The Animal: The Luke Titan Chronicles #5

by David Beers

  The man was as much a ghost as anyone Christian had ever seen. Still, he read it over and over and hoped his mind—his mansion—would make connections that he couldn’t see right now.

  Once inside his apartment, Christian placed his bag on the table and then sat down on the couch. He put the thin dossier to his side and closed his eyes.

  He usually entered the mansion at the entrance. Sometimes, especially recently, he would start on Luke’s floor. This time, though, when he reopened his eyes, he was in the room with the pink light. The shadows were against the walls, but began moving to the center again as soon as they saw him.

  Christian turned, not in a panic, but just to understand if he had any control here. He twisted the doorknob, but the grimy object didn’t budge. Apparently, his mansion had been reduced to this room.

  “You have no control. We told you that,” the voice said from behind him. Christian turned back around and saw the grinning mouth, looking eerily like the headless/bodiless Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. Only it had no eyes—just a mouth floated in front of him, smiling with sharp, pointed teeth.

  “Then what about the choice given to me last time? Who would die. That choice is control, isn’t it?”

  “No. That’s the delusion of control, Christian. You lost control a long time ago, and then the person who took it from you has now lost it. No one is steering this car. When will you see that?”

  “You know what I came here for,” Christian said, “so cut this bullshit.”

  “Very well,” the mouth said. “It is your mind after all. Waverly wants answers by this evening, correct?”

  Christian said nothing. The insanity of all this wasn’t lost on him: he was inside an imaginary room that existed only in his head, arguing with a part of his mind that felt and acted separately from himself.

  “You’re splitting up, Christian. Cracking up might be another way to classify it.” The mouth laughed, tiny wisps of smoke escaping through its teeth with each chuckle.

  “Show me what I’m here for.”

  “Okay, okay,” the mouth said. “Here we go.”

  And once again, Christian’s mind devoured him.

  “You love them, don’t you?” the mouth asks.

  Christian says nothing. He is looking at Tommy and Veronica. He can’t see anything except that they are sitting next to each other, their backs against black walls. The entirety of what he sees is black, everything except for those two.

  “We think they’re alive, Christian. We think that, because we think the animal is also in love—or as close to it as he can get.”

  The dark closes in on Veronica and Tommy, and Luke replaces them. He is standing and staring straight ahead.

  “What do you see when you look at Luke? Be honest now, as time is short and dishonesty will get you nowhere in this place of growing insanity.”

  Christian knows the mouth is telling the truth. Even the other was scared of his mind.

  Growing insanity.

  I’m growing insane.

  “It’s been happening for a while, hasn’t it?” Christian says, looking at Luke’s image. “Ever since Lucy Speckle put that head on my doorstep, I’ve been losing my mind—one brain cell at a time.”

  “What do you see when you look at Luke?” the mouth asks.

  “He’s my negative. My opposite. That’s what the other is, really, a representation of Luke inside my head. One that I was able to stop before it grew too great, but a representation nonetheless.”

  “Yes. That’s right, but there isn’t time for the other right now, Christian. There is only time for Luke and this new animal. Focus. You see your negative in Luke, but what else?”

  Christian walks around the black mouth in front of him, stepping closer to Luke. His chiseled face, brown eyes, perfect hair.

  “If he’s my negative, then he is still me. That’s the part I don’t want to see, the kindred spirit.”

  “Exactly. You’ve flirted with the idea since you’ve known him, that you two share a connection which is deeper than maybe any other relationship you’ve had.”

  “What does that have to do with the animal?” Christian asks.

  “He’s never had a connection. If the dossier shows anything, it’s that. His past is as barren as the room you came from. There’s nothing in his past but blood and death, yet he continues moving forward. Given that, what have you seen about him?”

  “He’s dangerous. He’s trained. He’s a killer.”

  “And who else does that sound like?” the mouth asks, it’s own shadows lost in the black space around Christian.

  Christian stops walking. He stands in front of Luke and stares into his brown eyes.

  “Luke.”

  “Yes. Luke. This man most likely watched Luke subdue you at a national monument, and then watched as he took your partner and lover away. If you feel a connection with him, might this animal feel one, too? Might that be why he’s allowed Luke to continue living?”

  “And what about Veronica and Tommy?”

  “How else does Luke live, except through his purpose?” the mouth asks. “If the animal does feel a connection, no matter how tenuous, he’d let Luke continue that purpose.”

  “His purpose is against God, and it involves me.”

  “You’re a smart boy, Christian. It is unfortunate that your mind has devolved to such a state as this.”

  “What about the choice I saw earlier? What does that mean?” Christian asks.

  “I don’t know, because you don’t know yet. You only know that there will be one. Or maybe you do know, and you just don’t want to face it,” the mouth says from its black spot. “Maybe that’s what your mind has been trying to tell you the whole fucking time.”

  “I don’t know what it is. You have to tell me.”

  “If you don’t know, how can I?”

