

The Resurrectionist

Michael Gesellchen

Copyright © 2014 Michael Gesellchen

All rights reserved.
Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

About the Author

Connect with the Author

To the visionaries, seekers, and believers ... keep contemplating the mysteries of the universe. To those who have ever felt lost ... keep searching, the light is within you.

Chapter 1

A fight broke out. A fight older than time itself, if time truly existed. A fight not fought on land, sea, or air. A fight not fought between men or nations. Inside you, inside me, an intimate conflict is waged on the battleground of the human soul. An eternal war fought between fear and faith.

"Hey, slow down. You're gonna miss the turn." I applied gentle pressure to the brake, but my rusty '88 Century came to an abrupt halt. "Good lord, Will!" Justin said, jolting forward before slamming back to his seat.

I gripped hard on the steering wheel. "Sorry man, brakes are a bit touchy."

"Boy I'll say, you'd better check those out. And seriously, get rid of that stupid CD player." Justin's hand ran through his shaggy blonde bangs before reverting his attention out the passenger window. "Just listen to the radio, or better yet nothing."

A portable CD player rested on the console between us. It had been broken for three months, the cassette adapter jammed into the tape deck. You couldn't pry it out with a crowbar. I never bothered or wanted to fix it. Some things you can't fix. The brokenness reminded me of myself, and my fight.

"Don't worry. This car has never let me down before." I laughed, playing it cool, wearing a mask to hide the truth.

"I'm not worried about the car." Justin said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Dude, no chick's gonna think it's cool listening to the same song over and over on a device that was popular around the time of your birth. Let's go. The house is down this road."

***

The Brownings moved into town about a year and a half ago due to the low cost of living. I guess that's why my family stayed. Without a flinch, Justin came up to me on his first day of school and began talking like he had known me his whole life. It was nice. I needed a friend. I didn't have many. Justin had his faults, he was arrogant and cocky, but I admired his confidence and swagger. The girls loved his surfer blonde locks, broad shoulders, and sun kissed skin. He bragged he was some semipro wakeboarding champion on the west coast before he moved. I have yet to see a trophy or newspaper clipping. A lot changed in a year, yet so many things remained the same. I was learning to cope. I could even leave the house without nausea from time to time. I had Justin to thank. Friendship is powerful, healing. The problem, I still couldn't look in the mirror and like what looked back. The thought of others looking at me made it worse. Suffocating anxiety ruled each time the circle of death surrounded me, each time I was the center of attention.

"Alright everyone, get in your discussion groups and go over the results from the acceleration lab." Mr. Noell instructed the class.

Groups are a hair pin trigger for someone like me. People staring at you, judging you, thinking about what a freak you are. I sat in the chair next to Justin, pretending to study my lab notes which allowed me to keep my face hidden.

The idea manifested itself during 2nd hour Physics class. I wasn't the igniter, far from it. I was an escapist.

"You guys heard the rumors about the house on Gale road that's supposedly haunted? Totally freaky, I'm gonna check it out. Anyone interested?" Justin said, his voice forcing me to look up into the eyes of the group.

"That sounds dumb." Jill said.

"Not really, Justin." Lucy responded.

Justin doesn't think. Jill Harrington and Lucy Gilman, really? Like they're going to take a night off from their boyfriends to go to a haunted house. He's such an idiot.

"How about you Will?" He asked.

"I have to check the chart, see if these results match up." I stood up and walked toward the wall.

"What about the house?" Justin called out.

"Oh, um, sure." I said, my back turned towards the group. If you run away you can't get hurt. I needed a polite escape, one that would go unnoticed. I agreed because my stomach twisted and the tension in my neck rose to my face. If I said no, Justin would've just badgered me for a reason which would've drawn the attention of not just the group, but the whole class. I couldn't stand the way my classmates looked at me, seeing my face turn deep red each time I tried to speak. I stood off to the side of the room, faking like I was studying the periodic table. Nobody bothered me. My eyes darted across the room. Five, four, three, two, one, I repeated in my head until my jaw relaxed and my body stopped shaking.

***

There seems to be a tradition among kids growing up in small towns across America. You get bored and you tell ghost stories. We were no exception. In fact, it was quite common for the kids in our town to outdo each other with fanciful and exceptional tales. I'd always semi believed in haunted houses but I can't say I have any reason to. I've never been witness to anything supernatural.

Millersville was a tourist attraction for the wrong reasons. It attracted people who lived on the fringes of society. Their beliefs did not mesh with mainstream America. Local history states that a philanthropist doctor, Sunny Miller, built a treatment facility in the early 1900's that housed and treated people whom society had shut out. The media praised Miller for his humanitarian and rehabilitative work. The locals held a different perspective. They believed the doctor was mad. People said he had delusions and visions of opening the gates of hell and conducted experiments on the patients he served as part of this process. Sunny later died, consumed by paranoia, as a patient in the very facility he built. His fate was hid from the public. Only his most trusted staff members knew of his condition. They wanted to preserve his good name and keep the integrity of the facility intact. It wasn't long before the stories leaked and the townspeople put their own spins and interpretations on them.

The stories were local lore and I believed none of it to be true. No evidence of inhumane experiments was ever found. The story and our town gathered attention after a cable channel's documentary feature about the mysteries of the paranormal some fifteen years ago. Now, we attract gawkers and thrill seekers looking for a scare. The local kids joke that our town is the Devil's Rendition of Sedona Arizona. Once a month like clockwork a new shop opens up claiming to be the only one in town selling real cursed objects and magical trinkets. At best, the stories and legends helped to drive down housing costs. At worst, they attracted every fire and brimstone preacher within the tri-state area.

There's a local legend of a girl who died while waiting for her date to take her to the prom. She had been planning every minute detail for three straight months. Like so many other young women on prom night she wanted everything to be perfect. As fate would have it her date was running late. With anticipation growing, she walked to the end of her long driveway, the crisp spring created the antidote to calm her nervous stomach. Gazing into the distance, she entertained dreams of an enchanted evening with all her friends, becoming lost in the majestic beauty of the night that lay ahead, she never saw the out-of-control pickup truck barreling towards her. The vehicle struck with astonishing force as it slammed into the sturdy oak that had been standing for years, pinning the girl, knocking the life from her fragile body. Her beautiful pink dress torn with speckled crimson. Such was an act of terrible coincidence since the road in which the girl lived was hardly traveled. In fact, it was her date for the evening that put an end to her short life.

The driver was a local boy. He worked at the treatment facility as an evening janitor. People say the devil entered him that night. The experiments conducted by the doctor were said to have produced enough dark energy to create a crack in the wall that separated our world from theirs. The dark energy attracted the attention of the devils. They would slip through the crack and prey on weak willed humans, manipulating and controlling their behavior, causing them to do horrific things. Such was said to be the fate of the boy and his date.

As sad as this story is, I honestly couldn't tell you if it was the truth or just the collective imaginations of the town's people that passed it around. The human mind can have trouble distinguishing between what's real and what isn't.

***

Logic and emotion were waging their timeless war, choosing my brain as their battlefield. Bloody images of the stories Justin told during class started to crack the wall I raised in my mind to keep them out. As always, he was our group leader but more into telling tall tales than working on assignments. I shouldn't have allowed him to convince me, but I never learned to say no. Instead, I'm trapped in a car, counting the panels of the dashboard air vent, praying I don't get sick. I'm not afraid for the reasons you might think. Who wouldn't be a little afraid going to a house that's supposedly haunted? My angst runs deeper. If you've ever experienced mental illness you'll know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, pray you never do. Feeling trapped is like being on death row when you have anxiety. I said yes so Justin would leave me alone and the attention of the group would be drawn away. The problem, I avoided one disorder and traded it for another.

The moisture of my palms and shallowness of my breath indicated the floodgates of panic were ready to burst. My eyes focused straight ahead as I made the left hand turn to venture down the road haunted by the crimson ghost.

The road narrowed, changing from fresh pavement to loose gravel. Thick trees and falling leaves surrounded us. Crooked bare branches hung over head. Fall had set in. We left the safety and familiarity of our world and drove into another. "I really hope we don't meet another car. There's not even room to pull over." I said, interrupting Justin who had been speaking the entire trip of the stories he'd heard about the girl.

"No way dude. Nobody comes out here anymore." Justin said.

It's the first thing I was consciously aware of Justin saying even though he had been talking for twenty minutes. This had been his third trip down the superstitious road in hopes of catching a glimpse of the famed girl. He hadn't personally seen anything unusual and appeared to carry himself with an outward confidence. However, I have a knack for feeling what others are experiencing. His experience of the road was no different from mine.

We rounded the curve as a squirrel darted out into the road. I jerked the steering wheel to avoid hitting the creature. "Dang that was close." I said. How nice it would feel to be that squirrel, to have never heard the ghostly tales. In his world, everything was in its place and as it should be.

"Ok, the house is right after this hill on the left." I slowed as we came to the top of a hill. "There it is, there's the driveway. Look, there's the tree that was half knocked down when the girl was pinned against it." Justin spoke in a soft whisper. A tingling chill ran down my spine. Were the stories true? Or at least partly based on the truth? I pulled into the driveway and stopped the car.

"It's fenced off and there are no trespassing signs everywhere. Do you think we should even be here?" I said, unable to gain control of my shaking hands.

"Don't worry man, the cops just put those up to scare kids from coming out here and setting traps for people." Justin said.

"Traps!"

"Shh."

"Why? Aren't we the only ones out here?" I said.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Justin said, punching my arm.

"What the hell is up with these so called traps then?"

"Some kids like to come out here and leave bloody dolls in trees and stuff, it adds to the whole haunted effect I guess. They sit out here in the woods with night vision cameras and make videos of shaken tourists to post on YouTube. You should see some of them. They're hilarious." Justin laughed. His enthusiasm triggered a wave of nausea. "We'll let's get out and have a look. Don't sweat it, the cops did a good job scaring people off."

"Sure thing man." I made a weak attempt to duplicate Justin's excitement. Knowing others had been here before gave me a slight confidence. If we saw something, it was probably just someone's idea of a sick joke. I turned off the car and stepped outside.

The night air owned a chilling bite that nibbled my erratic nerves. We stood by the car methodically taking in the scenery, neither one of us eager to make the first move. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the night. The moon was bright and gave an odd but friendly glow to the surrounding woods. It lit our path, inviting us to descend into the unknown. Out of the eerie glow of the forest came a high-pitched shriek. A jolt of electricity shot through my body as instinct swung my arms up in defense.

"Settle down Will!" Justin said. "It was just an owl or something." Adrenaline pounded through my veins. "Man you're jumpy. Take some breaths dude. Calm down." My muscles tightened harder the more I pretended to relax.

"You're right Justin. I guess I've been a little tense tonight." I fought to distract myself from the fearful thoughts that pillaged my mind. It was no use. My mind looped worse than my broken CD player.

We hopped the short metal gate and within fifty feet the forest opened up. A long gravel driveway separated a small pond lined with white lilies. Given an alternative scenario, it would have been quite beautiful under the light of the moon. Being in the open space had a calming influence. It would be hard for anything to sneak up and surprise us. A wave of tranquility flowed through me providing mild comfort. Betrayal came seconds later. Fear tightened its clasp on my lungs the moment I let my guard down. I fought with agony to cling to the tranquil thoughts, but was asking the impossible of myself. I struggled to hang on, fear becoming more powerful with each hopeless slip. One after another, distressed thoughts rose to my unruly mind, each one more intense than its predecessor, begging me to panic. I jabbed my hand into the pocket of my jeans and rubbed the smooth cool steel between my fingers. The dip separating the two halves calmed me. I had been carrying the heart for almost ten years now. The charm's texture grounded me to reality, giving me comfort, hope, strength. It was meant for someone else, not for me. I wasn't a hero. I never had the courage to part with it. Doing so would make me vulnerable, in more ways than one.

Justin and I took our time moving down the driveway, being careful not to make a lot of noise. We'd pause often to listen for any unusual sounds. We heard nothing except for the slight breeze that swirled around us. In the distance stood a small barn whose white paint glowed against the moonlit background of the darkened forest. There was an opening on the second floor where a door used to be. We could see inside the barn, but it was too dark to make sense of anything.

"Hey, shine your flashlight up there." Justin wanted to know what was waiting inside. I pointed the light towards the 2nd floor opening. A loud squawk rang out as an explosion of feathers burst into the air and floated to the ground. We both jumped back and looked at each other.

"Huh, just a bird," I said.

"I heard a boy hung himself from the very ledge that bird was on." Justin said.

"What? Oh my God."

"Ha, I just made that one up." A smile cracked from behind Justin's stern face, his lame attempt at humor pulling a feeble grin across my mouth. I searched my brain for a witty comeback. Banter was never my strength but I could usually come up with something, especially when directed towards Justin. He was one of those guys that was easy to give crap too. I think because he dished so much of it out it became natural to return the favor. Tonight was different. Fighting my anxiety disorder had a way of shutting me up, turning me inward, more than I normally am.

"Look up ahead!" Justin said.

"Shh, they might hear us. The kids, with the traps and cameras." I said.

"Will, you can relax, it's just us. Don't you remember talking about it? The police put a stop to all that. Are you ok? You seem distracted tonight, like you aren't with me."

Justin didn't know about my condition, how the anxiety made it difficult to focus on the present, and how the constant battle for peace left me exhausted. None of my friends knew. They could never know. The rejection would send me into a turmoil I couldn't pull out of.

"Never mind." I kicked the ground in front of me.

"Look, there it is." Justin said. We crept to a three story Victorian style house. Frightened and alone it called to us, begging us to enter and relieve it of it's past. "Here, give me your flashlight," I handed my light to Justin. "What the hell, Will. This thing is soaking wet!"

"I guess my hands must be sweaty. Here, let me wipe it off." I grabbed the light from Justin's hand and wiped it down with the sleeve of my jacket. I took a long glance upward toward the house. Its beauty was haunting. This was the type of place you'd work hard to keep up, not hide it a mile into the woods.

We approached the front steps, on both sides were two plain black posts that supported the overhang from the second floor. We walked up three steps to the front porch. Cobwebs concealed the pair of once black trimmed windows that stood on either side of the front door, yielding an old weathered appearance. For the house's splendor, it was in dire need of restoration. The porch floor creaked no matter how light our steps. The screen on the front door had been half punched out and the white painted outside walls had accumulated dirt a half inch thick.

"We've come this far. Open the door," Justin pointed to a dirty brass doorknob.

"Me?"

"You have the light. That means you lead." Justin said.

"Please be locked." I whispered, turning the knob slowly. I really need to learn how to say no. The door swung open as if someone on the other side were inviting us in. I turned toward Justin. "Great, it's open."

"Let's go." Justin motioned for me to move forward.

I peeked my head in the doorway, scanning the entryway with my flashlight. It looked normal enough. To my left were five pegs to hang jackets and a large rectangular mirror to my right. Ten feet ahead was a door and the entrance to the living room. Our steps were slow and deliberate.

"This place is the marriage of a horror movie and a subsidized housing project. What a dump." I said.

"Wow, that's the most I've heard you say since we got in the car to come out here, agreed. I guess the last family that lived here got so freaked that they just took off and left everything behind."

By the way they lived they obviously had no respect for such a beautiful home. Everything was out of place and chaotic. The air was heavy and musty. The furniture was torn and there were two fist-sized holes in the wall. "They must have had cats," I plugged my nose and pointed to a urine soaked stain on the couch and another in the corner next to it.

"Well Will, no one has lived here for several years. Were you expecting the Playboy Mansion?"

"I know. I guess I just hate to see something this beautiful get treated so poor."

"Do you always talk like that?" Justin asked.

"What do you mean?"

Justin paused, gazing downward. "Like everything is alive, like it has feeling and is hurt by its mistreatment."

"I guess I tend to think like that. I feel you should treat everything the way you would like to be treated."

"These are just things, objects, they aren't alive. They don't have feelings," Justin said.

Maybe he was right, but it's not like I could change it. Objects have a life of their own. Each with its own history and story to tell. Everything has life. The earth, the trees, the rocks. When a rose died a part of me died with it. A tremendous burden to carry. That level of intensity can cause a person great pain when they are unable to turn it off.

We continued searching the living room. A television set with a cracked screen and a couple of the ugliest yellow recliners I'd ever seen consumed much of the room. A coffee table resting on its end against the wall was the only thing that seemed salvageable.

Justin took a few steps ahead. He was drawn to something. I stepped in his path to grab him and keep him close. He looked right through me and nudged me to the side. He walked up to a closet door and swung it open. "Justin, you alright?" I felt the blood in my face drop to my feet. There was a faint giggle, and then joyous laughter. "Damn it Justin!"

"I was just seeing if you thought I was possessed," he said.

"Leave it to a comedian to play practical jokes at a time like this," I said.

Justin's laughter turned to concern. "Hey look, it's not a closet, it's a staircase."

"Huh?"

"Let's check it out," Justin looked inside.

"I don't know, it's dark and we don't know what's down there. What if there's a family of diseased mice, or something worse."

"You scared? That's why you have your light." Justin nudged me in the back as I shrugged my shoulders. Again, I found myself in the role of reluctant leader as we crept down the old wooden staircase.

The air grew heavier and damper. I prayed my flashlight wouldn't fail. We reached the bottom stair and stepped onto the cold stone floor. I scanned the room with my light. The basement was odd looking and about ten times scarier than it should have been under normal circumstances. There were strange symbols painted on the walls. A huge stone well sat in the middle of the room. The walls were lined with wooden shelves and corrugated boxes that stored old files. I pulled out a file and shined my light on it. "Patient is experiencing auditory hallucinations and delusions of religious persecution. Patient is being treated with electric shock. Patient's response to treatment is uncertain. Patient is suicidal and needs 24-hour supervision."

"That's enough reading for now. You don't need to fuel your imagination any further." Justin called out.

"What's with all these misshapen symbols on the wall?" I asked.

Justin bent down to inspect an empty drawer. "A group of Occultists squatted here about a year ago."

"Are you kidding me. I got freaked out over a group of nut-job Occultists." I said.

We broke out in laughter. It was rather common, however, given our town's history. Like I said, we attracted people on the fringes of society. They mostly came because of morbid curiosity. Some bought into the myth that the doctor actually did open a doorway to hell and that they could summon dark entities to invoke diabolical favors. No one took these people seriously, except the doomsday preachers who rode into town every Sunday afternoon, fulfilling their self-appointed duties to preach that the Rapture was Nigh, and that we're all on the short track to damnation.

Occultists were easy to spot in town. Most wore dark clothing and had hair that was dyed jet black. Some had tattoos of pentagrams and wore the symbol on jewelry or in some other form of self-expression. My friends and I referred to them as Outsiders in reference to the classic novel. Once, a group of them opened a flower shop in town. Odd, I know, but it was the only way the owner knew how to make a living. The shop stayed open for about two months. One of the Puritan preachers convinced a group of elderly women that they would go to hell if they didn't stop buying flowers from the shop. I mostly felt bad for the Outsiders. They wanted to fit in. Being normal, belonging, just wasn't written in their DNA. I knew the feeling well.

Millersville was divided between two opposing forces, the Outsiders and the Doomsday Preachers whom were nicknamed Puritans. My family stayed out of the politics of the town. Dad said politics and religion divided people. When there's division people behave badly, blinded by whatever beliefs they think are absolute truth.

"Wow, now that's messed up." Justin said. A door stood at the other end of the basement leading to a modern washing machine which Justin decided he had to open.

"What?" I asked, half expecting to see a severed head or something equally grotesque.

"There's still clothes in the dryer, these folks must have been in a major hurry to get the hell out of here." Justin said.

"I'm wondering if we should do the same." I said, the thought of fleeing invited panic to invaded me. A sharp pain twisted my stomach. God no, I'm having a panic attack in front of Justin. The air was freezing cold. Nerves bombarded my brain with a million stabbing thoughts, torment and suffering. My legs gave out and I tumbled to my knees.

"We have to go. I can't be here. I'm gonna throw up."

"Lay still and relax," Justin said.

My stomach turned over and released vomit on the floor, splattering up to my face. The palpitations of my pounding heart muted my hearing. "Help me get him to bed, and get him some Xanax, hurry." I thought I heard Justin call out. A large figure rushed towards us, forcing a pill into my mouth and water down my throat. My vision blurred. Darkness consumed me.

Chapter 2

"How you feeling?" I opened my eyes. The room was fuzzy.

"Justin, is that you?" I whispered.

"No, just lay still and rest."

Adrenaline tried to alert my brain that I was in danger, but failed. The panic attack left me drained but I had peaked and was slowly starting to recover. I laid still, too disoriented to move. I was no stranger to overwhelming fear, but to throw up and black out like that, it can't be good.

I gathered enough strength to sit up. Every muscle was numb. I scanned the room for a clock but was unable to locate one. The mirror next to the bed told me I looked the same, normal on the outside, anything but normal on the inside. My dark eyes carried an air of sadness to them. That was nothing new. I kept my brown hair short and my t-shirts plain; doing everything I could to remain as unambiguous as possible. I hated drawing attention to myself. If I did, people would look at me; if they looked too close they might see the truth.

Computers and gadgets lined every square inch of the room. A large dark figure was fast approaching. My blurred vision remained but I sensed no danger.

"How's the head feeling, Will?" The figure spoke with a dry raspy voice.

"It hurts." I said.

"That's normal; you'll feel like yourself in a few hours."

"Where am I?"

"Let me be the first to welcome you. You're at Gateway. The figure said with an excited tone.

"Gateway."

"Don't be afraid. Gateway is the name of our operation."

"Ok, can you show me the exit please?" I said.

My vision was clearing and I could see that the large shadowy figure had features of his own. I would guess early forties, wrinkles around the eyes, and a few gray hairs at the temples. He was snacking on a fried chicken drummie and drinking a can of soda. He could do without the snack since he was obviously overweight.

"Hey! Mind your own damn business." He said.

"What are you talking about?"

"You think I'm fat, so I told you to mind your own damn business."

"Um, I don't think you're fat. What gives you that idea?"

"Well, first of all you just thought I could do without this chicken since I was obviously too heavy. That's how I know you think I'm fat." He calmed after putting me in my place.

"But, I didn't even say anything." I glanced away, unable to make eye contact.

Justin entered the room. I was glad to see his face and have the attention diverted away from the awkward conversation. "Hey Will, how ya feeling?"

"Ok I guess, but what the hell is going on?"

"I guess I should fill you in on a few things huh. You are still in the haunted house. This house was formerly a halfway house for patients at the old hospital. You weren't supposed to get your hands on those old files. I think it overwhelmed you. The truth of the matter is, we, um, sort of set you up." Justin's eyes were glued to the floor.

"What!" Justin stood silent, continuing to count the tiles on the floor. I raised my hands. "You mean to tell me this whole thing was a setup. You brought me out in the middle of nowhere just to scare the piss out of me. What the hell is going on Justin?" The forcefulness of my voice compelled him to shed his reluctance to speak.

"Ok, this was an initiation. Congratulations! You are our newest member. You'll get a membership packet in the mail and we'll need a picture for your photo ID."

"I always knew there was something shady about you. I guess this is my proof." I raised my middle finger and extended it towards Justin.

"Looks like you're starting to regain some of your old self, great." Justin's sarcastic smile raised my blood pressure. "Will, listen, we brought you here for a reason. You see, we're investigators, the supernatural kind."

I leaned back on the couch. "Are you kidding me? Like on those stupid cable shows." I purposely rolled my eyes. Justin didn't find the humor in it.

"Our group, we're paranormal investigators, you know, investigate hauntings. Ghosts and things."

"Ok, a lot of kids are into that. Why be so secretive about it? Why not just tell me rather than give me a heart attack?" I asked.

Justin glanced away from me, pausing for a second before speaking. "You wouldn't have come."

"And you know this how?"

"Because you fear God."

The statement caught me off guard. "What are you talking about?"

Justin's shallow breathing indicated the conversation was making him uncomfortable.

Justin rubbed his chin and changed the subject. "The entire earth and its inhabitants are made of energy, energy that breathes life into all things. Science has proven that energy can never be destroyed, only altered and manipulated. At its core the energy is powerful and pure, but there are forces that seek to misuse it. The energy can be gathered and collected. The more we obtain the more we can alter and control it. We just don't know how. That's where you come in. The energy is drawn to you. You have certain gifts. Gifts that give you an unique advantage. Your fear holds you back, but in a way it's your greatest power. When you're strong enough, and I mean He-Man strong, we're going to break in and you're going to break them out." Justin stared.

"Are you saying I'm some sort of chosen one?"

"Don't flatter yourself! There are no chosen ones. Every person on this planet has the ability to obtain the energy. We're all chosen ones." The heavyset man's lip curled at the corner. I kept my silence.

"Will, meet Corbin." Justin said. I nodded politely towards the man's direction. He never returned the gesture.

"Why the initiation? I still don't understand why you didn't just ask? What does fearing God have to do with anything?"

"Our methods are progressive, somewhat New Age. You're from Millersville and your not on Team Outsider. That means you come from the tradition that believes the dead should be left dead." Justin said.

I knew what he was getting at. I'd seen the TV shows, how people attempted to contact spirits and meddle with things they shouldn't. I was no Puritan but Justin was right. I did consider myself to be a good, God fearing Christian. Lord's Prayer before bed. Come Lord Jesus be our guest, before every meal. Church on Sundays. I prayed a lot, but mostly out of desperation. At least I knew better than to mess with this stuff.

All around me, buzzers began buzzing, beepers began beeping, and lights began flashing. My headache intensified as I stumbled like a drunken sailor back to my bed. Justin and Corbin raced to a computer, intently studying the screen.

"Hey Corbin, check this out," Justin said.

"What is it?"

"It's another message. There's an image and the word Exit written beneath it."

Corbin puzzled over the image. "I wish they could just talk. This metaphorical communication is maddening."

"Sorry man, just the way it is." Justin shook his head in sympathetic agreement.

I fought the searing pain in my head and made my way to the computer. I looked at an image of two adult men, one holding a small worn book and the other on his knees. The man with the book had pristine features, not a scratch or scar on his face. His clothes were bright and he appeared to be draped in a flowing white gown. One you might see in a painting of Greek Gods. He stretched his hand as far as it would go to the man on his knees who was pinned against a stone wall. The man was unresponsive, dirty and beaten, his face distorted with unforgivable disgrace.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"No clue. Haven't seen or heard from them before. What time is Monika supposed to get here?" Corbin said as he turned to face Justin.

"Not sure, she said she worked until ten o'clock and was going home to bed afterward. I'll get a hold of her and convince her to come in." Justin said.

Air traffic controllers with a plane spiraling towards the earth had nothing on Justin and Corbin as they pounded on buttons and tried to keep up with the data being hurled out of the printer. Their setup was elaborate. How they could afford all of this?

"Who's Monika?" I asked Corbin.

"Monika Kingsbury is like you, only stronger," he said.

"Stronger? What do you mean?"

"She could bench press a house, where as you'd be lucky to lift the bar off your chest." Corbin said. My guard tightened with his comment.

"Geez Will, don't get so defensive."

"I wasn't being defensive."

"Yeah, whatever," Corbin replied.

Justin came back into the room and announced that it took some convincing on his part but Monika would stop in and try to establish a connection.

"Connection to what?" I asked.

"The men in the image," Justin said.

I sensed Corbin and Justin weren't telling me everything I needed to know. I needed answers and they weren't giving any. "I'm leaving." The declaration spun both of their heads around.

"Leaving! Where are you going? You can't leave now." Justin said.

"Please then, one of you tell me what this is all about? Where the hell am I? Who the hell is Monika? And why does it feel like I am standing in the middle of Google's IT department!"

Behind me, a door flew open and a beautiful young woman came marching in. She walked with her head held high and spoke with a voice that demanded her presence, better be worth it. I sensed both Corbin and Justin held this woman in high regard. My eyes wouldn't leave her. She wasn't dressed to kill, a simple ensemble; blue jeans and a plain faded gray sweatshirt. She was older, but not by much. Early twenties, maybe just out of college. There was an unnamed presence about her. She looked like she just got off the third shift at the Millersville meat packing plant, but possessed a natural beauty only a lucky few are born with.

"Geez," I said. "You come from a slaughterhouse or what?" Shock and guilt flooded my body the second those words came out, stress and confusion getting the best of me. It was out of my character to respond that way. On most occasions, I can only mumble a shy hello when first meeting someone, especially someone as pretty as Monika. I went over a list of excuses to explain my rude and uncharacteristic behavior. I couldn't spit any out. The only resort was to assure myself that all would be forgiven due to my lethargic condition.

"Excuse me? Are you saying I'm a cow?"

"No. No, I actually, I'm not sure why I said that," hoping my honesty would soften the blow.

"You better not be making fun of me for spending all day neck deep in turkey crap and then covering the second shift at my aunt's cafe. I might smell like today's meatloaf special but what gives you the right?"

"No ma'am. I was just, um, you work where?"

"Who the hell is this guy?" Monika asked, turning to see Corbin's jaw stuck wide open.

"Oh hey Monika, let me introduce to you to Will. He is our newest member, I guess."

Corbin made a weak attempt to introduce us. Monika shook her head, wanting nothing to do with me. Like the new kid at school, I kept my distance. Despite her apparent hatred of everything about me, I wanted to know everything about her.

Long blonde hair flowed just past her shoulders. She exuded a slim waist and perfect chest that any woman would be jealous of. Deep blue eyes pierced my soul on the rare occasion I had enough courage to gaze into them. This girl would be a handful, but worth every effort to get to know. I wonder if she will ever feel the same about me.

"What? Are you just gonna to stand around?" Monika waved Justin along.

"I'll get the table and candles prepared," Justin said.

"Corbin, can you please shut these damn lights and beepers off! They're driving me nuts!" Monika said. "I'm going to prepare."

It didn't take a genius to see the pattern. Monika had a bossy, take charge and gives orders personality. The kind I hate. I don't have a problem taking orders from a female; it's not that. It's the way people like her go about it that gets under my skin.

"Yeah Will," Corbin said. "You just seem to get used to it after a while. She doesn't mean anything by it, it's just her way."

"Oh really, thanks for letting me know," I said. She'll quickly change her way. I don't deal with those types.

How did Corbin seem to know what I was thinking, it's not like I told him I didn't like the way Monika barged in here and took control.

"Ok, I think everything is set. We're ready to roll. Hey Will, can you hit the light switch on the wall there?" Justin said. The noise and lights stopped, there was calm.

"Um, sure," I replied, blindly doing what I was told.

Justin and Corbin lit two-dozen white long stemmed candles and placed them at various spots around the room. Corbin looked towards me, "the candles create a warm, inviting atmosphere." I nodded in agreement to avoid awkward disagreement. The side door flung open and Monika walked in. She wasn't the same person I met earlier. She failed to make eye contact with any of us. Her mind crossed into a different reality from our own.

"Are you ready Monika?" Justin asked. Monika starred forward. "Alright then, everyone form a circle and hold hands. Clear your minds and focus on the computer image."

The symbols drawn on the basement wall flashed through my mind sending warning signals to my brain. "Wait!" I said. "I know what this is. You guys are trying to channel the spirit of that crazy old doctor, Sunny Miller. I want no part of it. Let me out of here!"

Justin sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't be ridiculous Will. We're not naive brainless Outsiders. We're here to help people. Please, humor us for a minute."

"No, I don't do magic or séances or whatever this is. It isn't right."

Corbin looked at Justin. "Told you he wouldn't go for it. Too afraid of God's wrath."

"Tell ya what. If I pass out or get struck by lightning during this you can have all the computers in this lab." Justin said.

"Some wager, they're all mine anyway." Corbin laughed.

"Come on Will, I'm only joking. Nothing bad's gonna happen. Maybe you're more like the Puritans than I thought."

Justin's arrogance struck a nerve. Against the advice of the angel on my shoulder I decided to play along. I wasn't a religious extremist like the Puritan preachers in town. Justin and Corbin weren't going to make me look like a fool in front of Monika. I took Corbin's right hand and Justin's left as we formed a triangle with Monika in the middle. She sat on top of the table with her legs crossed, palms turned outward, and eyes closed. Monika's breathing started to slow and deepen. She hummed a weird chant that I was unable to make sense of. We waited fifteen minutes, with sweaty palms and tired hands. The whole thing felt pointless.

"Tell us what's troubling you? Why are you attempting to contact us?" Monika said. A few minutes of silence passed. "Tell me what your pain is."

"Escape." Voices made themselves known but weren't from human vocal cords.

"Can you give us your name?" Monika asked. "Why do you keep repeating the word ESCAPE?" My body fell weightless, my mind turned off all thought, attention focused inward to the bodiless voices. "Who are you?" She asked again. The voices whirled around us, sounding from all sides.

"Names are unimportant."

"Why do you need us?" Monika said.

"For the rescue mission. We've never been this close, to finally have the key amongst us. We're going to-"

"Are you in pain?" Monika asked again.

"I think you just cut them off." I said.

"What do you mean I just cut them off?" Monika replied. "Now we've lost them, thanks a lot!"

"Why in the world are you blaming me?" My neck was on fire, boiling blood pounding against the vessels."

"You shouldn't talk," Monika growled.

"What did I do?"

My grip tightened around Corbin's hand. "Dammit Will!" He shouted, pulling away. I broke from the circle, took a few steps back and arched my spine. Monika's icy gaze sent a clear message. She was uneasy about having a new guy being let in on the group's secrets.

"Alright everyone, enough." Justin asserted himself as leaders do. "We need to focus on finding out who these voices belong to and see if we can get them back ... but we can't do anything more tonight. It's past midnight and I think we all should get some rest. We need to prepare for what's to come." Corbin and Monika packed their belongings and left without speaking.

"I know you have a lot of questions, Will, but put them aside for now. I'll fill you in as we go. We're doing an investigation this weekend. There's a house in a small town north of here. I'd like you to come. Just watch, see what we're about, what we do. Don't worry about the others. They're just highly dedicated to the work we do. It's not easy for them to trust." Justin said as we left the old Victorian house and walked down the gravel road to my car.

"How do you know it's haunted?" I asked.

"There have been five owners in the past three years. That's a major red flag."

"Sounds like termites?" I smirked.

"Glad to see that sarcasm again. Just try and get some rest." Justin didn't fist bump as he normally did when I dropped him off. I had a million questions that I wanted answered now, but I was exhausted.

"Ok Justin, see ya at school tomorrow."
Chapter 3

"Hi Will," her voice was exceptionally bubbly.

"Oh, Hi Allison." My face lit up along with every blood vessel in it. I dove into my locker, pretending to search for a lost book.

There's a cruel phenomenon within all of us. It teases us, misleads us, lies to us. It tells us we are the one, the next big thing, the only one holding the million dollar ticket. That's how it was with Allison Channing. I knew this adversary well, I believed anyway.

"So, you going to the Lodge next weekend?"

"Oh, is there a party?" I asked. Questions divert attention away from yourself yielding a slight calming effect.

"Yeah, after the game. I really hope you guys win." Allison said.

The Lodge is the nickname of the party house kids at my school go to on the weekends. It's just an old cabin in the woods, once quite elaborate though."

"Hey, hey, hey, my two favorite people." Justin came running up, putting his arm around Allison as if they were best friends."

"Hi Justin. How's life treatin' ya." Allison said.

"Oh you know. I've got the looks of an Abercrombie model and the soul of Ghandi, can't complain."

Allison laughed. I was annoyed.

"Hey Will," Justin said. "What class ya heading to?"

"I gotta get to math."

"Let's meet up afterward."

"Whatever."

"You're such a charmer, Will. How do you do it?"

I gave Justin a scowl as he turned his back.

"My lady." Justin held out his arm, gesturing to escort Allison to her next class.

"Oh wait, today's Friday." I called out.

"Yeah, so what." Justin said.

"Um, I have to meet with Mr. Johnson after class to go over some homework. I meet with him most Friday's."

"You're such a brownnoser." Justin's eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Let us depart my lady." Allison locked arms with Justin and both went skipping down the hallway. I wanted to shoot him.

I didn't like lying but it was better than the alternative. I had been meeting with Dr. Z on Friday's for about a month now. I was reluctant at first but my parents insisted after they learned I was having difficulty paying attention in class. The school social worker had me tested for ADHD. Not the squirrely, can't stay in your seat type, but the absent minded, can't hold a thought in your head type. The tests came back negative and I didn't meet criteria for an ADHD diagnosis, but the social worker thought I could benefit from meeting with Dr. Z. She said it would help me to "better connect with my peers," whatever that meant.

Some of the kids criticized me for being aloof. It wasn't that. I just had secrets. Secrets that were killing me, but I would rather die than have them exposed. So I remained distant, stayed guarded, and stayed safe. I wanted desperately to connect with them, to be part of their group, to fit in. It just wasn't in the cards. I was different from them. Maybe they were different from me. It didn't matter. Difference creates fear. Fear leads to anger. The anger that I masked and kept hidden was born from frustration, from not being understood. I stuffed it down, buried it deep.

Despite my initial reluctance I found the meetings with Dr. Z helpful. Dr. Z. was an old soul with boyish features, soft green eyes, and a kind smile. Despite his youthful appearance he often joked that he was, "pushing 70." Dr. Z. was confined to a wheelchair. He never talked about it and I never asked. He had a background in Theology, but was different from the crazy preachers in town. He never forced his beliefs on you. Dr. Z. allowed you to have your own mind without condemning you to hell for it. A lot of what he talked about made sense. He helped me recognize how my thoughts made me anxious and distracted, especially around others. He never officially diagnosed me. He said that he didn't believe in labels. Best I could tell from self-diagnosing Internet searches was that I suffered symptoms related to generalized and social anxiety.

"Willy, come on in." Dr. Z greeted me in his office.

"You're the only other person who calls me Willy, well, other than my grandfather who's been dead for five years." I said.

"Does it bother you? Please tell me if it does."

"No, it's nice actually. We were close. You kind of remind me a little of him, at least your personalities." I said.

"Well, tell you what, I'm going to leave that memory for your Grandfather. It's William or Will from here on out. Tell me, how has your anxiety been?" I wiped the moisture from my hands onto the legs of my pants. The anticipation of having to speak honestly about my feelings was more alarming to my body than someone sneaking up behind me with a blow horn. My eyes darted around the room. The plant on his desk. The ugly yellow shades on his window. "Who's that?" I gestured toward a painting on the wall.

"You're not answering the question, William."

