The Sinner King: Book of Fire

by D. R. Crislip

  Rebecca decided to spill the beans. "I heard Peter Ballinger whisper about a black creature he saw crawling on a building last night. He said his dad told him about the Stalkers and that they were controlled by some underground group: the Heretique, or something like that."

  Francesca looked up from her plate for the first time. "The Heretique doesn't control them."

  Both Rebecca and Francis were surprised by Francesca's reaction.

  "So there are creatures that crawl on buildings?" Rebecca asked her mother fearfully.

  Francesca looked almost ashamed for having defended the Heretique and returned to her vegetables. Francis also carried a look, but it wasn't of shame, it was of something else that Rebecca didn't quite understand at the time—it was a look of embarrassment. "No one knows who controls them," Francis corrected, "or even if they are controlled. And yes, the Stalkers are something a bit unnatural. But they are of no harm to us. They want nothing to do with little boys or little girls."

  "But then what are they hunting?" Rebecca challenged. "Peter said one was right outside his window last night. He said it crawled like a spider and then stood still. He said that he turned his light on to see it better but it was gone. He then said that Mr. Graham, a man who lived in the building the Stalker was on, didn't go to work this morning."

  Francis shook his head. "And how does Peter know that?"

  "He said his dad worked with Mr. Graham. He said his dad had called for Peter's mother to go check on Mr. Graham after he didn't show up for work. He said his mother couldn't find Mr. Graham."

  Francis rested his elbows on the table and he gave Rebecca a stern glare. "That boy shouldn't talk about such things. Adult business is adult business. Children have no reason to be nosing into it."

  Despite that, Rebecca asked her father why Mr. Graham was missing.

  "He probably became ill and went to the infirmary. He's probably there now. I've seen that happen before, co-worker gets sick and goes to the infirmary for a couple of days. No one knows what happened to them, but eventually news makes its way down and the person either comes back or doesn't. Either way, it is none of our business to speculate into someone else's doings. Like I always say, don't go looking for trouble and trouble won't go looking for you."

  Rebecca had nodded and returned to eating quietly. She could tell by her father's tone that he was done talking for the night. She could also tell that he was frightened by the story, just as she had been. From that day forward Rebecca knew two things: the Stalkers were indeed real and adults were afraid of them.

  *******

  After a couple of minutes Rebecca arrived at her apartment complex pathway. She made haste and practically ran to her apartment door, two stories up. Rebecca's flat was just one of many lining the lake front neighborhood. The apartment buildings, which were strictly Ministry controlled, housed all middle-high tiered members. There were three to four flats in each building and they were considerably larger than the ones in the Western Village.

  When Rebecca reached her door, she nervously looked around before using the thumb print scanner, which controlled the door locks. Shadows seemed to be moving all over. Even the palm trees looked ill favored. After the door lock disengaged, she quickly crossed into her living room and breathed a long sigh of relief before plopping down onto her low-laying sofa. Rebecca pulled her workbag off her shoulder and sat there, marveling at how much power the chronicle had over her. The text was turning Rebecca's life upside down. Why did I have to open the safebox? she questioned. But Rebecca knew why, fate had made it that way. Benjamin knew I would have it translated. He knew it was my job—that I wouldn't be able to resist. Using TRNSLTR 559 had ignited a ticking time bomb that was indefinitely attached to her—a bomb that was going to destroy her existence. Did Benjamin know that it was written for me? Rebecca realized he must have; but how? Could he translate the manuscript? Was he the one who put it in the cave? Benjamin Vermil was a complete mystery to Rebecca—as was William Coulee.

  Wait a second, thought Rebecca suddenly. William said he probably exists today. She had almost forgotten. Rebecca excitedly took her digital notepad and opened the search field. She keyed in William's name and waited for the results. The search engine didn't take long to return with zero results. Damnit, she thought. The search coming back empty could mean only two things: either William didn't exist or he was protected by the Ministry—like Benjamin Vermil. There were several cases in which the Ministry would remove someone's name from the Ministry database. If William was an agent of the MSF, a patient at Cognitive Services, or if he was a member of the Heretique.

  It always comes back to the Heretique, thought Rebecca. As the hour grew late, she knew her options were dwindling to nothing. She didn't know what else to do. She would surely be detained and questioned about the chronicle. Jonas would eventually learn about her tie with Corbin Byrne and then—I can't get caught. Rebecca could see her life coming to an unfitting end. She was an exemplary member of the Ministry. Her life was built around her pride for the government. She was paired with a Wylde, one of the most prominent families in the Ministry. Everything that was happening to her now was so unjust in comparison to how she lived her life. Rebecca didn't care if the chronicle was written for her; she just wanted her life back. How can I get it back?

  There was no easy answer.

  A thought entered her mind, a possibility of how, but she didn't like it. I could trade him for my life, she thought. Him being her biological father: Corbin Byrne. What did he matter to her? She didn't know him. He was a Heretique; her mother had confessed it. She wondered: Maybe if I give them Corbin, they will spare me. It was a despicable thought, but so was being the illegitimate daughter of a Heretique. Rebecca stood up and shook her head. What am I doing? The MSF could be knocking at her door any minute. She needed to get moving. She needed to pack her bag and be prepared.

  Rebecca left the living room and went to the bedroom in order to get some extra clothes. In the closet she kept a travel bag that was seldomly used and began stuffing it with outfits, particularly exercise outfits. They were more useful if she found herself in a position where she needed to run. She then went to the kitchen and stocked up on food items that could last weeks in regular air temperature. She packed energy bars, a large bottle of water, dry fruit and a couple of dehydrated meals that only took water to prepare. She had enough to last her four or five days, depending on how she rationed.

  The travel bag was now full. Rebecca closed and placed it on the sofa and then sat down next to it, too tired to stand any longer. The day was the longest, most stressful, of her life and the worst was yet to be over. She still had so much to do and didn't have a clue as where to start. Her mother told her that if she ever wanted to be in contact with the Heretique, she needed to go to the Southern Point and look for a man named Rawling. Getting to the Southern Point, however, wouldn't be easily done undetected. As soon as the MSF started coming after her there would be no hope of making it that far south. Railways scanned passengers' retinas in order to keep a tally of who was onboard. There was no escaping it. If she wanted to get to the Southern Point, Rebecca would have to leave now, before the MSF classified her as "wanted."

  Unnoticeably, the alarm on her digital notepad went off in the kitchen, casting a blue light and making a melodic beeping noise. The time for Fourth Duty had arrived, but Rebecca was too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice.

  The alarm continued to go off and escalated in volume. If Rebecca didn't login for Fourth Duty within the five minutes allowed, then a message would be sent to the MSF, notifying them of the infraction. Normally her internal clock would remind her that it was time for meditation, considering it was a constant in everyone's daily routine, but Rebecca had fallen so far off track that she didn't notice the time had come.

  The alarm continued to sound, louder and louder, until Rebecca finally heard it. In a panicked realization, Rebecca sprinted from her living room and into the kitchen, to where she left h
er notepad. There were only forty-two seconds left to login. Rebecca quickly keyed her number in and the notepad's camera turned on. Then the room fell silent.

  What happened? She asked herself in disbelief. Never had she been so late to login. forty-two seconds longer and . . .

  . . . Suddenly there was a loud crashing sound. It jolted Rebecca where she stood in the kitchen. What in the Minister's name?

  There was a wrestle of noise from another room. Rebecca's pulse quickened as she stood perfectly silent. She temporarily forgot that the camera on her notepad was watching her.

  After a moment of total silence, a moment when she should have been meditating, Rebecca slowly walked from the kitchen and into the living room, realizing that the sound probably came from her bedroom. Maybe it was something in the closet that fell. She had things stacked too unevenly on the overhead shelf. It wasn't uncommon for the boxes to come tumbling forward, although the sound made was nothing like the sounds she had heard in the past.

  As Rebecca stood in the middle of her living room, she realized that she was supposed to be meditating on her well-being, which was ironic considering that her well being was all she cared about that very moment. No more sound came from the bedroom or from anywhere else for that matter, the only thing Rebecca could hear was her heartbeat and the very light hum of her notepad camera.

  Then everything went black.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Darkness engulfed Rebecca's flat and wrapped its chilling hands around her soul. "Lights on!" she shouted. The verbal command should have worked, but it didn't. "Lights on!" Rebecca shouted again. Nothing happened.

  A creaking noise could be heard from down the hall. Rebecca squatted down, still clutching the notepad. Something was terribly wrong. Everything in Rebecca's body was telling her to get out. She had totally forgotten about Fourth Duty now. Rebecca listened a little longer and then decided to make a move for the door.

  There was a sudden rushing sound from across the way.

  Rebecca grabbed the door panel and pressed the exit button but nothing happened. She was knocked flat to the ground by an unseen force. Rebecca tried to scream but a cold clammy hand covered her mouth.

  "WHERE'S THE BOOK?" demanded an unnerving voice. The face of the creature drew closer: an inch away. But all Rebecca could see was black. Clammy hands aggressively felt all around her body as hot air blew into her face. "WHERE IS IT?"

  Rebecca felt her workbag underneath her back. The creature wanted the manuscript. Rebecca did the only thing that instinctively came to her. She raised her knee and caught leverage against the thing's torso. Physical fitness for all of her years had paid off with strong thighs and back muscles. The impact jolted the creature far enough overhead that she was able to slide out from underneath, dragging the bag with her.

  Rolling onto her knees with the workbag in hand, Rebecca flung her body toward the window. The beast rampaged after her and they collided. It wrapped its terrible limbs around her and together they crashed through the glass.

  Rebecca and the beast fell over twenty feet into the bushes below. Rebecca screamed, first from terror and then from pain. They had landed in a web of pointy prickles. The clammy hands made their way around her neck, constricting her throat. Rebecca struggled, she tried to scream, but nothing worked. Her throat was being crushed.

  Lights filled the air above and the creature jerked upward, nearly ripping Rebecca's head off.

  Then it simply let go.

  As quickly as it had attacked her, the beast fled. Rebecca gasped for air and sat up in the bush. She was disoriented and her neck burned like nothing she had ever felt before. The air passing in and out of her windpipe was like fire. The door next to her slid open and her downstairs neighbor, Jerry Stipple, carefully stepped outside. "Hello?"

  Rebecca, still laying in the bush, called out to him: "Jerry! Over here!"

  Jerry was already looking in the right direction but couldn't believe his eyes: "Rebecca? What on Earth?"

  Rebecca rolled out of the prickled nightmare and onto the paved path. "I was attacked!" she gasped. "I was attacked and thrown out of my window."

  Jerry looked up at the gaping hole in her flat and then back down to her. "My goodness, are you okay?" he said sounding surprisingly calm.

  Rebecca tried standing; both of her legs seemed unharmed. "Yeah, I think so." She looked back to where she landed in utter amazement. The bush, now flattened, had provided enough cushion that Rebecca wasn't seriously injured. The workbag, which was still in her hands when they fell, was jammed deep into the bush's limbs.

  "Who attacked you?" asked Jerry. His eyes went from her, to the stairwell, and to her apartment.

  Rebecca didn't know where to begin. "I don't know! It fell with me through the window and then ran off when you turned on your lights."

  Jerry turned toward the pathway lined with palm trees. "It ran that way?"

  Rebecca tried to nod but her neck was very stiff. "Yeah, I think so."

  "Is it still out there?" he asked, fear suddenly showing through his voice as he took a step back into his flat.

  Rebecca always thought of Jerry as a little light in his step, but never thought he would be this much of a coward. He didn't even offer to help her up, instead choosing to stay near his door. "No, it ran off Jerry."

  He then looked at her briefly before asking: "Are you okay? For real?"

  She nodded and then went back to the bush in order to fish out the bag.

  "Shall I call Ministry Security?"

  Normally that would have been a welcomed suggestion but after everything that had happened that day, Rebecca didn't know what to do next. "No, I'll call. Just keep your lights on, won't you Jerry?"

  He nodded and took another step back inside. "Yeah, sure."

  Now what do I do? She at least needed to get back into her apartment and get a few things. "Jerry, I need you to come upstairs with me."

  Jerry didn't like that idea. "I . . . I think it's better if we stay down here. I really think we should call Ministry Security."

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Grab your notepad and follow me upstairs. There's nothing up there now. If you see something coming back to the apartment, call security."

  Jerry didn't budge.

  Rebecca started to walk up the stairs and then turned back. "Jerry, are you really going to let a victim of an attack go upstairs into her dark apartment alone? I promise I will call security once we're up there," she could see him about to protest, "but I want to be the one to call. I was the one who was attacked."

  Jerry nodded and started to shuffle his feet toward the stairs, never turning his back to the path. Rebecca sighed and continued climbing; her heart was still beating a mile a minute. She also noticed that the nighttime air was as still as when she first came home. Get in there and get out.

  Jerry was halfway up the stairs when Rebecca reached the door. She felt around the side of the frame and grabbed the emergency latch, which released the electronic lock, silently signaling to the Ministry Security that something was wrong. Rebecca knew that within a few minutes the place would be crawling with emergency workers. She grabbed a hold of the side of the door and heaved it open. Her apartment was still black as night but signs of her struggle were noticeable. Rebecca hastily searched for her digital notepad.

  Outside, Jerry was at the door and nervously waiting. "Have you called security yet?"

  Rebecca impatiently shouted back: "They're already on their way!" Her hand brushed the digital notepad and she grasped it. Feeling slightly relieved, Rebecca also found her travel bag and started to leave, but then she heard a cry.

  The scream was nothing like she had ever heard before. Jerry's voice was high pitch and ear piercingly loud. She slid to a stop just in time to see his lifeless body flung into her apartment. It crashed into the wall, leaving a huge impression. Rebecca looked down at Jerry and noticed that his head was missing. She then saw a towering black figure skulk inside.

  Without hesitatio
n, Rebecca dashed for the window and leapt outside. She fell back into the bush that had broken her fall before. This time the landing was much rougher. She hit feet first and her momentum carried her right out of it. She could feel deep burning pains all over her body and the warm flow of blood making a path along her skin. She didn't care though. Just run!

  Both ankles ached as she ran down the palm tree lined path. She heard the beast land on the ground further back, but was relieved when the area around her lit up from the emergency vehicle lights coming in from above. Rebecca looked back and saw the creature gallop on all four limbs through the landscaped foliage, past the neighboring buildings and into the darkness. She didn't stop running though. Rebecca ran away from the beast, away from the lights, and away from her life as she knew it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It was down by the beach, about a mile in the opposite direction from where the beast ran off, that Rebecca finally came to a rest. Everything had transpired so quickly that her instincts took over before her brain had time to comprehend what actually happened.

  Jerry! The image of his lifeless body came back to mind, the scream he made just before he was murdered. Rebecca grabbed her ears to try and muffle it, but the noise was trapped inside her head. Why did this happen? Tears flowed freely as she kept walking up the beach with nowhere to go. The waves from the lake pounded the shore as the wind picked up. Why did you run? Rebecca knew she should have gone straight toward the emergency vehicles—not away—but again, it was instinct that made her run. Her heart and her stomach said: no, don't stop, keep running. And now there she was, alone on the beach without help or any medical supplies, and her ankles looked as if they could use some. They, along with her feet and the wounds on her body, were throbbing with pain, yet she kept walking until realizing she couldn't go any further without a moment's rest.

  Rebecca sat down on the beach. The sand felt cool and coarse. The waves crashed repeatedly in front of her. The moonlight glowed against the white foam on the black surface. The entire day had been a surreal nightmare that would not end, could not end. Rebecca dropped the workbag from her shoulder and stared at it. She opened the flap and saw that the manuscript was somehow still intact. The memory of the black beast came back into her mind. "What on earth was that," she said aloud. But Rebecca knew what it was; it was the thing that frightened adults: Stalkers. Then her mother suddenly came to mind. Rebecca began to fear that her mother was in danger too, possibly from the black thing that attacked her—the Stalker. I have to warn her, she thought.