  Christian woke up. He was lying on the couch, the dossier crumpled underneath him. He lay on his side, though he had no recollection of falling asleep.

  His eyes darted to the clock atop the television.

  It was seven in the evening. He had two more hours before Waverly’s deadline.

  Christian rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The conversation, at least what he could remember, seemed to have taken place years ago. He’d been sleeping for what? Maybe seven hours?

  There were two things to consider—though only one was imperative at the moment. The choice that Christian would face could be dissected later. The important thing was Luke still lived, and consequently, Tommy and Veronica as well … because this animal felt some sort of kinship with Luke.

  “How do I get to him?” he wondered aloud. “How do I find out where he is?”

  He turned over on his stomach, seeing his cell phone lying on the floor next to the couch. He reached for it then found Waverly’s number.

  It rang once before the Director answered.

  “Got anything?”

  “Maybe. I fell asleep. I don’t think I’ve slept seven consecutive hours in four years.”

  “Christian, I hate to rush you, but what do you have?”

  He looked off the couch toward the apartment’s window; his mouth opened, but no words came out.

  The black mouth floated outside his window, ten stories up, grinning at him. “No one is in control. Not you and not Luke. Not Waverly. No oooooonnnneee.” It started laughing, the chuckles deep and full of bass.

  “Christian? Are you there?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m here. I just … Yes. I have something. Luke is alive.” Christian turned over so that his back faced the apparition.

  “It’s beautiful, in an odd way,” the other said. Christian didn’t move, didn’t want to see him speaking. He was at the window, looking out at the mouth. “What do you think it means?”

  Christian knew exactly what it meant. The same thing that the other commenting on it meant. He was losing his mind.

  “What are you doing?” Waverly asked.
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br />   “Nothing … Nothing. Sorry. Look, Luke is alive and I think that means Veronica and Tommy are alive, too. I can explain more later, but I think the guy you hired is going to let Luke finish this, or attempt to.”

  “How?”

  “I wonder if it wants to come in?” the other asked, interrupting the conversation. Christian closed his eyes tightly, trying to block it all out.

  “Luke wants me to go to him, I imagine. In the end, that’s what will happen—I don’t know if I’ll make it before the killer offs Luke and everyone else, but we have to hope so.”

  Waverly paused for a few seconds, and in the silence Christian heard the mouth. “The choice, Christian. That’s what you need to understand. That’s more important than all of this.”

  Christian tried to bury his head deeper between the cushions, as if he could somehow block out the voices—though they all originated from his mind.

  “If you’re right, we’ll know quickly,” Waverly said. “They’ll come for you; you won’t even have to try and find them.”

  Christian nodded, though he said nothing.

  “Okay. How long do you think we have to wait?” Waverly said. “I need to tell the Attorney General something. I can’t hide the accident from her anymore.”

  “A day. Probably not more than two,” Christian whispered. He didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to see the visual representation of his splitting mind.

  “Okay. I’ll buy us that much time.”

  Waverly hung up the phone and looked around his office.

  This was all over. Windsor had given him a day or two, but he’d heard the man’s voice. It didn’t sound like a person who was sure of anything. In fact, he sounded like someone who might be seriously cracking up.

  He needed to call the AG, but he dialed the psychiatrist’s number first.

  “Dr. Hanson speaking.”

  “Hey, Dr. Hanson, it’s Alan Waverly. I know it’s late, but I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Christian Windsor?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes. We haven’t spoken about him much, but … well, what do you think is going on with him?”

  There was a brief pause and when the doctor spoke, his tone and words were measured. “He’s under a tremendous amount of pressure. Perhaps as much as any person I’ve ever seen … I think his mind may be, and I’m not sure how else to say this, but breaking apart.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that there are two sides to Christian. Perhaps more. There is Christian himself, the person you hired. Then, as I’ve discussed in my notes, there is a part of him that Luke somehow polluted. It comes across in this apparition, this other, that he talks about. I think there is a real chance, though, that he splits again. That another personification of this separation appears.”

  “If the first one is Luke, then what or who is this new one going to be?”

  “His pain. His suffering. The suffering that those he cares about have endured. He can’t internalize it, because if he did, I think he’d collapse. So, he separates it from himself. He’s done it before, as a child. His mother was the first. Then he had his therapist. Both of those were a part of him, though—parts that helped him cope. The other is a corruption. And if there’s to be another one, it’ll be a corruption as well.”

  “I don’t know about any of that, doctor, but I know he’s not in good shape. Can you call him?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks,” Waverly said. “A lot.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you want me to call you back?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The two hung up the phone and that left Waverly with one more call to make.

  He dialed the Attorney General’s number.

  “Alan, please tell me you have news,” Wendy Welcs answered.

  “This will be done in two days, Wendy,” he said.

  “That’s not enough.”

  “There hasn’t been another attack, has there? We’ve got him on the run.”

  “He may be running, but he’s got two people with him, Alan. Veronica Lopez and your agent Tommy Phillips. The papers haven’t gotten hold of it yet, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Waverly said.