"Oh, um, I feel more panicky in the morning. It's hard to get going and feel motivated. I just get so nervous before school. My stomach hurts a lot."

"Is there anything that triggers your anxiety in the morning?" Dr. Z. asked.

"Not that I can think of."

"Try to recall the thoughts you have in the morning before school."

"I don't know. I always feel like I'm being judged by others. Like if they really knew how messed up I was they would be appalled. I don't want them to think I'm a loser or see me as weak. I guess the thoughts make me anxious and then the stomachache comes which intensifies everything. Thinking about panic makes me panic. If I could just forget."

Dr. Z. leaned forward is his chair. "Do you see the loop? Think about a digital media player and how it plays songs over and over again. It does this because the minicomputer inside tells it to. Your brain is that minicomputer. The more you focus on something the more intense it will become. Distraction. Distraction. Distraction. It's the only way to break the cycle. Tell me Will, what else helps you manage the symptoms?"

"I pray, a lot, but I don't think it helps."

"Why not?"

"It helps for a little bit, then I start thinking about having a panic attack and it comes back."

"What do you do then?"

"Start over."

"Say more."

"I start my ritual over. Get on my knees, pray, stand up, get back down, pray, touch my heart seven times, make sure I didn't mess up the rug on the bathroom floor, and then touch the doorknob with three taps before leaving."

"Yes Will, I'm quite familiar with your routine. The reason your prayers don't work is because they come from a place of desperation. Tell me about this feeling of messing up?"

"So God won't be angry." The words were out before I realized that I had spoken them.

"You're afraid God will punish you if you don't pray the way he wants you to?" Dr. Z. raised his brow. I thought about Justin and Corbin's comments last night, that I was afraid of God. Were they right? If so, how could they see it and not me?

"I don't know."

"Have you been practicing your coping skills, breathing and distraction exercises when you feel compelled to start a ritual?" Dr. Z. asked.

"I have. They help a little."

"Good Will, keep practicing. The more you practice staying with the moment and accepting your feelings, the more your brain will rewire itself. Over time your anxiety will weaken. Each time you engage in a ritual you are avoiding anxiety. Avoidance keeps you trapped."

"I get that. I just wish it didn't take so long. I wish it wasn't so hard. I feel so alone sometimes, so isolated. I can't tell my friends, they wouldn't get it."

"It is a learning process Will. Compulsions are acts of desperation. Acute anxiety is devastating. People who haven't experienced it don't understand the pain it causes. It's only natural to want to fight it but it takes time. Your brain needs practice and repetition to learn a new skill. You've been thinking anxious thoughts for so long your brain doesn't know any better. Would you expect to lose one hundred pounds in one week if you were obese?"

"No."

"Well, psychological disorders work the same way," he said. "Give yourself a lot of credit. You have to deal with all of the same things that kids without mental health concerns have to deal with. It's a heavy challenge, but I have no doubt you are the person to take it on."

"It feels like a curse." I said.

"You don't have to fight this alone. You said you couldn't tell your friends. Maybe in time you can. They may not truly understand, nobody can understand your experience but you, that doesn't mean they won't support you. What about Allison?"

"Oh God, are you kidding?"

"By the way you describe her she sounds like the right person, warm, caring, compassionate." Dr. Z. said.

"She is."

"Do you still carry the heart?" He asked.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out the charm.

"Why not tell her then?"

I had known Allison since elementary school. She meant everything to me but didn't know it because I could never bring myself to tell her.

"Do you enjoy torturing people for a living?" I asked. "You put on this front that you're this spiritual person, but I think there's more. There's a darkness in you."

Dr. Z. gave a hearty laugh and I couldn't help but crack a smile as he reached out and gave my knee a playful slap.

"Just be open to the possibility. You never know if the opportunity will arise. You're on the verge of a great awakening. You have an opportunity to experience how these disorders affect your life." Dr. Z. said.

"Why would I want to experience that?"

"There's reason and purpose for everything. Experiences develop character. Challenges in life awaken the spirit. Be careful. With any great gift comes tremendous responsibility. Because of the difficult nature of psychological disorders it can be easy to slip off the path and lose your way."

"Slip off the path?"

"Some people turn to drugs, alcohol, sex, extremes of all kinds. They wind up in a hell of their own creation." Dr. Z. said.

"I assure you, I'm not headed down that path."

"Nobody purposely heads down that path. Always, it sneaks up. People don't realize it until they spiral down, out of control. That's when they cry out for help." I sat back in my chair. "Now tell me Will, how's your anger?"

My chest tightened. "I'm not angry. I keep telling you that but you don't listen. To be honest it's frustrating."

"Ok, Will, you're not ready to talk and that's fine." Dr. Z said. I remained silent. Anger was the one thing we didn't see eye-to-eye about. Dr. Z said anger was the one chain that could prove most difficult for me to break. I wasn't convinced. He called it denial.

"In The Wilderness," he said.

"What?" I turned just before stepping out his door. Dr. Z. motioned to the painting on his wall.

"The name of painting," he nodded. "It's symbolic of the people that come through my office. They tell me they can relate, that it's therapeutic."

The painting was a picture of Jesus sitting alone on a rock, his head buried in his arms, the weight of the world on his shoulders. I studied it for a second. "They let you hang it? I mean, being in school and all. The Puritans lost control of the school board several years ago after the state stepped in."

"I know. Administration has asked me to take it down six times now." Dr. Z. gazed at the painting, never removing his eyes from it. There was no way it was coming down. I turned and left his office.

Why was Dr. Z. so concerned that my anxiety was driven by some hidden repressed anger? The only anger I had was directed towards my disorders. They make me different, like there is something wrong with me, like I am a bad person.

"Hey Will," I heard someone say just after my face planted itself into a building support post. "Watch out for those posts. They come at you so quick." I looked down, pretending to hide. Heat filled every blood vessel in my face. Keep walking and get the hell out of here. Having my embarrassment exposed was far more devastating than actually running into the post. Thankfully it was Friday. This will all be forgotten by Monday. I just needed to get to my next class and hide in the back row.
Chapter 4

We piled into Corbin's van late on a Saturday morning, ready to investigate a house an hour away on the outskirts of town. My stomach was a mixture of uneasiness and acid ... but not for the reasons you might think. Ghosts didn't scare me, getting to know Monika did. I might have to open up, let her inside, see the real me. The thought sent panic rushing up my spine. I tried to act cool, to deny my obsession with her mystery and intrigue, but the red blotches on my neck told the truth.

"Everyone pumped!" Justin was the first to break the silence.

"I feel good about this one," Monika replied. I sat next to her which was wasn't as good as sitting in front of her, but better than sitting behind her. If I was in front of her she wouldn't be able to see me blush. If I sat behind her I was a goner each time she turned around.

"So Monika, you'll need to begin preparations as soon as we get there? I don't mean to rush you but I think it's best if we get right to it." Justin said.

"I hope my skills are good enough. Making contact is always difficult in new settings. I'm sure it'll be distracting for the spirits too. Having to work with an unfamiliar medium isn't easy." Monika said.

"When did you first learn about your abilities?" Justin inquired. "I feel kind of dumb but I've never asked you before."

"I've just always kind of known. Spirits have been coming to communicate with me before I learned to talk. I guess they're eager to communicate with us. I realized I was a vessel for this communication at a very young age." Monika wore low cut jeans and a tight beige shirt with just enough skin to reveal a half hidden belly piercing and a tattoo of a dove just above her waistline.

"First rodeo Will?" A voice came from the driver's seat. Silence filled the van. The conversation was lost until Justin saved me.

"Why do you ask, Corbin?" Justin said, filtering the awkward quiet.

"He ain't said more than two damn words," Corbin chuckled. I shrugged, remaining silent. "It's ok man. The rules are simple. Just don't let the bogeyman in." Corbin was the only one who laughed. "Oh come on. Lighten up. I'm just having some fun. Don't you people know you always have to raz the new guy. It's called initiation."

"Didn't I already do that?" I forced the words out of my mouth as a slight tension moved up my neck.

"Yeah Corbin," Justin said. "Lay off." I could see the back of Corbin's head shaking in disapprovement. He didn't speak the rest of the trip.

We stopped for gas and snacks at a travel plaza along the road. Monika was reaching her hand into a cooler to grab a spring water when I approached. My nerves hammered with each step closer. You can do this. You can speak to her. "What did he mean back there, about the Bogeyman?" My hands trembled with thoughts that my nervousness might be exposed.

"Don't worry, it's just a legend," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"When a spirit becomes a ghost it happens for a reason. They become attached, or earthbound, as we call it. They simply can't let go of something or someone on earth, be it a person or a possession. That's all it is."

I shook my head. "I don't get it. Why the Bogeyman?"

"You know how people believe crazy things in your town, like Sunny Miller is the devil." Monika said. "The Bogeyman is just more of the same, crazy talk. Some spiritualists believe that ghosts are afraid of going into the light because they are being held here against their will. They believe darker entities are holding them back, lying to them, keeping them captive so to speak." Monika said.

"Why would they do that?" I asked.

"To collect their souls, it's how the legend of the Grim Reaper was born."

"Do you believe it? Are there such things as demons?" I asked.

Monika shrugged her shoulders. "I've seen no evidence for or against demons, angels, heaven, or hell. I really can't say. What I do know is that there is an afterlife, filled with the spirits and souls of former humans, just like you and me. Some are better than others. Just like in life, there are people who do good and others who make mistakes. If a person made poor choices in life, it stands there's a good chance they will continue that in death."

Monika smiled slightly, leaving to pay for her water. I stopped in the bathroom to collect myself and slow my breathing. After washing my hands I made a grave mistake. Without thinking I glanced into the mirror, something I never did. My face was beat red. I looked like an idiot.

***

We arrived at our destination around one o'clock in the afternoon. "Alright, listen up everyone. You all know the rules but since Will is new I am going to hit them again. It won't hurt you to pay attention." Justin directed the group. Corbin walked into the next room without saying a word. "Rule number one, check your crap at the door. Don't bring any personal baggage into the investigation. I need everyone focused, calm, and level headed. Remember, negative energy breeds negative energy. The only other rule; let each other do their job. Nobody panics if things get sticky. Is everyone clear? Will, you doing ok?"

"Justin, why do you care so much? There must be a billion lost souls. Why do you help them? What's one soul in a billion really going to accomplish?" I asked.

"It's true that it will take some time to help everyone but it's a great work and we should feel honored to participate in it. It is one of the highest privileges." Justin said. It was a side to him I had never seen before. Justin had leadership abilities but I never thought he cared about things greater than himself.

"What's all this for?" I worked up the nerve to ask Corbin while we unloaded the most high tech equipment I'd ever laid eyes on.

"This stuff is highly sensitive," he said. "It's designed to help us record our contacts with spirits. I'm going to document what we do. It's my hope that future generations will be able to better understand our work. Consider yourself a pioneer William. We're just scratching the surface of a great work."

It was the first decent thing Corbin had said to me since we met. Maybe he just needed time to warm up. Maybe I was gaining his trust. "I'm just hoping the Bogeyman doesn't break anything," I laughed, nudging his arm.

"Yeah, I had the same thought," Corbin paused before sighing. "Keep your fingers crossed." It wasn't the response I had expected.

The group was buzzing with excitement as we scurried around. We worked hard to get the equipment set up. The humble shack transformed into a high tech recording studio. One you'd be more apt to find in Nashville rather than an old country house in the middle of nowhere. After the setup we stopped for a dinner break. It was eight o'clock. The group was tired, but morale was high. An unfamiliar feeling of comfort fell over me. I couldn't remember the last time I felt comfortable in a group.

"Alright everyone, let's get down to business. We'll start by asking some questions and see if we get a response from any of the spirits trapped in the house. Hopefully we can pick up some EVP's." Justin said.

"My name is Justin. These are my friends, Monika, Corbin, and Will, can you hear me? We're here to help. We want to help you, but you need to meet us halfway. We mean you no harm. Our intentions are pure. We have with us tonight a spiritual medium, one of the best in the business. She would very much like to communicate with you. She's here to help you get to where you need to go. Get you to a place of peace and rest. Please, if you can hear us give us a sign of your presence."

An eerie stillness calmed the air as we waited. The recorders weren't picking up anything and our temperature gauges were remaining constant. "We usually get an extreme drop in temperature when a spirit is around," Justin said. "These gauges haven't moved at all." Monika stepped out to the porch, feeling that the spirits may be more inclined to speak to her if they had privacy.

"Any luck Monika?" Justin asked.

"No luck, it's too distracting out here, too many noises coming from the animals in the woods."

"Why don't you go in the van and try?" Justin told her.

"Good idea," she said.

My stomach was nauseous. Something felt off. The animals stirring outside and the eerie calm inside was almost maddening. Not to mention the fact that we were trying to contact the so-called dead. Coping skills, I reminded myself as I envisioned Dr. Z's calming presence embracing my fear.

The night was pitch-black except for our lanterns. Justin said older spirits are frightened by flashlights, too modern. I took a lantern and sat on the front steps, quietly calming myself until a violent wind shook the front door and sent me running into the house.

Corbin looked up from his computer monitor. "It's just the wind, man."

"Oh," I turned and looked back out on the porch.

Monika was walking up the driveway shaking her head. "Nothing," she said, sitting on the front porch step to take a much needed break.

"Monika," I asked, sitting beside her.

"Yeah."

"How could a person, or spirit, become evil, so much so to prevent another spirit from finding peace in the afterlife?" I asked.

"You're still stuck on this Bogeyman thing huh?" Monika smiled.

"I guess so." I blushed, turning my focus to the cracks between the wooden planks on the porch.

"In the spirit world intention is all powerful. A person with a strong will can control a person of a weaker will. Just like here. You've heard stories about how people are afraid of leaving their abusive partners."

"Yeah," I said.

"It's the same phenomena. It's psychological bondage, brainwashing, whatever you want to call it. Victims are held captive by their fears. They haven't realized that their fears aren't real, that they can break them at any time. It's hard work, but it can be done. That's what I focus a lot of my work on when helping a lost soul."

I couldn't help but think of my own life and how I let my psychological disturbances keep me trapped and held captive, captive from truly living a free life.

"Do you like this work?" I asked.

"I take my calling very seriously."

"You're doing a great thing for these people. I couldn't do what you do."

Monika smiled at me. "Thanks Will. That means a lot. But don't under estimate yourself."

"I just don't know if I could have compassion for people who do bad things, especially stealing or killing. I just don't understand the world we live in sometimes. People are so cruel to each other. The people in town, how they bash each other at every turn. Spiteful words of hate and anger, it never stops. It makes me angry just thinking about it."

"Hate breeds hate. It's as simple as that." Monika said.

"Don't they get that we are all in this together? I could never do something to harm or hurt someone. I wish someone would teach them a lesson so they'd change their ways." I said.

"I wish more people were like you, Will. You're a voice of reason. You should let it be heard. You'd do a lot of good in this dark town."

I nodded and smiled. Monika didn't know the truth, how impossible that sounded, how unrealistic it would be for me to be a leader in Millersville.

"Part of me stays here for that reason. For a chance to do good in a town that knows so little. I just ask that you remember we don't always know a person's background and where they are coming from. People aren't born bad. Things happen in life happen, they make poor choices, they're human too. But, you're right. I don't believe you have a bad bone in your body. You're sweet."

Monika smiled and looked shyly away. "Hey Will, I know I can come across as tough and rigid, but I'm really not. I actually quite shy. It's just with Justin and Corbin, being the only female in the group, sometimes you gotta bust their balls a little."

I laughed and scrambled for something witty to say. "So, you don't think I will become a demonic prince of hell?" I felt so stupid when the words left my mouth.

"Um, no, I think you're pretty safe with that one." Monika smiled. "Listen, I'm sorry if we got off on the wrong foot when we first met. I was tired from a long day at work and just wanted to go home when Justin called. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course," I said. "I wanted to apologize for my actions too, that wasn't who I really am."

"I know Will. Let's go inside. I'm getting cold."

We walked into the house. The clock on the stove read 4:37 a.m. Justin had a smile on his face. "Ok everyone. That's a wrap."

"What? That's it? Nothing happened." I said.

"Welcome to ghost hunting 101 kid," Corbin said. "It ain't like movies or T.V."

"We have to get back to the lab and analyze the evidence." Justin said.

"Can't we make something happen? Use an Ouija board or something." I was feeling confident after my conversation with Monika.

Corbin spun around and shook his head. "That's just a parlor trick, nothing scientific about them. They don't work." His tone was harsh.

"Ok Corbin. Back off. It was just a suggestion," Justin spoke for me. "Now for the hard part," he said, "taking all this crap down."

It took two and a half hours to load the van. The sun was rising in the east, but I wasn't tired. I felt alive, alive because I connected with Monika.
Chapter 5

"We gotta dig deep!"

"We gotta get tougher!"

Clichés, the usual one-liners that players yell at random as their teammates head to the locker room. Friday night, game night. A weekly Millersville tradition that showcases the volatile nature of our townsfolk. A week had passed since the investigation. Justin thought it would be best for me to take time and process all that had happened. "Go, be normal." He said, which was next to impossible when you live in a clown factory.

Our football field was not considered school property. There was a whole legal battle several years ago. Miller field was built with money donated by, you guessed it, Sunny Miller. The Puritans claimed the land was unconsecrated and since Miller donated the land for public use, they had a legal right to "worship" on it as long as they didn't disturb others. A line frequently crossed and seldom enforced.

"The eleventh hour is upon us my flock. Repent now. Repent before it's too late and your soul is pulled down into the abyss that awaits all who go astray. Pulled down for all eternity!" Shouted a Puritan preacher addressing a small band of followers outside our locker room.

"Give it a rest dude. Nobody wants to hear your narcissistic beliefs. You people keep spouting off about the 'end of times' but guess what, we're all still here." An Outsider fired back to the preacher.

"Cast the devil out with the swine. Rebuke his temptations and those of our disgraceful neighbors!" The preacher shouted directly at the Outsiders as a player from the opposing team walked by shaking his head.

"I bet other teams hate coming here to play us. It's such a damn embarrassment." I said to Randy, our quarterback, as we walked away from one verbal shouting match and into another.

"You'd all do well to pull your heads out your asses. O-Line, if you guys can't hold a damn block for more than two seconds we may as well not even go back out there." Coach began his halftime speech.

It was always the same monologue over and over again. Things might have been different if we'd actually ever won a game. It's been at least three seasons since the Millersville Wolverines tasted victory. Sports had never been popular in my town. We had good athletes, but unfortunately they were either Puritan or Outsider. The Puritan kids were forbidden to engage in competitive sport and the Outsiders just didn't give a damn.

Like every other week, tonight's game plan was not on my radar. Every synapse in my brain was firing without a leader. My head scrambled with unfocused intent. I should have told coach about my confusion after that hit in the first quarter, but I didn't want to appear weak. I searched hard for a concrete thought, something solid to hang onto. The only image I could grip for more than a second was the charm dangling from the back of my locker.

The lack of mental synchronization opened a doorway to a mysterious realm where the lines of reality blurred like a dream. I was aware of the locker room and the environment around me, yet haunting images danced across my vision. I fought hard against the hallucinations. Another psychological disturbance would certainly break me. The images came faster and screamed louder with each attempt to push them away.

"No!" I said.

"What was that? You got a problem with the game plan Stark?" Coach yelled toward my direction momentarily snapping me back to reality.

"No, no sir. Sorry."

A teammate leaned toward me. "Pull it together man."

An image of a man lying motionless on a stone floor forced its way into my head. I recognized him as the same disarrayed man in the image I'd seen on Corbin's computer. He was lifeless and defeated, imprisoned by jagged moss and mud covered stone bricks. Darkness consumed the room other than a faint reddish glow coming through cracks in the wall.

The disheveled man sat up and scurried to the corner of the cell. Voices from beyond the walls grew louder as they approached. It was unclear what they were saying or what language they were speaking. The cell door creaked before swinging violently open. The man trembled in the corner as three beastlike creatures towered over him. He kept his face hidden. Their voices became clear. "You did it, brother. This is a time for rejoicing. Come with us. You can take part in the celebration. You can watch as we bind the soul to the darkness."

The man remained silent, shaking in the corner. "Then you will suffer here for eternity. That's our promise to you!" The creatures spewed vile anger at the man as one of them fashioned a hangman's noose and wrapped it around the man's neck, dragging him across the room and throwing him like a ragdoll against the stone wall.

"You're no stranger to the feeling of a rope around your neck are ya boy!" The beast squealed. Bones crushed and broke as he bounced off the jagged stones and fell limp to the ground. "Get up and run!" The creatures taunted, opening the door and inviting him to escape. He struggled with all his strength to reach the door, the coarse stone ripping his fingernails out as he crawled, only to be grabbed and hurled back into the cell. The beatings came harder with each attempt to escape. I shivered.

To my astonishment the beasts just seemed to give up. Eventually growing tired they left, not even bothering to lock the door, daring the man to escape. Was this a game to them? A sport or amusing pastime? I shook. My heart broke for this man. Who was he?

Pray. The same mysterious voice I heard while Monika was in trance was speaking within my mind. Pray. It commanded. I hesitated and then closed my eyes. Please help this poor man. A faint, dull, ball of bluish-white light appeared and hovered above the broken man, trying to work its way inside of him. The light fought to gain entry before being blocked by a black barrier surrounding his body. The light never gave up. Hurling itself again and again towards the man as he released an agonizing moan and rolled over onto his back. The light persisted, breaking through the black barrier and entering the man's chest. His face straining with intensified agony. The voice spoke. No prayer goes unanswered. The man gained a slight momentum as the light worked its way inside him. His eyes opened.

"Come on! Get Up!" I yelled.

"That's the spirit Stark! Go get'em son!" Coach fired back before I realized I was still in the locker room.

My broken concentration caused the light to simmer and fade out. The man was unable to continue his forward momentum. I prayed again. Please help this man. Another ball of light floated through the ceiling of the cell towards the man on the ground. Each time my thoughts went out to him another ball of light entered the cell until the room was fully lit. Illumination lifting the man to his feet.

The beasts came running. Angry and hate-raged, they tried to enter the cell. One of them placed his foot inside releasing a shrill vile shriek. "It burns!" The beast cried. The light formed a wall of fire, protecting the man. Now's your chance. Get the hell out of there. The door is open.

The man stumbled forward, falling to his knees. He dragged himself to the cell door and stuck his head outside. The beasts were in his face, yet couldn't get to him. Terror poured out of his eyes. He broke through the creature's defenses, hurling himself out of the cell and fading into the darkness.

***

"Alright, get out there and get your calisthenics done, let's go, let's move!" Coach barked. I hadn't heard a word of what he said. I had no clue what the second half game plan was. We are only down 21-7, which wasn't impossible. We took the field for second half warm-ups. The image of the tormented man had carved it's permanent residence in my mind and grinded my stomach into paste. Anxiety creates a desperate mind. I wanted to leave the field and calm my nerves. I could fake an injury but what would my coaches and teammates think? I searched for another way to cope, trying anything to block the image. I remembered Dr. Z. teaching me to put up a wall in my mind in which anxiety provoking thoughts could not penetrate. As lame as this sounded, it worked. A wave of tranquility ran through me as I released a deep breath.

The tranquility was strengthened by the sight of her, but only for a moment. Allison was in the stands. She was sitting in a group of people with whom I was unfamiliar. I squinted to get a better look. They wore dark clothing. I hung my head and clenched my fists. "Hey, is that Allison in the stands next to those Outsiders?" I asked Randy, even though I already knew the truth.

"Looks like it. You don't see that every day." Randy said as we jogged over to the sideline to prepare for the second half kickoff.

"What the hell is she doing? If her father finds out we'll be neck deep in Civil War."

Randy stopped and looked me in the eye. "Put it aside Will. You can deal with it after the game. Focus!" He ran off to speak with coach as I averted my eyes back to the field.

We played the entire second half with more intensity than the first, but I was miles from the game. I felt like one of coach's clichés, just going through the motions. My headache subsided. I don't think it was a concussion, just a major bell ringing. But that didn't explain the vision that haunted me the rest of the night.

The lead was cut to 21-20 by the end of the third quarter, no thanks to my lackadaisical efforts. The game clock read 2:12 left in the fourth quarter as our opponents lined up in punt formation. Our Offense was poised to take the field. I had been playing tight end since the middle of the 3rd quarter. Our regular guy went down with a high ankle sprain. I found myself wide open when Randy hit me for a 12-yard gain. I forgot how sweet it was catch a pass; I hadn't caught one since freshman year.

"Run it again Will!" Randy shouted into the ear hole of my helmet, spit landed in my ear, no time to remove it. We were in the hurry up offense. I ran across the middle, two defenders waited to greet me, timing the play perfectly. One knocked the ball away and the other knocked me hard to the ground.

"You OK man?" The defender stood over me looking down.

"Yeah, I think so. Thanks." I held my hand out to be helped up.

"Good, wouldn't want you to miss Sunday School this week." The defender laughed, slapping my hand away and leaving me to pick myself up.

"Shake it off Will, looks like they're not going to give us the middle anymore," Randy said as we huddled up. "Coach thinks the sidelines are our best shot." We broke huddle and hurried to the line of scrimmage. After two quick unsuccessful plays it was 4th down ... our last hope.

Randy took the snap and a 5-step drop. He checked off the main receiver and his second option; both were covered. Randy's third option somehow managed to get behind the safety despite his lack of speed. The Hail Mary ball sailed and hung in the air, shooting itself like a comet. I dropped to the ground, watching from my knees. The receiver laid out as the ball skidded across his fingernails and fell to the grass, familiar failure stinging me. I glanced towards the stands to find comfort, hoping to see Allison alone ... she was gone.
Chapter 6

Not much was said in the locker room after the game. I kept to myself, wondering about the man in my vision and why it all seemed so real. Justin said I had gifts that gave me an advantage. Maybe my thoughts had power, enough to rescue the man from his torments.

"Take it easy Mike, have a good weekend." I said to the equipment kid as I left for the parking lot. I saw Randy running, well, limping towards my car.

"Hey Will, you coming to the Lodge tonight? A bunch of us are heading out there."

"Are you sure you're up for it? You might want to stay off that." I glanced downward at the bulge protruding from his blood stained sock.

"What?" Randy's brow wrinkled.

"Never mind." I said, mind flashing. Allison would be there. I really wanted, more like needed to see her.

"There's gonna be two kegs. Should be sweet." Randy said.

"Yeah I'll go." I was worried about Allison. Why would she be hanging with a group of outsiders, especially in public. Allison always liked the spotlight and the attention it brought but this was an act of desperation.

"Cool man, jump in. I'll give you a ride. You told your parents you wouldn't be home tonight right? I plan on getting bombed, and unless you can drive us back, I think we'll just crash there tonight."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "I don't really know if I'll get bombed but either way it's best if we stay off the roads tonight."

"You ok, Will? You seem ... I don't know, on edge." Randy said.

"Maybe I am a little. Can't stop thinking about Allison hanging with those Outsiders, pisses me off." I said.

"She'll be there tonight. Talk to her. You'll feel better. I promise." Randy turned his focus to the road.

We arrived at the party as a parade of cars lined the driveway. "Man, if this isn't suspicious, I hope the cops don't drive by." I said.

"Don't worry, be happy," Randy calmly giggled. I never knew for sure if he truly didn't have a care in the world, or if it was just his cover for something he didn't want the world to see.

We walked up the front steps and knocked. Randy nudged me and whispered, "talk to her," just before Allison opened the door and quickly hugged the both of us.

"Hey guys, how's it going?" Her voice was bubbly and inviting. Allison was one of those magical people that had a natural ability to draw the conversationalist out of me. It was her greatest gift. I loved her for it.

"Doing great," my eyes lit up the moment she smiled. She was so personable. A quality that I could never imagine for myself. A mystery that I could never solve.

Allison handed me a drink. I reached into my pocket and rubbed the charm between my fingers, its smooth texture quieted my mind and allowed me to speak.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"Oh I've been pretty good. I haven't had a chance to talk to you. It's been so busy with work and school."

"That's ok," I replied. "I understand, I've been busy too."

"I bet you'll have a ton of free time now that football is over."

"Yeah, did you see that last play? Ugg, so close. How cool would have it been to win our last game after losing for so many years. I should be used to it but this one stings."

"Um yeah, it's too bad."

I knew Allison never saw that dropped pass. She knew that I knew. She knew that the sting I felt wasn't from losing. It was from seeing her with the Outsiders.

What have you been up to?" Allison asked.

"Oh just this and that." I flushed with the lameness of the statement, knowing I wasn't being truthful.

"That's cool. I'll talk to you later." Allison didn't press me for knowledge about what I had been doing. She and Randy were both alike in that aspect. They took me at face value. They never dug too deep. I returned the favor, deciding that now was not the time to ask her what the hell she was thinking.

Two hours had passed. The party was oddly therapeutic. Standing alone and a little buzzed, I headed downstairs. A tingling chill ran through me as I reached the bottom step. On the basement walls were painted the same oddly familiar symbols that were painted on the walls at Gateway. Allison approached me before I could fully process what I had seen.

"Hey Will, can I ask you something?"

"Um sure, what is it?"

"I want you to try using the Ouija board with us."

"What? Why? What would you do that for? Who's us?" I asked.

Allison turned and directed her attention towards the corner of the room. Corey Fritz was standing there. I hadn't noticed him before. His dark clothing blended with the shadows of the dimly lit room. My immediate instinct was to say no, but my judgment was blinded by alcohol and Allison.

"We're going to make contact with a spirit using the board," she smiled. "It's harmless."

I hated this town. Had it become cool to try and contact the dead? "I've heard of those but I thought they were just a game played by people with overactive imaginations. They don't really work do they?"

"Yes, spirits have always been attracted to Ouija boards. It's really fun." The same enthusiasm that greeted me was now repealing me. Screaming at me to run away.

"What would your dad say if he knew you were doing this?" I asked.

Allison's enthusiasm soured faster than mayonnaise at a summer picnic. "Don't even talk about him. I am so mad at that jerk!"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's ok Will. Just forget it."

Randy had been watching us from a distance and motioned me over. "Don't even think about it Will, those things are dangerous. Every store in town has one or two for sale. Plus, Corey and his family are all into that Occultist crap. It's only gonna lead to something bad. I saw some crap on TV that bad spirits can feed on the energy of people using Ouija boards because they're vulnerable and don't know how to protect themselves from attack."

"Attack?" I said.

"Using the board gives a spirit permission to attach themselves to the person's energy field. Communication is their invitation. The problem is they wear out their welcome and don't leave politely. They bind their chains to your soul. Dark spirits need to feed off the energy of living since they have cut themselves off from the positive energy of the universe. They attempt to control the host person, causing them to spill their energy. Once the energy becomes muddied, the dark entity can gain strength for a limited time."

Allison pulled at my arm as I turned towards her. "Please Will, I really want you to try it. Please, please, pretty please," she pleaded.

"Do you think if we used the Ouija board we'd be open to attack?" I asked.

"What are you talking about Will? It's just for fun. That crap my dad and the other preachers talk about, it's just that, crap." Allison had gained my trust the first time I met her. I hadn't the willpower to resist. Her long silky dark hair sealed the deal. I glanced back towards Randy but he was gone.

"Ok," I said. "Just once." Corey walked over to us, mumbling something but I couldn't make out what he was saying. It didn't sound like English, but the alcohol may have affected my judgment.

Corey took the lead and placed his bony hands on the worn planchette, his body stiff and serious. "We are here to speak to any spirits who desire to communicate with us tonight. Please answer Yes or No if you are willing to communicate." The planchette floated across the board.

"Are you moving it? Allison asked.

"No," was Corey's only utterance until the planchette landed on Yes. "Thank You," Corey said. "We mean no harm. Who do you owe your allegiance too?" Corey asked. I took my eyes off the board, my brow curled down. The planchette did not move from Yes. A chilly gust of wind zipped through the room, but there were no windows in the basement. Without warning the planchette accelerated violently from letter to letter. A disembodied voice whispered throughout the room, "under their control." It wasn't the same strong commanding voice I'd heard with Monika. This voice was fearful and raspy.

"Whose control are you under?" Corey asked.

The planchette moved with lightning speed. S-U-N-N-Y.

"What do you want?" Corey asked.

"The Resurrectionist."

We looked at one another with blank stares. Corey shook his head. The planchette flew forcefully across the room and shattered against the brick fireplace. We all jumped up from our chairs, each one visibly shaken.

"Sunny. Sunny Miller?" I said.

Corey's eyes grew wide. "Oh God! Break the communication! Break it now!" Corey screamed and threw the Ouija board to the ground. "What have we done?"

"Corey! You're scaring me. What's going on?" Allison said.

My arm draped over Allison shielding her from Corey. Corey sat on the couch unresponsive. "Corey? Corey? Corey!" I shouted.

Corey's eyes were glassy as he slowly looked up. "My parents both worked for Sunny before he passed. They said he was working to gain control of a legion, a group of malicious entities under his control who are forced to serve him."

"What the hell is a legion?" I asked.

"I don't know, I'd say about 5000 demons." Corey said.

"And this A-hole commands all of them?"

Corey threw his arms in the air. "No dumbass! Sunny commands one legion. They just happen to be the cream of the crop."

"Great! Thanks!" I started to walk away but forced myself to turn and look into Corey's face. "Tell us then, antichrist, what is Sunny's Legion after?"

Corey took a deep breath. "They won't stop until they accomplish their goal. They con weak willed humans into entering a diabolical pact. They use the person to do terrible things and then feed off of the carnage they create. Some say Sunny is the Devil himself."

The room was silent, my legs heavy. Nobody uttered a word until I dared to break the silence. "Why would someone want to enter a diabolical pact? What does that even do?"

"The Legion preys on people who believe they have been wronged by God or others. The demons offer their powers to help the person get revenge and in turn feed off of the blood and dark energy that's created." Corey said.

"What's a Resurrectionist? They were after it." I said.

Corey shook his head. "No clue."

"So it is true that you can sell your soul to the devil? That nonsense my father is always spouting off about, it's real?" Allison asked.

"There's no such thing as a written contract but metaphorically speaking, yes. Once you offer up control of your body to the demon they will use their will to overpower you. There's no going back. People who have been deeply hurt in life want to lash out. God is the source of their pain so why not cause him pain by hurting others."

"That's insane! You Outsiders are some backwards thinking nut jobs!" I shouted at Corey.

"I was brought up in this life so you better have some respect for my family's religious beliefs," he lashed back.

"Religious beliefs! You're a frickin' wack job if you think what you are doing is religious. It's crap! You people come to our town thinking that you can gain special powers or favors because you practice witchcraft. Why don't you freaks just get the hell out!"

"That's the problem with you Puritan puke's, you think you're so damn righteous that you can look down on others who have beliefs that are different from yours. We aren't devil worshipers. We don't want to hurt people. We believe in doing what is best for ourselves. We have ultimate freedom from the burdens of religious dogma. You're just too blind to see that your beliefs are the very chains that keep you in bondage." Corey said.

"Puritan? You're sadly mistaken if you think I belong to them. I want nothing to do with their side or yours." I laughed.

"Then you're a coward. Afraid to take a side and make a stand, spineless. Someday you're gonna have to grow a pair and make a choice. You can't hide behind indifference forever, man." Corey scoffed.

"If I was forced to choose, I sure as hell wouldn't take up your cause." I said.

Why would I choose to worship a murder?" Corey asked. I cocked my head to the side and didn't respond. "Really, you don't get it? Murder, blood sacrifice, your God sent his so-called only son to be tortured and murdered. That sounds more like the work of the devil than a loving God. Tell me, what sense does that make? What kind of God does that? What kind of God doesn't even have the integrity to follow his own commandments. Thou shalt not kill. What a bunch of crap! He doesn't bother following the rules, why should any of us? Truth is, your God is a murderer!" Corey said.

Corey's cold stare fueled rage that struck me with violent force. "He died for you, wise ass! He died for all of us so that we may be forgiven."

Corey shook his head. "Go ahead, keep telling yourself that. Keep filling your head with delusions."

I threw my hands up and looked back at Allison. "Are you coming or are you staying with this freak?" She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. I left, furious.

To be honest, I don't know where it came from. It was completely out of character for me to lash out so violently. I saw Dr. Z's. face coxing me to open up about some repressed anger he thought I had ... I fought to push the image away. I guess the alcohol was to blame this time. I wasn't a religious fanatic like Allison's father. I believed in God but considered myself open minded and tolerant of other's views. Not this time.

I was too buzzed to drive and went upstairs to look for Randy but the only thing I found was the couch. I awoke around 5:30 a.m. The metamorphosis had already begun and I was in the terminal stage. Unlike the heroic hungry caterpillar, my beautiful buzz had transformed itself into an ugly hangover. I was ashamed for how things went down between Corey and I. I mostly felt embarrassed for acting crazy in front of Allison.

I got up off the couch, almost tripping on one of my football buddies passed out on the floor, his impressive wizard stick resting next to him. At least I wouldn't be the only one feeling the repercussions of the previous night. I stumbled into the bathroom and flipped the lights on, looking for the pisser. It wasn't the bathroom I stumbled into. Allison and Corey were sitting on the edge of a bed, their lips locked together. My stomach dropped to the floor. The odd couple quickly split apart but the damage had been done. I ran, this time finding the bathroom and throwing up a putrid combination of bad booze and heartbreak.

Randy, who was asleep in the next room, heard the vile sounds coming through the wall. "Hey Will, let's go home."

"Unbelievable," I said. "How could she make out with Corey after all that had happened. Forget the fact that he's an insane Outsider! He's just a plain douche bag!"

"It's just crazy," Randy said. "I can't believe it either."

"I just feel sick about it, unbelievable!" I growled and punched the dash of Randy's car.

"Maybe she was just drunk and didn't know what she was doing," Randy counseled.

"I hope you're right, that damn image will be burned in my mind forever."

Maybe I deserved this. I wasn't the easiest person to know. I was never honest with Allison, never shared my true feelings with her. I avoided her, pushed her away if she tried to get close. Not because I wanted to, I just felt dumb, unworthy of her affection. If I couldn't open up to Allison, then who? There wasn't a person on the planet that could complete the impossible task of getting me to open up. I could never become vulnerable enough to let someone see my inner self.

I spent the rest of the weekend watching Allison and Corey make out. The awful scene playing on a continual loop in my mind until Monday morning. Why couldn't I tell Alison that I had feelings for her instead of playing it cool? While brushing my teeth I had a revelation to tell Allison the truth. Nothing would stop me. Today was the day I would give her my heart.

My stomach had twisted itself into a pretzel by the time I pulled into the school parking lot. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my heart, holding the silver charm in my palm. My body shook and released a painful breath of failure, old patterns of behavior won out ... too powerful ... too controlling. I was a coward, controlled by fear. I needed to make some last minute revisions to my revelation. The new script was to follow the old script, avoid Allison. The fear of revealing my true self was overbearing. We didn't have any classes together so I figured it would be easy. We normally passed each other between third and fourth period, often exchanging smiles. This time was different. I don't know if she passed me or not. My eyes stayed glued to the ground.
Chapter 7

"Honey, I'm home!" Justin yelled as we entered Gateway. He phoned a few hours earlier, begging me to come. I agreed, only because I hoped it would distract my mind from Allison ... it didn't, but it did beat the alternative of being stuck between the four empty walls of my bedroom as vile memories of the kiss poisoned my mind. It was quiet. Corbin sat at his computer lost in research. He didn't notice Justin and I walk past.

"Hey! What's up!" Justin said, slapping Corbin's back, causing him to jump 3 feet in the air.

"Damn it Justin! You scared the piss out of me. You know it is not wise to startle me like that. I'm bound to have a heart attack if I keep working with you."

"You're bound to have a heart attack if you don't lay off the colonel's secret recipe." Justin said. An insatiable impulse to blurt out a smart-ass comment came over me. It took an iron will to quell the urge. I didn't know if Corbin would find the humor in it. He was nearly twice my size and only a few meetings had already implanted a fear of getting on his bad side.

I sat on a couch in the middle of the room. A book with a worn cover was resting next to me. "A Treatise on Purgatory, by St. Catherine of Genoa. You couldn't have a copy of Men's Health or Sports Illustrated huh? It had to be something odd. I guess it fits." I said. Justin had promised to fill me in on why I was recruited to Gateway. "Why me? I need an explanation. You guys owe me at least that much."

"Monika's in the soundproof chamber as we speak." Corbin pointed to a door marked occupied. "She's attempting to gather more info for us."

"Um ok, I'm lost, what info?"

"Corbin's not big on words. He's a tech guy." Justin said.

"Ok, then you explain. Please." I said.

"As you know, Monika is a gifted spiritual medium. She communicates with spirits who have contacted us, to find out why they need our help. In fact we all have gifts," Justin said. "Corbin has an expansive intellect and technical skills. He can also read minds, to a certain degree. His skills are still evolving." I guess that's why he always seemed to know what I was thinking before I did. "I met him at a ghost hunting convention if you can believe that. Monika saw our ad on Craigslist for a psychic and contacted us six months later."

"What's your super power, Justin?" I joked.

"I have skills man, leadership abilities, and of course my amazing sense of humor." Justin smiled and Corbin let out a sarcastic chuckle.

I stood up from the couch. "I don't know if I want any of this. Trust me. I've seen what all of this paranormal stuff leads too. I was skeptical at first, but I was at this party, Allison Channing and Corey Fritz were there. They got me to try the Ouija board. Once is enough. I think you guys should leave this stuff alone."

Justin laughed. "Will, you're so naive. That's what I love about you. Corey Fritz, really? I can't believe you fell for it. It's a trick you know. Smoke and mirrors. His family's been doing it for years. How do you think they make a living? They have to drum up business somehow." My body tightened at being the butt of Justin's laughter. "Lighten up Will, you got tricked. It's not the end of the world."

"Well, why am I here? You haven't exactly been clear about your intentions for me, about my so called gifts." Justin paused and I could see Corbin peering at me from behind his computer.

"William," Justin waited, looking me square in the eye. "You're going to break them out."

"Break who out? What does that mean? You talk like someone is trapped but I have no idea who."

"You're a Resurrectionist. It's the reason you were brought here." Justin stared at me in silence. I returned it tenfold, my guts flipping. The Ouija board at the Lodge ... the voice said it wanted the Resurrectionist. The voice wanted me.

"We can communicate with spirits, investigate as to why they are stuck here, but we can not mend their souls. We can't break them free and send them home."

Corbin turned to face me. "Think the opposite of an Exorcist."

"You send demons to heaven?" I said.

"Something like that." Justin smiled. "Don't worry Will. You just need some time and proper training."

"I don't know if I want any part of your secret club Justin, I mean a Resurrectionist, what the hell?" I asked.

"Funny you mention hell. Sit down Will, I'll explain it to you." I sat back down on the edge of the couch. "We are working to assist souls who are in darkness, to escape from their hell. We work on a case by case basis. We believe our referrals, if you will, are divinely inspired. The problem is we don't fully know how to help them. You were recruited for your spiritual vibration. There is an invisible force that drives all to seek spiritual energy. When the energy is concentrated it vibrates at a high level. In you, this energy is on steroids. It's off the charts."

"I still don't understand why this is going to help save lost souls," I said. "Plus, the preachers in town spout off every Sunday that hell is eternal, there's no escape."

"When you search you will find the answer." Corbin's voice was soft.

"How do I search?"

"We have been studying biblical, mystical, and ancient texts for quite some time in search of answers, but something is missing," Justin said. "At best we can grasp an intellectual conception of the search for God, or the supreme, or whatever you want to call it, but we haven't been able to turn this conception into a reality. Throughout history mystics and seekers have attempted to describe the search in stages: spiritual awakening, purification, enlightenment, a second death, and unity, but they have always been incomplete. William, you're the key to finding what's missing."

I didn't respond. Questions flooded my mind. Where do I even start to begin? "You have already begun." Corbin said.

"Oh yeah, I forgot that you can read my mind. Great."

"Consider this your awakening, Will." A spark ignited deep within me, like a match being rubbed against the striker. Even though I didn't understand, I knew they were right.

"Take a deep breath and close your eyes," Justin instructed. "Take a minute to examine yourself, you'll find your answer." I followed Justin's lead. I saw myself as a small child sitting in a classroom. Toys of all shapes and sizes surrounded me. Children were grouped together in the middle of the room. They were bickering over whose turn it was to play with the most popular toy. I was drawn towards a different toy. One that was humble and worn. It had been tucked away on a shelf behind a box of books that nobody read. There was nothing fancy or high tech about it. It was a simple wooden shoe with broken laces. A surge of compassion mixed with mild sorrow filled my heart as it broke in sympathy for the old worn shoe. Ignored and forgotten, no children wanted to play with it.

I took the shoe off the shelf. We went alone, the shoe and I, to a corner away from the arguing children. I watched myself tie its laces and whisper soft words of comfort. The shoe came to life, finding hope in my kindness. I held onto her, reminding her she was no longer alone, no longer forgotten. Time held no meaning to us, like a broken clock, stopped and disappeared. The teacher walked towards us. "Playtime is over." I heard her say. I placed the shoe back on her shelf. A tear escaped my eye, a peace like none other passed through me.

"Will, William," Justin called to me. His voice faint and far. "You dreaming about women or food?"

I jolted upright, fully alert. "Oh man, sorry. I got caught up in an old memory back when I was just a kid. It was weird." I brushed off the vision. I needed to hide my gentle nature, a need born from fear. Justin wouldn't understand what the memory meant to me.

"Resurrectionists come around once every century or two ... if we're lucky. A person needs the correct combination of genetics, brain wiring, personality, and intellect in order to have a remote chance of developing into a Resurrectionist." Justin said.

"What does a Resurrectionist do?" The air in the room was tense and still. "You still haven't answered that question."

Justin paused, taking in a slow breath before speaking. "Resurrectionists enter the darkest planes, hovels, and holes. They're guides, beacons of light in the darkness. Will, Resurrectionists go to hell." I stared at him, not saying a word.

"Take a deep breath Will." Corbin said.

"Why would I want to go to hell? Does hell even exist?"

"Hell is very real and there are many prisoners there. It exists in a dimension separate from ours but I assure you it is very real. A Resurrectionist's job is to get them out. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil." Justin paused. "Are you familiar?"

"I hear it least once a week when the preachers roll into town," I said.

"That psalm was written by a Resurrectionist."

"How are you feeling Will?" Justin asked. "Are you ok?"

I looked around the room. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know. How would a Resurrectionist even enter hell? You said it existed in a dimension separate from ours."

Justin rubbed his chin. "Technology has come a long way in aiding us in our fight to rescue souls from hell. Corbin, being the super genius he is has developed a tool. We call it Gateway."

"I thought Gateway was the name of your group." I said.

"It is, it's both a name and a device," Justin said.

"What does it do?"

Corbin looked up from his computer screen. "It's a device that taps into your brain, much like an EEG machine. The machine sends low level electrical currents into your brain. These electrical currents temporarily alter brain chemistry and allow the subject to lose consciousness but also be awake at the same time. In this state it's much easier for the subject to step outside of their body."

"You must be joking." I said.

"It's true," Justin said. "It's no different than deep meditation. Monks have been doing it for centuries. The problem is that it can take a lifetime of practice to master the technique. Gateway can master it in a matter of seconds."

"There are many dimensions in the universe. Far too many to name and number. These dimensions are separate realities but are also all interconnected. There are portals to all dimensions. It's not easy to enter them but there are techniques for doing so. It is a matter of altering your state of consciousness." Justin said.

"I've heard of that. The one shop owner in town who isn't totally nuts calls it astral projection." I said.

"No, the astral plane is interconnected with the earth plane, a thin veil separates the two. Hell exists in a totally separate dimension with very few portals connecting it. Many people can leave their bodies and travel around the astral plane. It's another matter to go beyond the astral and into a godless realm. Fortunately, hell's not far from Earth. To travel successfully a person must have a certain brain chemistry that allows them to move through the portal. That's where you come in."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Because of your psychological disorders." Justin said.

"What?" My face flushed intensely.

"You don't have to hide it Will, I know."

Having my soul exposed hit like a sledgehammer to the chest. "Thanks Walter Cronkite, go ahead and broadcast it to the world."

"On a temporary basis, Will, you have experiences that correspond with certain levels of hell, anxiety and fear."

"So you're saying I belong in hell!"

"Hell exists where love and faith do not."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Hell exists because people chose to turn away from love. Free will is held with the highest regard. Nobody is forced to partake in the gift of love. It's a personal choice. But where love is missing, anxiety and fear rule. That's hell, or at least a form of it." Justin said.

"This is all just a little too fanciful for me. I appreciate everyone's efforts but I think I'll pass." I turned to walk out.

"Will, stop! You walk out now you'll regret it. You have been given a miracle. You'll hate yourself for not seizing it." Justin said.

"Damnit! What do you know? Why does it have to be me? Why can't you go and save these people? It's obvious you're more passionate than me!"

"Will! Relax, come back." Justin yelled as I climbed the stairs leading out of the basement. I stopped and turned towards him.

"I can't believe what you did, exposing me like that. I can't trust you!"

Justin put his hand up to stop me from leaving. "It's no big deal, it's just Corbin. He doesn't give a crap!"

"Whatever Justin, I'm out!"
Chapter 8

My concern for Allison grew with each hour I hadn't seen her. Hour seventy-two had just passed over. I couldn't avoid her any longer. I was wrong to do so in the first place. I hated how the fear controlled me. I hated myself even more for allowing it. Maybe Justin was right. Maybe I let fear control me. Maybe hell was real.

Fueled by words of encouragement from Dr. Z., I waited by Allison's locker after class. She never showed. Allison always went to her locker after Spanish class because she would carry all her books for her morning classes: English, Social Studies, and Spanish, and then drop them off before lunch. I had been memorizing her schedule since the third grade. That's when she first smiled at me. She doesn't remember it. I've never forgotten it.

"Hey Will, what's up?" Michelle and Allison had been best friends since they were born. They grew up in the same neighborhood riding around in matching Barbie Hot Wheels until some older boys made fun of them for it.

"Oh hey Michelle, not much. Have you seen Allison?"

Michelle looked down. "No, she hasn't been in school this week. I've called her several times but only spoken to her twice.

"Is she sick?" I asked.

Michelle tilted her head, looking diagonally towards the floor. "You can't say a word. Promise me, Will."

"Ok, sure."

"I'm only telling you this because you're such a good friend to Allison. Will, I'm worried about her. Ever since that party she's been hanging out with Corey. I know what his family does. I'm worried she is falling into it too." Michelle paused, unable to lift her face. "Will, I think something really bad might happen, you know, because of her father. I don't want to break her trust, but Will, the past six months haven't been good. Things have taken a turn for the worse." Michelle confirmed what my gut was telling me and what my brain worked tirelessly to deny. "Will, what should we do?"

"It's going to be ok." I reassured Michelle as a tear fell from her eye. "Does her father know, about Corey?"

"Oh God no! Will, you can't. He'd kill her if he found out."

"I know. I know." I nodded my head in agreement. "Give me time to think of something." I smiled calmly at Michelle. "It's going to be ok. I promise."

She smiled warmly back at me. "Thanks Will. You're a good person." She placed her hand on my forearm, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

***

That night, I awoke from a troubled sleep and rubbed my eyes. The clock read 2:37 am. The conversation with Michelle was unsettling. Her concern for Allison was obvious. The fact that she felt something bad would happen haunted me. The fact that she felt I was a good person was even more disturbing. I was far from a good person. People say that I am but if they only knew. If they only knew what was deep inside. What lay buried beneath it all. They would surely change their tune. I was beginning to doubt my ability to control the anger Dr. Z. said was inside. I let Corey Fritz get the best of me and throw me off my game. How far lost was I?

My pasty mouth felt like it had been stuffed with a pound of cotton balls. I got up to get a drink of water. My knees buckled as I wearily trudged down the hallway. The air was heavy, making it difficult to breath. I set the water glass on the bathroom counter and stumbled back to bed. I turned my head to adjust my pillow and glanced into the hallway. A shadow moved in front of my bedroom door and continued down the hallway. My heart pounded, I laid frozen for an eternity. Was someone in the hallway? The courage to find out was not inside me.

I awoke for a second time, the clock read 4:32 am. The familiar sensation of a full bladder pressed on my mind, the memory of the shadow loomed overhead. Fear played games with my brain, knowing I would have to leave the safety of my bed. I stuck my head into the hallway, looking both ways before proceeding to the bathroom. There was nothing. I was back under the covers before the rush of the flushing toilet faded out.

A noise, almost like a flock of birds, sounded outside my bedroom window. It reminded me of children laughing, but there wouldn't be any children playing at this hour. There were no kids in the house and my parent's property was surrounded by woods. It could be wild animals out hunting in the middle of the night, but it was no animal I had heard before. An uneasy energy coursed through my body, releasing itself at the loud ringtone of my cell phone. I jerked straight up with a heart once again pounding through my chest. Missed call, unknown number. I took three slow and deep inhales as the phone rang after trying a callback. There was no answer. My stomach hurt. It sounded like voices were in my room but nobody was there. Periods of intense paranoia and then sadness swept over me for no apparent reason. It felt heavier than sadness, thicker, like depression. As if death had been in my room.

I let go of an unnerving breath after hearing a brief silence. The hand holding my cellphone shook uncontrollably. My stomach turned over, paralyzing fear jolted down my body. A black figure stood three feet in front of me. My body froze on the bed. My eyes glued to the figure. It was maybe 7 and half to 8 feet tall and towered intently over me. It wore a black robe with a hood wrapped around its head, or at least where the head should be. I looked into its hood and saw only a black void where the face should be. The void was blacker than anything I had ever known. The figure stood motionless. Paralyzing terror gripped me, with no possibility for escape. We stared at each other. I tried to speak but couldn't. The dark figure's power of will prevented my vocal cords from moving. I lost control over my thoughts. A horrifying image formed in my mind. Blackness spread from my heart and swallowed my body. I watched myself cut into Allison's father, stabbing him relentlessly, hurling insult after degrading insult. "You did this to her! You sealed her fate in the chains of bondage forever! You're going to burn for it! They're going to eat you alive. You'll pray for death to release you, but it will never come. She deserved a better fate than what you handed her. You ruined her! Die!"

I sensed that it took every ounce of energy for the figure to stay visible to me. It's powerful will was fading, it's control over my mind loosening. I jumped at the chance to take back control. "That will never happen! I know your tricks. Your hallucinations won't work on me. I won't fall into your trap!" The figure didn't respond.

Whispers sounded from the closet, several voices. "It will happen." They repeated, their relentlessness maddening.

"No! Get the hell out! Leave me alone!"

The dark figure faded to a shadow that floated a couple of inches off the ground. My breathing was fast and shallow as I watched the figure fade backwards and vanish. I quaked with fear, unable to form a thought in my head. A putrid stench lingered in my room as I sat on the edge of my bed. Only three minutes had passed, although if felt endless. I summoned the courage to flick the light switch and peak my head out into the hallway. I saw nothing.

Lethargy and sadness followed me throughout the next day. I wondered if Sunny had been in my room and if the Ouija board had been his invitation. I couldn't tell Justin. He would just mock me for being so naive. That night, after dinner, I went to my room. I wanted desperately to rest but couldn't. I thought about the dark figure, the horrific vision, but more so, I thought about Allison.

Two hours had passed with nothing but scribbles on an empty notepad. This is stupid. Just call her. Who the hell sits down to script a phone call? Pathetic! I heard Dr. Z's voice softly reminding me about my negative self-talk. I took a sharp inhale of air and slowly released it. Ok, I'm calling her.

"Hello, Mr. Stark." My head dropped when I heard the hushed sound of his voice.

"Reverend Channing ... is Allison there?"

"She's with that abomination." His voice was quiet and sullen, barely above a whisper.

"What?" The word barely came out.

"The devil worshiper. The Fritz boy."

"You know about that?"

"Yes," Reverend Channing's voice was calm and unshaken.

"You let her hang around with him?"

"She made her choice. As a matter of fact I had written her off years ago. She's been dead to me for a long time." Reverend Channing said.

"Sir, with all respect, Allison is still your daughter." I pleaded but it was no use.

"She's the devil's daughter now. Please, I need to return to my studies." He said as I paused to take a breath.

"You can't mean that. She's a good person. The best I know. What about forgiveness? I hear you every Sunday on the street corner shouting about it."

The word forgiveness struck a deep seated nerve with the Reverend. His anger reached at me through the phone. "Do not tell me about forgiveness! I am a holy servant of God! I am worthy to do the Lord's work. To bring his wrath down on those who don't deserve forgiveness!" He shouted.

"But your own daught-"

"Enough!" he screamed. "You'd best do the same before it's too late boy. Remember, God is watching you."

The phone slammed down on the other end causing a ringing in my ear that lasted until morning. I took a moment to calm my nerves and collect my thoughts. Allison never said how much she hated her father, but her feelings were evident and I was beginning to understand. When she turned her back on his attempts to force his beliefs on her, he simply stopped loving her, drove her away. Allison said he cared more about his religious studies than her. He never spoke to her. Never cared enough to ask about her day. Maybe carrying on with Corey was some form of retaliation. Allison's way of fighting off her father's oppression. Hope filled me. It wasn't too late. I could still reach her. 
Chapter 9

Monika agreed to meet for coffee after hearing the angst in my voice. I didn't know who else to turn to. I wasn't intending to confront Allison about her actions, I just needed someone to talk to, a woman's sensitivity. I blushed when I saw her sitting at a table in the corner of the cafe.

"Hi Monika. Thanks for meeting me. I hope you're doing well."

"To be honest, Will, I haven't been doing well."

Her response caught me off guard. "Sorry to hear that," I replied. "Anything you'd like to talk about?"

"After college I moved back to Millersville against the wishes of everyone in my family. They thought I could do better. They wanted me to get away from all the division and hatred that runs rampant in this town."

"Why didn't you? You're intelligent, you could go wherever you want. To be honest, I understand where your family is coming from." I said.

"I moved back because I thought I could make a difference, maybe change things. That's the lie I told my parents but they knew better. They saw right through it. They knew the hate ran too deep in Millersville, they'd have moved years ago had they been able to afford it. No, I moved back because of him. I was in love, blinded by it actually."

"It didn't work out huh?"

"Not the way I had hoped."

"I'm sorry."

"I wish I could have changed things."

"Some things aren't meant to be changed. I'm learning that. You can't beat yourself up though. I can imagine you're hurting. It's sometimes hard to tell. You seem to have everything put together. It feels like nothing bothers you."

"I just hide it well." Monika said.

I smiled kindly towards her. "We all learn to hide our true feelings. I think it is part of how we survive as humans." My heart reached for Monika when my arms failed to embrace her in that moment of silence.

"Now, tell me. What's going on with your friend? Allison, is it?"

"Yeah, her name is Allison." I couldn't hold eye contact with Monika.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Oh no, no, just friends." I said, wishing it was a lie. "I've known her for a long time, since third grade. We just, she's always been kind to me, you know."

"What's the matter?" Monika asked.

"She's always had problems with her father, well, more so in recent years. He's a Puritan preacher, more extreme than most. Her father is Reverend Channing." Monika sat back in her chair. Her expression turned sour. "I saw Allison at a party and she was into things, kind of what you do."

"You mean mediumship?"

"Kind of. She got me to use an Ouija board."

Monika jumped up, banging her knee on the bottom of the table and spilling her coffee. "Never, ever, use a board! They have a way of opening doors that you may not be able to close. No Ouija boards, no witchcraft, no séances!"

"What? Justin said they were all a trick anyway."

"Justin isn't a spiritualist. He doesn't know how dangerous they are."

"Isn't that what you do though? What's the difference?"

"The difference, I know what I'm doing." Monika said.

"You're confident. I'll give you that."

"I use prayer and meditation in a familiar, controlled environment. If we're out on a job, I make damn sure I have protection from my guides and I only communicate when they are near. Ouija boards are an open invitation for anyone or thing to come in. It's too easy for something to go wrong if you aren't careful. Séances, well, that's like inviting a Puritan to a keg party. Will, you have to take me to her, she could be in great danger. And what about you? Have you had any odd experiences? Tell me Will!"

"No, no, I haven't. Nothing out of the ordinary." I lied, unable to come clean about the dark figure in my room.

"You must tell me if you do. I'll say a cleansing and protection prayer just in case."

"In case of what?" I asked.

"In case of an attack." Monika said.

"I really don't think that's necessary."

"You don't get a say. Hurry, we have to go, we have to go now! Allison could be in danger."

Despite my protests, I found myself getting into my car and driving back to town. "Ok, we're getting close to Corey's," Monika said. "I think we should park here and cut through the woods. It's too dangerous for us to be seen. Any trust Allison has in you will be wiped away if she finds you spying."

Monika and I parked my Century, cut through the woods, and made our way to Corey's house. My stomach fell lower and lower with each step closer. Monika's hair appeared lighter in the glow of the moonlight. I felt stronger with her around. Her presence softened the tight grip anxiety held on my guts.

"How do you know Corey?" I asked.

"Believe it or not, my parents made me attend his father's Vacation Bible School class when we were kids. They held it at their house." Monika said.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," I said.

I caught a glimpse of Monika's lips as she smiled. "It doesn't matter. We were all too young to know any different. I think my parents were just glad to have me out of the house for a week," she chuckled. "Had my parents known what everyone else in town knew about the Fritz Family Bible School, well, let's just say I wouldn't be the medium I am today. I guess I owe them that much."

"Doesn't it scare you?" I asked. "Talking to the dead and all."

"It used too, I mean, they were once people, just like you and me. That's still the same. Once I learned that it's all based on your intentions I was able to overcome my fear. If your intentions are pure, you have nothing to fear." Monika said. "Not all occult is bad Will, only bad intentions."

"There's his house. Do you see that window over there?" Monika asked. "We should be able to get a full view of Corey's basement from there. Let's wait for a while and make sure nobody's outside."

Monika and I waited for twenty minutes but heard nothing. I hated waiting. Waiting is a hair pin trigger for panic. Panic creates a unstable mind. An unstable mind says things it regrets.

"He was probably a jerk anyway, huh?" I said.

"What? Who, Corey?" Monika asked.

"No, your boyfriend. The guy that brought you back to Millersville."

Monika's body stiffened. "I lost him to cancer," she said.

Monika ordered us to proceed to the window. My hands shook when I peered into the house. I glanced toward Monika who looked on with intense focus. I knew my words hurt her. I wanted to die. Whatever confidence I had earned from her was gone. I hated how the words came out but there was no time to beg for forgiveness. Corey's back faced us. He was sitting at his computer, thumbing through a book and making notes on a pad next to him. I nudged Monika who nodded her head indicating that she saw it too. Corey was wearing headphones which was good because it would be difficult for him to hear us. There was no sign of Allison.

"Now what?" I whispered.

"He's studying, The Lesser Key of Solomon. We have to get his note pad. It'll tell us if he is controlling Allison in anyway."

"Controlling!"

"Lower your voice," Monika whispered. "She must have a weak spot he's manipulating and using against her to influence his own agenda."

"How are we going to get it?"

"We have to wait. He'll have to get up to go to the bathroom, sleep, or eat at some point. When he does we will go in and grab it," Monika said as she slightly lifted up on the window. It was open. I hesitated and then nodded.

Monika and I waited forty minutes in silence. My hands trembled with anticipation before Corey got up from his computer chair and went upstairs. Monika turned towards me. "Let's go," she lifted the window and crawled inside. "We need to work fast," she said. A drop of sweat fell from my forehead and landed on my shoe. I worked swiftly and grabbed Corey's journal.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing here?" Corey stormed down the stairs causing me to jolt upwards.

"We don't want a fight," Monika said.

"Good," Corey said with a sigh of relief as he slowly sat down on his chair. "I need help."

Corey's face was pale, his body appearing cold and clammy as if all hope had been drained from him. "You guys can't stay here long," he said. "They'll be back soon. I am so sorry for what I have done and the pain I've caused."

"Where is Allison?" I asked.

"They took her."

"Who's they?" I asked.

"The demons."

"Stop with the lies. I know it's all crap! You better start making sense. You better come clean." Corey had a way of making my anger sear without giving much effort.

Monika took a step towards him. "You summoned them didn't you? Allison was the bait wasn't she?"

"Yes!" Corey cried out. "It was too easy. She was perfect. Her anger towards her father created a spiritual link between her and the Legion. All I had to do was perform the ritual. I am so sorry. If I had only known their true intentions." Corey sobbed without control.

"Where is she?" I demanded to know. Monika reached for my arm to pull me back.

"Tell me what? Dammit! I pounded my fist on the table. You better tell me now Corey!"

Corey's tears stopped. "Will, Allison is dead. She took her life three days ago."

I stood in silence. There was no feeling below my waist. Monika put her arm around me. She kept me from falling. "How?" Monika asked.

"They caused her to hallucinate, hear voices. They said her father hated her and put images in her brain. She believed them. She gave into them. It's true she and her father had problems. That's why she was staying with me. But the Legion, they twisted and distorted the truth in awful ways. I came home and found Allison passed out on the bathroom floor. There was an empty bottle of prescription medication and a half liter of vodka next to her.

"Where is the body?" Monika asked.

"I burned it," Corey replied.

"Good," Monika said.

"Good! What the hell do you mean good!" I lashed out at Monika.

"Will, burning the body of a suicide victim is the most humane thing you can do. Her soul was not ready to depart. There's a strong chance her soul would have remained attached to her body even in death. Allison would be trapped in her decaying body, feeling the twitch of every decomposing muscle fiber. Maggots gnawing at her skin until her body was far enough decomposed to release her soul. It can take months. Months of the worst torture you can imagine. Trust me, burning her body was a great act of mercy."

I struggled for air as I forced words out of my mouth. "I hope you burn for this evil!" Corey buried his head when I screamed in his face.

"I will, it's too late. They can come and go at will. They are draining the life from me. It's over for me. There's nothing I can do."

"There has to be something you can do!" I shouted.

"You're right. I'm going to take my own life."

"Good," I replied calmly.

Monika's eyes of compassion filled with tears. "You don't mean that, both of you."

"If I'm no longer alive they cannot control my body," Corey said. "They can't feed off of my energy."

"What about your soul?" Monika asked.

Corey winced in pain. "Hurry, take my journal and get out of here. I can feel them coming. I can't hold off much longer." Corey handed the journal to me. "Go!"

I stood frozen. Corey's face was ridden with pain. Was he telling the truth? Were the demon's real? Monika seemed to buy into the idea. Justin said it was all a lie. Was Allison really gone, or was this a Fritz family prank? I refused to believe she would take her own life. Thoughts paralyzed me until I felt Monika tug at my arm. "Will, we need to leave now we're dead." Her words snapped and my feet moved from under me.

Monika and I reached the woods and sprinted back to my car. "Why are you stopping?" I said as Monika pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

"I'm calling 911. If I don't I will never forgive myself." Monika reported a disturbance at Corey's residence. "I just hope the police can get to him in time. Hurry, we have to go."

"Oh God! Your phone. The police will track it, know you called!"

"No, it's disposable," Monika said.

I threw the journal into the back seat and drove towards town. Three police cars passed with sirens blaring. No doubt they were on their way to Corey's. If he was telling the truth it would only be a matter of time before they discovered the charred remains of Allison's body, the truth of her death depended on finding Corey dead or alive.
Chapter 10

It wasn't always that way between Allison and her father. On rare occasions, I could get her to talk about him. The rest I pieced together from her friends and stories that floated around town. Allison's mother vanished four years ago. Her disappearance was never solved. Allison never said she blamed her father, but the coldness of their relationship told the truth of her denial. Reverend Channing was not a popular preacher until he gained publicity from the investigation. Nobody walked down his street on Sunday mornings. Even the doomsday followers avoided him. His flock was all but one, himself. Standing on his milk crate each Sunday shouting to no one, until his wife turned up missing. Publicly, the Reverend showed tremendous strength and perseverance in the face of tragedy. People fed off it, ate it up like hungry dogs. If you ask me it was a sham. Reverend Channing has a flare for dramatics, often stirring passions in order to fuel personal agendas. I think he staged his wife's disappearance to drum up business, or even worse.

Rumor has it that he fell in with the Outsiders and dabbled in the occult, only his version was not the innocent tourist kind. He was in deep. Blood sacrifice, murder, evil. Some people claimed the Reverend used black magic to increase his prosperity, essentially selling his soul for worldly values. That version was too far-fetched for me to believe. Reverend Channing was a crazed nut, but he was adamant about his work. He wouldn't sell out for a chance to dance with the devil.

Once, Allison let her guard down and talked briefly about it. She claimed to have never told another soul. Allison said she overheard her parent's arguing. She was half asleep and unable to make out what they were saying. She got up and pressed her ear against the air vent on her bedroom floor. Her father was becoming increasingly upset, using profanity towards her mother, something a Puritan never did. Her mother tried to calm and reassure her husband that "it was ok" but the message wasn't getting through. Allison heard a slap and a thud. Fearing for her mother's safety she ran downstairs. To her surprise there were two men whom she had never seen before standing in the living room. Allison's mother held her hand to her face and quickly wiped a tear. "Go to your room!" Her father shouted. Frightened by the strangers, and her father's tone, she ran upstairs before getting a good look at the men. She didn't sleep that night.

The next day her mother acted as if nothing happened. She didn't dare speak to her father and did her best to ignore it. About a month later her mother went missing. Allison swore to me that she saw an odd looking van parked across the street the night her mother disappeared. What was even odder is that the Channing's lived outside of town. The nearest house was over four miles away. Reverend Channing was at a meeting and Allison had met friends for a study group before coming home to blood stains on the door handle and a missing mother.

She never said it aloud, but I believe she blamed her father and the two men in her living room and for the disappearance of her mother. She denied blaming her father but deep down I know she did. That's where her anger came from. How could it not? That is the version I believed.

Reverend Channing pointed the finger at the Outsiders, claiming his wife's disappearance was the product of devil worship. The police questioned Allison's father but never found anything to hold against him. To my knowledge Allison never mentioned a word to the police about seeing the two men in her living room a month prior to that horrific night. Had she done so, things may have been different. She protected him, and she hated him for it. Reverend Channing's relationship with his daughter was slipping away. He buried himself deeper and deeper in his work. His mind slowly becoming deranged from isolated religious study. Reverend Channing continued going to his corner every Sunday to preach blame and hate, denying his own sin, and bringing God's so-called wrath down on the Outsiders. It was an escape, down the wrong exit.

***

I took the hardest left turn of my life, literally, that morning heading into the school parking lot. The steering wheel felt cemented and locked to its column...every muscle frozen. McKenzie Smith, who worked with Allison on a project to bring in funding for the school marching band's badly needed new uniforms, fell to her knees at the growing mound of flowers and teddy bears in front of the school's main entrance. The two had become quite close. Allison wasn't even a member of the marching band; that was just the type of person she was. I walked coldly by, numb to all emotion and student buzz.

The police ruled it a murder-suicide. Corey left a note on the workbench next to his body hanging from the garage rafters. Only Monika and I knew the truth. He was hated by the Puritans. Allison was made out to be the innocent victim. I didn't know what I believed. I knew Allison was gone but shock prevented the truth from sinking in.

I saw Reverend Channing on the news. His fake tears made me want to gut him. Rage and loss is a toxic mix. It's poison eats at your soul in indescribable ways. I didn't care. I wanted more, inviting it in, daring it to take control. The anger that I had always denied grew stronger. I was losing my grip, unsure if I could hang on. Part of me didn't want to try.

Monika decided it would be best if we didn't speak to each other for a few days. I agreed to let her study Corey's journal in exchange for her interpretation of what happened to Allison. We would then decide if we should write an anonymous letter to the police and surrender the journal.

School was impossible. Mourning Allison's death while having everyone know it was excruciating. People would offer their condolences and I would push them away, too afraid to be vulnerable. People I knew, people whom I considered friends would pass me in the hall and quickly look away, too afraid to reach out. It hurt more than they could ever know. I couldn't blame them. How could they help someone who doesn't want to be helped? I would do the same thing if the tables were turned.

Holding on to the truth was even more difficult. I considered myself to be a master at burying my feelings so deep that not even I was aware of them. This time was different. Truth is powerful, holding my face to the fire of my own emotions. I wasn't strong enough to face them. All I could see was the sweet girl I once knew. I saw her smile, the day she first said hello. I was so shy and nervous that I could barely look at anyone else in Mrs. Hansen's 3rd grade class. Allison's warmth radiated from her body and I felt it immediately as she approached me in the corner. Her kindness cut through my barriers swiftly and with great care. In her presence nothing mattered. Not fear, not anxiety, not anything. Only love mattered. Love between two people. Love between two souls. How could I have lost her? Was I to blame? If only I could have shared how much I truly loved her, given her the charm I cherished so dearly, but was now worthless. I could have saved her from this gruesome fate. I was guilty of sin. My hands were covered in her death as much as her father's, if not more. I was guilty of withholding love. It's a great sin to bare. To snuff out the only good thing in the world. Let thy light shine for the world to see. So simple. So difficult.

Students lined the hallways and poured out of the gymnasium. Principal Johnson was just finishing his address to the students, reminding us to keep Allison and Corey in our hearts.

"Counseling services will be available to all students. There's a signup sheet outside the administration offices for individual sessions with Dr. Zebedee. Now, I'd like to open the platform to anyone who'd like to say a few words," he said.

Michelle spoke. I figured she would, given how close she and Allison were. In fact, there was an outpouring of support for Allison ... nothing for Corey. Corey took the full blame for Allison's death. His note made no mention of her suicide. He protected her from scrutiny, allowing her to be loved in death. I wondered if reactions would have been different had people known the truth of Allison's suicide.

Monika called three days later. I could breathe again after hearing her voice. We agreed to meet later that night. She had read Corey's journal. She promised to explain everything. I thanked her, but it didn't matter. I knew what I had to do.

I descended the rickety old staircase and entered Gateway. "I'll do it." My eyes stared sharply into Justin's.

"He's not ready," Corbin blurted.

Justin looked sharply back at me. "Nobody ever is."

"Can you do it?" I asked. "The stories, they're true, aren't they?"

"So, you figured it out." Justin said.

"I saw enough of Corey's journal. I know that he opened the portal."

Justin's authoritative presence asserted itself. "Yes Will, it's true. The old doctor was successful in opening the Gates of Hell, we'll, at least a portal."

I sighed a deep breath. "And it's true that I have some sort of bloodline that allows me to enter?"

"You have the correct wiring and genetic make-up." Justin replied.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna save Allison. I'm doing it for her."

Corbin stepped forward shaking his head. "You haven't the slightest clue about what you're up against or how to save her."

"Maybe not, but I am willing to die trying."

"We haven't much time, Will. The longer we wait the farther she can fall. Hell isn't a single place. It has multiple planes of existence. More than our minds can fathom. It's possible, and unfortunately quite common for someone to fall further and further into the abyss. Your best chance to save her is to act swiftly. For the first time we have the technology to pull this off." Justin said.

"He hasn't been properly trained!" Corbin protested.

Justin smiled. "Consider this to be on-the-job training." Corbin put his head down and walked away. Justin called out to him. "Have faith. We have Gateway." Corbin didn't respond. Justin looked back at me. "Tomorrow night then. Be ready."

***

I walked into Dr. Z's office the next day for our appointment. "William. I've been thinking about you. I am sorry for your loss. I know that Allison was very important to you." It took all the strength I had to lift my eyes and nod towards his direction. "Would you like to talk about it?"

I was dying to talk about it. I just didn't know how. "I'll be ok." I said.

"William, I know that it's difficult right now. I'm not going to make you talk about it, but when you are ready, it's important to talk."

"Why? Why the hell does it matter? You want all this talking and open communication but it's all pointless." I was shocked by my own response.

"Negative emotions only become negative when we let them. Experiencing grief and loss is a part of life. An unfortunate part, but an important part. If we bottle emotions they eat away at us, become explosive. Talking about them helps to process and release them. We must allow ourselves to acknowledge and feel the pain we have inside. If not it will build until it explodes in all sorts of unhealthy ways."

"Sorry Dr. Z, but I am going to deal with this my way. I'm not talking."

"I understand. When you are ready."

"You don't understand a thing!" My face was red hot. I watched myself lose control and give way to the anger I invited in. Even if I wanted to stop it I couldn't. The anger held a magnetizing power over me. As if someone were pulling the strings. "I'm going to deal with this. I'm going to help Allison." I said, gaining a temporary edge.

"She's gone, Will." Dr. Z. firmly replied.

"Dammit! You think you know everything about me! You don't know a damn thing! I have abilities you can't even fathom!"

"If you want to help Allison, pray for her. Pray for love to find her."

"Prayer, I'm going to do more than just pray. You don't understand. A couple Our Father's ain't gonna cut it doctor. Sometimes it takes more. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands." My breathing was shallow and forced.

"William, I am concerned for your safety. You're extremely vulnerable right now. You aren't thinking with a rational mind."

"I'm not going to kill myself if that is what you mean!" I was furious with Dr. Z. What the hell did he know about it. He didn't just lose the love of his life. To hell with him!

"I didn't say you were and I don't believe you will," he replied.

"Then what the hell man. Just leave me alone!" I opened the office door on my way out. "I'm going to save Allison. I'm a Resurrectionist!" I slammed the door, hearing Dr. Z's voice call out.

"I know."

Chapter 11

"I'm ready." I stated with willful intent when I arrived at Gateway that evening. I was going to save Allison. Nothing would stop me.

Justin and Corbin looked up from their computers. "Ok Will, with this ear piece you'll be able hear us. We'll guide you. Lay down on this table. I need you to relax. Monika will begin the prayers of protection and incantations. You'll borrow from her spiritual energy. Lay down." Justin instructed.

"What the hell do you mean? How am I supposed to do anything laying down?" I could see Corbin shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. His disapproval was obvious.

"Your body can not leave Earth. Only your spirit can enter hell. Monika's spiritual energy will temporarily free you from your body. Don't worry you'll get used to the spiritual body rather quickly. It's lighter and you can move faster for a time being, until you enter hell. Hell's atmosphere is denser than Earth. It'll seem like walking through mud with each step, but in time you'll get accustom to it. You will find that you'll have twelve senses in the spiritual realm, rather than the five you experience on earth. Some you won't notice at all and some will develop rather quickly. Telepathy is the main form of communication in the spiritual realms. You should pick this up with ease because of your high intuition. You will also be able to see in a 360 degree radius." Justin said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Think about it. You don't have a body. You don't have eyes. You see with your soul." Corbin said turning towards Justin. "He's so not ready."

"It's true Will. Without a body there's no need for eyesight. Learn to trust your soul sight."

"How will I find Allison? How will I know where to look?"

"You will be guided. Follow your heart. Are you ready?" I nodded. A surge of empowerment coursed through my blood. "Lay down then." Justin fastened a communication device to my head and motioned Monika over. She laid next to me and asked me to close my eyes. Words I'd never heard before came flying out her mouth. It may have been Latin. I faded out of consciousness.

A faint glow of light trailed in the distance. A black void formed in front of me. I was keenly aware that I was no longer in my body, yet, nothing felt different. The sensation of air filling my lungs was unmistakable, but I didn't have lungs. Maybe it was an illusion. Maybe the physical body wasn't even real.

"Can I die?" The connection was faint but clear.

"We don't know for sure. No one does. Dark spirits cloud the veil of morality. They can't cross the veil but your soul is vulnerable. It can be fractured. They don't want you dead. Death is freedom. Their revenge is to keep you alive, to control you. If you live you will be trapped like a caged animal. Rage and torment will build with no possibility for release. Your body will be whole but you will be broken, a shell on the outside, dead on the inside. If they catch you, you will be living out your days under the care of the state, if you know what I mean." Corbin said.

Spending the rest of my days locked inside my own madness, a slave to evil was not something I was ready for. Doubt flooded my thoughts. I shouldn't be here and I knew it. It was too soon. I didn't know enough. I wasn't prepared. I wasn't doing it for them; I was doing it for Allison. I wasn't buying what Justin was selling; I wasn't some super hero Resurrectionist. The only thing that resonated with me was saving Allison, even if she didn't love me.

"You can do this Will," Justin said.

"We believe in you," Monika's voice sounded sweet.

I reached the threshold of the void. The world had ended, nothing in front of me except blackness. I was alone with no one around me, quiet, until faint screams came from beyond the darkness. My body trembled, my heart raced. I stretched my hand out and pierced the veil. The air beyond was thick and muddy. An icy cold ran up my arm sending jolts of terror throughout my body. Doubt double downed, choking me. "I can't do this. I don't want to be here!" I cried out.

"Will, you must believe. You must have faith. Take courage. Think of the heroes who have faced great challenges. All faced fear. All conquered fear. You must accept fear and have faith that no matter what all is well and as it should be." Justin's voice rang through my earpiece.

I slowed my breathing and swallowed hard. I looked straight ahead, knowing evil lived beyond the wall, and stepped forward. The void grabbed me and pulled me in. A strong sound, like rushing water, surrounded me as I was sucked through a dark tunnel like a clump of dirt through a vacuum hose. I landed on hard solid ground shortly after, gripped by fear and terror unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I fell to my knees, a freezing cold slammed my body, more painful than standing naked in a snowstorm.

"I, I can't breathe!" I cried.

"Will, listen to me. Don't move, just collect yourself. Now, take a slow inhale," Justin spoke calmly. I listened to his advice and was again able to slow my breathing, regaining a mild sense of balance. Breathing was something I would have to do time and time again. "Listen Will, look down. Do you see a path?" Justin asked.

"No, it's so dark and cold. I can't see anything. Isn't hell supposed to be hot with flames?"

"Some parts are but not this," Justin said.

"Why is it so freezing cold?"

"Because there is no love. People in hell chose to turn away from love and reject it. Love is a gift, but it's never forced upon anyone. That's why it's so cold in hell."

It was difficult to swallow. "It's awful here." I said. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. "I can kind of make out a faint path. It's mostly just loose rock and gravel."

"That's the path. Will, you're not going to like this but you need to get off the path. Get as far off as you can." Justin said.

"What! No way!" I said. "I can hear things out there, moving in the darkness."

"The paths all lead to the major cities. Cities infested with sin; Hate, Greed, and Obsession. These are places of darkness, the worst parts of humanity. The evil is so strong and concentrated there. There are too many dangers on the paths in hell. Remember the plan. Stick to the outskirts and avoid the major cities and towns. You need to stay hidden and be on the lookout for scouts and hunters."

"Scouts and hunters?" I said.

"They prowl the outskirts of the cities looking for fleeing souls. Stay hidden as much as possible. Never under any circumstances trust another soul in hell. You said you didn't have rigid orthodox religious beliefs, well, now would be a good time to get some. Remember to continually pray for protection and cover." Justin said.

With reluctance I stepped off the path. Jagged rock and thorny brush tripped my every step. The foul stench made me want to vomit every grueling second I was in the forsaken land. I would rather have been tossed into the bottom of a porta-potty at a rock concert on a hot summer afternoon. The worst were the screams of hell's tormented inhabitants. I never knew which direction they were coming from and they never stopped. My heart ached with compassion, along with pangs of guilt for not being able to help. The risks of running into a scout or hunter were too great.

"This isn't good Justin. I'm in a clearing. It's too dangerous. I'm too exposed." I said.

"You need to find cover immediately." Justin replied, but there was nothing in sight.

"Pray," Monika's heavenly voice whispered in my ear. She didn't understand that no amount of prayer could help me in this land of waste and death. It was up to me now. Only I could save Allison.

A covering of trees appeared in the distance. I sprinted towards them. They weren't lush and green as I had hoped. They were dead and barren, dried out heaps of sticks, but it was better than nothing. It provided me just enough cover. Passage through the dead forest was difficult. There was no clear path but it needed to be that way. It kept the hunters out. The difficulty of the passage was saving my life. I wondered if someone was watching out for me, guiding me. Impossible. The only thing watching me here was the same thing wanting to skin me alive.

The environment was crawling with life, and death. There were things in the darkness that I did not want to see. The buzzing of insects and slithering of serpents was louder than on earth. Thankfully the light was so dim I could not see them with my own eyes. Ignorance was bliss in this place of horror. My feet drudged through the forest. I slipped often and fell to my knees. They became wet and muddied. A moan of suffering escaped my breath.

"Keep going." Monika's voice was different. It sounded like it came from within, produced by my own mind.

"Monika, Justin, are you there?" There was no response. "Guys, are you there?"

Again, a voice spoke from within. Keep moving. Stagnation leads to death. I rose to my feet and looked through a clearing in the gnarled branches. I saw broken down buildings and the remains of what looked like a village. The buildings resembled hovels and huts that housed natives of the poorest countries on earth. Was anyone there? What if they're not friendly? What if scouts and hunters lived there?

"Justin, Justin, please say something." Sweat poured off my face. There was no response. I was alone. I was afraid.

Justin said to avoid the villages and major cities at all cost. The mysterious voice whispered to me. Go forward. I hesitated but what choice did I have? I could spend eternity wandering through the forest and get no closer to finding Allison. I dug out all the courage I had and proceeded towards the huts.

I hid behind each hut, scanning the village with caution. There were no souls in the area. The village looked like it had been plundered and ransacked, and not that long ago. Smoke emitted from the campfires that were dying out. Broken door frames, worn out roofs, and decaying thatch told the story of this forgotten dwelling. I entered a bigger hut at the center of the village. It must've been a meeting place. Crudely built tables and chairs were set in a circle at the center of the hut. A podium stood at the front of the room. In the back were stairs that lead to a basement. Maybe I'd have a stroke of luck and find Allison there. Deep down I hoped I wouldn't find anything. I opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, pausing to breathe before entering. I allowed my eyes a moment to adjust. I wished I hadn't. The room was a torture chamber with every device of torment known to man. The air was stale with despair. On the wall were scratched words stained with blood. The price of disobedience. A chill ran through me. A vision overpowered my mind, collapsing my body before I reached the stairwell.

A woman lay on a wooden table, blood soaked through the rotted wood and pooled on the ground beneath. Her hands and feet were stretched widely apart, bound with chain and rope. She was slowly being stretched apart by a man in the corner of the room. He wore clothing that resembled the attire of the Puritans in Millersville, only centuries older. The man operated a switch that wound the rope and chain tighter and tighter. He shouted with each twist of the rack. "Salvation lies in suffering and repentance," each time the woman let out screams of agony. In time the woman's arms and legs would be stretched to the limit and pulled apart. No words can describe the screams she let out. The man seemed to take delight in hearing the ripping and tearing of muscle and bone, as if he were completing a noble work. To my horror the woman's arms and legs appeared to magically reattach themselves and the man would start the torture all over again. I cried, rolling onto my back. The vision loosened its grip. I escaped.

I ran out of the meeting room and into the hut next to it. It was someone's living quarters. The possessions were few and crude. I saw a worn out pair of shoes and a small stool. On top of the stool sat an open book. It was someone's journal. I started to read. They're coming and they'll be here soon. David, our leader said we have to flee. I do not like or trust him but what choice do I have but to follow. People are blinded by his claims of righteousness. There is nothing farther from righteousness than David. He is manipulating and controlling. A tyrant of a man but better than being caught by those hideous hunters. David used to be gentle and caring until his mind became hysterical and consumed by madness. His accusations of witchcraft sent our once peaceful village into complete paranoia. I used to believe David but now I have my doubts. He's inflicted awful torments on the villagers in the name of God. I don't think God would have wanted all that violence. I am conflicted. If I try and flee, David and his followers will surely catch and flog me. I'd be put on display in the town square like some deranged criminal. If by some act of grace I can escape, the hunters will find me and take me to a place of greater horrors. My fate will be much worse if I get caught. I am going with David. He makes us do awful things but I feel it is better to stick with the group. There is some talk amongst the stronger ones of trying to overthrow David's rule or perhaps cut a deal with a hunter and sell him. I am hoping something happens soon but I'm not sure if the others in the group are strong enough to challenge David's leadership. His will is strong and only the strongest of will's survives here. There is no room for kindness or mercy. Tension within the village is high. Something's going to break. The people are divided. This is never good. If we don't unite we'll all fall victim to the hunters. We'll watch as they burn it to the ground. Undone by our own inhumanity towards one another. There is no hope. The result of such thoughts and hopes is surely death. I was foolish to have hope once.

Two men, brothers, passed through our village long ago when I first arrived. They were odd but had grit. They're faces were dirty and looked like they had seen their share of hardship and pain. They talked about salvation and taught us that there was a path out of our torment. I believed them to be crazy but there was a mystique I couldn't shake. They were powerful, yet gentle. A fire glowed in their eyes. Not the kind that burns, but that passionate kind. I am surprised David allowed them into our village. Maybe he didn't have a choice. Under most circumstances they would have been punished by awful means for talking about salvation and freedom. Punished for sowing the seeds of hope. David couldn't control these men like he could the others. He wasn't strong enough. I don't remember much else about the brothers, but they did say those that seek to escape the torments of hell shall do so by grace.

After they left, David came and asked what I thought of their message. I told him I felt hopeful. David said the men where in league with the devil which was the reason they were so cunning and powerful. He said they were messengers of the false prophet and would lead me astray. I was immediately placed upon the torture rack to make sure I understood the consequences of following the false prophet. David was determined to extinguish the flame of hope placed in my heart by the two brothers. I've taken a great risk in keeping this diary. If he finds it I shudder to think what will happen to me.

David tells us that we are going to cross the valley and set up a camp there. I cannot risk taking this diary with me. I'm overcome with the sadness of having to leave it behind. Writing gives me the only sense of comfort I have experienced here. David says that anyone who is not strong enough to make the journey will be left behind. I hope that I can make it. If I am left to the hunter's I am surely done for.

I placed the journal back where I had found it. The journal no doubt belonged to the woman in my vision. Was she guiding me? Did Allison have a similar experience? The thought made me ill. Who were the two brothers the woman talked about? I searched the rest of the village but found no one. They must have left for the valley. It might be best to try and follow their path. There's a huge risk in this plan but the payoff was the possibility of finding the so-called demon who is attached to Allison or at least learn about his whereabouts. I left the village and set out to cross the valley.

My stomach churned with the stench of the hell but I was determined to press on. I made my way across a swampy marsh and towards the valley. The marsh was infested with snakes and various reptiles which made the horrors of the place that much more real. I could keep the creatures at bay as long as I had the willpower to do so. Normally, I would have long given into the anxious thoughts and broke into panic. This time I didn't have a choice. Allison's wellbeing depended upon my ability to remain in control. There was a small worn path. It was the only way down the mountain and into the valley. I had no choice but to follow. Ignoring everything I was taught about surviving in hell, which wasn't much. Anger grew in my heart, fighting to get inside. Justin had been so pushy, so assured that everything would be fine. How dare he expose my mental illness and use it against me, saying I belonged in hell because of it. Now I was lost and more afraid than ever, searching for the love of my life and longing for the presence of another.

I discreetly proceeded down the path and made it safely to the bottom. A fire glowed in the distance. I moved closer, each step deliberate and precise. Drawing near I saw hideous creatures dancing around a great bonfire. Man or beast? I wasn't sure. They somewhat resembled men but had become so defiled by their lower nature, so corrupted, that their humanity had faded, given way to the animal inside. They were chanting an eerie song. My body felt heavy like a weight had been placed on my back. I hid behind a large boulder. The beast men formed a circle around the fire. As the chanting grew louder, the flames grew taller. Two of the beasts opened and broke the circle while a third carried a screaming woman on it's back. The woman was thrown into the fire. Screams of agony pierced the valley. The woman desperately tried to escape the raging fire and each time she tried she was thrown back in. She could not die. She could only experience excruciating pain over and over again.

I wanted to save her, but I was no match for those beasts. They would just throw me in with her. I couldn't take anymore. I turned to flee and saw a second woman cowering and shaking behind a boulder next to mine. Her clothes were tattered and torn, more like rags than garments. She reminded me of the people in the horrible pictures I saw while visiting the Holocaust Museum during a school field trip. She seemed more afraid of me than I was of her. I moved towards her. She scurried away.

"Wait," I whispered. As soon as I gave the command she froze, unable to move.

"Please, don't give me over to them," she pleaded. "I'll do anything you want. I'm a good slave."

"I am not here to hurt you. It's ok." I tried to build trust but it was no use. Any trust in people she ever had had died long ago. "What is this?" I asked. "What's happening here?"

"You don't know?" the woman replied. "It's a ceremony. They're worshiping the devils."

"Are they devils?" I asked.

"No, hunters. They were once men but have grown so evil they're turning into beasts. They have no conscious. They're animals, driven by a primal urge to survive. They believe that human sacrifices will please the devils and in turn grant them power."

"Do they ever get power?" I asked.

"I don't know," the woman said.

"What's your name?" I asked. A look of bewilderment came over the woman's face. "I don't know. I have forgotten it. It was so long ago."

"How long have you been in this place?"

"Forever."

"Were you ever a woman on earth?"

"I think so. Once."

"Do you remember it?" I asked.

"Bits, I guess. I think I remember. It was nice. Compared to here," she said.

"What do you remember about it?" I asked.

"I was a slave. I was treated poorly and became angry. I killed my master in his sleep. I was tortured and condemned to die. I came here and have been angry ever since." No tears of remorse fell from the woman's face.

"I am sorry to hear that." I said.

"I'm not! I'd kill him again and again if given the same chance!" she scowled. Flames poured from her heart nearly burning my hand. The woman was not stable, I needed to be getting on my way.

"I wish you health and healing." I said.

"No one has ever shown me that much kindness before."

"Come again," I said.

"You wished me health. What is it that you want from me?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Aren't you going to torture me?"

"No, I'm just looking for my friend. I found an abandoned village a while back. I learned that the village leader was moving his people to this valley. I'm trying to find them." I said.

The woman hesitated for a moment. "There was a group that passed through here not long ago. They tussled with the hunters. Some of them escaped while others were captured. The woman being thrown into the fire is one of the unfortunate ones."

"Which way did they go?" The woman did not respond but pointed the way. Skin hung from her wrists. Small portions of bone shone through, blackened and decayed. I nodded, turned, and ran.

I ran as far as I could before stopping to rest. My body was exhausted. I felt physical pains of hunger but fortunately was not required to eat. The spirit body needs no nourishment, only time to recover. I walked along, sticking close to the worn paths but far enough away to remain hidden from hunters. Fatigue was eminent. The weight of being lost in hell and the constant battle to keep panic at bay was beating me down. My leg felt like it had caught fire as if one of the vile serpents had bitten me. I reached down to scratch when the charm fell to the ground. It was red hot. The bottom end pointed forward. Maybe it was a sign of Allison's love calling to me. In hell you'll believe just about anything to keep hope alive.

I stumbled over some rocks and noticed that the path went down into a smaller valley. From atop the cliff I could see a rugged looking shack with an eerie red glow behind it. Maybe there were more people like the women I meet living there. Maybe the devil lived there. Confliction ran through my mind as I worked my way towards the shack. There was only one way to find out.

Chapter 12

The putrid smell leaking from the shack dazed my senses. The shack suffered from centuries of neglect, wood rotted and warped. Shutters hung loosely off of the windows. No light came from inside, only black. I walked around back and found an unlocked cellar door. The door swung easily open and revealed stairs that lead into an abyss. The stairs rattled, but shook less than my courage as I descended them.

The atmosphere grew darker and colder with each step down. I descended six or seven flights of stairs until I took a final step into nothingness, screaming as I fell hard into eternal darkness. I don't know how long I fell before hitting solid ground. My body bounced but I wasn't hurt, just shaken. I sat up to look around when evil shot through me. The vibration was different from the terror I felt above, this was far worse. I choked even though my spirit body did not require air. I dragged myself over to a wall and pulled my body to a ledge. I peered into more darkness, this time I could see bottom. Horror gripped me. Four dark hooded figures stood gathered in a circle. They appeared to be discussing something important, and oddly enough, meditating.

Low soft chanting rose from the bottom. I searched the room for a way out, nothing. No up. No down. No left. No right. I was enclosed on a ledge with no apparent escape. I dug my fingernails into my leg in an attempt to break the negative thoughts ramming my brain before crawling to look over the ledge, afraid of what I might see. Doom embraced me. I looked down into the very face of the figure that once stood in my bedroom. It appeared stronger. It's evil intensified. Hatred illuminated from it's deep red eyes. We both stood frozen for a moment, until it unleashed a fierce growl, signaling the start of the hunt. They're coming for you! Run!

Walls surrounded me on all sides, trapping me in violent fear. I ran in a circle around the ledge, the dark figures closing in. Jump. I placed my hands on the wall and flung my body over the ledge. My fingers unclenched and felt the frozen grip of evil as it grabbed my wrist and held me dangling over the ledge. My wrist snapped and popped sending extended screams of agony echoing against the dingy walls. The dark figure's grip was tight and secure, the pain excruciating. "Let me go!" I screamed as it bore into my broken wrist, squeezing harder each time it pulled me closer to the ledge. My stomach constricted to vomit but nothing came out. The dark figure picked up my body like it was weightless and threw me against the brick wall of the cellar, plunging me into merciful oblivion.

Beaten, broken, shattered. These were the thoughts that engraved themselves into my being when I regained consciousness in a dungeon holding cell. My arms and legs screamed white hot with pain. My shoulder, which took the brunt of the force, was completely numb. The courage to look at my wrist could not be found, but the searing pain told me of its fate. I laid in silence, fading in and out of awareness. I didn't know how much time had passed. It could have been days, it could be minutes. I didn't care. I didn't cry. I just rolled over.

A heap lay motionless in the corner. As my eyes strained, that heap became a person, that person became Allison. It took every ounce of will and determination to drag my broken body to her. I don't know where it came from. She lay beaten and tortured.

"Allison. It's Will."

Allison moaned and rolled over, our eyes meeting in a place of sorrow. Her face was bloodied and scratched. Her body naked. A pool of blood had formed on the floor between her legs and was slowly drying. My heart ached worse than my mangled body. I laid beside her. Her breath warmed my face. I reached my hand out and placed it in hers. Her soft touch ignited my heart, fading the pain into the background. She was the first to speak.

"Will, you're not supposed to be here."

"Neither are you, Allison. I came to get you out." A shameful grin of failure spread across one side of my mouth. She knew I was no knight in shining armor, but didn't say so. She smiled sweetly, reminding me of that first day in school where I didn't feel alone.

"You don't know how good it is to see your face, Will," Allison whispered as a tear fell from her eye. She didn't need a knight in shining armor, she needed me. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to tell her she was safe, that I would bring her home, but it was a lie. I told her anyway.

"It's ok Will. You don't have to pretend."

"I'm so sorry Allison. I thought, I wanted to believe. I was going to save you, they told me I could. They told me I was special."

"You are special. You found me in this forsaken place didn't you?"

"No," I said. "You don't understand, I'm supposed to be a Resurrectionist. I'm supposed to be a hero."

Allison stopped me cold. "There is no escape. There is no hope. I am so sorry for what I have done. I deserve this."

"No one deserves this Allison. What happened with Corey, it was a mistake but it can be forgiven."

"That's impossible," she said. "I am damned here for eternity. That's what the monsters keep telling me."

"No Allison! You can't think like that. Don't believe them. They're deceivers, liars."

My cries fell on deaf ears. Allison was defeated. I rolled over onto my back, grimacing with pain until the iron door to the cell swung open and evil walked in. It's putrid ugliness was unbearable to look at. A stench of sulfur and dying decay oozed from it's body, making my stomach churn with acid. It's head resembled that of a pig and had three spider like legs. The torso was covered in matted black fur. It wore a necklace made of bone that rattled as it let out a shrill screech, unveiling bat like wings that stretched from one wall of the cell to the other. Evil walked directly towards Allison and dragged her out of the cell kicking and screaming. I tried to stop the abomination but I could not grab it. I didn't have the strength. I dragged myself to the iron door when the dark figure who shattered my wrist entered.

"Why are you haunting me!" I cried. It's features were now visible, there weren't any. The figure was not as ugly as the beast, but it was no Cinderella. The being stopped and stared at me with the same intense red glowing eyes. It slowly raised its hand and pointed a bony skeleton finger at me. "You want me! Come and get me!" I shouted, channeling my anger at failing to save Allison, daring him to torture me.

The being spoke in a low and narrow voice. "I don't want to hurt one hair on your head." He paused for a response but I gave him nothing. He waited patiently, never removing his eerie stare. A minute or two passed until I gave into the pressure and broke the silence.

"What then. What do you want from me?"

"I want to help you save your beloved."

"You want to help me? Why would a demon want to help me?"

"Please Will, don't think of me as a demon. The word is so harsh. Think of me as a fellow spiritual seeker."

"Spiritual, you are far from that."

"That hurts Will. I pray, meditate, just as you. I just choose to use my spiritual energy in, well, rather alternative ways."

"What do you mean alternative?" I asked.

"Unlike those idiots, I don't waste my power serving others!" The dark figure rushed me and stuck it's blank face into mine before slowly backing away. "The sooner you realize it the sooner you will awaken to your true power. I possess wisdom and knowledge you cannot possibly fathom. Did you know there are over a million things unique to you? That only you can do. I'm moved by you Will. You are willing to enter this realm to save your beloved. That is powerful. I think courage like that should be rewarded. Don't you?"

I shook my head. "I don't want any reward from you!"

"We've been after you for a very, very long time. We've been with you since before you were born, molding you. We shaped your mental illness, pulling on your brain so you could one day take your place amongst us as an honored advisor. When your father lost his job and sold the house to move the family to Millersville, you can bet we had a hand it that. We need you. We need a pilot, someone to steer the ship. You're the key that's going to send them home. We felt so honored when you accepted our invitation."

"What invitation?"

"Pyrokinesis is a powerful tool. It worked on your charm. I can teach you."

"I'll pass."

"The scout, behind the rock next to your hiding place during worship. She pointed the way. How do you think you found your beloved so easily? We guided you here."

"That old woman watching the human sacrifice. She works for you."

"First off, you'll show some respect for our worship ceremony. Second, yes, we control her."

"William, we both know that Allison doesn't belong here. She's innocent. Yet, she finds herself bound here by her own actions and self-deprecation."

"You can thank her father for that." I said.

"Yes William, I agree. A tyrant of a man. He's the one that belongs in this cell. He's the one that belongs on my rack. Not her." A blood curdling scream come from beyond the cell wall. It was Allison. I winced in pain.

"Then let her go!" I yelled.

"It's not fair is it, Will? Trust me. It pains me more to hear her screams that it does you."

"Liar!" I yelled back. "You freaks get off on this."

"Why do you think God allows this evil to persist?" The dark figure calmly replied. "I admit that I do get a certain pleasure and enjoyment from my work. I have been honing my craft for years. You wouldn't understand how important it is to me. But, I too carry out God's work. You just can't appreciate it."

"You're sick if you believe you are doing God's work. Just like Mr. Channing believes he is carrying out God's will."

The dark figure let out a sadistic laugh. "You don't get it. Damnation is it's own cure."

I stood puzzled. "Are you the one that was with us the night of the Ouija board? Are you part of Sunny's Legion?"

The dark figure tilted it's hooded head back. I saw no face, only a vapor. "William, I was with you long before that. You know my work intimately, your illness, the very thoughts that have plagued you, that's my work. You felt cursed by your afflictions. That's good because you're angry. Angry at God, just like us."

Screams of torture filled the room. I swore I heard the sound of a blade tearing Allison's skin. "Take me. Take me instead of her!"

"No deal," said the dark figure. "Besides, it wouldn't work. See that silver cord floating behind you." I hadn't noticed it before, a thin almost invisible silvery cord floated behind me and entered the middle of my back. "That cord is the link between your soul and your physical body on earth. The fact that it has not been severed tells me you're still alive. I must hand it to you. You traveled a long way from home. You must be working with some powerful magicians." The being paused and looked at the ground before raising it's face and staring into mine. "I don't like powerful magicians!" He growled and shook his skeleton hands in the air. "Another reason why I won't make a deal with you."

"Please," I begged. "Let her go. At least leave her alone."

"'Fraid not young man. No can do." The dark figure squealed with delight.

"Please!" I begged harder. I'll do anything." As soon as the words left my tongue he lunged towards me, cramming his entire bony hand into my chest. A tremendous pain accompanied by freezing cold filled my entire body. I fell to my knees.

"Stand up!" the dark figure commanded. His powerful will forced me to my feet. "I've given you this one-time gift because you have allowed me to enter. Trust me when I say it's a one-time gift. I'm usually not in a giving mood."

"What gift?" I asked. The dark figure reached out and touched my forehead. I fell unconscious.

Chapter 13

"Will, William! Oh thank God!" A muffled voice sounded in my ear. I moaned and rolled to my side. "Thank God we got you back. After we lost communication we feared the worst. Your body was slowly dying. We did everything we could to keep you alive. Thank God you made it back!"

Justin reached out and grabbed my hand. "No! My wrist!" I screamed, but there was no pain. It was gone. There was no pain anywhere. "My wrist, my body, I was mangled."

"Try not to move Will, just rest." Justin assured me. "Pain is a product of the mind. You only thought you were in pain when in reality you couldn't have felt pain in your comatose state."

"Thought I was in pain? Justin, let me tell you that what I experienced was most certainly real. The pain I felt, believe me, it was real!"

"I don't doubt your experience. What we perceive or believe we perceive is very real. Have you ever heard of the Phantom Limb Syndrome? Just because we don't have a body doesn't mean we don't feel it." Justin said.

The room was fuzzy as I laid and stared at the ceiling. "Those flowers." I pointed to a desk that once contained a lush green plant who was now showing signs of dehydration. "You need to water them."

Justin looked over at the plant and then smiled at me. "It's good to have you back, Will."

"Allison ... she was there. I found her but couldn't save her." Bitter tears fell in front of everyone. "I failed." My throat tightened with those two difficult words.

"It's ok. Will, you did all you could. You did more than anyone could." Monika rubbed my back and consoled me, as I lost the battle to control my tears. The floodgate of emotion over her death had finally begun to release. Laying in that bed of despair, I sobbed for hours. Monika stayed with me every second. I wouldn't have had the strength to feel that pain without her. We didn't speak, she just let me cry. She was a saint.

Later that evening she made me a dinner of dry toast and water. It was the best dinner I had ever tasted. My strength returned to a minimal level. I was glad to be free from that experience but felt tremendous guilt for leaving Allison.

"It's not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. Don't put the guilt on your shoulders. It's too much." Monika reassured me over and over again.

"I just want to say thank you, Monika. Thank you for being with me." Monika smiled as she dropped me off at home. Memories and visions of Allison being tortured in the cold and lonely place hammered my soul with every waking second. The thought of her father boiled rage beneath my skin each moment he entered my mind.

The ride home was blurry. I stumbled out of the car, my energy drained. Images of rotting teeth flooded my brain just before my mind was about to go blank. Are you kidding me? I crawled to the bathroom to brush my teeth, but don't remember crawling back. The lights went out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Light started to peek through my window shades. Exhaustion permeated each cell in my body. I had always been a runner, a runner from my deepest emotions. It was catching up to me. My demons were winning. School was impossible. How could anyone focus with so much angst, so much guilt and fear, so much panic on their minds. A psychotic break was bearing down on me. I had to get out. I skipped Biology and went to my spot. I needed to breathe. I'd been coming here since seventh grade. It was my escape when I felt anxious and needed to quiet my panicked brain. The noise from the school generator provided a soothing hum. The two brick walls it hid behind provided solace.

"What the hell." I could see a white smoky vapor rising up from behind the generator. Probably some Outsider smoking between classes. I should rat them out.

"Dr. Z, what are you doing back here?" The white smoky haze vanished.

"Meditating. I like to come back here between sessions. It's peaceful."

"Um, yeah, I like it too. Well, I'll let you be." I turned to leave.

"Please William, stay, this place is just as much yours as it is mine."

"Um, Ok Dr. Z."

"Please, we're not in session, call me John. Feel free to ask me anything."

"I'm guessing that was an accident." I looked down at the wheelchair Dr. Z. sat in.

"Actually, no. I was made an example of. Some people didn't like what I had to say and thought it best to send me a strong message by burning my legs."

"That's awful."

Dr. Z. Nodded in agreement. " It was a long time ago."

"I want to say I'm sorry Dr. Z. I shouldn't have said those things and acted the way I did."

"Thank you Will. It takes a lot of strength to say that. I understand. The emotions you've been experiencing are not easy."

"When I stormed off during our last session, um, it sounded like you said 'I know'."

"You're a Resurrectionist, I know."

"How? How do you know about that?"

"I'm one too."

"Will that happen to me?" I asked, pointing to Dr. Z's wheelchair.

"It depends on the choices you make."

"Did you make bad choices?" I asked.

"There are no bad choices if you serve a higher purpose."

"Did you serve a higher purpose?"

Dr. Z. nodded. I was unable to speak. We stood in silence. I was never comfortable with silence, but Dr. Z. had mastered it. I broke. "Thanks for being patient. Thanks for not pushing me to talk." Dr. Z. nodded, not breaking from his silence. It was time to stop running. I had to talk about Allison, excruciating pain and all. I needed to face my anger towards her father. My time in hell taught me a lesson about holding onto anger. It's never good. My demons were not going to get the best of me.

"I think I'm ready, I think I really loved her."

"Say more. You think you loved her. You aren't sure?" Dr. Z. guided me.

"I mean, I miss her so much. I'm so numb. I can't eat. I can't sleep. All I can see is her. Everywhere, she's with me. Haunting me, stalking. She's in my mind. When I close my eyes, I see her. When I open them, I feel her. I'm so guilty."

"Do you blame yourself for her death?"

"Yes." A tear formed in the corner of my eye but I held it back.

"She made a choice, Will. It was nothing you did."

"That's the problem. I didn't do anything. I could have stopped it. What kind of person am I? What kind of monster does that to another human being?"

"How do you think you could have stopped it?"

"By telling her the truth, about my feelings, how much she meant to me." This time I couldn't stop the tear from falling.

"You're not alone. What you're experiencing is common. Survivors of tragic events often feel guilty. Like they should have done something different. The problem is there's no way of knowing that the outcome would have been anything different. You're speculating, Will. This line of thinking can lead to crippling guilt. It can render you paralyzed and unable to move on, unable to heal." Dr. Z. said.

"It's so hard." I said.

"It is hard, Will. It is hard."

I hung my head, allowing myself to be present in the silence. Allowing myself to feel. "It's not too late." Dr. Z. said.

"Not too late for what?"

"To express your love. Love has a way of transcending death." I nodded with understanding. Allison was still alive. Maybe not physically, but she was alive. If my love could somehow reach her, somehow change her, then maybe, maybe she could be made whole again. The way she used to be.

"There's a problem though," I said.

"What's that?"

"Her father, I hate him. The rage is so intense. I can't even picture him in my mind without the veins in my neck twitching uncontrollably. I feel like my anger is blocking me from expressing love. Because of it, I can't fully feel love for Allison. Love becomes mental, just a concept, something in my mind but not in my heart."

Dr. Z. nodded in agreement. "It's a start Will, it's a start. By recognizing it, you now have the upper hand. You can now do something about it. Start to break it down, dissolve the anger."

Dr. Z. listened with a masterful ear and skillfully carved out emotions I never knew were in me. The realization finally came, anger controlled me. Anger towards Mr. Channing, towards Allison for giving up, towards myself for being afraid of being different. I was detached from love, a zombie to it's healing vibration. It felt awkward, crying like a baby in front of Dr.Z., but the relief that came afterward was divine. It didn't change the outcome, Allison was still gone, but the biting sting was soothed. Things were going to be ok. I was stronger than my demons. They couldn't touch me.

"Don't you have a class to get to?" Dr. Z. asked.

"I should probably go, huh?" I said while Dr. Z. nodded his agreement.

"Do you still do it? Go to hell." I asked.

Dr. Z. gave a quick smirk. "Gotta desk job now."

***

I fell asleep after school, something I never did. It always backfired, leaving me groggy and out of it. I guess I needed the rest. The emotions I carried for so long left me drained. My body needed time to recover.

My brain was in the middle of processing a biology assignment. I needed to record my insights before they were forgotten. I grabbed the notebook next to me. Damn, I need a pen. I rolled over to see one laying on my desk across the room. Fighting fatigue, I forced myself up and sat on the edge of the bed. I imagined the pen being in my hand and looked down to see it was already there. Confusion set in. I glanced around the room to see if anyone was there. Maybe someone had thrown the pen to me. There was no one.

My phone rang through my gym bag before I could get the stupid thing out. Missed call from an unknown number. I set the phone on the bed and fell backward, exhausted from my efforts. It rang again.

"Hello."

"William, what are you doing?"

"Not too much," I replied, "Just at home."

"We need you at Gateway as soon as possible." It was Corbin.

"I don't know Corbin, I've had a horrific past 24 hours and I'm not really in the mood." I replied, wishing to avoid those guys and be left alone. I didn't know how to tell them about what I experienced in hell. The timing wasn't right.

"We need to talk. Get down here ASAP." He hung up. I groaned and shook my head, irritated with his demands.

I milled around my room, annoyed and overtired. The pen in my hand had a magical way of pulling me in, holding a magnetizing control over me. It freaked me out, how it seemed to magically appear in my hand. Maybe going to Gateway would help get my mind off of it. I left my room and got in my car. I drove through town, past the store owned by Corey's family. Seeing it sent flashbacks of the tragedy jolting through my brain. I gripped down hard on the steering wheel, unable to force the images out of my mind.

Justin was waiting for me at the end of the dark driveway. My hands wanted to strangle him for abandoning me. I was deeply hurt, but pushed it aside. "Hey Will," he said in a chipper voice. "We weren't sure if you were gonna make it."

"I wasn't sure I would make it either," I said. "But I'm here."

"Corbin thinks he might know why Gateway failed, or at least why we lost contact with you. He thinks it was a frequency problem."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"There are many levels of hell, each with it's own frequency or vibration, if you will. Like a radio tuning into radio waves. Gateway works the same way. The regions of hell become darker and denser as a soul descends. It's due to the heavy amount of evil in the region. Corbin thinks he had the frequency set too high and you were on a level that was too dense for our communications to reach you." My palms moistened and my throat tightened. Justin looked me in the eye. "Will, where were you?"

We reached the lab. There was no sign of Monika. "Where's Monika?" I asked.

"Working." Corbin blurted out rudely, as if my question annoyed him. He was in his usual position seated in front of his computer.

"Take a seat Will." Justin motioned for me to sit on the couch next to him.

"Sorry guys, I don't want to do this. At least not right now." I got up to leave.

Justin placed his hand on my shoulder and with a firm grip pressed down. "Will, please, we need to talk." He appeared eager to listen, eager to help. Corbin didn't take his eyes off of his computer screen.

"I don't know what happened, but I couldn't hear you." I said.

"I know." Justin replied. "Corbin's working on the frequency thing. Will, we're so sorry." I could sense a genuineness in Justin's voice and a coldness in Corbin's nonresponse.

I took a deep breath. "I think I'm done." I paused for a response but none came. "This whole ghost hunting, paranormal, Resurrectionist thing just isn't for me. Some things are better left alone."

Justin nodded while looking down. "I'm sorry you feel that way Will, but I understand."

"Just give it a few days. Let the shock wear off. Then we can try again." Corbin said.

"What do you mean?"

"You had a rough go. It happens. You need to get over it and when you do you can try again."

"I don't think you understand me. I'm out! I'm not coming back. This is goodbye."

"Tell me Will, what exactly did you see down there?" Justin intervened. They weren't going to let me out without giving them some answers.

"It's the worst thing imaginable. The fear, the terror, the pain. It's everywhere. I heard screams of tortured souls. And the darkness. It was perpetual blackness every second. There was no light other than an eerie reddish glow that my eyes faintly adjusted too over time. That's it. The pain. The pain is indescribable. I don't know if I had a physical body or not, but let me tell you, my spiritual body certainly felt pain. It was excruciating. I could feel and hear my bones break, even see it from time to time, yet I was never fully broken, even though my body burned fiercely. I should have died but didn't." I couldn't control the tremor in my hand as I spoke.

"Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." Corbin stated without taking his eyes off the screen. "The simple fact is you weren't ready. You still aren't."

"You wouldn't have gotten past the village of the damned you arrogant ass!"

"Will, I know it's difficult. I know the things you saw, what you experienced must have been horrific. It's my fault. I pushed you too soon. For that I am sorry." Justin said.

"No, it's not your fault. I chose to go. I thought I was strong, tough, I thought I could save her. It was my own arrogance, my own unwillingness to accept the fact that she was gone and that I was to blame." I said.

"No, Will, don't blame yourself. Don't place the guilt of Allison's death upon yourself." Justin said.

"No, Justin, you don't understand. I am guilty. I could've saved her. Maybe not in hell, but here before it all started."

"I don't follow you." Justin said.

"I couldn't tell her I loved her. I was too scared to reveal my true emotions. That's where I failed."

I didn't tell them about my confrontation with the dark figure. I wrestled with lying to them but they would've just put me under a microscope or run various tests on me. The darkness scared me, scared the hell out of me. I couldn't deny it, even though I tried my best. That's how I dealt with everything. I was learning through my work with Dr. Z. that this is an unhealthy approach, but sometimes it's easier than dealing with truth. I don't think Justin or Corbin picked up on my omission. They were too fascinated with my tale of hell to even notice.

"Will, would you be willing to make another attempt? Corbin has some tweaking on Gateway to do but he assures me that he can resolve the problem. You were in the deeper regions of hell. This is pioneering Will! No Resurrectionist has ever been that deep."

"You don't understand. This isn't some game or expedition. It's not something I ever want to experience again. There's nothing you can say to change my mind. I'm out!"

Justin inhaled slowly and spoke before I could walk away. "We can save Allison, if we work together."
Chapter 14

My alarm clock read 9:17 a.m. I was going to be late for school but too depressed to get out of bed, falling back to sleep for another hour before forcing myself up for the day. The house was quiet. Another hour passed before I realized it was Saturday.

I poured milk on the Cap't Crunch in my bowl and headed to the living room, cycling through the TV guide about a dozen times before giving up. When depression has you, the world is dim. Two squirrels chased each other outside the patio door. The sight of them reminded me how the little neighbor boys used to jump up and down and squeal with excitement at the slightest thing. It used to make me smile. I couldn't smile anymore. I glanced hopeless at the ceiling and then back toward the TV. The same Paranormal Program that made our town famous several years ago was showing an episode on hauntings. In the past, I would have rolled my eyes and quickly changed the channel. This time was different. I watch intently. It was all too real. The same experiences I had were shown on the program. The dark shadowy figures. The hallucinations. The eerie voices. My heart reached out to the people in the documentary. They didn't have a clue what they were up against.

A woman talked about leaving her kitchen for a second and then coming back to find all of the chairs stacked on top of each other.

"It was like they just disappeared and then reappeared that way," she said.

My hand shook, unable to set the coffee cup neatly on the table, hot liquid ran in every direction. The pen. My pen did the same thing, only I chose to ignore it. It had dissolved itself and reappeared in my hand. I thought back to the moment. I remembered wishing the pen would appear in my hand because I was too exhausted to get up. I passed it off to sleep deprivation. Did the woman in the show have a similar experience? Did she simply wish for the chairs be stacked on top of each other?

I had questions that needed answers. Monika's name starred at me through my address book. I decided against it. I couldn't risk Justin or Corbin finding out. There was a woman in town, Marla Williams. She was one of those palm reader, fortune teller types. I hated even the thought of it, but I was desperate.

"Hello, My name is Will." I walked into her shop. There were crystals of all shapes and sizes. Incense burned in each corner of the room, enough to make me gag.

"I know who you are." Marla smiled. "You go to school with my daughter."

"I believe so. Samantha, right?"

"That's right." Marla said.

I had always been kind to Marla's daughter. Samantha was a grade below me. Heavy set, not very pretty, didn't have any friends that I knew of. I went out of my way to talk to her. She would get done with band practice the same time I would finish with football. We were always the last kids picked up. I usually came up with some lame comment like, I hope they didn't forget about us, and she would smile.

"How is she?" I asked. "I haven't seen her much since football ended."

For all my social anxieties, I did have a knack for small talk. It was detached and unemotional, just logical. There were no feelings, no blushing, nothing personal involved. "She's doing well, all things considered."

"All things considered. What do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh it's nothing. She was just going through a rough patch for a while. Teenage stuff I guess." Marla said. I didn't say it but I knew the truth. Samantha always had a tough go of it. She was teased and bullied. That's part of the reason I went out of my way to be nice to her.

"What brings you here, Will?"

"Um, some things have been happening, things you might have answers for." I said.

"I'd be glad to help. First, I'd like to do a reading. Would you be ok with that?"

"Um, I'm not so sure about that." I said.

"It'll be painless, I promise. It'll give me some insight into the things that cloud your mind."

I agreed to the reading. Marla was remarkably accurate. She pinned the pain in my heart. Her concern for the anger inside was eminent. I told her I was working with a trusted therapist. She encouraged me to continue doing so.

"William, you might not want to hear this but it's my duty to warn you." Marla said.

"What is it?"

"There are dangers around you. Dark spirits. They're feeding off of your anger, using your pain against you."

"I'm getting that under control." I said.

"Still, it is very dangerous to have them around you. They're like vampires. They drain your spiritual light and bleed you dry."

"Spiritual light?"

"All beings, whether good or evil need light, or energy if you prefer, to survive. Beings from a negative realm will try to get you to lower and misuse your energy. That's the only way they can feed off of it. If they fed off of positive energy it would be most uncomfortable for them, maybe even kill them." Marla warned of the dangers of carrying as much anger as I did.

"There are certain rituals, protection prayers, I'd like you to use."

"Thanks Ms. Williams. I appreciate your concern, but I assure you I'm in control."

"Be careful, Will, dark spirits have a way of getting inside. You won't even know it."

"Can we focus on my experience with the pen?" I asked. Dark spirits scared me sure, but I didn't have time for ritual and prayer. I needed immediacy. I needed results.

"This phenomenon occurs more often than you think." Marla said. "Techniques for moving objects were quite common thousands of years ago. It's called Telekinesis. The ancient Egyptians used this knowledge to build the Pyramids."

"Does it still exist?" I asked. "What happened to it?"

Marla smiled. "A few bad apples misused the power and sought personal gain at the expense of others. The enlightened people of the time quickly recognized the danger of such knowledge and hid it away. Saving it for those who prove themselves worthy enough to possess such powerful abilities."

"Do you think I might have these abilities?" I asked.

"It's possible. I imagine this isn't the first time you experienced something like this?" She asked.

"It's the first and only time."

Marla's face went pale. "I've never heard of anyone discovering these abilities as late in life as you have, usually it's something people are born with. This concerns me Will. Usually a person first encounters their gifts when they are quite young. In childhood."

I sat back, clenched my fists, and wiped my hands on my trembling knees. I remembered the dark entity telling me that he was giving me a gift. I was in great danger. It was unnatural for me to have this ability. I looked up at Marla who's concern deepened. It wasn't until I was out the door and on the street that I realized that I hadn't paid or even thanked her for her help. I was too afraid to go back. She was too afraid to come after me.

"Mr. Stark!" The sound of his voice ignited my blood pressure. My feet froze to the sidewalk. "Turn and face me, son." The lump in my throat swelled bigger as I pivoted around. Mr. Channing was standing on two old milk crates underneath the same lamppost on the same street corner he had been for the past three years.

"Mr. Channing." I cleared my throat and addressed him. "It isn't Sunday."

"The Devil never takes a day off. Why should I?" His eyes starred at me with forced intention.

"I see." I replied.

"I warned you. God is watching." His eyes held me frozen in their grip. "I saw you come out of that shop of horrors ... that witches den, the Devil's den." My feet still couldn't move. "I've got my eye on you boy. Don't think I don't. I know you were involved with my daughter, and that devil worshiping murderer!"

"I am sorry for your loss. Believe me. I'm grieving Allison's death more than you know. She was very dear to me, sir."

Mr. Channing's lip curled. "Lies! You were in on it. You and that Fritz boy! I know you had something to do with it!"

My fists gripped down on themselves causing a sharp tingling in my hands. "I'm the only one who tried to help Allison. I tried to pull her away from him. I tried to save her from going down that path!"

Mr. Channing tilted his head back and looked toward the sky and then back at me. "And look at you now. Running toward the very thing you were trying to save her from. Running right into the Devil's welcoming arms. Running right where you belong."

"You're the one who belongs there! You're the one who abandoned her, who drove her away, who drove her into Corey's arms! You should have been there. Protected her! You ran like a coward! You belong in hell! Not her! You killed her!" I screamed.

Mr. Channing was stunned and visibly shaking. No one ever dared challenge him. Several people stopped to stare. A few had recorded the incident on their smart phones. I didn't care. Whispers swirled around me. The same ones that came from my closet, urging me to rush him.

"Knock him off his pedestal! Strike him down! Use the gift that's been given to you." The voices shouted in my ear. I envisioned the milk crates shattering and Mr. Channing breaking his neck. I slowed my breathing, took control, and stepped back.

"Don't ever come back!" Mr. Channing's temper took hold. His knee buckled and the crates crumbled beneath him, causing him to fall forward into my arms. Our eyes met in icy cold stares. No words were exchanged, just hate and its wicked vibration.

Chapter 15

I ate lunch by myself the next day which was like signing your own death certificate, a one way ticket to high school exile. Randy and I barely spoke more than two words to each other since football ended. I needed his friendship but feared I had burned that bridge by my actions at the party, which now seemed so long ago.

Michelle glanced over to me from her table of friends. Maybe she took pity on me, knowing how much I cared for Allison. Whatever the reason, she walked over and sat down.

"Hi Will."

"Hey Michelle." I smiled politely back.

"Did you get some sun?" Michelle asked, signaling that she could see my face turning red which only made the blushing more vicious.

"Um, I don't know. I guess." I looked at my plate to avoid eye contact, hoping she would go away.

"I just want to say I'm sorry. You must be going through things I can't even begin to understand," she said.

Her words were comforting and validating. More than anyone, she understood what Allison meant to me. Maybe it was because they were so close. Maybe Allison confided in her, things about me that only the best of girlfriends can share with each other.

The intensity of the heat on my face cooled as I relaxed. "Thanks Michelle, that means a lot. I am, but I am ok."

"If you ever need to talk." She touched my arm before getting up to leave.

"Wait." I called out. "I would like that, to talk." Michelle sat back down. I sensed she was uncomfortable, thinking I would just exchange a polite smile and not really engage her offer. I took a deep breath. "I just don't know Michelle. What happened? How did it get so bad? There's just so many questions."

"I have the same questions, Will. I don't know if we'll ever know. All we can do is try to make some sort of peace with the unknown."

"I can't do that." I shook my head.

"It's ok Will." Michelle's face was somber.

"It's just, her father. He has a way of getting under my skin like no one else, you know. The thought of him makes me furious." I clenched the cafeteria knife in my hand and told Michelle about our altercation in the street.

"I know Will, there's cell phone video on the internet."

"I don't care. I don't care who knows. That man is evil. He drove Allison to this. He thinks he's some sort of holy knight striking down evil forces and doing God's work, but he couldn't even love his own daughter." My heart pounded as Michelle's eyes stared into mine.

"I think he snapped after what happened to Allison's mother. People say he was to blame for her disappearance, or at least knew about it. Maybe he knew he was guilty and the guilt drove him to madness, causing him to seek refuge behind religion. He took it to extremes. He's trying to run from his guilt rather than deal with it, blaming others through his hate preaching. Deep down he craves punishment." I said.

"I know Allison blamed her father for her mother's disappearance. She had to. I heard a rumor once that he was involved with the Outsiders and when things got too intense he tried to leave. People say his wife was taken and used as a human sacrifice. Do you believe that Michelle?"

"I don't know. To be honest, I don't know what to believe around here anymore. Sorry Will, I have to get to class." Michelle stood up from the table and began to walk away, stopping abruptly and turning around. "She would have said yes, you know." I glanced up, confused by Michelle's statement. "She would have gone out with you, you know, if you would have asked her." Michelle gave a kindly half smile before leaving. "She was planning on asking you out. I don't know why she backed down. That's when everything fell apart and she started going with Corey." A rock fell on my soul, shattering it like glass on a hardwood floor.

The sobering facts were becoming evident. "Don't blame yourself. You can't put that guilt on your shoulders." They would say. They were wrong. I was to blame. It was my fault. I failed Allison. I failed to let my love for her shine, had I done so, things would have been different. There was no denying it. The very thing I hated Mr. Channing for was staring me in the face. Guilt constricted my heart, squeezing down unlike any pressure I had ever known.

A town hall meeting was scheduled for that evening to address the tragedy and the growing angst. It was a bad idea. The Puritans would come out in drones. Reverend Channing would certainly be speaking, not to offer words of comfort, but to stir passions amongst his followers.

I wasn't planning to attend, following my father's advice of staying out of the town's politics. The last thing I needed to see was a Puritan pep rally, but I felt I owed it to Allison to be there. A sane presence amongst the madness. As I predicted the Puritans controlled 98% of the room. Reverend Channing walked to the podium in grand fashion, like a mighty king about to address his subjects.

"My daughter was weak. Yes, it's true. It maybe upsetting for some to hear me speak those words, but I have come here tonight to do just that, speak words of truth. You see, the serpent has been spreading lies. He's a sly one. He tells us that we should all get along. That we should all work together to coexist. Allison bought into the lie. She was too weak to resist. She believed the lie and she paid with her life. She believed she was doing God's work by bringing our two groups together, mingling with Outsiders, trying to make friends with them. Looking in you can see where she had good intentions, that her heart was in the right place. Well my friends, that's where the devil hides. He tricks us into believing we are doing the right thing only to come against us and turn the tables. What happened to Allison could happen to anyone in this room. She allowed the thief to come and steal her light. Tonight it ends! No more do we allow the devil to steal our light. Tonight we make a stand. Tonight we cast the devil out. Tonight we drive him back to hell!" Raucous cheers spilled out into the streets along with every Puritan in city hall. The mob surrounded Fritz Magical Emporium which was only a block away ... anger was ignited, the only thing missing were the pitch forks and torches.

Something compelled me forward, screaming at me to speak out against the insanity. An inner righteousness that could not be tamed. My heart pounded as I fought my way to the front of the mob and into the entryway of the Fritz's shop. The crowd stared at me. I looked into eyes of fierce hateful rage.

"The hell you doin' boy. Get outta the way!" A shout arose from the crowd.

I searched my mind frantically for something to say, some way to put out the fire. My shoulders felt like they were being squeezed in a vice grip and my jaw wired shut with iron clamps.

"Someone grab him. Get him out."

"Wait. You can't do this." I said as two men wrestled me to the ground."

"Not very convincing Stark." Reverend Channing stood over me. "Always knew you were weak. That's why I forbade Allison when she asked my permission to date you."

"It was you who stopped Allison from being with me ... you're a monster!"

"Go home Stark! Get the hell outta here." Reverend Channing turned and pointed to the emporium. "You outsiders are no longer welcome in Millersville! The town is ours, get out!" Reverend Channing shouted with fists raised in the air. "Burn it. Burn it to the ground."

***

The town was in turmoil consumed with chaos the following day. Puritan followers lined the streets with picket signs, marching in front of every Outsider owned shop on main street. The police showed up in full riot gear but it was just for show. The chief of police gave a sermon just last Sunday, you know where his loyalties lie. Time was running out for the Outsiders. They were simply out numbered. I didn't know which was worse. A town divided, or a town run by self-appointed righteousness. I needed a stabilizing force, I needed Dr. Z.

"William, please, come in."

"Dr. Z. How are you doing?"

"I am well William, and you?"

"Good and bad," I said.

"That's a contradiction Will, but life is full of contradictions." Dr. Z. smiled. "You are working through tremendously difficult experiences and emotions. This is never a cut and dry, black and white process. This is a good thing. It means you're healing. It takes great courage to confront the darkness."

I was working towards healing, but at the same time spiraling out of control. This alone should send me into a tumultuous panic. "Yeah, I suppose it's good," I said.

"William, you sound down about this. Is this not a good thing?"

"Yeah, it is. It's just that I feel like I am not in control of my anger. I never saw it before, well, not like I can see it now. Just a split second thought of Allison's father sends me into a rage. To be honest. It scares me." Dr. Z. nodded as I spoke.

"William, this may sound strange but you have unfinished business. You must learn to let go of the blame you project onto Mr. Channing as well as yourself. It can be scary. It's called forgiveness."

"I don't know if I can do it." I said.

"You can't just flick a switch. True forgiveness can be a long and painful process, but it will always lead to true healing. Live life with love and love will be returned to you," Dr. Z said.

"It is so hard for me."

"I would like to give you a challenge Will. Would you be open to that?"

"Sure." I was never one to back down when challenged.

"I would like you to find one way to bring hope to Mr. Channing."

"Really? Why?"

"He's hurting too, William. He has to be. Giving of yourself to others, relieving their suffering, and making yourself a beacon of hope are the keys to illumination," he said. "You must have illumination to understand the power of forgiveness."

"Illumination. How?"

"Most people think of illumination as having knowledge and insight. I want you to think of illumination in the literal sense of the word."

"I am not sure I follow you Dr. Z."

He looked at me with great compassion and authority. "Your light will shine in a dark and unholy land. The only way to ignite the fire is through love. Can you do that?"

I paused in a moment of contemplation. "I guess I could do that. Although, I have to be honest. You're scaring me a little. What did you have in mind?"

"That's up to you to figure out Will. It doesn't matter what you do. You have to ask yourself if this person is better off for having crossed your path in life."

"I was always pretty good at writing." I said. "Perhaps I could write the Reverend a letter. Explain my feelings."

Dr. Z. smiled. "I think that's a very good idea."

"Maybe I could go down and talk to him in person." My voice sounded elevated and hopeful.

"I would advise against that William."

"What? Why?"

"Remember, this process is about you. I know it's difficult to see. You need to free yourself from him, and the negative images you hold on to. I think it would be too much too soon. Your emotions surrounding Allison's death and her father are still very unstable. Remember, healing is a process. It takes time and great care to do it the right way. Give it some time. Start with the letter." Dr. Z. said.

"Ok." I nodded.

"I can sense your reluctance." Dr. Z. said.

"I'm just anxious to get on with it. I just want to feel better so badly. I feel anxiety just thinking about writing the letter."

"Healthy anxiety is meant to motivate you. Use it Will. Faith is the key to overcoming your reluctance. Without faith we are nothing. Faith is strengthened and developed through experience. Through tribulation we learn to trust and are molded into the human beings we hope to become." A brilliant but faint white light, like the one by the generator, engulfed Dr. Z's body. Love and warmth embraced my soul.

"William. It's my turn to be honest with you. I'm sure you have questions about my involvement in the Resurrectionists, as well as your own involvement."

"Do you know Justin? The Gateway?" I asked.

"I know of them. They don't know of me."

"What do you know about the Resurrectionists?"

"We are an ancient order of pilgrims who have heard and and accepted the calling to help our fallen brothers and sisters. My own brother passed away several years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Was he sick?"

"He was murdered." Dr. Z. paused before speaking. "William this thing about being a Resurrectionist, it isn't easy."

"I'm starting to see that."

"It also isn't necessary."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I was sent here to protect you."

"Sent by who?"

"One with more authority than I."

"So there's a Resurrectionist kingpin." I said.

"Something like that. My brother and I are on a mission. We've been on it a very long time."

"You said your brother died, that he was murdered."

"I've been in contact with him ever since he passed. There is no death. He guides me from the spirit realm. That's how I found you. He contacted your group for help with our mission."

"The man in the image on Corbin's computer, the voices that spoke to us. That was your brother?" I said, feeling overwhelmed.

"Yes. He also contacted you by direct visionary communication."

"The vision during halftime. He could have picked a more appropriate time." I said.

"Games aren't important. The mission is."

"Who was he? The disheveled man on the computer image and in the vision?"

"A Resurrectionist. Now you see my concern. He was like you. Almost identical." Dr. Z. said.

"Are you saying I'm not strong enough?"

"I'm saying you're not ready."

"Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately."

"Physician heal thyself. A wounded healer can do more damage than healing. We need to continue our work together. You've made more progress than you know. In time you can be a powerful Resurrectionist, but now is not that time. Now is a time for forgiveness."

***

The intense anger I held towards Reverend Channing had softened after talking with Dr. Z. His words reached my heart. I did have unfinished business. I needed to forgive Reverend Channing. The blame and anger I placed on him was a mirror reflection of what was going on inside of me. Forgiveness was the only path out of the darkness and pain within my soul. I went down to his street corner the next Sunday afternoon. I waited behind a building for him to finish his sermon. His words of hate for all sinners triggered strong emotions, but I held them at bay. I fought hard to stay in the moment, to stay hidden behind that building. I was going against the advice of Dr. Z., but I couldn't wait. Dr. Z talked forgiveness, he wasn't a hypocrite, surely he'd forgive me this one time, especially when he sees how much I've healed. I needed peace to come to my soul. I needed it more than Dr. Z. could know. My will and resolve were strengthened by my love for Allison. I was determined to speak with her father. To tell him that I forgave him and no longer blamed him for Allison's death.

"Reverend Channing." My voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. He kept walking to his car. "Reverend Channing." I spoke louder and firmer. He turned to face me.

"Mr. Stark. I told you to never come back here."

"I would like a minute of your time please." I said. He motioned me into the alley.

"What is it? I'm very busy." I glanced to both sides. There was no one there.

"I'll make it quick. I just want to tell you that I forgive you. I no longer blame you for Allison's death like I once did. I've had a change of heart." I waited for his response but he stood silent. The tiny muscles near his mouth and nose began twitching rapidly along with his eyelids. He reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me up against the brick wall of the building.

"How dare you! You arrogant little bastard! You dare you come into my church and accuse me of killing my own daughter. How dare you!"

"Let go of me! It's just how I felt but I had a change of heart. I just needed to tell you. To clear my conscious."

"You're conscious will never be clear boy! In any case your soul is damned already!" Anger blew the wall down. How quickly it can grab you if you let it. A split second is all it takes. I swung my arms up and put my wrists between his, pulling them hard apart. He lost his grip on my shoulders and I grasped his throat. Thoughts fired through my brain to squeeze harder and harder. The more I squeezed the better I felt. Inflicting pain on someone I despised was oddly therapeutic. He was losing consciousness which made my grip tighter. My hands had never been so strong. I glanced up to see the faded image of the dark figure standing over us. His vile presence scared me. His grin scared me even more, momentarily snapping me free of the rage. I let go of my grip as Reverend Channing gasped for air. I slowly stepped away.

I fell to my knees. It was terrifying to know how out of control I really was. I thought I was gaining control over the anger. I was dead wrong. It was stronger than I could possibly fathom.

"This isn't over Stark. I'm going to press charges. You'll be in police custody for attempted murder before you wake up tomorrow!" I kept walking, wanting to flee, fearful for what I had just done. "Stark!" He yelled again. Something made me stop and face him. "You're right, about Allison. I killed her. She called me that night. To ask if I would forgive her. She asked to come home." The Reverend looked at me with callus eyes. "I told her I would rather she kill herself than forgive her for choosing the Devil over her own father."

I stood awe struck, regretting that I failed to finish the job. I hated him more than ever.

"The devil preys on the weak willed, boy. He'll drag you to hell if you don't get it together." Reverend Channing's nose was in my face. "Just like Allison."

"Don't worry Reverend. I'm taking you with me."

***

"I'm ready."

"Will?" Justin's voice was soft.

"I'm ready to save Allison."

"Slowdown Will," Justin said.

I took a deep breath. "Sorry dude but I'm done. Reverend Channing is a monster. Allison deserves the peace she could never have in life. You're right. We can do this. Together we can save Allison and pull her out of that dark place."

"Are you sure, Will? Are you alright?" Justin asked. I turned to see Corbin emerge from the corner of the room.

"I am. I've never felt more clear."

"Good. Corbin finished tweaking Gateway. The frequencies will be able to match the density of the realms you will need to enter to get her out. Remember, it won't be easy but we'll guide you. Did you read the book, A Treatise on Purgatory?" Justin asked.

"I did. I understand." It was a lie. I never bothered to open it.

"Good, I trust that you do. Let's get you on the table." Justin said.

I laid on the steel table as Corbin fitted my head with electrodes and hooked me up to Gateway. Before I could breathe, I was once again standing on the threshold of hell. My will was strong this time. I wasn't afraid. Not in the least. I knew I would save Allison. I had faith that I didn't know existed within me. I felt powerful.

"Can you hear me Will?" Justin's voice was loud and clear.

"Yeah, I'm ready." I stepped into the Abyss without hesitation.

"Ok Will, listen close. Same game plan. Stay off the roads and stay hidden as much as possible. Do you copy? Will?"

I remained silent and removed my ear piece."

"Will. Do you copy? William!" I could hear Justin's frantic screams coming through the earpiece I had placed in the dirt, just after I severed communication.

I dropped to my knees, etching a circle in the dirt. With trembling fingers I drew a pentagram, two points facing up. "Take me to Channing." I commanded. I knew it was behind me before I even turned around. The dark figure's eyes glowed blood red with hatred.

"I knew you'd see it my way." The figure smirked.

"Shut the hell up! This isn't about you! Just take me to him and let me get on with it." I commanded.

"As you wish." The figure glanced toward the ground for a second and then back up at me. His smile chilled me, as if is this was a game to him, as if he was winning and knew it.

I was jolted through space like a lightning bolt towards my destination. Reverend Channing's living room was modest. A reclining chair, coffee table, and lamp were his only possessions. Not even a picture hung on the wall. He couldn't see me. I was a spirit. The staircase creaked as I ascended and moved towards the bedroom. The darkness within raged to barbaric levels. The staircase railing broke on command. Thought had become my weapon, I aimed to use it with vengeful intent. I wasn't out to move pens, I was out for blood.

On earth, a person can appear beautiful on the outside and be ugly on the inside. Not so in the spirit realms, where all is laid bare, naked for everyone to see. In the spirit realm, your appearance is a direct reflection of the condition of your soul. I turned towards the mirror in the bathroom at the end of the hallway. A nightmare reflection stared back at me. My eyes had slits like a serpent and skin hung grotesquely off my face.

The mirror shattered to shards with the shock I felt at knowing what I had become. Reverend Channing ran out of his bedroom to inspect the damage. He knew immediately that he was in the presence of evil beyond his comprehension ... feeling my dark presence.

"Get out of here demon! This is a house of God!" He screamed as he grabbed a crucifix off the wall and swung it wildly in the air, spinning around like a top and falling down the stairs where I had broken the railing. The sight made me squeal with delight. The revenge I craved rushed exhilaration through my body like a junkie injecting a needle into his vein. I wanted to cause him as much pain as he caused Allison. I vowed in my heart to avenge her death at all cost after what he did to her. He belonged in hell, not her.

I wasn't the least bit disturbed by the pleasure I was getting. Maybe I should have been. The night couldn't have been more fitting. Terrible thunderstorms had moved in causing incredible lighting and earth shaking thunder. A symphony of evil played out for all to hear. I summoned my gift and caused the lamp on the table above where the Reverend lay to shatter. He reached for his bible, grabbing it just before I slapped it from his hands.

"You don't understand a damn thing in that book! You hide behind your lies!" I shouted.

The room had filled with evil spirits. Cheering me on and jeering at Reverend Channing. The sight was sobering. Their hideous features and laughter caused a moment of reckoning. Was this really me? Was this really the quiet young boy who once so delicately cared for the old wooden shoe? I looked down on Channing with a brief moment of remorse. Horror overtook me. A large pool of blood had formed beneath his head. He wasn't breathing. His spirit was standing next to me. We looked upon the terror in each other's face, knowing without a doubt what was about to come.

I stepped back, ready to flee. The dark spirits in the room had surrounded me. "Let me go." I said, my nerve fading fast. One of them approached me. "What do you want!" I screamed with my last bit of strength. It only smiled, revealing it's rotten teeth. "No!" I screamed. The group rushed and began ripping apart my flesh and pulling me to the ground. Blood sprayed from my arms and legs as they gashed me with teeth and talon like fingers. Thick warm liquid ran into my eyes as layers of skin were peeled off my face.

"There is no return now murderer, you sold your soul, you're like us, we hate you!" They shrieked violently. The wooden floor beneath me opened and splinted. A powerful force, like a vacuum, pulled at my body. I grasped with desperation at the fractured wood, digging my fingernails in so deep that they were ripped from my hands as the dark spirits dragged me to hell.

Chapter 16

Dark spirits pulled me through the floor, down to the basement, and into the ground. Hands of evil groped every inch of my body. Dirt and earth engulfed me as I gagged for air. My head bounced off tree roots and rocks before landing heavily into an underground cavern. Channing grasped for a tree root, hanging momentarily before claws shredded his legs and pulled him down with me. Five beings held us down as two others bound our hands and feet with chains. A brutish beast of a man appeared from the shadows. His face was covered in black soot like you'd see when a coal miner emerges from the tunnels after a sixteen hour day ... his muscles hardened by unending physical labor.

"Grab the chains and drag them here!" Shouted a distant voice.

The large man groaned as he picked up the chains and gave a violent jerk.

I screamed. My arms were pulled hard in an unnatural way against my body, snapping tendon and ligament. I was dragged against the ground, scraping away skin with each pull of the chain. Scraping it to the bone. I could hear cries of agony coming from Channing but he was blocked from my vision.

"Let's just gut'em here and be done with it!" Cackled one of the spirits. By my best account there were about twenty surrounding all sides of us.

"Idiot! We'll be punished if master finds out," another one said.

The first spirit grumbled. "I'm getting tired of always having to do what master says. One of these days-"

"One of these days you'll what? Just keep it up. Master will give you an attitude adjustment and it won't be pretty," argued the second spirit.

"I'll give you an attitude adjustment." A fight broke out between the two but was stopped abruptly by the rest of the group. Both spirits were dragged away, screaming and hollering as their faces scrapped the rocky ground. Our group was reduced to ten.

We traveled what felt like miles. Bloodied and torn skin hung from my bent body when we arrived at the end of the cavern, which opened up to a cliff. I saw Channing, a bloodied pile of flesh, hardly recognizable. A man, well, what appeared to be a man sat on a throne of rock. Next to him was an altar stained with blood. Three bonfires emitting thick black smoke were arranged in a triangle which glowed around us. Smoke invaded my lungs with each breath.

"What's this man's sin?" The man on the throne bellowed with a deep and commanding voice, pointing a fat finger in my direction. He must have been the master.

"Murder!" Shrieked one of the spirits in the group. "He even scored himself a preacher man."

"A preacher man, that ups the ante a bit but it's murder just the same. The boys downstairs will get a kick out if it but he'll still have to earn his stripes."

"What's the preacher's sin?" The master asked.

"Murder," shrieked the same dark spirit.

"My God, I've committed no such crime. Your accusations are false!" Reverend Channing protested.

"He willfully withheld love from his own daughter," squealed the spirit. "She went and offed herself over it!" The spirit laughed.

"Sins of omission." The master said. "Throw'em both on the stones."

Two dark spirits grabbed and placed me upright against a stone pillar. A third rushed me, jamming an iron choker around my neck, binding me to the rock. They left and grabbed Channing, binding him to the rock adjacent mine, leaving me face-to-face with my victim.

"Look into his eyes, murderer. Look at the life you took with your own hands. Breathe in the ecstasy. Know fully what you've done. Stake claim to the slain. Your souls are bound to one another for all eternity. I place upon you the iron chain of retribution." The master commanded.

A dark spirit grabbed my forehead pushing it back hard against the unforgiving stone. Another rushed forward with a ten foot chain, clasping it to the choker around my neck. The spirit hurried over to the shaken Reverend clasping the other end to his choker, sealing us together in bondage until the end of times.

"That's it." The master said. By law we can only do that which they have done to others. What say you?"

"The rack!" Yelled one of the spirits. "Let me have them master."

The master looked at him. "Our numbers are dwindling. You know what will happen don't you, fool. Your wretched soul will be pulled down further, much like this poor boy."

"But sir, he committed murder knowing full well the punishments that awaited him."

The master's eyes glowed. "Well then, that changes things. Willful defiance against the creator warrants a one way ticket downstairs. By George, he is one of us!" The master let out a hefty laugh. Reminds me a bit of myself when I was a young man. Don't worry we'll handle all of the travel arrangements. Something tells me you'll fit in quite nicely down there. The pit! Throw him in!"

"The Pit! The Pit! The Pit!" The dark spirits circled around us chanting. Desperation strewn across the Reverend's face, terror across mine. The fires roared bigger and brighter with each chant and flailing of arms. Reverend Channing and I danced with our backs together and our hands up in self-defense. I swung and missed the first spirit who came at me. The big one picked up my body and flung me over the side of the cliff. The weight of my body pulled Reverend Channing over the edge until the chain twisted around a spirit standing next to us, knocking him down, leaving us dangling over the edge.

"Damnit! The damn chain is around my leg. One of you tools get it off!" The depraved spirit shouted.

I looked down and saw nothing. The end of innocence awaited below. Painful, blood curdling screams rose from the darkness. "No! Wait!" I cried. "Don't do this! I'm no murderer. I didn't touch him. He fell!"

The large spirit rushed over, freeing the others leg. He pulled me up and held me upside down, my neck keeping Channing from falling into despair. "I hope you like to run because you's about to be hunted for the rest of eternity. Enjoy your time in hell boys. You earned it!" He released the chain, laughing with delight.

We fell. Downward into a black abyss. Hours passed before solid ground caused our body's to bounce and flatten like pancakes. The force of the impact should have killed us instantly. I could feel the snap and break of every bone in my body, but I was not dead. I laid motionless as several more hours passed. This place was heavier and darker than the division of hell I was in before. "Monika! Justin!" I cried. No answer. I was alone, with the devil.

Reverend Channing dug his fingers into my neck, pulling and twisted at my choker. He didn't speak, only growled.

"Get the hell off me man!" I kicked him in the chin causing his head to jolt backward."

"I'm gonna kill you Stark! You did this to me!" Channing wrestled with me on the ground, surrounded by darkness.

I don't know how much time passed before we were overcome with exhaustion. Screams rang out all around us but we couldn't see the wretched souls who released them. A primal urge to run, to survive, welled up within me. I took a step forward and tumbled, splitting both hands open on sharp rocks. The chain around my neck bound me to the darkness. It was evident, if the Reverend and I didn't want to end up in the back of a windowless van, we'd have to work together.

"Reverend Channing, listen, time is running out. Hunters will catch the scent of fresh meat. By now they know we've landed and are in pursuit. We need to work together if we want to escape intact."

"Go to hell Stark!"

"Um, sure. Kinda already there, now follow my lead."

"No way I'm following your lead you pathetic weakling."

"Who better to lead, a sinner like me, who knows what it's like to lead a Godless life. Surly I'm more prepared to live in this wasteland then someone as prominent as yourself." I said, playing to Channing's ego.

"Whatever Stark. I'll play your game but only until these chains are loosened."

The ground was much more jagged and rocky than above. Running was impossible. We were being hunted and time was running out. My eyes slowly adjusted, allowing the reddish glow to light my surroundings. I could faintly make out a worn path on the ground. Justin warned me to stay off the paths. I went against his advice. What choice was there? There was no going back, not after what I had done. Justin and Monika were lost to me, forever.

Progress was slow, dragging a sniveling Reverend didn't help. Navigation through the blackness was near impossible but I made it to a clearing in the air, vaguely making out what looked to be the walls of a great city. We pressed along the path and eventually made our way down into a valley. The walls surrounding the city were made of huge stone boulders. I felt my way along the edge until we reached a giant gate that protected the city. As I approached the gate I could see two guards standing watch. "Help!" Reverend Channing cried in desperation. "We are in need of shelter."

"No, you idiot. We can't draw attention to ourselves." I lashed out.

Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here, was written at the top of the gate. I vaguely remembered hearing that phrase before but I couldn't place my finger on it. Thick stained tarps hung from the gate acting as a partial barrier. One of the guards lifted his head and looked towards our direction as I fought to hold Reverend Channing from stumbling closer.

"Please sir, fetch some water. I'm so thirsty!" Reverend Channing cried out.

The guards looked at each other but gave no response. The guard on the left approached me first. I held out my hand for mercy, before I keeled over from exhaustion. The guard hit me with tremendous power, knocking me to the ground. I laid stunned, staring at his blood soaked boots. "Pull'em in and give'em to the dogs." I laid on my back as the guards dragged me underneath the gate. I threw up. The tarps hanging above were made of skin sewn crudely together, stained with blood from the victims. The dogs hated me, viciously ripping the remaining flesh off of my body. Gnawing and gnashing of teeth were the only sounds I heard other than my cries of agony. Let me die.

"Fool, you're already dead. Welcome to hell." One of the guards called off the dogs and clasped his fingers around my choker. A band of dark spirits rushed out of a nearby building and dragged us inside, throwing us down several flights of stairs. We landed in a cellar basement, the chain wrapping tight around our twisted bodies. No rest for the wicked. The spirits ran around the room like a whirlwind, fighting over knives, daggers, and an assortment of instruments of pain. "That's mine!" "No, give it here!" They fought, like hungry wolves over a scrap of meat, spilling their own blood against the dingy basement walls. "There's no end to our torment! You are worthless! You are garbage!" The mocking reduced me to a puddle of helplessness. We were forced to drink acid which scorched our insides. The acid had a purpose beyond torture. It drained our energy, like a black hole, hope burned from our being. Any shred of hope I had about leaving this place was gone. To be abandoned by God is the worst experience a man can have.

"Stop! Everyone stop! The doctor. He's coming." A voice called out. The melee stopped instantly. My consciousness faded in and out. I looked into the stare of a man who knew no sympathy. Cold yellow eyes examined me from head to toe. His teeth were like razors and his burnt skin was covered in boils. Pus dripped from flesh wounds and slowly pooled on the floor.

"What do you want?" I asked. The man looked down while writing notes into a book. He seemed to be keeping some sort of record.

"What do you think doc?" Asked one of the men who tortured me.

"There's evil in him, but I can't trace it. You men can do what you want with him. He's of no use to me."

"Trace what?" I mumbled in an attempt to delay the torments I knew where coming.

The doctor looked up from his notebook and paused for a moment before speaking. "The origin of your power, why your soul is so much blacker than ours."

"I knew it Stark. I knew you were different from the others. I was right to keep Allison from you."

"What about the preacher, Doc?"

"A fine trophy indeed. Go, prepare the operating table. I have much to learn."

I glanced over toward the Reverend. His body shook and convulsed, seemingly knowing the torments that awaited him. A piece of me trembled with him. Had I been wrong to seek revenge? Was this the path Dr. Z. warned me about? Did I even care, or was that part of me dead?

Time moved quickly. The dark spirits rolled in a rickety stretcher, unbuckling the belt like straps that would confine the doomed Reverend.

"Grab him. Strap him to the operating table." The doctor commanded.

It took several spirits to subdue the Reverend. Channing wasn't a willing participant. I was pulled along with him. Horrified to await what was coming. I never wished for this. My hatred for Reverend Channing ran deep, but this was madness, evil run rampant.

"What are you doing to him. Stop!" I screamed, barely above Channing's cries. The doctor looked at me without speaking, then reached down and grabbed his scalpel. I closed my eyes and faded my mind out of awareness.

After some time had passed, I don't know how long, time is merely a concept in the spirit world, I opened my eyes and looked into the Reverend's. His arms and legs were missing. A hole had been carved where is heart used to be. We were alone in a holding cell.

"I know what you're thinking. No, I'm not dead and Yes, it does hurt." The Reverend said.

"Listen. I know you hate me, but we're going to have to work together if we're going to get out of here. I know what I've done. The mistake I've made has cost us dearly. Let me help you, help us both. Trust me, I won't leave you here. Give me a chance to earn your forgiveness, please Reverend Channing."

"You're right, I do hate you, but I also know what I've done. I've known for a long time. It's the reason I'm here. It's not because of you. I'm the reason I lost my family, my church, my life."

"What do you mean you knew?"

"You always know, Stark, deep down, you always know the truth. You can fight and deny it, push it away, but it always comes back. The truth can never be hidden. It always haunts."

"I'm sorry." It felt odd saying those words, but Channing was right. I've always known.

"When I lost my wife I lost my sanity. Allison deserved a father who was there for her, not a self-righteous half crazed preacher. It was the only way I could feel any type of control. The truth was I was losing more control each day. Allison knew it all along. That's why she rejected me. Why she turned her back on the church. I truly loved Allison, I just didn't know the right way to show it."

"If you truly loved Allison then that love will get you out of here."

"Couldn't find anything." The doctor said walking into the cell, pointing at the hole in the Reverend's chest. "In time his arms and legs will grow back. I will resume my search."

"Wait, there must be something I can do to change your mind, please, I beg of you." I said.

"You wanna take his place?"

I could only look at my feet, cringing at the lines of blood running from Channing's torn body.

"Recruit." The doctor said.

"Recruit?"

"Bring me subjects, lab rats ... ten to replace one. Then he shall have his freedom."

"William, don't leave me alone in this place." The reverend slipped from consciousness.

"I promise to come back for you no matter the cost." I called out to Reverend Channing. "I'll never leave you here. Trust me. I won't abandon you. Have faith!"

I made a deal with the devil, but I couldn't willingly give up the reverend to unrestrained brutality. I needed to earn his forgiveness. I owed him redemption.

"Hold still." The doctor commanded pulling out an axe stained with blood.

"No!" I screamed as he swung towards my head. It struck hard against the iron choker causing sparks to spray against the discolored wall. The choker fell to the ground clanging against the stone floor.

I was no longer restrained and didn't wait around to analyze it. A door at the top of the cellar stairs lead into the city. The architecture reminded me of ancient biblical city, except this city was foul and depraved. The stench in the air was a constant and unrelenting mixture of rotting flesh, decaying dog, and death itself. Streets were stained with blood and grime. Rotting wood and crumbling stone hung from every building, looking as if they had been neglected for centuries.

I proceeded with caution down the narrow streets. My eyes never stopped scanning, always on the lookout. I reached up to scratch my forehead and jabbed myself in the eye. Blood dripped from the jagged talons growing out of the ends of my fingers. I had become like the dark spirits that dragged me down. The anger within was far more acute than it had been on earth. I remembered Monika saying that emotions were experienced much stronger in the spiritual realms. What little control I had over my anger was annihilated, made worse with the thought of her and what I had thrown away. I craved revenge on the doctor and the guards who tortured me. Maybe then I could know peace.

"Get him!" Out of the corner of my vision a figure rushed me, knocking me against a cracked flower pot filled with worms. Within seconds I was engulfed in a violent whirlwind of fury.

"Don't mutilate the flesh. I want it for my drapes." A voice sounded.

"Screw you! I want a new dress. I deserve a new dress to wear. I'm much prettier than you and my dress is much more important than your stupid drapes." Sounded a second voice.

These people, well they somewhat resembled people but looked more like appalling wretches, were on top of me fighting over scraps of skin that still hadn't healed. The attack lasted for hours until they grew tired of their torment and left. Anger and hatred grew tenfold, fueled by pain and mistreatment. I continued along the street until I came upon a man standing on the corner. This time I was ready. Charged by a blinding rage, I knocked him down and dug my talons into his eye sockets. I picked up his head and bashed it down on a raised cobblestone. He screamed with misery which made me hurt him more. He wore a knife which I quickly grabbed. I grasped his wrist and pinned it to the ground. Holding the blade gave me power. I pressed it against each one of his fingers until I severed them from the hand.

I wandered aimlessly around the streets of the forsaken city. I was attacked often. Sometimes I was able to fight off my attackers and sometimes not. I would have given anything for a second of rest, but rest meant unending torment at the hands of the city's tortured inhabitants. I longed for home but swiftly put out the fire. That type of thinking leads to weakness, weakness that would land me chained in the basement of some sick bastard's idea of fun.

The horrific realization had come. In order to feel even one moment of rest I had to become more ruthless than they were. Only if I had the upper hand would I be safe. Souls in hell had lost their humanity and become animalistic, lower even. Animals fight to survive, souls in hell fight to hate. Survival of the fittest was the law of this land. I remembered the journal I found during my first tour in hell. Only cruelty and oppression survive here. Abandoned by God, I had no choice but to abandon him, abandon love. An evil will is the only thing that brought me a moment's peace, even if those moments were fleeting. The education was fast, the learning curve simple. The darker I became the more I could control other souls that were damned to the city. I bowed my head, exhaled the last bit of humanity in my soul, and set out to stake my evil renown.

Chapter 17

Loud debaucherous laughter spilled into the street from a wooden two story building which seemed out of place next to the large crumbling stone architecture of the city. I pressed open two worn cafe doors. The laughter stopped, all eyes starred. Two spirits in the corner leaned into each other and whispered as I passed by. I made my way to the back where a circle of spirits had formed. Two men were locked in gladiator style fighting. A thick rope was tied to each other's hand, ensuring there was no escape. I remained silent, faking interest in the fight. The ruckus laughter resumed when one of the men was blinded by a stab wound to the face.

"Care for a drink mate?" A cup with some type of dirty liquid was handed to me. I took the cup and drank. As soon as the liquid touched my lips it was gone, like it was never there.

"What's this?" I asked the man who handed me the cup.

"The strongest drink in the land. Go on. Drink!" He laughed, tipping his cup to his lip, completely unaware there was nothing in it. Maybe he had become so habitualized to the process of drinking that he simply didn't know anything else.

"What's your wager?" He asked.

"My wager?" I said.

"The slaves, fighting in the arena," he pointed to the two spirits locked in battle.

"The one who just lost his eyeball, that's mine, worthless piece of garbage! I hate losing, especially to the Duke." He nodded in the direction of a vile spirit, large and ominous ...brooding, standing silent across the circle. "I'm going to lose again! Lose another slave!" The man kicked the chair next to us.

"Can you get another?" I said.

"Oh, I suppose so." The man replied.

"How?"

"Just take them, like this." The man turned to a patron who was watching next to us and grabbed his neck. "Your next, slave!" The patron resisted, fighting off the attack, but was quickly overcome. The man next to me didn't physically overpower him, his mind was stronger. His willpower to control the slave gave him the strength to do so. "You don't have to hold back. No one will stop you! There are no rules, no police, and no laws. Go ahead, take control, take what's yours."

I turned and looked him over from head to toe. "You mean like this." He dropped to his knees under the weight of my commands. My willpower held him down with the strength of a thousand hands.

"No! Please! Stop!" He cried.

Something inside me changed, became colder, grew darker. The coldness numbed me further, past the mental illness, past the point of caring. I used to fear what people thought of me ... no longer. Justin was right about one thing, I had a spiritual energy that was on steroids. This time, I wasn't shy about using every ounce of it to my advantage. I no longer hid, I stalked. Savagely seeking out new arrivals who's wills were weaker than mine. In no time they would break and I would place my chains around them.

Ten souls for the Reverend's freedom, that's what the doctor said. Edward was the name of the man who handed me that drink, and the first slave I captured. A puke of a man if you ask me and it gave me great pleasure to cause him great pain. In life he had been a swindler. He left his wife and two children for no reason other than he grew tired of them. They were left to fend for themselves while he drained the family's life savings to spend on excess. Recklessness caught up with him swiftly. He fell in deep debt with the wrong people who saw fit to take him out, but not before he took one of them first. Murder is the sentence that damns the soul to this city of evil. He was guilty of it as much as me, as much as anybody. He argued that it was self-defense. I didn't give a rat's ass what it was. He was mine now, forever. You can hold a man captive for as long as you have the willpower to do so. My thoughts and evil intentions created the chains that bound him. To him the chains were as real as you would experience them on earth, maybe even more so.

Battles, more like wars, were constantly waged in this city. Soul against soul, groups of souls against groups of souls, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was trying to get ahead so that you didn't become a slave to someone else and wind up the centerpiece in whatever demented plan they had for you. Groups would vie over territory or some building, much like the gangs of earth fought with one another, an endless cycle of violence. As my cruelty and malicious activities grew, the heavier and more grotesque my appearance became.

Two of my slaves came across a building that I wanted control of. There was no purpose to controlling it. I just learned to crave control and the power it gave me. "Edward, take these two wretches into that building. Make them prove themselves. Do not come out until you have cleared it. Understand?"

"Yes, master. As you wish."

My slaves quickly took control, using unrestrained brutality against the former occupants. I entered the first floor. A man was trying to crawl behind a rotted couch and sneak out a broken window.

"Where the hell are you going?" I said.

"Please sir, I can't take any more torture. I beg of you. Let me go." He groveled. It made no difference to me. The last thing I really wanted was another pathetic soul hanging around, crying and whining about this or that, but I had a quota to meet.

"You should have thought of that before you committed the heinous deeds that lead you to cross my path." He crawled to the window and pulled himself up. I imagined steel chains wrapped around him, and that's just what happened. The power of my will created chains that dragged him back across the floor. The pathetic fool began kissing my feet. "You're a disgrace. Stand up before I break your neck!" I commanded. He rose to his knees.

"Please sir. I'm begging you, show mercy." The grotesque spirit wined.

I placed my boot on his neck, and looked down to gloat over him, pausing with shock and recognition. "Corey. Is that you?" The sight of Corey Fritz lying on the floor, groveling and crying, brought me back, back to when I was human.

"Oh my God is that you Will? Will Stark? Oh thank God. We have to hurry. We have to get out of here."

Conflicting emotions pulled at me in all directions. "Have you seen Allison?" I asked.

"No. She could be anywhere. The realms of hell are so vast, so dark." Corey said.

"You know this guy?" Edward asked. The image of Allison tormented by the demons brought on her by Corey flashed my mind and snapped my feeble sanity.

"Yeah, I do. He's my tenth."

The power in my boot drove Corey's neck into the grimy, blood stained floor. The snapping of bone echoed throughout the room. My slaves scattered and cowered in fear of my devilish horror. Nobody dared challenge me. Pictures frames shattered and smashed on the ground. Darkness pumped through my veins as I cried for more, releasing a vibration of destruction and evil. I turned on my own slaves, unleashing even crueler torments on them. The building began to shake and crumble.

"Please, let us go! We have to get out of here before it is too late." One slave cried.

"Silence! You're not getting off that easy." I screamed.

"I've come to collect." I turned to see the doctor standing in the doorway, holding a chain in his hand, dragging Reverend Channing behind him like a dog on a leash. "Take it." The doctor ordered, holding the end of the chain up as an offering. "I'll take what's mine."

Reverend Channing dragged his broken body to my feet. "Thank you, William. I shouldn't have doubted your honor. Allison could see things in you that I never could. You've opened my eyes and now I see." Channing and I sidestepped the doctor as he placed chains around my former captives. The terror in their eye's set the stage for revenge. I shivered at the thought, should they ever succeed in freeing themselves and coming after me.

"What now, William?" The Reverend asked.

"While we were separated I met someone who can help, we must hurry." I said, guiding the Reverend through the maze of city streets to meet with the one who could help.

"I need to rest." The Reverend said.

"We don't have time. We have to press forward." I said.

"Please William, my body, it hasn't fully healed."

We ducked into a building. There were spirits laying on the floor, passed out. They were former addicts, freshly new to the city, not fully detoxed from the poisons that still pumped through their bodies.

"We can rest here. At least until they awaken." I said.

"Thank you, William." The Reverend collapsed to the ground. "I owe you my life."

"But I'm the one that got you into this mess."

"I've seen the errors I've made only because you've opened my eyes to them, William. I let them push me around and control me. I wasn't strong enough to stop it. I wasn't strong enough to stand up for myself and my family." Reverend Channing sobbed. "There's power in you, William. Help me find forgiveness. I'm begging for it. Help me find my daughter." The Reverend reached out and squeezed my hand. I couldn't look him in the eye.

One of the spirits began moving slowly on the ground.

"We must going," I said.

I helped Reverend Channing to his feet. My soul had never felt so heavy. His love was reaching out to me, I pushed back with all my might.

We were back in the city streets, making our way towards the only one who could help. A dark mist had rolled in like a bad fog.

"Hurry, he's just around this corner." The Reverend and I turned into an ally between two buildings.

"I think that's him." I said. The fog making it difficult to see.

"Yes, I see someone, through the mist. Are you sure it's safe?" Reverend Channing asked, before terror grabbed hold. "Oh God William! It's the doctor, run!"

Channing turned to flee. The chain attached to his neck clanged wildly on the ground creating a furious display of orange sparks. I turned to run, catching up to the Reverend and grabbing the end of the loose chain. I pulled hard, knocking him to the ground.

I stood over the fallen, placed my foot upon his chest and looked into the eyes of the deceived.

"You're not going anywhere." I turned to the grinning doctor who stood behind me, holding out the end of the chain. "He's all yours."

The bony doctor snapped bowed his head and a symbol formed at my feet. The ground splintered open, I fell.

Evil and sin are weights that grow heavy and finally pull you down. Betrayal is one of the worst; I saw it in Channing's eyes as I fell into a realm of eternal black ... the most oppressive state of hell imaginable.

"Get up!" A voice commanded, its forcefulness knocked me back down to the ground before I could reach my feet. I got up, ready to demolish whomever dared knock me down. On top of a chariot pulled by a demonic beast rode evil, fierce and powerful. It had no form. Mist of black. A void of terror.

"Demon." I said before a whip lashed out striking me across both cheeks.

"Please, I'm begging for your mercy. Stop!" The beatings came harder each time I cried out to my abuser. "Please, master, I'm a willing slave. I was sent by the doctor."

"Then you completed the ritual." The awfulness of it's voice shaking me to the core.

"Yes." I said. "I'll do anything to avoid the torments of this place, to have them lessened."

"You're a coward." The demon laughed. "But then again, most acts of betrayal are acts of cowardice." I hung my head.

"The doctor, he serves you, he said you could teach me to be powerful."

"Nothing is free."

"You must prove yourself worthy to serve me before I'll accept any plea bargain."

The mist dissolved, giving way to physical form. The demon raised his face to look at me, half covered by a hood. Gray smoke steamed from its eye sockets.

"How?" I asked.

"Possession," it said.

"What?"

"You must will yourself back to the earth plane and possess a human soul."

"How?" I asked.

A whip pierced and wrapped around my torso. Broken mangled skeletal wings raised out of the demon's shoulder blades. "Figure it out!" A vile screech cut my ear. The demon flung me in the air with great force. I landed heavily back in the city I had been in before. Ashamed. Broken. Alone.

An unrelenting pressure pounding me into a frenzy. I had to return to earth at all cost. Pain the motivator, suffering, the driving force. Failing my new master was not something I wanted to experience. I sold Channing out, an unpardonable sin. Every soul in hell is faced with the same harsh truth, serve the demons, or become the whipping boy. I did the right thing.

I walked past a church. Something compelled me to go inside. Maybe it was the look on the Reverend's face when I pulled the knife out his back. This church made the Puritans look like the Communion of Saints. The priests had one hand in the offering plate and the other on the backsides of the parishioner's wives.

"What's your name son?"

"William."

"What brings you here?" The priest asked.

"Knowledge, spiritual knowledge." I said.

"You've come to the right place. What do you seek to gain?" He asked.

I hesitated before speaking. "I'm going to return to earth."

The priest's smile faded. "You know that can't happen. Not until the second coming. Then, he will lift us up and guide us to his kingdom." There was no conviction behind his words. No belief, only lip service and repetition.

"I understand." I replied and turned to walk out. The priest stopped me.

"Sit for a bit." He motioned me to take a seat in the pew next to him. I sat. He nodded. "Stay as long as you like."

"Where do I begin father, to find forgiveness?" I asked.

The priest placed the offering plate in front of me, gesturing for me to place something inside. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my heart. The charm that was meant for Allison, and placed it in the offering plate.

"This is a start young man."

"Surely I can't buy my way to forgiveness?" I said.

"You must be baptized, study scripture, and pay your tithe."

"I was baptized. I studied the entire Bible as part of my confirmation class. I even gave ten percent of my allowance to our church. My mother made me. I still ended up in hell."

"Repentance." The priest said.

"I met a man here. He was a rapist. Vile and disgusting. He went to church every Sunday. He repented on his death bed. He became my slave." My penetrating stare told the priest I wasn't buying his dogmatic philosophy.

We exchanged icy glances before he got up and left. I stayed in the pew for a long time, thinking about all that had passed. The church wasn't for me. Old worn out dogma only served to slow me down. I opened the front door to leave and caught the priest out of the corner of my eye. He was placing the charm, my charm, around the neck of a church member's wife. It took all I had to quell the urge to strike him down. The memory of what it stood for only brought me feelings of being human. Feelings I couldn't afford to have. A luxury not meant for me.

I clung to the shadows and alleys of the city, wandering aimlessly, unsure of my next move. I stumbled into some sort of library, mainly to avoid a group of angry spirits heading my way. The same symbols I had seen in the basement of the lab and Corey's house were engraved onto the covers of the books.

I walked around the entire collection. Books on every subject of torture known to man. Every book of evil ever written must have landed in this library. I didn't need torture. I needed something more. I remembered Monika talking about using chants, innovations, and prayers to summon protection during her communications with spirits. I wondered if such a thing could raise a devil such as I.

A withered hand holding a tattered book reached out. "You're looking for this." The quiet voice of an old woman spoke. I squinted my eyes and stared into hers. I took the book and looked it over. "You're going to need help with that. You possess great power but haven't the discipline to master it. There's a black magician who makes his home in this city. He is powerful. He can help."

I held the book in my hand, nodded at the old woman, and left. "I wouldn't go see him if I were you." She called out. I was puzzled, unsure why she would give me the book and tell me not to use it. "I know what you're up to and it ain't good. Believe me, it ain't. Horrors worse than anything known in this city await those who attempt possession." The old woman warned. My corner lip lifted revealing a stained jagged tooth. An evil half-smile to assure her I was in charge.

I made my way to the magician's shop at the edge of the city. The shop was a mirror image of the palm reader I had met with on earth, Marla Williams, only this shop was foul and depraved. The air owned uneasiness upon entering.

"What do you want?" A low gruff voice growled from behind the counter.

"I seek knowledge," I said.

"Good for you. Now get the hell out!"

"How do I return to earth?" I demanded.

"Fool!" He cried releasing a foul heckle. "There is no going back. You're damned in case you didn't realize it already." He continued laughing for several seconds. I stood my ground and didn't budge.

"There is a way, temporarily, to return," a voice from the corner of the room made itself known. "I know what you're hunting." A shadow moved from the corner to the middle of the wall. The book I held in my hand burned to the touch.

"Tell me," I commanded. The shadow instantaneously appeared directly in front of me. It was transparent. It had no distinguishing features, nothing resembling humanity. Its voice sounded like gravel being ground to dust.

"You must be summoned by a mortal with a mind and soul as wretched and twisted as yours." The shadow's breath reeked of decay and disease.

"By the looks of it I would say you are out of luck. There is no mortal as repugnant as yourself." The shopkeeper scoffed. I ignored his heckling and focused solely on the shadowy figure.

"Let's pretend then. Say there was such a monster roaming the earth. What would I need to do?"

"Set your mind to it. Send out your thoughts and wishes to be brought up. Create a spiritual connection with the mortal. If they take the proper steps and perform the proper rituals you will be drawn to them. Like attracts like in this great and vast universe. It takes tremendous focus and willpower to pull this off. It's not for the faint of heart." The shadow instructed me.

"Impossible, he's too pathetic!" The shopkeeper let out a hideous laugh.

"Save your opinions for yourself." I said, turning to walk away.

"My payment!" The shopkeeper demanded.

"Payment! You didn't give me anything!"

"You were told secrets!" He cried. "You owe a debt!"

"Tell you what. My payment is that I won't grind you into a pile of dust right here." I said.

The decrepit shopkeeper lunged for me. I was stronger than him and held him at bay, wrapping steel chains around him with my thoughts. The shadowy figure stood and watched, not making a sound. Unfiltered evil poured off of him, compelling the shopkeeper to choke and cough violently. His body dropped to the floor and laid motionless. I didn't stick around to see what was next.

The difficult and lonely process had begun. It took months, or at least what I would think of as months, I really didn't know. Searching for a human with a soul as dark and twisted as mine had left me exhausted and unable to fend off my attackers.

Beatings and torment fueled the rage to persevere. With acute intention I focused my powerful will on being summoned to earth. During meditation a mass of dark energy appeared far above me, growing larger as it drew near. A bony, skeleton like hand reached out of the black mass and pulled me in. I was hurled through space much like I was when I was pulled down to hell. Within seconds I was standing in a darkened basement. The same symbols I had first seen at Gateway and in Corey's house were scribbled on the walls surrounding the room. Three people sat in a triangle on the floor humming chants. They wore dark hoods over their heads. They couldn't see me, but all sensed a malevolent presence was near. All three shook and trembled with fear. I circled around them, staring into each of their faces to warn of my presence. I looked hard into the face of the third. A diabolical grin slowly spread across my mouth. "When you play with fire, you're bound to get burned." I whispered into Justin's face.

Chapter 18

The chanting continued as I drew from the energy fields of the three practitioners. I could see the faint particles of liquid ether floating in the air and used them to create a temporary body, much like a space suit. Once I entered the suit it formed to my current likeness, acting like a mirror projecting an image of my current depraved state. I looked nothing like I once did on earth. The skin on my face was cracked, dry, and scaly. It hung loose and appeared over one hundred years old. My hair, not more than a few gray strands, hung past my shoulders. My teeth were rotten and my eyes black as death. One of the practitioners let out a frightened shriek as my presence slowly became visible to them. The process was exhausting and took intense focus to pull it off. No one could speak until the initial shock subsided. Justin took the lead as he had always done, having no clue that his former friend was the devil he conjured.

"I am your master." The cracking of Justin's voice let me know of the sorry state of fear in was in.

"I have no master!" I growled back at him, the putrid stench of my breath causing him to recoil. A girl in the group began to cry. I didn't recognize her. She was younger, probably some poor daughter of an Outsider shop owner that Justin charmed into doing this dark deed. I leaned in to show her I was in charge, speaking with a low guttural voice. "You are right to be crying." She tried to get up and leave but Justin forced her back down against her will.

"What do you want?" I demanded, circling the group.

"Murder," Justin said. His confidence growing slightly.

"That carries a hefty price. What do you have to offer me?"

"This girl's soul." Justin grabbed the girl by the back of her hair and pulled her down. She sobbed without control.

"I have no use for a soul that is already damned. What else?"

Justin paused. "I'll arrange for you to stay." Silence filled the room.

"Go on." I said.

"There's a family that lives seven miles out of town. The father, a farmer, his wife passed two years ago. He never recovered. He has two girls and a boy. The girls are away at college. The boy, well, let's just say he's emotionally disturbed. The father is so lost in his depression that he's unable to look out and care for his son. The boy should be hospitalized but as it stands right now his mental illness is going unchecked. He should be easy pickin's for possession. You can stay earthbound for as long as he lives or gets better, whichever comes first. His magnetic energy field is all you need to keep connected to him. It will act as a magnet that will keep you anchored to the earth. You can wander from him for a while but you'll need to return and charge the etheric energy around your body. I have the knowledge and tools that can make this possible."

"You have my attention. What about this murder?" I asked.

"The boy is about to receive the help he's been unconsciously hoping for. This helper will no doubt recognize the illness and report it. The child will receive medical care and be treated for his illness. In that case you'll be hurled back into the frying pan unless you stop this from happening."

"You want me to kill this helper then?" I asked.

"Yes," Justin replied.

"That doesn't make sense. What's in it for you?"

Justin licked his lips with his tongue. "This helper is also an inventor. He invented a machine that allows communication between earth and the spiritual realms." Justin wanted Corbin dead so that he could claim Gateway for himself. Funny how people spill their guts when they think they are talking to a stranger and there are no repercussions.

"What do you want with this machine?" I asked.

"What the hell's it matter to you?"

"You're right. It doesn't matter to me. How do you know this helper will come?"

"Because he's part of a group that investigates hauntings. He's very well trained. You need to act fast. If the investigation rules it a haunting there will be a cleansing. You need to be careful. You need to play your cards right. If you gain control of the boy, a cleansing will be useless. Your spiritual connection to the boy will be so strong that a cleansing will be unable to break it. That's the goal. You will be able to remain hidden in the boy. The lines between mental illness and possession can get very blurry. Make them think the boy is just depressed. They'll make a recommendation for counseling or therapy which won't work in a case of true demonic possession."

"Shouldn't be hard." I said.

"There's still a problem though. If the helper believes the boy is possessed he will try to cast you out in an exorcism."

"I'd like to see him try." I scoffed.

"It's not a laughing matter. Under any circumstances, do not let on that the boy is possessed. If you do, it won't be good."

I moved in towards Justin, my face an inch from his. "Don't ever tell me what I can and cannot do, understand."

Justin backed away, hands trembling. "Do the usual stuff. Turn off lights, play the radio when it isn't supposed to, break a damn window if you have to. Create fear. Get the father's attention. Make him believe the house is haunted. Fear will open the boy to possession. Once you're in, don't let on that the boy is possessed. That means no magical phenomenon or parlor tricks. No levitation. No super human strength. No foaming at the mouth. No weird voices, incoherent ramblings, or speaking in tongues. The goal is to keep your self on the earth plane, take control of the boy ... kill the helper."

"How will the father know to call the group?"

"Because I am also in the group. I will see to it."

I smiled at Justin, pretending that I hadn't a clue. "You're a backstabbing traitor," I said. "You know, if you don't play your cards right it's only a matter of time before you're standing right beside me in the pits of hell. Believe me, the view ain't so pretty down here. Why do you think I'm agreeing to your plan? The more time I can be up here the less time I have to rot down there."

"Just worry about holding up your end of the bargain. I can take care of myself." Justin said.

"I won't get caught if you don't." I gave the same evil smile I gave the old woman in the library. The girl screamed.

Justin continued chanting and instructed me to focus my energy on the unhealthy boy. The ritual took several hours before I was standing outside the farm house. My first haunting. It's wasn't even that long ago that I only semi-believed in haunted houses. I guess I can take my doubt and throw it out the window. I approached the front steps of the house and passed through the door like a vapor.

I stood in the entryway. The old man walked right through me on his way to the living room. Unaware the devil had entered his den and had come to steal his light.

The house was filthy. A trash can had overflowed and spilled onto the floor. Some type of sticky red fluid had run under the stove, attracting the attention of a hundred marching ants. Cupboards had become unhinged and rotted. I wasted no time carrying out my task of generating fear. I had become quite adept at altering molecules and atoms with my thoughts. My powers were enhanced through the dark gift that was still with me. I made the lights flicker. I created cold spots and breezes where there should be none. I even caused dishes to fall from the cupboards and shatter on the floor. The old man was tough to crack. In a way his depression had become his salvation. Isolation acted as a shell, a cocoon that protected him from reality. He was simply too damn depressed to even care.

Justin was holding up his end of the bargain. He had distributed flyers advertising the services of his group. He even made a special door-to-door visit to the old farm house. Despite his skepticism and general lack of caring, the old man agreed to let Justin and the group do an investigation in a few days' time.

The boy was growing increasingly unstable with the occurrences in the house, but I still hadn't cracked him. I still hadn't gained possession. I needed to turn up the heat, blur the lines of reality. Without the safety of a human host, a cleansing would do me in. The mere thought of being a plaything for the demons sent me into a crazed panic. The farmhouse, the boy, they were mine now. I was prepared to fight for my life.

One evening the boy walked into the living room after heating a can of Campbell's Chunky on the stove. He carried the pot with him, unable to find a bowl. Piles of dirty dishes filled the sink.

"Have you noticed anything weird going on in the house, dad?" The boy asked his father who had been staring at the same TV channel for the past six hours.

"No," was the old man's only utterance.

"Really? The other night, I could have sworn I heard someone walking down the hall around 3:00 am. There were footsteps. Did you hear them?" The father didn't respond. "Did you get up in the middle of the night?" The boy asked, trying to make conversation with his emotionally absent father.

"No," the father said.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. I didn't see a bathroom light on or hear the toilet flush. Weird huh?" The father didn't respond. "Hey dad, you want some of this soup? I'm not that hungry." The father didn't respond. "I'm going up to my room. I'll just leave it on the table for you. Good night dad." The father didn't respond.

The boy got up, placed the soup on the end table next to his father and went up to his room. It was easy to decipher that the mother was the one that provided structure and kept the family together. Without the glue they were falling apart.

"Mom. I miss you so much." The boy held a picture of his dead mother in his hands while sitting on the edge of his bed. "I wish I was with you, you know, in that better place. I hate it here. Dad. Dad's not going to make it. He doesn't live anymore. After you were gone, all he does is sit in his chair in front of the TV. I'm sure the bank will call any day now. They'll take the house. They won't let me stay. They won't let me stay with dad. I'm not even sure I want to. Emily and Jane stopped calling. I don't blame them. They have to move on with their lives. Being at college is their chance. They just don't know how alone I am. I can't move on, not in this house. I feel like slipping. Remember when I told you about feeling like I am going to throw up all the time and how I couldn't control it. It's getting worse. People don't understand, if they truly knew how alone and awful it is, they would do anything to help. But they don't. They can't see the pain I'm in. Mom, I'm so mad! I'm angry all the time. If only I was with you, but you were taken. I'm finding it harder and harder to keep going. I just don't want to."

Each night after talking to his mother, the boy would take the photo and kiss it three times before placing it on the pillow next to him and crying himself to sleep. His groveling and loathing were pathetic.

The boy was obsessive to say the least. A high strung young man who in some ways resembled myself just a few years ago, anxious and worrisome. We had similar minds. Ones that were hyperactive and never quit. The boy felt God was punishing him by taking his mother away. His energy field was weak with all the stress he placed himself under. He lacked even the simplest faith. Without love and support of family and friends his energy field deteriorated. He was becoming a shut in. Crippling panic attacks rendered him unable to leave the house and go to school on his bad days.

My plan was to wear down his already minimal faith. Fear would excite his anxiety and I could chip away like a jackhammer at his energy field. Once a crack is made, things like me can enter and take control. The fact he was anxious made us a perfect match. I almost felt pity taking advantage of someone so vulnerable, he reminded me a bit of myself, but that was a long time ago. I had grown. I was strong now. The fear was still there, but the things I had seen, the things I did, nothing scared me anymore. I stopped running. I allowed myself to feel the fear. Doing so gave me control. I learned to accept fear, stand up to it, make it my bitch. Fear gave me power in the hell I came from.

One morning the boy was getting ready for school. He started the day well rested and determined to make the most of it. I was determined not to let him. During his breakfast I inserted a thought that he would have a panic attack in front of people at school and make a fool of himself. His adrenal system went crazy.

"Dad," he called out. "My stomach hurts. I don't feel good." The father remained unresponsive in his chair. "Did you hear me dad?"

I leaned into the boys ear. "Your dad could care less, son. Do you really think he gives a crap that you have a tummy ache? His love for you died along with your mother."

"Leave me alone!" The boy screamed, slamming the front door behind him.

The ancient battle, raging since man was first given free will was once again ignited. Good versus evil, fear verses faith. I pummeled negative and fearful thoughts at his brain. He tried desperately to banish them. He hadn't learned that self-love and acceptance was the only way out. Fighting his anxiety gave me power. I fed off of his desperation, making my attacks hit harder.

I tagged along with the boy on the school bus. He had developed gastrointestinal problems due to his anxiety. He was fearful he would panic and not be able to make it to the bathroom in time. His stomach clenched with the fear of messing himself in front of everyone. I reached in and twisted even harder. He clung to his bowels for dear life. When the bus arrived at the school he jumped off and ran into the bathroom to explode, barely making it in time. Sweat poured off his face as his stomach tightened and release its contents. "You're pathetic. You're going to crap your pants all over the school if you don't get a grip on this," I whispered into his ear.

The boy was developing a clinical depression due to his anxiety disorder. My relentlessness was making it worse. I drove home thoughts and images of a life of loneliness and suffering. I tormented him day and night, telling him how much of a loser he was and how people would laugh if they knew the truth. He became sicker and sicker. The dark cloud that hung over him was too much for his energy field to bare. Like a glass dome cracking under the weight of a heavy object, so too did his field break. Thick black smoke flooded through the crack and I rode in like a surfer chasing a tidal wave.

The boy was sitting in math class the next day when a bead of sweat dripped from his nose and onto his test paper. "Oh no, please no," he whispered to himself. Mr. Wilson didn't allow anyone to leave during tests. If they did he would fail them. The boy tried desperately to focus and hurry though the test. It was an impossible task. I crept down into his intestinal area and caused unbearable physical pain. The boy ran out of the room and towards the bathroom. He didn't make it.

He didn't return to school. He locked himself in his room and became isolated. Isolation is a thing like me's best friend. He would sit in his room for hours on end, writing the thoughts I put into his head. Perched on his shoulder like a vulture, I would sit and stare at his journal entries, whispering them back into his listening ear. "I hate them all. I hate them for laughing. I hate dad for not caring. I wish mom was here. I'm so lonely. I wonder where she is. I wonder what it is like to die. I wonder if anyone would even care. Dad won't. He'd be glad to get rid of me. He makes me so mad. Just sitting in his chair all day long. All day and all night just staring at that stupid TV! I wonder if there is just nothing when we die. I hope so. I don't belong in heaven. I don't belong in hell. I don't belong."

***

Justin and Corbin arrived the next day to conduct their investigation of the house. They found the boy locked in his room.

"My name is Justin. This is Corbin. I know you've been through some tough times. We'd like to talk to you about some of the things going on in the house." Justin said to the boy as I gripped hard on his vocal cords rendering him unable to speak. Justin squinted his eyes towards me before looking back at Corbin. A look of concern fell on both of their faces. Justin gave me a scolding scowl and shook his head ever so slightly so that Corbin wouldn't notice that I messed up. Muscle rigidity and catatonia were signs of possession. I had to let go. I had to let the boy speak.

"Yes, ever since my mom died. I've been so anxious and angry." The boy said.

"Angry at who?" Justin asked.

"Everyone. My dad."

"Does your father have a history of depression?"

"I don't know. Not that I know of. Not since before mom died."

"I need to ask a difficult question but it will help us identity the best way to help you. Would that be OK?" Justin asked.

"I suppose so, I guess."

"Do you see or hear things that other people don't?"

"Yes, all the time, voices, they tell me to hurt others ... hurt myself."

Corbin reached out and squeezed Justin's shoulder, indicating the interview was over. I overhead Justin and Corbin discussing their observations.

"I don't think it's possession, Corbin. The boy is just depressed, an anxiety disorder maybe."

"Are you joking? What about the hallucinations, the visions and voices. Oh yeah, not to mention the inability to speak for several minutes." Corbin said.

"He was probably just nervous. Besides, people with schizophrenia can experience periods of catatonia." Justin said.

Corbin took a stern look at Justin. "You know this boy isn't schizophrenic." Justin lowered his head, unable to respond.

I writhed inside the boy, scratching and screaming at his insides. How stupid could I have been! The hallucinations gave me away. They weren't a product of faulty brain wiring. They weren't the product of a schizophrenic mind. They were the product of evil. The product of devilish malevolence.

Calm down. Maybe Corbin didn't notice. Maybe he won't try an exorcism. It's going to be ok.

I calmed myself enough to return to a rational mind. It was supposed to be an inside job. I was supposed to take control of the boy and then kill Corbin with the father's hunting rifle. I would lead the police to the boy's journal. They would see his hatred towards his father and it would go down as just another reckless tragedy. Another soul lost to this cruel and confusing world. I could cling to the boy, free to move through the jail cells that would contain him for as long as I desired. The oppressive and opposing energy of a prison would be a safe haven for my darkest desires. If I blew the interview it was over. Paradise slipped through my fingers.

A kind ear was all it took. The fact that someone cared enough to talk to the boy and acknowledge his pain gave him a sense of hope. Hope ... its vibration cut me sharper than any torment I had ever known in hell.

Chapter 19

Monika pulled into the driveway, ten minutes past 11:00 pm. Corbin was sitting outside on the porch talking to the farmer. A man I didn't recognize stepped through the front door and removed his hat. My body stiffened. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. It felt as if I was drowning. He was dressed in all black and wore a white collar around his neck. He wasn't from Millersville. I wanted to flee but was trapped inside the house. This is where I could draw the most energy, feeding off of the father's depression and boy's fear. The heavy energy filled the house like thick smoke. I breathed it in. I could only stay in areas of the earth where the energy was the darkest, a delicate balancing act. I created as much fear in the atmosphere though my haunting as I could but it was a constant struggle to stay there. The more malicious my activities, the heavier and darker my energy became. The heaviness of my body threatened to pull me down to hell with each evil act I created. Like an addict always needing that next fix, it was the same for me. If the fear stopped, the energy in the house would lighten, and I would fall back to the demon's hovel where the energy was so dense and heavy I'd be stuck like a duck in an oil spill.

Monika looked warm and comforting. I longed to be in her arms, for her to take away all the trouble I had created, take away all the pain. With that thought my body fell halfway through the floor. My waist was in line with the floorboards and my legs dangled in the basement. My longing for something good caused a slight shift in the atmosphere, causing me to slip. It was a warning to change my tune. It didn't take long. I meditated on images of beating them, driving them out. I was a caged animal, life and death hung in the balance, caged animals fight back.

"Hello father." Monika smiled faintly towards the priest.

"Evening," he nodded. "From what I hear this poor boy has been suffering for quite some time."

"He has father," said Monika. "To be honest I don't have a good feeling about this. The trauma the boy has been through, with his mother, his father's depression. It would bring even the strongest person to his knees. I don't know if he has the strength to assert himself over the demon.

The priest placed a reassuring hand on Monika's shoulder just before she jerked her head to the side. "My face, it burns!" Monika screamed as she reached up and felt warm blood on her fingers. Her moment of doubt made her vulnerable. A powerful surge of dark energy coursed through me when I ripped my claw like talons across her face, causing three parallel scratches to appear on her cheek.

"Are you ok!" The priest grabbed Monika before she fell.

Monika could feel the pain of others and I used it against her. Balling my hand into a fist, I pounded against the boy's head. Monika let out a sharp groan and grabbed her head.

The priest ran to her aid. "Are you alright? Is it attacking you?"

Monika took a deep breath. "I think so ... physical manifestation, this isn't good."

The priest placed his hand on her forehead and gave a blessing, forcing me to let up. Monika looked into the priest's eye, both knowing full well what they were up against. The blessing was painful, it opened something within me. I ran into the bathroom and starred into the mirror. For a second my humanity was restored. I appeared as I once did on earth. "You're supposed to be dead! I killed you!" I screamed, pounding my fist into the glass and shattering it.

"Everyone stay calm," the priest yelled as if he could control the situation. "It's a game. It's just broken glass. The demon is trying to excite our fears. Don't let it!"

The priest was wrong. This wasn't a game. Not to me. Monika's discomfort was unbearable, knowing I was the cause of her pain. This wasn't part of the plan. I was capable of horrendous evil, but never to someone I cared about. I was slipping. I thought of the demons down below, waiting for me with open arms, waiting to cut mine off. I beat down the voice in my heart that told me I loved her. I beat it to a bloody mess.

"You two going to let a little old ghost get the best of you?" Justin smiled as he walked in. His smug arrogance increased my rage threefold. The maliciousness I couldn't hold towards Monika I directed towards that traitor.

"What the hell! Oh God!" Justin fell to his knees clutching his stomach. He slowly got back up and scanned the room with a look of betrayal. He knew I was there even though he couldn't see me. I walked up beside him and whispered in his ear.

"Guess you shouldn't have made a deal with the devil, huh?"

"Justin. Justin! Are you ok?" Monika rushed to put her arms around him and help him up. He didn't respond.

"We need to hurry," said the priest.

The group made their way upstairs to the boy's bedroom. I crept behind. The priest called out. "We are here to cast you back into the fires of hell, thou unclean spirit." It's a toxic, volatile mix when they clash ... when fear and faith wage their battle. Anger ragging within, I leaned into the priest's face. "You better do it before I kill you."

I directed the dark energy in the house to cause a strong gust of wind to blow through the room.

"Don't worry, it's just wind, just a trick." The group was shaken but the priest quickly and calmly took control, reassuring the group to continue their prayers.

The priest leaned into the boy, "do you consent to the ritual of exorcism?"

"I do." The boy whispered, eyes wide.

The priest began the ritual with a prayer of protection and divine strength. Once the blessings were given he lead them in reciting the Lord's Prayer, walking around the room throwing holy water into the air. My skin burned as if the blessings were made of fire. For those that don't believe in prayer, don't believe it works, let me tell you that it does, it painfully does. Each drop of holy water felt like a thousand jabbing knives. The priest was strong. I dove into the boy for protection, using him as a human shield. His body absorbed my pain as he screamed in agony with each blessing and drop of holy water, pinning me down under heavy fire.

"Tell me your name demon!" The priest leaned into the boy's face and repeated the Lord's Prayer. The pain I felt in the torture chambers of hell was nothing compared to what I felt in that moment. I clung to the boy with all remaining strength. I stood no chance outside of him. If my grip slipped I was done for. My fingers dug into the boy like a mountain climber digging into a rocky ledge.

The fight was exhausting. The priest pounded me with every Hail Mary he could, but I withstood them all. Everyone was growing weary. The priest felt it too, increasing the intensity of his ritual, shouting at the group to pray harder.

"I'm so drained," said Monika, her hands shaking as she worked to stay on her feet. The priest was slipping, losing control, my will equally matching his.

"Come on! You must focus harder!" he shouted at the group. "In the name of God, I command you to leave this boy at once! He has given us power and dominion over you. You must obey unclean spirit!"

The words cut and slashed me, but there was anger in his tone. My break had come and I jumped all over it. Frustration gave me power. I breathed in the anger and used it to fuel my attack.

"God help us! Look!" Cried Justin.

I gritted down on my teeth and grabbed the small crucifix the priest had placed on the boy's forehead. The skin on the boy's hand sizzled like bacon on a hot frying pan. We both screamed in anguish but I was determined to hang on. I placed the crucifix on the boy's chest in an inverted fashion, a black mark of burnt fleshed carved into his chest. The priest gasped. I inhaled enough of his disbelief to seize control of the boy's vocal cords. In the deepest, most vile voice I could make, I taunted the group. "You think you can force me out!" I growled. "I'll never leave. Take your God and get out!" The musty air reeked of vile repulsiveness. The candles in the room went out in a flash, matching the intensity of my rage. The urine soaked bed the boy had been laying on raised three inches off the ground and slammed back down.

"We need to stop!" shouted Monika. "The demon turned the exorcism. It's becoming too violent. It's is in control now!"

"In the name of God, I command you to leave this boy and return to the hottest hell at once!" The priest fell to his knees and recited one last Hail Mary. I was knocked all the way to the basement, clinging to a sewer pipe below the old farmhouse. Nothing but blackness lay beneath me.

"We need to rest and regroup. We will try again tomorrow night." I could hear Monika's voice above me.

"No," the priest said. "I can't go on. I haven't the strength. Its will is too powerful."

I held on this round, but for how long. I didn't have the strength raise myself back up to the boy's room. I laid my body across the pipe and hung my head over, a small faint circle of light shined far below ... the fires of hell waiting to engulf me. Tears brought pain throughout the night. I was reminded of my first investigation, how Monika and I laughed about my becoming a "demonic prince of hell." A self-fulfilling prophecy come to light. Old memories of my childhood began to surface. A little boy picking up an injured Blue Jay and pleading with his mother to allow him to keep it in the garage so he could nurse it back to health. A grade schooler playing baseball with his friend's while his mother called him in for supper. "I'll eat fast, I'll be right back!" he shouted to his friends. A young man nervously getting ready for his first high school dance. My innocence ripped from my soul. I cried myself to merciful unconsciousness.

***

The crunching of gravel under tires woke me. I couldn't tell how much time had passed but the sun was fading. The rest had restored some of my strength which I used to pull myself back into the house. The air was lighter. It was harder to breath. The front door swung open. Three men dressed in black had entered along with Monika, Corbin, and Justin. My body trembled at what fate might await after this fight. I hurried up the stairs and dove into the boy. The previous night's ritual weakened the spiritual connection I had with him. Hanging onto his soul was like trying to climb a rope covered in mucus.

I could hear voices coming from downstairs. Monika was addressing the group. "We need to teach the entity about redemption and rehabilitation. It must know that it's not lost. No soul is ever lost in the eyes of God."

"Entity. You mean demon, right?" I didn't recognize this voice. "Do you think the ritual worked?" The voice asked.

"I am afraid the entity will be back." Monika said.

Corbin was the next to speak. "Wait a minute, I can feel a calmness in the room right now. It seems to have left."

"I am afraid it's only a temporary calmness. The ritual tends to work well in the short term but in the long term it is relatively ineffective." Monika said.

"How come?" The unfamiliar voice asked.

"The ritual of exorcism only provides a Band-Aid for the real underlying problem. It can break the connection an entity has to its host, but it doesn't send it to the light. In order to completely resolve the issue the entity must be healed. Exorcisms tend to be violent and confrontational in nature which ultimately only brings more violence. The entity will feed off of this violence. They need the dark energy to survive in our world. Right now I'm guessing the entity is regrouping and planning it's revenge," Monika said.

"How do we heal them?" Corbin asked.

"It's not easy. First the entity needs to have a desire for healing. For unknown reasons it choose a path that lead it away from God. It's their free will choice to do so. In order to be healed they need to find the path that leads them back to God. We can help them do this but they have to want our help. For all we know it has been suffering in hell for thousands of years. It's not likely to change its ways anytime soon." Monika said.

"You said it can be done though, right?" Asked the unfamiliar voice.

"Yes, with God all things are possible. All can be healed and rehabilitated. All can be brought back to the light," she said.

"Even if they are sent to hell," Justin said.

"Nobody is sent to hell Justin. These entities find themselves in a hell of their own personal creation. They are simply in a place where they are comfortable."

"How can anyone be comfortable in a place like that?" Justin said. "That's insane!"

"It would seem that way but do you really think these lowly beings would be happy in heaven where they are surrounded by love and light. No, these beings only know pain. They're familiar with it and it makes them comfortable. In a way, God is showing mercy towards them because of this." Monika said.

"How do we make them unfamiliar with it?" Corbin asked.

"We have to show them another way. The way of love, kindness, and forgiveness. This can be taught. It's likely these beings have never known unconditional love. We must find a way to show them," Monika said.

Monika led the group with a cleansing prayer. The room became cloudy, filled with white smoke that dissolved the depressive black smoke. The white smoke burned like acid when the boy took in breathes. I summoned all remaining strength and cruel intention. I reached for the lamp standing on the nightstand next to the bed. I couldn't move it an inch. I twisted hard on the boy's vocal cords but they produced no sound, as if they were made of vapor which I could not grasp.

The prayers became stronger, intensifying the pain to excruciating levels. A bluish white fire surrounded the boy when I grasped for control of his mind. My hands burned, the fire preventing me from entering his brain. I looked towards Justin. He was shaking with fear, maybe even worse than I was, sensing I was losing the fight.

Monika instructed the boy to take back control of his body. "You cannot have my peace." He repeated over and over. Each mantra delivering a powerful blow to my will. "I am a spirit of peace, love, and God." Blood coughed from my lungs as he prayed. My body grew weak, a hole burned through my chest, unbearable. I was dying.

I glanced towards Monika who fell to her knees in prayer. She reached over to grab Justin's hand compelling him to do the same. Justin pulled his hand away, stood up, and ceased his prayers.

"What are you doing?" shouted Monika. "Keep praying!"

Justin didn't want to pray. He knew if he did he would lose. His plan to use me to kill Corbin and claim Gateway for himself would fail, but he saw no other choice. He took the coward's way out. "Sorry Monika, it's just so intense."

Monika calmly smiled towards him. Her voice sounded sweet. "It's ok, we'll do it together. Spirit of darkness, leave this boy in peace. There is love waiting for you in the light. The darkness can be healed. Let this act of kindness be your first step to salvation. Let the boy go." A ball of glowing light surrounded Justin and Monika as she prayed.

"You don't understand. There is no healing for the things I've done. There is no forgiveness, no salvation for a wretch like me."

I floated over to Justin to slow his prayer. A blinding flash of light shot down from the ceiling, knocking me out as if I dove off the deep end with no water in the pool. I laid outside of the boy, naked and bare.

Black smoke cleared the room, giving way to the white. I could see the boy's soul, it shined a thousand times brighter than the sun. He smiled warmly towards me, able to see the outline of my spirit. My heart stopped, legs chained to the floor.

"Why are you smiling?" I asked the boy.

"The Son of God is right behind you."

Chapter 20

Gripped by a dreadful presence and hurled through the floorboards at breakneck speed, I reached for a sewer pipe to slow my fall. My arm shattered to oblivion. White hot pain screamed up my shoulder as I shot like a bullet towards the ring of fire below. My neck snapped, every vertebrae destroyed, when I crashed into the nightmare that was mine for eternity.

Abandoned, forsaken, dead. They say that the glories of heaven are beyond human comprehension ... it works the other way too. No mind could possibly comprehend and understand the torment I experienced in the lowest hell. I would have given anything for my spirit to be annihilated, vaporized, and wiped from existence. No such mercy came.

Depraved beings of evil devised every way possible to torture me, they even brought my former captives and handed me a knife, ensuring I learned the impossibility of forgiveness. "Cut them slave!" The dark beings yelled. One-by-one I jabbed the knife into their stomachs and twisted until lungs sprayed blood into my face. "This is what you wanted all along! Unleash your anger on their pitiful souls! There is no forgiveness for you!"

My teeth were worn down from gnawing on my forearm. I learned that if I inflicted physical pain upon myself I could temporarily block the mental and spiritual pain that was mine to bare while I dug the knife in deeper and they screamed for it all to end.

"Stop! Master has a gift for you." The voice was familiar, the doctor had found me in my darkest despair.

"Leave me alone." I whispered. "There is nothing more you can do to break me. Congratulations. You've won."

The doctor bowed his head. "You are the one who has bested me." I raised my brow, unable to comprehend his meaning. "Follow," was the only command as he waved his bony finger at me. My knees buckled as I stood up and followed the doctor out of my prison.

"Hurry, master is preparing his generous gift."

"Bring the boy to me slave. Now!" A whip made of razor wire lashed out, striking the doctor and knocking him to the ground. Again, the whip lashed out, beating the doctor until he was reduced to a spongy pile of liquid that sounded like crying.

"We served him in life, now Sunny serves us forever." The demon laughed.

I looked upon the quivering pile of mess on the floor. I hadn't recognized him as he had mastered the art of biological manipulation. I had been so afraid when he first appeared in my room. Now I took pity.

"I present to you, Sunny Miller. The brilliant doctor." The demon's laugh bellowed throughout the room.

"He calls himself a doctor. He couldn't diagnose a common cold. He certainly couldn't diagnose you." The demon's voice was terrible and disgusting.

"Me." I said.

"Your soul, why it's so much darker, what an idiot. Said he couldn't find anything, but look how you turned out. Although, to his credit he was the one who wanted to go after you. He saw potential in you where the rest of us saw a spineless monkey." The demon bellowed laughter.

"Get up slave!" The demon yelled at Sunny. A dark energy formed around the mess on the floor. Sunny was lifted and bent back to his previous form. "Fetch this boy's prize."

Grateful to be given a second of relief from torturing that I thanked the demon standing in front of me until hate filled rage struck my face with incredible force, knocking me fully to the stone cold ground.

"Get up!" The demon yelled, throwing me into the next room. The battle axe he carried landed next to me, making a sound of pure evil when it struck stone, the grinning blood soaked ivory skull begging me to become its master.

"Get up swine!" The demon commanded. I quickly scrambled to my feet to avoid another blow. I recognized the room that surrounded me and felt an odd sense of comfort one gets from seeing something familiar. It quickly soured.

The demon flashed images on the wall of Sunny in my bedroom foretelling my future. I watched myself torture Mr. Channing and vehemently lash out, "It's never going to happen!" I sobbed uncontrollably. The beatings came harder and harder with each tear I cried. I was broken.

Sunny emerged from the hallway, dragging a chain behind him. My body shuddered and puked green bile onto the floor.

"Stop! Not this, I'm begging you, I've done too much evil to this man. I've betrayed his trust for my own personal cowardice. Please, no more. Take me, beat me, I deserve to be punished. I'm ready."

"Maybe I was right about you, you are a spineless monkey." The demon's eyes smoked, signaling anger.

I turned to the demon in desperation. "Please! I beg your mercy. You can't. You can't make me do this. Anything but this!" I cried, begging for release.

"How dare you react this way to my humble offering." The demon leaned into my face. "No one refuses my gifts. You must complete the ritual."

"I can't. I won't. I won't inflict any more torture on Reverend Channing. I've done enough already."

"Very well. I admire your willpower. There's still humanity in you, that's a shame, but it will be beaten out of you. You have two choices. Except my generous gift, or complete the ritual of dehumanification. The ritual will sever your soul from your spirit. You will experience pain and torture beyond your wildest imaginations but you will be free to refuse my gift."

I bowed my head. The demon was giving me a chance at salvation, not with him, but with myself. Self-sacrifice for the good of another, the only path to redemption. My betrayal of the Reverend had corrupted my soul beyond repair. Freeing myself from it would be my last chance to save it.

"Why is it? Why is my soul so black?" I asked my new master, if only to delay the inevitable.

"You really don't get it do you? You were given a great gift."

"I don't give a damn about moving pens." I said.

"I'm not talking about pens."

"What then?" I asked.

"Mental illness."

"You mean my anxiety, some gift. I guess I can thank the dark figure, I mean Sunny, for that."

"No, he may have tightened the rope, but it was all you."

"Yeah, tell me then. How is mental illness such a magnificent gift? It's a plague and a dreaded curse."

"Because you suffered, you blamed others. Your anger towards humanity makes you strong. Look how many souls you overpowered and controlled down here ... you even willed yourself to return to earth. Not even my most powerful magicians can pull that off but once every hundred years. Without fear and anger to drive you, you would have never gotten out of Sunny's basement. Why do you think your tormentors let you off so easy? They were afraid, afraid of your revenge."

"So my illness turned me to a life of horror. Some gift." I said.

"Your illness made you strong. Your free will made you like us, bound in hell. You knew full well the consequences of driving the boy at the farmhouse further into madness. You could have saved him. You had the knowledge to help, but chose an alternative path. Instead of using your knowledge to help your fellow man, a man you should have known intimate sympathy for since you suffered the same affliction, you chose to strike back. Payback for abandonment by a so called loving God. That's why you are so dark. That is why you are so powerful. You made a direct mockery of the adage that has plagued us throughout human history. Father forgive them for they know not what they do."

The demon paused before speaking, seemingly taking in the moment. "You knew exactly what you were doing."

The awful realization came, because I suffered, I knew how to twist and mangle a mind. Instead of sympathetic compassion, I used my knowledge for evil. I had no excuses. My mother wasn't a tailor. She never sewed my new blue jeans.

Dr. Z. said it was a gift. I could have used my experience to help the boy heal. Justin and Corbin gave the boy hope simply by acknowledging his pain. Enough hope to cast me back to the fires of hell.

The demon was right. To lose my humanity would be a great act of mercy. A great gift. To no longer feel the pain and remorse of my actions. To no longer care. To no longer love.

"I choose death."

"Very well." The demon said, motioning towards the doctor who was still standing in the entryway.

The doctor jerked hard on the chain in his hand. My entire being shook with the horror of having to look the Reverend in the eye, having to rip his heart out one last time.

A loud thud sounded from out in the hallway as he began pulling the chain towards him. I closed my eyes before looking up into a nightmare; the Reverend wasn't on the chain. Allison's neck was entwined in the iron collar at the other end. A trail of blood fell off her body as she was dragged along the jagged stone floor before being forced onto a table and strapped down. The demon stopped and looked towards me while extending its bony finger towards her. "You know what to do."

"No! This wasn't part of the deal!" I screamed.

"Destroying true love is the only way to complete the ritual, the only way to sever the soul from the body."

"No! I won't do it!"

"Then watch. It makes no difference. Your agreement to the deal is the glue that binds. I will warn you. I take it nice and slow. An artist should never be rushed."

"Wait, I grabbed the demon's axe. I'll do it. I don't want her to suffer, I'll be light and quick."

Allison writhed and strained seeing the axe in my hand. The gag in her mouth prevented her from speaking, forcing her to choke down her own vomit. I ran the axe over her naked body and looked up at the demon, his eyes wild with excitement. I glanced back at Allison. Tears rolled down her face. My own tears blurring my vision. If you do this, your last shred of humanity will be lost. You are now truly on the threshold of death.

I looked down upon Allison, "I'm so sorry." A tear ran from my eye to my lips. I raised the axe above my shoulders.

"Stop!" Growled the demon. It reached over and ran it's blackened hands down Allison's face, removing her gag. She looked into my tear soaked eyes and said words that cut me to pieces. "I love you."

The demon stuffed the gritty gag back into her mouth. "Now, you may proceed."

I nodded my obedience and swung violently down. Allison's body screamed when her voice couldn't. A blinding pain pierced my soul as the axe stuck into the blood stained leather strap that tied her down, cutting Allison free. I dropped to my knees. "Father forgive me, I know what I have done." I cried with every fiber in my being. The room flooded with bright light that burned white hot. We wailed in excruciating pain. The demon was knocked to the floor, kicking and screaming. Sunny swung and missed widely, clanging his sword against the stone wall. "They're blind," I whispered, undoing the remaining straps. Allison was unconscious, the intensity of the light knocking her out. I grabbed her body and threw her over my back.

A voice cried out from behind the light. "Run!"

We burst into the long hallway of the dungeon, by passing the moaning screams of it's tortured inhabitants. My knee buckled under the weight of Allison's body while we twisted and winded up the stone staircase. At the top was a door. I took my chances, lowering my shoulder and crashing through it, tumbling into the street. Allison lay limp. I picked her up and ran zigzagged through the bloodied streets and dark alleys.

Trapped like mice in an endless maze, our time was limited. I turned the corner, tripping and falling before ramming into a brick wall. I scrambled to find an exit but we were surrounded by brick. The faint commotion following us grew louder. My heart beat grew right along with it.

"Hurry, down here." A hand reached through the sewer drain and motioned us to it. A second hand reached up and removed a false metal plate, the space just wide enough for Allison and I to squeeze through. "Hurry, this way. We must hurry!" We were lead through an underground maze even more complex than the streets and alleys above us. The tunnels gave way to caverns and then back to tunnels. An entire network lay underneath this city of evil. We came to a small room whose walls were made of iron. The door slammed shut behind us.

"Please, I beg of you, take me. Leave the girl be. She's been through too much. She's broken anyway, and of no use to you. Please! I would make a much better slave." I pleaded with the two that brought us there.

"We aren't here to hurt you." The man said. "Calm down. I'm Jimmy, this is Sarah."

In front of me stood a tall slender man dressed in black. He was sharp looking and handsome. His hair, which hung to his shoulders, was salt-and-pepper with more pepper than salt. He had a chiseled jaw and dark, deep-set eyes, the kind that penetrate your soul and hold it captive. Jimmy reminded me of a sleek and rugged gunslinger, like those in an old western movie, an intimidating fellow. Jimmy owned an intensity that without saying a word garnered the attention of the room. His piercing eyes squinted as he sized me up, making it difficult to stand eye to eye. I sensed no anger, just a commanding presence ... a powerful personality.

Jimmy's hand reached out and touched my shoulder. "We're here to help." Silence fell over me. "Well, you asked for it didn't you?" Jimmy tilted his head in bewilderment, waiting for my reply. It never came. "Father forgive me. I know what I have done." His emphasis on the word done sent spit flying into my face. I blinked rapidly and wiped it from my brow. "The Father in heaven hears even the faintest cries from his children. He never turns a deaf ear when asked for forgiveness." Jimmy said. "As soon as he heard your request he sent word to his Angels, who passed it on to their charges, who passed in on to their charges, and so on and so on. You get the point. It finally reached my commander who then passed it to me."

"Well, I can tell you he broke my arm and neck ... didn't much appreciate that." I was finally able to speak. "Some God he is."

Jimmy raised his brow. "Go on, please."

I collapsed on the floor, exhausted from the chase. "I was on earth, possessing some poor kid when all of the sudden there was a flash of bright blinding light and I was hurled back to the pit at breakneck speed. Hence the broken neck."

Jimmy let out a roaring laugh which ignited my humiliation. I snarled, he wasn't fazed. "You must have ran into the boy's Guardian Angel. Let me guess. Some mortals did a cleansing on the house to get rid of unclean spirits such as yourself. The prayers of the group were heard by the Father who sent the Guardian Angel to deal with it. Guardian Angels aren't cute chubby fat kids with wings. They're known to be fierce defenders of their charges."

"So there really isn't a Son of God?" I asked.

"Oh, I assure you there is. They say his spirit rages with the glories of a thousand heavens." Jimmy glowed.

"They say? Typical. It's always 'they say,' or some other second hand account. Everyone says how great and powerful he is, yet, no one can say for certain if he's nothing more than a bedtime story. It's the same thing over and over again that the lunatic preachers shout from the street corners each Sunday in my town. They're delusional. All of them!" Rage swelled up from my gut as I clenched down tightly forming a fist in my hand. "If he's so powerful then why doesn't he assert himself. Come down and prove his existence. End the uncertainty that has plagued the earth for thousands of years! You're a fool!"

"Reasonable deniability." Jimmy said.

"What!" I shouted, barely catching my breath.

"You can't have faith and free will without the ability to deny the existence of God. Your lack of spiritual understanding makes you the fool now doesn't it?" I felt Jimmy was mocking me. With no ability to control my impulses I swung at him but missed and fell to the ground.

"Hold on big guy. Slow down." Jimmy said. "I'm not the one you need to fight."

"The Guardian Angel was bright. What's with the light? It burned so fiercely," I said, pulling myself up.

"That would be the love of God. God's own substance. His essence if you will. All of his Angels have it. To them it is the core of their being. Love. To you, yeah, it probably burns like hell."

I stood up and acknowledged my defeat. I needed Jimmy's help to get Allison and I out of this place. "Well, that's just fine and dandy. Congrats to the Angels, well, at least the so called good guys. Remind me to buy them a drink sometime. I just don't want to run into any of them anytime soon."

Jimmy looked me in the eye. "Some do you know."

"Some do what?" I asked.

"Angels, come down here. The bravest and most courageous will, on occasion, dare to enter the jaws of evil. It's their love for humanity, for us, that compels them to enter this forsaken land. They're just as vulnerable here as you and I, only, they have the strength to resist this realm and all its wickedness. They need to dial down their love in order to become manifest in this realm. Asking an Angel to dial down his love for lost souls is like asking a child not to open his presents on Christmas day. They have become so spiritualized, so etherized, that it becomes near impossible for them to stay in a world of evil such as this for very long, but, a few have pulled the feat on rare occasion. That's why they sent me. My soul is more in tune here. To be honest, I wasn't all that different from you until I was rescued. Now I'm helping poor souls such as yourselves as part of my work, part of my growth process. We belong to an organization, a hierarchy that stretches all the way to the top."

"Top? Top of what? What's at the top?" I asked.

"God," Jimmy replied. "To advance our own spirituality and to become closer to him we help each other get free from this place of terrible oppression, free from our past sins, free to move on to better things."

Jimmy's eyes beamed with compassion and grave warning. "I won't lie to you. I've studied your case, you've got a long, painful road to redemption. You must pray for forgiveness but it can be achieved."

"I used to pray. It was a long time ago. It didn't work. It's not for me." I said.

"I assure you it does work. It takes effort, practice, but it works. Try it." Jimmy said.

I got down on one knee, feeling incredibly stupid, "dear God, please forgive my sins. Amen." I opened my eyes. "I don't feel anything."

"It's a start, believe me, it's a start." Jimmy said.

"Why can't God just zap me to heaven and we'll call it a day?"

"Doesn't work that way. You wouldn't expect to one hundred pounds over night would you? You wouldn't ask a toddler to take his college entrance exams would you? When we die we don't just magically sprout wings and fly to heaven, spending the rest of our days floating around a golden city in the clouds. No, a soul has to be molded, cleaned and polished, so that nothing defiles the Kingdom of God. Besides, if you were zipped up to heaven right now it would be the same result as an unprepared Angel coming down here. The pain you would feel would be a hundred times worse than what you feel right now. Your soul needs to be cleansed. The sin and rust removed. In your case, I would buy the economy sized bottle of Rust-Oleum."

"Very funny, ha-ha, I can't stop laughing." My mouth was straight as an arrow when I stared into Jimmy's eyes.

"What now?" I asked.

"I can get you to the edge of the city. Those are the limits of my abilities. Sarah will guide you beyond that. Well, that's assuming we make it to the edge of the city." Jimmy said.

"What do you mean, if?"

"Hell is not an easy place as you well know. The worst of humanity comes here. Every tyrant, murderer, and oppressor has walked through its fires. Escaping is even harder."

"What are the odds?" I asked. Jimmy didn't give an estimate.

"We need to keep a low profile and pray. Faith and prayer are the best way to raise your vibration and pass undetected."

"Raise my vibration?"

"Sin is a great and heavy weight that holds a soul from ascending to God. The scum it accumulates through a life of evil keeps it anchored in the darkness, chained until it's sin is washed away. Your spiritual body became heavy with sin and that's why you fell into darkness. Your soul's vibration has slowed to a snail's pace. Cleansing it is the only way to speed it up. An engine runs better when it is clean, does it not?"

Jimmy led us in a prayer for protection. My hands shook worse than an alcoholic on Monday morning. Beads of sweat poured out my pores. "Come on Will, shake it off, it gets easier with time." Jimmy said. Sarah had yet to utter a word. Her appearance was normal but her silence was callus. Allison was catatonic. Her only utterance was a groan every now and again, unaware of her surroundings. I was painfully lonely.

"We can use the tunnels to move through a good portion of the city, then we'll have to go above ground." Jimmy said.

"How do we get past the gate?" I asked.

"Not sure. Have faith. You can only eat when the fruit is ripe."

"That's reassuring." I sighed. Jimmy never flinched. He was confident, like he had done this before and simply knew everything would be ok.

The tunnels were dark and difficult to manage. Jagged and loose brick lined every step of the way. The smell of death filled the tunnels. Jimmy was able to manifest a cloth to cover his mouth. I had no such luxury. He was also able to provide a spark of illumination in the darkness just by thinking about it. I asked him how it was so, how he was able to produce light. He said that I hadn't the ability to understand. Part of me wondered if he was lying, if this was all a trap and he was leading me right back to the dungeon I came from, ready to trade me to the devils like a prize pig at a county fair.

"Ok, this is it. Let's rest for a bit." Jimmy said.

"No argument here." The weight of Allison's body had twisted every muscle into knots.

Jimmy turned towards me. "We're going to have to go above ground soon."

"What about the demons?" I asked.

"They'll be hunting you, no doubt, but they won't be able to stay in the city very long before being pulled back down by the weight of their evil souls. There's a reason they're kept in the basement, if you know what I mean."

"Believe me. I know." I nodded.

"Our biggest concern is their recruits."

"Recruits?"

"Didn't they offer you the same deal they offer every poor soul who first arrives? 'Recruit followers and bring them to us. You will be greatly rewarded.' It's the same spiel they've been spouting for a thousand years. Only, the pledges are dumb enough to fall for it. They bring a couple followers to the demons, who in turn torture and rape them, and then send the recruits back out to find more. The process is repeated over and over until the newbie realizes there is no pot of gold at the end of the damnable rainbow."

"Unfortunately, word travels like a forest fire down here. The demons will get wind of anything suspicious. They have recruits laced up and down the city streets."

"How do we stay hidden? It's going to be obvious that I'm carrying Allison. We'll stick out like sore thumbs. How many times have I seen one soul helping another in this place? Oh that's right ... I haven't."

"Calm down Will, remember, have faith. Leave it to me."

Jimmy removed his shirt. "That's a nasty gash you have on your chest." I said, looking at the large scar that ran across his heart.

"I lived in a time and a land that did not honor the first amendment, and I was never one to hold my tongue."

Jimmy placed dark hoods over our heads. Sarah wore tattered and dirty rags. Allison was placed in a rickety wooden cart. The kind you see a donkey pulling in olden times. Chains were placed around Sarah and Allison's necks and we made our way topside. "Keep your head down and follow me. Do not make eye contact, just go about your business." Jimmy said as we looked out upon the street. It was mostly quiet, other than a few distant screams. We walked through the first two blocks undeterred. No one thought anything unusual until a woman came screaming out of a building. It was a brothel house. The woman was cursing and screaming at a man for "not paying an honest wage." The man quickly turned towards her, calling her a whore while grabbing the back of her hair and throwing her to the ground. She tried to flee but was quickly caught and beaten. Her bloody body lay motionless in the gutter as the man stood over her. Two additional men came running out of the brothel. They were bigger, fiercer, than the first man. At their sight, the first man took off running and was chased by one of the other men. The third man stopped by the woman's side and looked her over. He growled in frustration as he picked up her limp body and threw it into a dark alley. Emerging from the blackness were two glowing red eyes and a mouthful of jagged teeth. The woman vanished quickly as her body was dragged further into the alley. I shuddered.

"Hey you!" The man shouted in our direction.

"Keep walking. Look down." Jimmy whispered.

The man suddenly appeared in front of us, a brutish specimen. Strong and muscular with long dirty black hair and matted beard. It smelled as if he hadn't bathed in months, his teeth rotted and his breath poisonous.

"I need a new girl." He must have been the owner of the brothel or at least some type of bouncer. Jimmy tried to step around him but the man sidestepped to block. "In fact, I want both of your woman!" He reached out to grab the chain from Jimmy's hand but Jimmy jerked it away. My blood was hot and I was ready for a fight.

"No sale!" I said, stepping between the two. The man angered and swung, but missed. His partner returned, dragging the bloodied and broken man who tried to escape behind him. Upon seeing our confrontation he simply released his captive who limped off screaming, and charged for us. The blow knocked me off my feet. My head bounced off the gritty cobblestone street. The chain around Allison's neck flew out of my hand. My senses scrambled and I couldn't regain them in time as the brutish man charged for Jimmy. It appeared that he ran right through him, like Jimmy wasn't even there ... a ghost. Jimmy grabbed Allison's chain and the two men took to me. One grabbed me from behind and held me up while the other tore pieces of flesh from my torso with long knife like fingernails.

Jimmy stood and watched. The beatings were hard and deliberate. Were my screams not loud enough? "I knew it! I knew this was a setup! You sold me out! You traitor!" I screamed at him. He waited patiently with his eyes closed until the two men tired and left me to rot. Jimmy seemed almost pious through my blood soaked vision. When enough strength had returned I pulled myself upright, a raging temper ignited. "What the hell was that!" I yelled into his face. Jimmy slowly opened his eyes. It took everything I had not to strike.

"I warned you not to engage them. You should have turned the other cheek as I had done. Remember the first rule. Follow my lead."

"They would have murdered us and taken the women!"

"How do you know that? You mustn't assume anything. You must exercise faith or you will never get out of this place. Violence only breeds more violence. They feed off of its energy. The darkness works its way in until you are powerless to fight it. You of all people should know this."

The insight was sobering. We walked the rest of the way in silence. I watched a man throw himself out a window in a desperate attempt to end his life. He only succeeded in breaking every bone in his body. God only knows how long he laid there in suffering. There is no death here.

I had seen enough of this place. I couldn't see it before, rage blinded me, blinded me to pain and sorrow. I scurried behind a broken statue fountain. Blood poured where there should have been tears, my tears, mixed with the blood. From my knees I asked for forgiveness, begged for it. There was pain in my heart where the anger had been, where I had felt so cursed for my afflictions ... my mental illness. The pain was great but I wanted more. I wanted the pain to wash away the anger. I was done.

We reached the city wall and hid in the entryway of an abandon building. "This is as far as I can take you. I am not permitted to pass beyond the great wall." Jimmy said.

"Why?" I asked. "I am indebted to you forever for what you have done for me here. Please, come with us. We'll leave this place together."

Jimmy smiled. "In time, I may rejoin you, but now is not that time. My work here is not yet finished."

I nodded my understanding. We embraced and Jimmy faded from sight. Aloneness, more intense than before, crept into my being. It was loneliness I wanted to feel. Loneliness makes the heart grow fonder. I eagerly awaited the time when I would see my friend again. I was made a better person because he crossed my path. I reached over and loosened the chain around Sarah's neck. She still hadn't spoken a word. I leaned into check on Allison. Her eyes were open. She tilted her head towards Sarah. "Mom." A faint whisper passed from her lips.

Chapter 21

I stood wrapped in stunned silence. Sarah picked Allison up in her arms and held her tight. A faint circle of light radiated from their bodies. A tear fell from my eye, moistening the soiled ground. Sarah finally spoke.

"It was dark and cold that night. The mist rolled off the river near our home. I had been harboring two young men whom couldn't have been much more than fifteen. Jamison and Ned were their names. I cooked us dinner since the boys looked like they hadn't eaten anything in days. They were very grateful and appreciative of the meal but said that they had to get moving. I gave them some food and they parted wanting to take advantage of the darkness and fog. My husband begged me to stop. He didn't think it was my place to help people escape the life. Frustration was setting in, that was evident. After the boys left he took off. I guess he needed time to cool down and think. At the time, my husband's paranoia was intensifying, because of his work. It was a lot for him, and me."

I looked at Sarah. "His work? Were the Puritans pressuring him? He didn't have a great following, at least not until you went missing."

"Before we moved to Millersville my husband was a scientist, that was his day job. His mission, his real work he would say, was from God. At least it started that way, until it twisted itself into what it is now. The Puritan leaders got word of my husband's work and saw fit to keep it protected."

"A couple hours later I heard a knock at the door. It was the boys. Jamison had blood pouring from his left shoulder. Off in the distance I could hear a faint voice and the loud barks of bloodhounds. My heart dropped and my stomach turned over. I pleaded with the boys to leave but we were all very frightened and not thinking with clear heads. I hurried them into the tool shed at the back of our home. I had some medical supplies back in the house and ran to get them. I grabbed my kit and as soon as I turned around a giant of a man was standing in the doorway. I couldn't breathe. He had a long silver beard and a rifle in his hands. His face had wrinkles and his skin was dry and cracked. His eyes were beady and penetrating. I recognized him immediately, though I had only met him once. He called the shots amongst the Puritan leaders. He was a mysterious figure, choosing to remain behind the scenes."

"You been helping them two boys ain't ya," He spoke with forceful intent.

"I nervously denied my involvement, but Jamison's blood was all over the door. I was frozen. Sweat poured out, my shirt was soaked. My worst fear, my biggest nightmare, becoming a reality right in front of my eyes. By gunpoint I was forced onto the ground where my hands were bound and my mouth gagged. He forced me to my feet and to lead him to the boys. I had no choice but to give up their hiding place. I was terrified for my life.

When we reached the shed Jamison was unconscious. The Puritan commander hit Ned across the face with the butt of his rifle. While on the ground, he bound and gagged him. He forced Ned and myself to watch as he pointed the barrel of the gun right between the eyes of Jamison. I remember each word he spoke, not every secret is meant to see the light. He pressed his finger against the trigger and murdered Jamison. Thank God he was still unconscious and died quick, but for us it was horrific to watch. I cannot think about it without crying. Puritan leaders returned later to cover it up and remove the body ... or so I'm told.

The commander forced us back to his van where he loaded us into dog cages and took off. The road was bumpy but we didn't travel far. When we stopped we were blindfolded and taken out of the van. I could hear no sounds of traffic or the town, only the chirping of crickets and the stillness of the air. He hurried us into a building where there were more cages waiting. We spent the night there, we got no sleep.

Morning passed and evening came. Our stomachs growled. We were given no food or water. Dehydration had intensified my headache to pounding levels. That night, late, past midnight, we were brought into a smaller room within the building. Sound proof panels lined each wall. The commander stood against the wall, silent. Two additional men whom I had never seen before entered the room. They were dressed in suits which I thought was odd. They wore masks over their faces so only their eyes shone through. Their eyes didn't look like yours or mine. They were different, almost without pigment, gray. As if they were once bright but the brightness was gone. Like the smoldering ash of a once brilliant fire. The eyes studied Ned and I intently. Their mouths never uttered a sound.

I prayed to God to send an angel to rescue me, but no one came. Maybe it was my time to go. For the second night in a row I found no peace.

The next day came and past. It was night again, still no food or water, panic intensified. The body panics when it has nothing to nourish it."

"Get up," the Puritan commander said.

I whispered a short prayer for the strength to carry on. We were forced out of our cages and into a back room that opened up to a big warehouse. My legs shook and felt like jelly as a huge knot formed in my stomach. In front of us stood the gallows that would eventually consume our lives.

My husband stood next to a wall in the warehouse. His face pale as death. His look was one of guilt and horror. Our eyes met and I could tell that he felt responsible for what was happening to me, but was powerless to stop it. An overwhelming sense of compassion towards my husband welled up within me. Oh how I wish I could tell him that it wasn't his fault. That it was I who chose to carry this burden. I knew full well the consequences and the risk I was taking by revealing the secrets. Even if I could have talked to him I don't think it would have mattered. He would still blame himself and carry this guilt for the rest of his life. I wanted so badly to run and hug him and tell him it was going to be ok, wishful thinking.

My hands and feet were bound in the very chains I helped so many people break free from. Time was running out. I clung to the thought that a hero would rescue me, but no white knight would come that day. Fear coursed through my being, indescribable terror. The kind of terror one can only know by first had experience. My body wanted to vomit, but it was too weak. I hadn't eaten in three days.

My faith and conviction had always been my greatest strength. I remembered the crucifixion story. A story I had heard my husband tell a thousand times. I tried my hardest to look toward him for strength. How did he do it? How did he look upon those Roman soldiers with eyes of compassion and love? I wanted to be at peace but it was impossible. I didn't want to suffer, not like that. I could hear the hangman speaking but didn't know what he said. My mind was too anxious to comprehend anything. I was just wanted it over. Then I might find peace.

We were lead to the unforgiving gallows. I took my first step up and felt a sharp blow in the back of my head. Warm blood rushed from my head to my bare shoulders. The blow caused me to miss the first step and stumble forward, scraping my knee on the second step. There was a stern cold look on the Puritan commander's face. It was unemotional and had an air of pride about it, as if he was doing something good for the world and not only himself.

Then, my world went black. Thick nooses were quickly placed around mine and Ned's necks. Black cloth hung over our heads. I heard the creaking of the lever that was holding the trap door we were standing on.

'It's stuck. Damnit!' I heard the hangman say as warm liquid ran down my legs.

'Pull!' The commander's voice sounded.

The rope tightened and strangled my neck. My legs kicked and screamed, searching for something solid, desperately trying to save my life. Nothing but air was beneath my feet. Soon my body felt lighter, like I was floating, and then nothing. I lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was standing beneath the gallows. I watched as the two men with gray eyes examined our bodies. They motioned for the commander to come and remove them. I glanced over my shoulder. A very bright and illuminating figure was standing next to me. He seemed to appear out of nowhere. He smiled at me and motioned me to follow him. I could feel warmth flowing from his body. It was over." Sarah took a deep breath, her body shook, trauma reborn through her story.

"What were you protecting?" I dared to ask.

"It's not a matter of protection. Quite the opposite. It's about exposure, exposing the truth. Hurry, we need to be getting on. It's not safe here." Sarah looked at Allison who had once again fallen unconscious. "I will divert their attention. You take Allison and run in the opposite direction."

"Wait. What about-"

Sarah jumped up and ran screaming out of the building. Two guards chased her past the gate, gaining fast. Sarah stopped abruptly, placing her right hand on her forehead and bringing it to her chest. She then raised it to her left shoulder and crossed over to her right. She was engulfed in flames. The guards hit a brick wall, just like I experienced during my exorcism.

"Go now!" She shouted. I grabbed Allison and threw her over my shoulder, running crazed through the gate.

My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. I could see for long distances with very little help. In hell you don't have to worry about trees and vegetation blocking your sight, just barren wasteland. A loud cry sounded behind me. "Sarah!" I stopped to turn and look back. The fire surrounding her was fading. She struggled to keep the guards at bay. She wasn't strong enough. I ran towards her.

"Will no!" She cried. "You must go. Get out of here. Get Allison out! She won't make it if you don't."

"I won't leave you!"

"Yes you will!"

The fire vanished. Sarah was overcome by her attackers. I fell to my knees. Just inside the gate peered the same red eyes I had seen in the dark alley. A hideous looking creature emerged from the city. What was more terrifying was the demon sitting atop the beast and Sunny riding behind his master. Sunny jumped off the beast and dragged Sarah's body into the city walls. The demon stared at me, pointing it's long bony finger in my direction. "Will! Run!" Sarah's last screams were loud enough to curdle my blood.

I scanned the environment with confusion and pressure. There was nothing. I fled on foot, unable to feel my legs below. Behind, the demon was gaining. The hellsteed it rode upon was something out of a nightmare. Its ribs were exposed from rotting flesh, which explained the smell of decaying dog filtering through the city. The little bit of muscle covered by skin bulged with each powerful stride. The demon's robe flailed in the wind as he gave chase. Its form continually changed from physical to mist. It was faster in the mist but seemed unable to hold that form for very long. I cried with each step I took.

A burnt out muddy bog filled with tree stumps and driftwood appeared in my peripheral vision. I took a hard right. The hellsteed was temporarily thrown off course, digging its claws into the dirt to slow itself and adjust its route. The bog was close. The dark mist hovered on top of us, ready to devour, before I dove head first into thick muck which covered our bodies. My neck slammed into a tree root, pinching a nerve down my spine. My right side was numb. I grabbed onto the root as my lungs choked, fully expecting the mist to consume and haul us off to some godforsaken place of torment.

The grit from the mud bore its way into my left eye as I opened it. The demon had taken to its physical form. It surveyed the ground with intense focus. Flailing and swinging its arms in extreme rage. It bent down to one knee and slammed it's fist into the ground. Vile, disgusting insects and spider like creatures came pouring out of the cracks. Snakes and serpents slithered out of every tree stump in the bog. The demon commanded them like soldiers, barking orders, "seek them out!" I swallowed the mucus in my throat and closed my eye. Snakes slithered over my body. The pitter patter of a thousand spider legs grew louder and louder as I tried not to scream. Every inch of my body was coated. They burrowed into my garments, biting and gnawing at my skin. The ground shook as the demon drew near. It mounted its hellsteed and stood no more than three feet from us. My fists clenched tight. The foul breath of the hellsteed down my neck made the tiny hairs blow in its wake. The pressure behind my eyes was unbearable. If I opened them, tears would explode out.

The demon dismounted and stood above Allison and I. One leg on either side of us, its tattered wings spread far across it's back. Fear owned me in its paralyzing grip. I thought of Jimmy and wished so badly for his presence. The demon stood there, unaware we were right beneath him.

"Stop!" I broke down screaming. The floodgate of emotion once again pouring out. "I'll finish the ritual. Give me the Reverend. Let Allison go. It's all I ask."

I pulled my body up, using the root as leverage. My shoulder was still numb but I could stand. I released a small pocket of air from my lungs, and dared to open my eye, nothing. We were alone.

I reached down, pulling up Allison's body and laying her on solid ground. I sat confused. Maybe the mud camouflaged us long enough for the demon to move on. Someone whittled writing into the tree root I had clung to. I brushed away the mud and dirt. "Some wanted to seize him, but no one laid a hand on him."

Did Jimmy write this? Did he distract the demon and scare it off? The demon looked right through me like I wasn't there. Was this how Jimmy moved unharmed through the crowds in the city?

When feeling started to return to my right side I picked up Allison and threw her back over my shoulder. We walked along, her weight was bearing down but I had to keep moving. Doubt simply could not enter my mind though it desperately tried, bombarding me from every angle, jeering and laughing at my aimless wandering. No direction. No goal in sight.

I walked till my knees buckled under the weight of Allison's body, sending us tumbling forward. "It's too much! Take this from me! I need help!" My pleas were in vain. I had to get up, back on my feet. I drove myself harder than any taskmaster would dare, until we reached a cliff. The only way to proceed was to climb. I let out a moan of self-pity and exhaustion. "What's the point! We can't go on like this forever, being chased, knowing no peace."

My arms and legs burned when I grasped the last rock and pulled myself up to the ledge, wheezing and gasping for air. Allison was out cold. I pulled her body and my own closer to the mountainside. We laid on our backs looking up at the blood red sky. The air was freezing cold. There was no way to climb any higher. Behind us into the mountain was a small opening not much wider than my shoulder blades. I stuck my head inside. It opened to a larger cavern, maybe four feet wide by three feet high. On the side of the wall were symbols scratched into it. I didn't recognize them. A piece of a fingernail was lodged in the rock. I took a moment to calm my shuddering body. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

I sat with my back against the wall of the cavern. Defeated. "Enough with the damn riddles!" I yelled to no one. I would have given anything to understand. To have illumination in this forsaken place of eternal blackness. There was no light here. I pounded the ground with my fist and rolled over to exhausted unconsciousness.

My mind flooded with childhood memories when I woke up. For a moment I was lost, a second of happiness. Feeling a surge and renewal of spirit, I sat up. The words stared back at me. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." The rest provided a different frame of mind. Maybe there was light here in the darkness. Maybe all hope should not be abandoned. "Where's the light?" I said aloud. My eyes scanned the cavern. All was darkness except for the eerie red glow that perpetually permeated this land.

I squinted my eyes further into the cavern. A small opening lead into a narrow tunnel. I told myself there was light at the end of the tunnel, willing it to be there, refusing to believe anything less. I crawled army style, Allison positioned firmly on my back, until the skin was ripped from my knees and forearms. The more I strained, the bigger the light grew. We reached an opening in the crawl space that allowed me to stand. Belief made the light appear, my faith.

There was a rock, big enough to rest upon, next to a wall. I sat rubbing my arms, contemplating my next move. Small beams of light stretched across the room. They couldn't be coming from the sun, there were no cracks in the rock. We were deep within the mountainside. I stretched my arm and placed my hand into the light. It burned to the touch, my blackened hand smelling of burnt flesh. "I need help!" I cried. "I don't understand?" The light was so painful, but it must hold a key. What was the fire that guarded Sarah, the light that protected the boy and prevented me from getting in.

One particular beam seemed brighter than the others. It poured into a large rock. I moved closer to inspect, but found nothing. I walked back to Allison when I heard a faint groan coming from underneath the rock. I bolted to gather Allison and find an escape. The only way out was the way we came. Groans grew louder as I tried in vain to block them out. It was useless. I summoned my courage to face the unknown, to face what was beneath the rock. Great risk lay under the stone. Risk that could seal our fate by releasing some pungent, vile creature. The coldness once in my heart warmed when I braced my legs against the side of the wall and my back against the rock. I strained. The rock slowly rolled away. The groans stopped. I dared to look inside.

Moving the rock opened a beam of light that shone into the hole, consuming the darkness that was once there. Slimy moss and condensation covered the walls. The pit wasn't deep. The outline of a man shadowed against the wall. I drew my hands in a defensive position.

"Who are you?" I called down. "Why are you there?"

"There is no forgiveness for what I have done."

Below me sat an empty, broken man, curled in fetal position. All hope drained from him long ago. I didn't sense evil. I sensed guilt. Heavy guilt. Guilt so heavy that it pinned whatever remained of his soul to the bowels of hell.

"There was a time I would have argued with you. Now I'm not so sure. I've had some experiences that questioned my thinking, made me wonder, wonder if there is redemption, even for us. I found light." I said.

"You don't know anything about the light." The man said. "I was there. I stood next to it. I was to bear witness to its greatness. I can't be forgiven. I've seen the light and purposely turned from it. That cannot be forgiven." The man said.

"We've all done things we've regretted. It's part of being human. I feel tremendous regret for what I've done. I too turned from the light, made a mockery of it. The evil I've sown, the people I've betrayed." I told him.

"You don't know anything about betrayal, about breaking someone's heart!" The man lashed back. I put my hands up and moved back.

"I didn't think it was possible until I met a spirit here, a much greater spirit than me. I think he was a messenger of some sort, like a guide. He instilled hope that I can escape, that I can be forgiven. You probably think I'm crazy, but I'm telling you the truth. I'm taking you with me. Get up!"

"No you're not." The man said.

"Look, I know it seems preposterous, a long shot, but I need you. I need your help. I don't care what you've done or what you think you've done. We're leaving. We can escape this hell. Hellfire is not eternal, it's a lie."

The man looked up at my eyes wild with passion. "I know." He said. "I'm not going."

"Oh my God! It's you! I've seen you before. You're the disheveled man in my vision! The man who escaped from those hideous creatures. The man who appeared on Corbin's computer the first time I was at Gateway!"

The man stood up on both feet and proceeded through the tunnel which Allison and I had come from. "Wait! Don't go that way! It's the wrong way!"

"No," he said turning back. "It's exactly where I belong."

I stuck my head back into the crawl space but he was gone. I couldn't go after him. A wanted poster hung back that way, with my head on it.

I jumped into the hole to see if the man left any belongings that may prove useful. The space was empty, but for a small flicker of light that appeared in the distance. I gathered Allison ... to do it all over again.

The crawl was no easier the second time. Afterward, the skin was gone. Through grace, we reached a clearing, the other side of the mountain. The ground was flat indicating we had ascended upward. The air was lighter than the previous realm. Flashbacks of my first experience in hell rampaged through my mind. They were oddly welcomed. I screamed in joyous celebration. It was brief. Uneasiness fell upon me. I threw Allison over my shoulder and stepped forward. Two dark eyes stared into mine no more than three feet from my face. I turned to the right, the same eyes were there. To the left, the same. Hunters, we were surrounded. 
Chapter 22

My body fell to the ground in exhaustion, only to be jolted back up. A hand squeezed my shoulder, sending me spinning around. "I knew you'd come." Allison smiled with soft blue eyes. She stood on her own. Her scars had almost healed and most of the dried blood had been washed from her face, beautiful. My arms lunged to embrace her. We fell into a pool of tears.

This time it was her, the one who picked me up off the ground. I was lost for words as I always had been when she was around. "I was awake, you know, aware. My soul knew, even though my eyes couldn't see. I know what you did for me. I know all of it. You pulled me out. You saved me." Allison said.

Her deep blue eyes still leaking water at the corners, told a journey of pain and suffering. "All of it?" I asked. Allison could only nod. My head fell into my hands as she spoke.

"I was in a place of total darkness. I couldn't even stand. There was only room to sit. If I stretched my legs out they would hit a wall before being fully extended. I had maybe three feet of space on either side of me. I can't count and describe how many times I cried."

"Allison! I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that happened to you. I should have seen it coming. I should have been there to stop it. To help you! If only I could have told you my true feelings. How I really felt about you. Not just stuff them away and pretend they were insignificant. You don't know how many times I wish I would have said those words that were impossible for me to say!" If I could have ripped my heart out I would have, anything to stop the pangs of guilt.

Allison placed my hand in hers. "It's not your fault Will. I made my choices. I fell off the path. In the end it was my salvation."

I choked back tears. "How?"

"My tears moved me to forgiveness. It took that experience for me to realize how much I hated my father, and to realize how human he was. Our paths took different turns but it in the end it didn't matter. I realized my anger towards him was an illusion, a barrier I erected so I wouldn't have to deal with the sadness and the reality that my mother was gone. Hating my dad wasn't going to bring her back. It should have brought us closer, instead we both tried to deal on our own terms and be tough. That never works. Together we would have been strong. Apart, well, look how we ended up."

"My father didn't understand how to reach out and comfort me, but the comforter finally came. After all these years, after all these years it finally came." Allison glowed with a heavenly light I'd never seen before. "When I let go of the anger, my soul opened. For the first time I noticed a small spark, no bigger than a pinhead in the middle of my chest." She pointed at her midsection and then at mine. "You have one too." I glanced down. It was there, like she said it was. Had I not seen it before?

"What is it?" I asked.

"Light," she smiled. Allison's light burned brighter, there was no comparison.

"There is light in the darkness." I said. "I've been searching, looking everywhere for it. I never thought it would be hiding in plain sight, inside me."

"All I know is that when I sincerely think of forgiving my father it glows brighter, see." Allison closed her eyes. I could almost see her thoughts of love going out to her father. The spark in her chest glowed stronger. An intense heat cut through the chill of the air around us. The heat was both painful and comforting. I turned my face when it's intensity burned too powerful. A give and take, push and pull, formed between the light and I. Magnetically drawing me towards it, yet burning each time I got close. My whole being was enveloped in darkness until now, until I became aware of the spark of light inside me. Jimmy's words rang through my mind. "His spirit, they say, shines with the glories of a thousand heavens." The realization came, along with my shame. How could I have missed it, been so blind. My spirit shined, about as bright as a pinhead.

Allison was stronger than me, gave comfort in my despair. She reminded me how to love, without saying a word. She taught me to pray and ask for help. The light within was the key. The light illuminated the darkness. Consumed it. Banished it.

So when the hunters surrounded us, she took my hand and squeezed it tight. We drowned in love. Her light was powerful, it drove back the darkness, repealing the hunters. The beasts gnashed and gnarled their teeth. Swinging razor claws madly in the air. The light was our protector, holding them at bay. The knot in my throat tightened with each step, but Allison was strong. She wasn't afraid. She guided us through the beasts who were burned by the fire of love.

"There, we must hurry." She pointed.

"I don't see anything." I said.

"Trust me. We must go!"

We traveled an endless mile. The same fatigue I felt carrying Allison was now plaguing her. The beasts were relentless, following us hungrily, waiting for their chance. Allison pointed off into the distance. We quickened our step as the growls grew louder. The glow around Allison dimmed as she struggled to pull us through. The light Allison saw in the distance grew brighter with each cruel step over the jagged terrain. It was beacon. A guiding light. A rugged mountainside drew near.

"I'm so tired." Allison whispered. We put our arms around each other, dragging ourselves, willing ourselves towards the light.

"There's a line, at the bottom. I see it." I said. The light we followed transformed into a paper thin line at the base of the rock.

The weight of the beasts bore down on us. Allison's light faded in exhaustion. A voice called out. "Hurry! Run!" The sliver of light grew wide as an opening emerged from the rock. We slammed into the mountain door just as a hand reached from the light and pulled us through. The door slammed shut with tremendous force sending horror and evil throughout the mountain interior. The hunters scratched and banged on the outside, but could not penetrate.

"William." I opened my eyes only to shield them with my forearm. The voice was familiar. "William. Can you hear me?"

I sat up. "Jimmy?" I tried to look around the room, opening my eyes far enough not to let too much light penetrate the slits. A monitor in the corner of the room switched on. Jimmy's face was staring at me. "Where am I?"

"You're at Refuge." Jimmy spoke through the monitor.

"Refuge?"

"Yes, it's a safe haven for escaping souls."

"So it's true, we escape hell. We've been on the run for so long. I was beginning to doubt." I said.

"Do you think the Father would turn his back on you? For all eternity? No, the Father has been reaching his hand to you, guiding you this whole time. Your spiritual darkness prevented you from understanding it." Jimmy said.

"But the preachers on the street corners in my town. They say hell is eternal, that there is no escape, no forgiveness."

"That's what the darkness wants you to believe. It's a teaching of the false prophet. We've been trying to reverse its damage for the past thousands of years."

"Thousands of years," my mind unable to grasp the concept.

A door opened behind me. I scrambled to defend myself. No attacker came. My eyes adjusted to the intense light that seemed to come from behind a figure, creating a silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. I strained hard to see his face but couldn't make out any features. The light was too blinding. Jimmy's voice sounded in my ear. "I believe you've met my brother." The air left my lungs as the silhouette approached.

"Who are you?" I asked, still unable to get a clear picture.

"Names are not important."

"Jimmy called you his brother." I said.

"James and I shared the same earthly mother." The man laid his hand flat. A glowing mist hovered just above it. He instructed me to look inside. I saw two men sitting next to each other on a log. They looked to be in their early to mid-twenties. They were tired. Tired from a long day's work. The two were eating fish when a tall, slender man approached them. Long auburn hair flowed to his shoulders. Impressive in stature, I sensed this man was powerful. He motioned for the two sitting on the log to follow. They dropped their fish, got up, and went with him.

"You asked for the helper and I sent her in his name."

My heart was on fire. It burned in the presence of this silhouetted man. His light burned away my darkness. "Stop!" I cried. "The light burns so great?"

"The essence of God, brought on by the Holy Spirit. The great comforter and helper that has been promised to all who seek him. It's cleansing power is strong." My body writhed in pain as it tossed and flailed on the floor. A flood of images from my life forced their way into my awareness. The evil deeds I had done. The anger and hate I had held in my heart, laid bare for me to see.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry!" I wailed. The pain pushed me to the limit. The man closed his hand and the mist disappeared along with the intense light. I laid on the floor, unable to move.

"You will recover. Soul cleansing is never easy. You have a lot of dirt on yours." I looked up, still unable to see his face.

"Did you fix me?" I asked.

"You are on the right path. The path that leads home. Remember what James said. Healing is like losing a hundred pounds. It's not an automatic process. You have over a thousand pounds to lose." The man turned and closed the door behind him. Leaving me in the unknown.

I laid on the floor, talking to myself. "Dr. Z. used to say the same thing. That healing is like losing a hundred pounds." I shot up off the floor. "Dr. Z?"

Allison walked into the room, radiant. Her face beamed with a brilliant soft glow. Her hair, no longer dirty and matted, but long and beautiful. "This is it." She said, looking at me with love.

"This is it? What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Will, you're going back."

"Back! Back to hell! No way! I won't go! I can't go!"

Allison's eyes were moist with compassion. "Earth. Will, you can't stay because you aren't dead."

"What? Impossible. I've been here, it feels like forever."

"Your body has been in a coma this entire time." Allison said.

I stood up. "No, I won't go back. I can't leave you! Come with me then." Allison placed her hand on my shoulder and gently lowered me down.

"I can't go with you. My body died. I'm a spirit now. My sins have been washed. I can move on thanks to you." A tear rolled down her cheek. "However, I'm staying. I'm staying to rescue my father, and my mother."

"Your mother. Is she ok?"

"I'm afraid not." Allison's eye's lowered. I punched the wall next to us.

"I knew she shouldn't have done it. It was stupid. It was suicide!"

"She did it for me. For us. She did it for my father."

"Your father?"

"Will, she was strong enough to hold off the guards. She lowered her cross, intentionally."

"Why?" I asked.

"To be with him. She loves him. She didn't want him to go through it alone."

"So she just willingly gave herself over to torture?"

"She knew it was the only way to save him. She couldn't take on the entire city. She wasn't strong enough for that. She knew they would take her to my father. You know, to play their twisted games."

"Allison, I have to be honest, I don't know." I tried to grab onto her. To hold her and take her with me. I was selfish. "I need you. I need your love. You've always been stronger than me. We both know it. I'm not like you. I'm not a good person. I can't do it alone. I will fail. Please! Allison. They said there is more work to be done."

Allison took my arms and placed them at my side. "You're right, and you're wrong. There is more work for you, but you aren't alone. This is your problem Will, you are a good person. You've always have been good. You just couldn't see it. You just never loved yourself like other's have loved you."

Allison reached out her fingers and touched my eyelids, closing them. The touch of an angel. My pain was taken away in that moment. I opened my eyes and looked into hers.

"Monika?"

"Oh my God, Will! You're back!"

Chapter 23

"Nurse! Nurse! Doctor!" I heard excitement and fear in Monika's voice. "He's awake! Hurry!" The room flooded with people I'd never seen before.

"Where am I?" I asked. Monika stared at me, unable to speak.

"You're at St. John's hospital. There was an accident. You've been in a coma for three months." A nurse's voice sounded from my right side. I scanned the room. It was eerily recognizable. It was the same room I had been in with Allison.

The doctors ran every test they could but found nothing. I just simply woke up. They kept me in the hospital for a week, just to be sure. Monika visited every day. I thought about Allison when she wasn't there. I pictured Jimmy in my mind, how he talked about redemption. I thought about his brother, the mysterious figure who burned so bright. Were these the same brothers I read about in the journal? Was Jimmy some holy vigilante running around the netherworlds saving lost souls? So many questions. I wondered if it was real, or if I had that psychotic break, the third mental disturbance I dreaded so much. Was Allison, was hell just a figment of a false reality? It had to be real. Didn't it?

I might never know, never prove it. Allison was gone, that was real. I needed to let her go. I was changed by the experience. My heart softened, mind clearer. I didn't fear others. I didn't fear myself. The light, the love of God had changed me, renewed me. My soul had been fractured in life, in death it had been made whole.

Monika and I talked for hours the night before my release. "When we couldn't bring you back, I was terrified. I didn't know what to do so I brought you here. Corbin and Justin wanted to keep you at Gateway, but I insisted we seek medical help. I made up a lie, said you fell off your bike and were laying in the ditch when I drove by, picked you up, and brought you here." Monika said.

"You're kind, Monika. I feel safe with you." I said. "You should go, get some rest. You look tired."

"I'm so tired." Monika smiled, pausing for a moment before speaking. "Will, there's been something I've been meaning to tell you."

"What is it?"

"This is probably bad timing." Monika fidgeted on the bed. "Um, when you were gone, I mean in that coma, I um, I couldn't imagine you not being here. I stayed, a lot, oh God I feel kind of-"

"You stayed here, with me." I'd never seen Monika this nervous before. She always exuded confidence. It was making me a little uncomfortable, but she was sweet.

"I stayed every night. Praying for you, and her."

"Her?"

"You're girlfriend, Allison." Monika stumbled over her words.

"You did that for me? For us?"

"I knew where ever you were you were in great danger. I prayed for protection, read every verse on it I could find. I prayed the darkness wouldn't find you, that you would remain hidden, camouflaged."

"The mud! In the bog!"

"What?" Monika asked.

"Nothing." I said, not wanting to sound crazy.

"I prayed for Allison's soul. I prayed light and love would find her in the darkness. I prayed she'd invite it in."

Words didn't come. Where do you begin to thank someone for that. The silhouetted figure in the refuge said he sent a helper. I thought he meant Allison, it was Monika. Monika protected me from the demon's wrath and gave Allison the strength to pull us both out.

Monika and I made plans to get together when I got home. Monika was animate that she be there for me. I thanked her. My eyes were heavy as I closed them for the night. A peace fell over me.

"Will." I was jolted awake by a knock at the door. The voice chilled my bones as I slowly opened my eyes.

"Justin."

He took one step towards my bed and stopped. "Hey man, glad to see you."

"Me too," I lied. "What have you been up to?"

Justin, never one to pass on talking about himself jumped at the chance. "Been working. A lot. With Corbin. You wouldn't believe some of the cases we've worked."

"Tell me."

"We investigated a haunting at the Richmond farmhouse."

"Really?" I acted clueless.

"Yeah, it was insane. Turns out the boy was possessed. Corbin called in a priest and everything. There was a cleansing and exorcism. The whole nine yards! Nasty demon it was too, put up one hell of a fight."

"You don't say."

"Yeah man. Priest crapped his pants after one night and ran away like a girl. It was Monika who finally punched that demonic son of a bitch a one way ticket back to hell."

I was now sitting up in my bed. "Good for her." I half-smiled. "Son of a bitch probably had it coming, huh? Funny how that is." I said.

"How what is?" Justin replied.

"You know, how people get what they deserve. Get what's comin' to'em." My tone turned stern. Justin was taken aback.

"Yeah Will, sure, whatever. You just get some rest now. We'll see ya around." Justin turned and walked out the door.

The town hailed me a hero. Said I was a fighter, a survivor. They were far from the truth. It took getting my ass kicked, and then some, to realize how far from the path I had fallen. Doubt crept in. I was beginning to convince myself that it was all a dream, but I held firm to my new outlook. Love changed me. I was scheduled to begin classes again. How do I go back? Face my peers. It's not like I could simply say, hey guys, let me tell you a story about hell, and how it's not worth traveling the path that leads you there. Hell, there were records of my psychiatric treatment on file. One word of that kind of talk and I would be back at St. John's, on an involuntarily commitment. The only thing on my mind, my only focus, was seeing Dr. Z. I needed answers.

"Where's Dr. Z.?" I asked Wendy the office assistant.

"Oh, they didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Dr. Z. resigned. Principal Johnson was planning to meet with all of his students individually to talk about it. He must have forgot to talk to you since you've been in the hospital. Principal Johnson is out on meetings today Will, but I'll be sure he talks to you first thing in the morning."

"Where did he go? I really need to speak to him." I said.

"I'm sorry Will, he didn't say. It's very strange. He only left a letter. Not very professional of him." Wendy must have seen the disdain on my face and felt sympathetic. "Here Will," she said handing me an envelope. "Dr. Z. left this for you. I wasn't supposed to give it to you but I will pretend I forgot."

Dear William,

Experience can be difficult. Sometimes we fall. I am sorry your trials had to come at such a young age. I admire your courage. You never gave in, you never gave up. This can never be wrong. The mental disorders have no power over you. You've proven that. Having them doesn't make you wrong. It makes you human. I am with you always.

All my love,

Dr. Z.

I ran my fingers through my hair. No thoughts came, just silence of mind. Was Dr. Z. real? This letter, the one I was holding in my hand, certainly it was real. I questioned my sanity. I needed Dr. Z. more than ever and now he was gone. "Keep it together," I said aloud, keeping my head down and forging on to my next class. Lucky for me, people were more afraid of me than I was of them. When there's a tragedy, people treat you like a leper. They don't know how to act. It's human nature.

I sat alone at lunch. Oddly, I didn't care. I enjoyed the quiet. Time to think, to reflect, to pray. The time was short lived. Justin pulled up a chair next to me. We exchange polite smiles. Justin was the first to break the silence.

"It's nice to have you back at school Will. It must be difficult for you."

I looked up at him. "It is." My fear wanted to crush him, my faith held me to a higher standard.

"How ya feeling?" He asked.

"To be honest, Justin, I'm ok." The words surprised even me.

"Ok? How so?"

"I used to be afraid all the time. I don't know, I feel different, calmer, less anxious, less angry. It's difficult to explain."

"Well, that's good I guess. You were in that coma a long time. Maybe something shook loose in your brain. You know, like in the movies when people gain supernatural abilities after being in a coma." Justin smiled.

"My brain feels the same, this is something different, beyond the physical." I sensed Justin was confused and changed the subject. "How are the investigations going?" I asked.

"Great," Justin smiled. "It'll be nice to have you back." Justin got up from the table before I could say no. "See ya, Will."

***

Monika and I met after school. I was lucky to have her. She kept me grounded and on course. It was hard to kept it all to myself. I didn't tell her my secrets. I couldn't face it. The things I was responsible for. Deep inside, I was afraid I'd lose her if she knew the truth. She would most likely accept me for who I was, past and present, that's just who she is, but murder, demonic possession, I wasn't willing to risk it. I wasn't sure if she could handle that truth. I wasn't even able to handle that truth. Not anymore. Not with the love I now had in my soul. It wasn't much, but enough, enough to burn searing hot remorse each time I remembered.

"Will, would you be up to coming to Gateway tonight? Corbin and Justin will be there. They're going over some audio from a recent investigation. It might be good for you, you know, to be around people." Monika said.

I didn't reveal my desire to expose Justin. It wasn't time. I needed proof and to get that I needed his trust. "Sure. I'll go." I wanted to watch Justin's every move.

We arrived around 8:00 p.m. Corbin and Justin were sitting at the computer, going over file like usual. Justin waved. Corbin didn't move. He didn't even acknowledge me. Maybe he felt guilty for thinking Gateway failed a second time. Maybe he knew the truth? His coolness towards me felt unnerving.

"What have you guys been up too since I was, well, out." I asked.

"We keep working. We keep investigating." Justin said. "We are starting a new case in a few days. You should come."

"Yeah, I guess."

"You sure he can handle it?" Corbin said."

"You sure your little contraption can handle it?" I fired back.

Monika could sense my discomfort. "Maybe a few more days away would be good. I shouldn't have pushed you. Come on Will, I'll drive you home. We'll meet you guys for the investigation. Right now I think Will needs to rest."

I never really felt like a part of the group. Now they felt even further away, except Monika, I still had Monika. If there was any consolation in all of this it was her.

Two days had passed. We all arrived early in the evening to set up for the investigation. Corbin opened the trunk to his car and asked us to help him carry equipment.

"What's this for?" Justin asked.

"Just wait. You'll see. You'll like it," Corbin smiled.

I was handed a small monitor and Justin carried a silver rectangular box up to the front door. We rang the bell but there was no answer. Justin spoke first, "let's just go in. They must not be answering the door." We entered the owner's home and called out his name. There was no response. Corbin went to the basement. Monika, Justin, and I walked into the study area and saw the owner standing facing the fireplace with his back turned to us. "Hey Mr. Chase," said Justin. "Sorry to let ourselves in but we figured you didn't hear us. How are you doing?" Mr. Chase didn't respond. Monika and I exchanged confused glances. Justin walked behind Mr. Chase. "Do you mind if we begin setting up our equipment?" Monika turned to look at me and then back at Justin. "Mr. Chase, are you alright?" Justin asked placing his hand upon his shoulder.

"No," Mr. Chase faintly answered.

"Yeah," Justin said as Mr. Chase turned to face him, "and it's only going to get worse." Mr. Chase dropped to his knees clenching his midsection.

"What the hell? Did you just punch him in the gut?" I said, staring at Justin. I caught a shimmer of something shiny in his hand. Justin pulled a knife out of Mr. Chase's stomach. Monika and I were paralyzed from shock. Neither of us spoke. Justin tilted his head upward and looked us directly in the eyes.

"That felt amazing," he said in a guttural, growling voice.

"We aren't speaking to Justin are we?" Monika asked. Justin did not respond, only stared with a blank face.

"Back away Monika." I said. "We need to get the hell out of here right now!"

"Corbin," she said.

Mr. Chase laid in a motionless heap on the floor. He wasn't breathing. "We have to leave. We have to leave now!"

"We can't leave Corbin!" Monika shouted.

I lunged for Monika's arm, pushing a chair in front of Justin and knocking him off balance. "Run!" I screamed. We took off in a sprint, racing outside the front door and bolting down the street. We had driven in Corbin's car. The keys were still in his pocket.

"Oh God. Oh God." Monika repeated over and over.

"Monika! Just keep running! Don't look back!" We reached a part of Millersville with bars and restaurants, having run a great distance.

"I'm so tired." I said.

"Me too." Monika replied.

"I think we can stop now. I don't think Justin even followed us. I just didn't want to take any chances." We found a restaurant that was open and went inside.

"Did you two just get done running a marathon?" The hostess asked. Neither of us responded. "You guys alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Something like that." I said.

"Here, let me get you some menus and find a table." The hostess seated us in the corner of the restaurant, away from people. She probably thought we were high on drugs and didn't want to draw attention to us. I could feel the eyes of the restaurant patrons bearing down on me as we walked by. I thought I could hear a woman laughing but realized it was my own racing thoughts. Stress and anxiety pounded at my body, ready to explode like an angry volcano. Monika and I stared at each other until she finally broke the silence.

"Damn it Will! What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

Neither of us were remotely hungry when our food arrived. We just needed time to think about our next move. Nothing came until Monika received a call on her cell. She held the caller id in front of my face. Monika's face was pale and distraught. "Should I answer?" she asked. I nodded my approval even though every thought in my mind yelled no. "Hello. Hello." Monika answered. "Is that you Justin?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember us being there?" Monika asked.

"I remember everything. I couldn't control it. