Authors: D.W. Brown
CHAPTER 31
“It makes me worry even more for Sam. These people want us out of Taos, and I’d bet my life it has something to do with that sinkhole I found this morning.” Russell said.
“Are you referring to the one that
disappeared
?” “Very funny, Dean. Look, I don’t know how to
explain it, but I know for a fact what I saw out there.” “Just kidding—take it easy bro. You used to be able to take a joke better. Has living back in the south
completely obliterated your sense of humor?”
“Not at all. I’m just worried about Sam. We’ve got to get her back, man.”
“Listen carefully, Russell. You once made me a promise that you’d help me get my wife back, and you kept your word. I can’t believe we’re back in this type of situation with Sam being kidnapped again too, but I can assure you that I will help you get Sam out of the hands of this madman and his wacky priest.”
“I just pray you’re right. Well this is where we part ways old friend. Call my cell once you arrive in town, and I’ll have Deputy Ramos drop you off an unmarked car with a few choice weapons, to assist you in reaching out and touching Mr. Black and his saintly friend. Remember, don’t mention this to anyone. Once you get into town, you’re on your own. After I find out where they’re holding Sam, I’ll call you in.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to follow you to the linkup site when you meet with Mr. Black?”
“Absolutely not. I can’t take the chance of him seeing you and harming Sam.”
“Your call. Be careful, Russ. Don’t be afraid to shoot the priest, if you have to. I understand how hard that might be, but try to look past his white collar and see him for the kidnapping murderer he really is.”
“Don’t worry about that. I don’t think I’ll have any problem after what he did to Sam.”
Separating, Russell headed through the gate towards the 747 he’d purchased a ticket for just twenty minutes prior. He had to pay a penalty for changing his return flight to an earlier date, but that was the least of his worries.
His heart was heavy, as visions of the four dead bodies from the service station replayed over and over inside his head. Russell knew all too well what Mr. Black was capable of, and it wreaked havoc on his nerves.
By the time the plane reached cruising altitude, every muscle in Russell’s neck ached from the tension building up there. He knew he needed to relax, but his mind wouldn’t allow it. His best friend, his lover, and the mother of his children was being held as leverage to get him away from Taos and whatever evil the people around there were up to.
At some point during the flight, Russell’s mind went back to the sinkhole in Taos, although it felt more like his entire being was there as well. Everything felt so alive, so real: his heart was pounding in his chest, his ears started ringing with each step he took closer to the rim, and he began to feel invisible hands wrap around both of his arms. Closer, they beckoned him forward, threatening to rip out his very soul and toss it into the abyss. He knew if he stepped into the darkness, he’d never come back; he would become like them, the murderers, the ones that discarded their own lives in order to follow whatever evil this thing really was.
Abruptly the hands released Russell, and he found himself falling helplessly into the hole. He screamed for what felt an eternity, and eventually lost his voice. Bracing for the bone crushing impact, Russell sent up a quick prayer not for himself, but for Sam and the kids. When his backside slammed into something squishy, he initially thought he might withstand the plummet after all—his head then connected with the skull of another body, knocking him unconscious.
Slowly coming back to, Russell realized that he was inside the Pit, the massive hole he’d seen in Taos. Looking around, he saw nothing but skeletal remains and bodies of the dead. They ones with skin still on their bones all displayed looks of madness on their faces and were pale white. It wasn’t until that point that it occurred to him that he was lying on top of one of the dead. The squishy something that he’d landed upon was the stomach of a now dead woman. Surprisingly, her body still felt warm, telling Russell that she’d only recently succumbed to death. The question was:
What had killed her
?
Loud chants began to make their way downward from the top of the Pit, causing Russell to look up. Even at such a depth, he could still make out the forms of three people gathered around the circle. Slowly, they stepped forward. Realizing what they were about to do, Russell yelled “no”, but it did nothing to prevent their advance. Hands joined, all three stepped freely into the abyss.