  “Are they dead?”

  “We don’t believe so, no.”

  “And what’s he going to do next?”

  Waverly looked out his apartment window at the falling sun. It had risen earlier in the day, looking beautiful, and now … did it mourn its own death?

  “He’s going to contact Windsor.”

  “And then what?” the AG asked.

  “Windsor will go to him and make an arrest or kill him.”

  Wendy Welcs actually laughed into the phone. “It’s that simple? That’s all it’ll take? Because if I’m being honest, I think it’s going to be a huge shit stain on the entire justice department. No, Alan. I’m not going to let it happen.”

  Waverly was quiet for a second, and when he spoke, his voice was low. “I’m asking for two days. If we don’t have him in custody or dead, I’ll resign. Only the President can fire me, so this is your best chance to get rid of me.”

  “The President isn’t above that at the moment, Alan.”

  “Two days, then you have my resignation.”

  “I want it either way, whether this works or not. And if it doesn’t work, whoever we lose is pinned directly on your chest. That’s my deal. You want to take it?”

  “Yes,” Waverly whispered.

  “Good. Two days. I’ll talk to you then.”

  The line went dead.

  Waverly was in the process of ending his career at the same time Christian was trying to gain some semblance of order in his mind.

  “What do you see?” Dr. Hanson asked.

  “The other is here. And there’s this mouth. It’s made of shadows and they’re constantly moving, but they form these huge lips and sharp, pointy teeth. I’m rambling, aren’t I?” Christian said.

  “That’s okay. Are they both there now?”

  Christian nodded, staring at the two things inside the apartment. The mouth had entered through the window and now it hung over a chair while the other sat opposite it, as if the two were just about to start a conversation.

  “Christian?”

  He thought he’d answered. “Yes. Yes. They’re both here.”

  “Do you remember what we talked about? What might happen?”

  Christian nodded again. “Yes.”

  “This is it. That’s all. Your mind is dealing with the crisis in the only way it knows how. It’s creating separate entities. They’re not real.”

  “They are, though.”

  “No, no. They’re just like the images of your mother and your old psychiatrist. They weren’t real, were they?”

  “They wanted to help, though. These two don’t,” Christian said.

  “You can ignore them, Christian. I’m going to come over and get you, and we’re going to check you in somewhere.”

  “No!” Christian shouted, the mouth and other turning to look at him. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Christian, what you’re describing, this is a severe breakdown. You need medical attention or it’s going to worsen.”

  “No. Ask Waverly if he gives you permission. He won’t, and I’m not telling you where I am.”

  “Please, Christian. Please listen to me,” the doctor said. “This is serious. You need help.”

  Christian hung up the phone without saying another word. It immediately began buzzing again. He pressed the button to turn it off, then dropped the phone to the floor. He turned over on the couch, his back to the visitors once again.

  Luke would come, but not right now. He thought he had a little bit of time. Luke needed to prepare. That was why he hadn’t taken Christian in the first place, because preparations had to be made.

  “The choice, Christian? What’s it going to be?”

&nbs
p; Christian shook his head, ignoring the shadow creature behind him.

  Waverly picked up the phone, recognizing Hanson’s number.

  “Someone has to go get him, Director. He’s a danger to himself and others.”

  Waverly still stood at his window; the sun was nearly finished with this side of the Earth, forsaking it to the cold night of the universe.

  “I can’t do that, Doctor.”

  “What do you mean you can’t do that? You called me to try and help him and I’m telling you what he needs. Someone has to put him under 24 hour supervision. I’m talking about a possible suicide here, Director.”

  Waverly didn’t move. He wondered if this is what Luke felt like right before he shoved the knife into Christian’s face? Calm. A sense of duty. A sense of dread at what the future held? Maybe the first two, but not the last. Luke was the optimist, but Waverly saw no happiness in his own future. Not his, nor anyone else’s who Luke had touched.

  “No. It would jeopardize a mission.”

  “I mean this with all due respect, sir, but if you leave him on board, your mission is jeopardized. I need to formally register my disapproval of this decision.”

  “Consider it registered, Dr. Hanson. Thank you.”

  Chapter 25

  Luke moved throughout the house. It was large and sat on the side of a mountain. Judging from the trees, he thought he was somewhere in the Appalachians.

  His host was gone, apparently retrieving Christian.

  “If you leave, you will be killed within 30 steps off the property,” he had said.

  Luke nodded. After the host left, Luke had stared out the large living room windows for an hour. The man hadn’t been lying. Luke saw at least four turrets from his vantage point; he didn’t need to test them to know that they were motion activated.

  Getting out of here was a predicament that Luke hadn’t figured out yet. He would—of that he had no doubt—but there was much to do before Christian arrived.

  His host had given Luke the run of the house, so long as he didn’t venture beyond the unspoken rules that caged him. If he went about his business of setting things up for Christian, then all was well; however if at any time he began working on an escape plan, he would be killed.