where the spider had rested was red and swollen. It appeared as if she had been scratching it in her sleep. The spider must have bitten her. She felt dizzy, the sensation of pins and needles coruscating through her arm. Climbing out of bed right away, she clambered down the hall to her parent's bedroom. She recognized what was happening though it never happened before. She was having an allergic reaction.
Her parents drove her to the hospital. Her breathing became labored. They discovered later she was going into anaphylaxis. They arrived at the hospital in time for her to receive the proper treatment. The allergic reaction was the result of an insect bite. After describing the spider incident earlier, they learned it was a brown recluse, a common spider where she lived. Though venomous, its bite did not cause a severe reaction in the majority of people. A small percentage had severe reactions, and she was one of the rare individuals allergic to its venom. That began her abhorrence of all spiders. A spider similar to the one she’d encountered years ago floated with deft agility on a silver filament sending terror through every nerve in her body. She jumped back with a yelp, putting a good distance between them. The sight of it made her flesh crawl and a sudden queeziness settled in the bowels of her stomach. She rubbed her arms to warm the chill that had moved through her and yanked away at the discovery of hairy lumps all over them. What she thought was her skin crawling was a company of spiders clinging to her shirt. “Mom!!!”
Panic seized her. She tore the shirt off flailing and screaming, and discarded it onto the floor, watching in disgust as the spiders crept over the fabric. She retreated with alacrity, tripping in her hurriedness to get away, falling to the floor. She turned over to get back up and saw something fall, landing on her leg. She threw it off and watched it skitter away into the dark corner but it was followed by another.
And another.
And another.
Within seconds, a downpour of spiders adhered to her neck and face, entangling in the strands of her hair.
Ashley shot to her feet, shaking, flicking, and dancing out of control like a wild marionette. The storm of arachnids covered her body in a cocoon. No matter how fast she shed them, more would fall onto her. She didn't know where they were coming from and didn't care. All she wanted was the spiders to be off of her.
Moments passed, and she tried desperately to eject the spiders from her body by any means possible to no avail. She felt a sharp pain in her hand. “Oh no! Please God, no!”
A wave of fierce pain coursed through her body like a hurricane. Tears burst from her eyes. She opened her mouth to scream, but it was stifled by the introduction of hairy legs crawling into the cavity, biting her tongue. She quickly spat it out and clamped her mouth shut, suppressing her screams. The urge was so strong it felt like her head would explode.
She began raking layers of off onto the floor in a last-ditch effort to rid her body of them. Every patch discarded was another sensation of pain. She drifted towards the stairs. She had to get a hold of her mother. Patches of blood splotched her arms and legs. Vomit threatened to explode from her mouth, but she contained it, thinking about her daughter. She needed to get to her Jessica.
A litter of arachnids fell off as she climbed up the stairs, but a more intense current of pain exploded through her from the remaining menaces. The pain was so strong, she almost fell face forward into the stairs, hanging onto the railing with the little strength she could muster. Each step shed another layer but initialized a stronger attack. Jessica.
The pain was sapping her strength. It felt as if she couldn't take another step but adrenaline and mother's instinct spurred her upwards.
One step, one layer. One step, one layer.
Near the top of the stairwell, she crawled onto the cold, hardwood floor devoid of spiders. Her breathing labored, it was impossible to call out for her mother. She laid on her side, looking at the open basement door.
Someone was laughing.
Part VII - Awakening
Tyler loved his workshop. He understood he was blessed. Many young men his age dreamed of having their own workshop, their own mad scientist lab of gadgets. Most geeks anyway. Unless it was a deep passion, they had to settle for hammers and saws hanging on the wall with a toolbox full of wrenches and other paraphernalia. Some borrowed, some purchased. They dreamed of a time when they could have all they needed.
Tyler didn’t have to dream. This workshop was his, a veritable array of electronic and mechanical parts. Basic and advanced equipment. Some bought. Some given. Some invented. He loved it.
The thought gave him pause. Truth be told, he'd rather have his father. It had been six years since the accident. Worst day of his life.
People often expressed pity whenever the subject arose. Twenty-two was still a young age to lose a parent. The loss was amplified because of his age. He was old enough to know who his father was and experience life with him. The wound ran deep. They were beginning to draw closer, breaking through the barrier of awkwardness that accompanied their relationship in his early adolescence to late teens because of his… condition.
He was adjusted now as much as that was possible. It didn't mean he was used to his father being gone.
That was never happening. He was just able to function in a social context. In the years after his father's death, the workshop was his haven of solace. The place where his mind diverted from the thoughts of living to the act of creation. Most productive three years of his life.
It could have been worse. Their relationship could have ended distant and aloof which is how it began. His uncle Sebastian didn't have to take him under his wing and enlist him as a part of his cadre. He could have kept him at arm's length, the typical response from his extended family. His routine was to check on Tyler, ask how he was doing, check on the progress of his inventions. He was there when his mother couldn't be. When the news came that he'd be joining his uncle's team, happiness visited him. It hadn't done that in a long time. He was forever grateful for that.
He straightened his back as he sat on his work stool, leaning over his magnifying glass set above a circuit board. The last diode soldered, he smiled, glad he had made it to this point. He'd been working on his latest offering after the incident in Meechum Forest which was past creepy. He was under no grand illusions. He was still young at twenty-eight though his beard made him look five years older. However, unlike many men his age who played video games, chased women, and focused on achieving financial success, Tyler had other priorities. He traveled around the United States investigating unnatural/supernatural events a majority of scientists would dismiss and explain away in a heartbeat. There was a time Tyler would have been right there with them. But he'd seen too much in the short time he had been doing it. There was another dimension out there — or dimensions. They were unseen and dangerous. They weren't the place for ordinary humans to tread.
When his father died, he doubted everything he'd been taught about God's existence. He was about science. Engineering. Physics. His uncanny aptitude for electronics and design, formerly a God-given aptitude was explained through evolutionary fate. God, if He existed, was someone he had no desire to know. Not anymore.
Uncle Sebastian changed all that. He said Tyler's disbelief didn't make the truth void. That statement gnawed at him. One sleepless night, he grabbed his Bible, all but forgotten on the top shelf of his closet, and opened it to a random place. He didn't know what he was expecting or if he was expecting anything. A part of him challenged God to make himself real. Demanded it. The pages opened to the Book of Ezekiel. That day his faith was rekindled.
That incident began a habit for Tyler. Part of his time was spent creating new devices, applying his gift to produce gadgets with applications in the supernatural dimension. Ironic since his former worldview relegated that to pure fiction. Uncle Sebastian had told him it was a gift for the purpose of spreading light and fighting darkness. His exact words. When Tyler first heard it, he considered ignoring him when he came to visit. In his opinion, the supernatural was for kooks; people who believed in superstition and didn't have sufficient brain power to piece the mystery together scientifically.
His rekindled faith began a gradual change in perspective. It morphed into a healthy balance between science and his faith. Traveling all over the country, witnessing what he had seen, caused a complete paradigm shift in his worldview. The supernatural was real. Tyler would argue it was more substantial than the natural and much more terrifying after two years of direct experience. It was not an endeavor for the weak of heart.
The other half of his time was spent studying the book of Ezekiel which necessitated a familiarity with the rest of the Bible. Three years of study had made him a formidable theologian.
A cord of smoke wafted upwards from the solder-point, disappearing near the metal rim of the magnifying glass. That was it. All he had to do was put the board into the housing.
Most of their cases were one-offs with no connection to anything. This one was different.
They had been on the trail of the coven for days. They were elusive, coving their tracks and activities well. All witches were pagan religionists and for many, it stopped there. Not this group. These were insidious, a deep class of evil. His uncle called them reachers. They were not unaware of the depths of what they were doing. They pursued it. Reached for it. Craved it.
Tyler didn't understand it. That didn't sway his opinion in terms of what he believed should be done with them. They needed to be stopped. They didn't simply have an alternative religion. They were bent on dominating and destroying good people and good things.
Like the Bakers. At first, they didn't know what to think of the three of them showing up at their door. He didn't blame them. Uncle Sebastian’s sober demeanor didn't inspire charm and warmth. Amanda was the only one that didn't look off-putting which was probably the reason they kept the door open. Despite Mr. Baker was clearly bothered that they were on his doorstep period. He was sure that they were going to strike out when his uncle went straight for the jugular.
“My name is Sebastian Kane. I’m here to talk about the forest attack you and your family experienced.” There
was a momentary pause before Mr. Baker responded.
“Forest attack? What are you talking about?”
“Well, that may not be specifically accurate. We're here to talk to you about the forest attacking you.”
Mr. Baker's eyes widened.
“A forest attac…”
Sebastian held up his hand.
“Mr. Baker. We understand that you probably think we had something to do with it. I can assure you we did not. We fight these kinds of things and we need your help.”
They say honesty is the best policy. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. This time it did. The Bakers let the three of them in and discussed at length what happened to them in Meechum Forest. Trauma had scarred the whole family. The experience changed them all and not in a good way. That was the plight of most victims. It's why they always gave a phone number of a counselor who specialized in handling those kinds of cases without dismissing what they had seen. It was the best way to help them to grapple with being thrust into a new reality. Half of them called and made appointments. The others ignored it, attempting to sweep their experience under the rug. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. The worse cases ended up being hospitalized in mental institutions or something similar. Some turned to drugs or alcohol. Only a rare handful were able to deal with it without support. They were tapped to be Hagios Cabal agents.
Tyler slid the board into the chip slot inside the housing until the contacts were in place. He attached a small monitor to the top of the board, sliding it onto two small brass connectors before snapping it on top. Behind him, the door opened.
“So, you finally finished it.” Sebastian said, inspecting Tyler’s newest invention.
“Yeah. It should have a range of detection of about twenty yards which isn't half bad. I'd like the opportunity to extend that when we finish this case.”
The room swam with silence, the soft hum of the soldering iron and fluorescent lights filling the space.
Tyler looked at Sebastian.
“You really think this is going to be as serious as you said? It's that major?”
Sebastian stared forward in silence for moments before returning Tyler's gaze.
“I do though I don't know what exactly is going to happen and what our part is in it. I don’t have any solid evidence. It's just speculation. A feeling and I don't like making long term plans off of those. They're unreliable. So, until we get some more concrete information, we stay our post.”
The door swung open, smacking into the wall, rattling tools and paraphernalia. Amanda stood in the doorway.
“What's wrong?” Sebastian asked.
Amanda's chest rose and fell as she caught her breath.
“Something’s awake.”
Part VIII - Hospital Visit
Brian was on fire today. He wasn’t done signing up the young couple in front of him for the new Honda Accord they were looking at purchasing when another customer came in asking for him in particular. He had already sold one car and the deal he was completing now was a brand new mo
del.
Being a car salesman was like having any other job. There were slow and busy, good and bad days. He didn’t know what was going on with the higher powers of the universe but today was looking up to be one of those great days.
The soft digital ring of the telephone on his desk alerted him. Brian was aware of its presence but he was concentrating on getting the paperwork signed by the customers in front of him.
“Trust me, you will love this car. It’s safe, and you came in at a superb time since we’ve adjusted and expanded our financing options.”
The wife smiled holding their baby in her hands while the husband looked over the paperwork.
Brian liked his job. He wasn’t sure when he started six years earlier that he would make enough in commissions and quotas but it came easy to him. Plus, he was not one to be outdone, so he read up on how to be a better salesman, implementing more than a few strategies to up his game. He was a big Zig Ziglar fan, downloading a plethora of his videos from YouTube, a tremendous help. That and his gift of gab made more than enough for his family and had been the top salesman three years running.
The phone stopped ringing for a moment then resumed. Brian saw the husband was getting to the end of the paperwork so decided to ignore the phone until the last piece of paperwork was signed.
The Dark Corner Page 10