In a hurry to get out of their way, Russell scrambled across the bodies of innumerable dead, and hid in the far corner. Due to the differing weights of the three, each hit at separate intervals. One sickening thud after another roared through Russell’s head, until silence engulfed everything around him.
Hearing movement coming from the other side of the Pit, Russell struggled to get onto his feet for a closer look. He noticed a steel door and watched in shocked horror as the bones and bodies of the dead parted without aid, making a pathway for whatever was about to show itself. He could feel the temperature drop inside the pit, and his head instantly began to hurt. Within seconds, Russell was brought to his knees from the excruciating pain. It felt like something had reached inside his head and was clamping his brain together in its vice-like hands.
Even though he couldn’t see anything, Russell heard what he thought sounded like someone or something eating—the lip smacking, slurping and bone snapping making it rather obvious that quite the feast was going on.
Managing to pull himself back up off the floor, Russell inched closer to the eating sounds. Thirty feet off in the distance, he spotted something dark and massive with its back to him. Curiosity drove him forward, causing his weak legs to curse him with each step he took. The pounding in his heart moved up through his arms until it made its way into his ears. The pressure was so intense he thought his head would explode.
Coming around the left side, Russell looked down at the three dead sacrificial lambs, and the sight took what little strength he had left in his already non-cooperating legs. He tried to break his fall, but somehow he still landed face-first right on top of the nearest body. The sight of the gaping hole in the somewhat familiar looking woman’s chest where her heart should’ve been, caused him to go scurrying backwards in an effort to get away. He didn’t dare look at the thing next to him, because he knew he’d go mad, especially if he saw it feasting on the hearts of the three dead bodies.
Feeling trapped and sure that he would be the creatures next snack, Russell started yelling for help. He didn’t care that he’d already lost his voice, he screamed regardless of the fact that it came out more like a whisper.
“Mister? Wake up! You’ve got to wake up, mister. You’re scaring the other passengers.” The stewardess said, shaking Russell’s arm.
Jumping, Russell said, “What? What’s going on?” Realizing that it all really was just a dream, he quickly said, “Oh, I…I’m sorry. I…I must’ve been dreaming.”
The passenger in the window seat next to him quickly got up and moved to a seat near the back of the plane. The look on his face told Russell that he didn’t appreciate his psychotic episode, but he was still too shaken from the nightmare to give a rip.
“Are you sure you’re okay now, mister? I’m afraid we’ll have to report this little incident to the authorities once we land.”
“What? There’s no need for that. Look, I had a nightmare—it won’t happen again.”
“That is evident, but we still have to follow protocol and report every incident.”
Reaching into his back pocket, Russell removed his Sheriff’s badge and showed it to the stewardess. “I’m the Sheriff of a small town in Virginia. I can assure you this won’t happen again.”
Reluctantly, the stewardess agreed to let his little fit slip under the radar, but it definitely made the remaining hour or so of the flight more interesting. Noticing a man about his same age staring at him from the seat diagonal his, Russell got up and approached him.
“Everything’s okay. I can assure you that I’m not crazy, and I have no plans to take over the flight.” Russell said, as he reached into his pocket again to get his badge.
“That won’t be necessary, Sheriff Jent. I know you’re not crazy—you’re just under a lot of stress right now.”
“Excuse me? Do I know you?”
“Not really. Mind if I take the now empty seat next to you? I have a few things to talk to you about, important things.”
Even though he was a bit apprehensive about the man, something told Russell to hear him out. “I…I’m not so sure I want to hear what you’ve got to say, mister, but since I’ve got another hour on this flight and you somehow know my name, I’ll give you a few minutes.”
Going back to his seat, Russell waited until his new friend took the window seat next to him, before taking his. The man was smaller than him by a good eight inches. He had the darkest black hair and eyes that Russell had ever seen. His appearance was disheveled, his tan suit wrinkled in too many places to count. He reminded Russell of a nerdy scientist or engineer. He had a certain meticulousness to his movements that reminded Russell of someone with OCD. But he also had a look of harmlessness about him, and this helped ease Russell’s nerves a little.
“So, let’s start off with you telling me your name and how you already know mine. What do you say?”
“Uh, maybe. First off, my name’s Gary Roseburg. I can’t exactly remember when I learned your name, but suffice it to say that I’m on your side here. You’ve no idea what you’re up against, Sheriff. Many of the people from Taos have been around since the beginning of Christianity, and they want to return to the old ways.”
“What are you talking about, the old ways?” Russell asked, clearly not following the man’s explanation.
“How well do you know your Bible, Russell? “What? My Bible?
What’s that have to do with anything?” “Everything. Your friend Dean told you the Catholic
Church was somehow involved in this thing, but what he didn’t tell you was just how much.”
“And I suppose you’re going to enlighten me?”
“How about I show you?”
Gary reached into the briefcase seated next to him and pulled out a laptop computer. After a few quick strokes on the keyboard, he turned it towards Russell and said, “Pay close attention to everything said in this video, as well as the slideshow that follows.”
The video that the man had compiled was more than a little gruesome. Bodies of slain non-Christians littered the landscape, while sword wielding Catholic soldiers ran around madly stabbing them. The large military style guidon displayed not the country flag, but a cross instead: murder, all in the name of Christ. It was a sickening scene to watch, but one that Russell couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from.
Five minutes of killing eventually ended, and the video turned into a slideshow presentation. Facts were presented about the Catholic Church and its beliefs. Historical figures, kings and popes alike appeared before Russell’s eyes.
Leaning in close, Gary said, “Catholicism used to make up more than 90 percent of this country’s religion, but now it’s down to a measly 23 percent. Protestants are in the upper 53 percentile, and I’m here to tell you that there are a lot of people out there that don’t like that. Our Catholic brethren believe they’ve found a way to revert back to their former glory.”
“What do you mean?”
“The strange things going on in Taos: They’re behind all of it.”
“What do you talking about? How?”
“That’s where things get a little hard to explain.” “Hard to explain? What’s so hard about it?” Russell
asked, clearly not following his new acquaintance. “I’m not completely sure, but it has something to
do with that big sinkhole you were checking out this morning.”
“You know about the hole? You saw it too?” Russell was relieved to hear that someone other than himself had seen the hole, because it confirmed that he wasn’t losing his mind.
“I know more than I care to about that evil place. You’d be shocked if you knew what they do there.”
Remembering his dream, Russell said, “Try me.” “You’re not ready yet, Sheriff.”
“Oh, you might be surprised, Gary. I watched Father Gregory disappear down inside that hole, and shortly thereafter, my nose started bleeding. Something inside that hole—and I’m still not sure what—lapped up my blood like a dog drinking water on a hot July day in Texas.”
“That’s the reason you took off out of there like you did; I thought they might’ve spotted you. This thing you happened upon isn’t…isn’t human. I believe, and unfortunately this is all a guess on my part, that these people have created this thing from their own desire to sit in the high places and be served by others.”
“I...I think I saw it. In my dream that is. I...I believe it was eating the hearts out of the people that jumped into the pit. But the thing I don’t understand is why they were jumping in there in the first place.” Russell said. He’d caught Mr. Roseburg’s comment about seeing him hightailing it away from the Pit, but chose not to comment. His detective skills told him that he could trust the harmless man, but he wasn’t completely dismissing anything; especially given the fact that Mr. Roseburg had obviously been following him.
Noticing movement out of the corner of his right eye, Russell turned just in time to see a man coming towards them from a few rows back. The look in his eyes and the rather large needle he was wielding told him right away that this man wasn’t coming over to chat or to fluff his pillow.
“Look out!” yelled Gary with a look of recognition in his eyes.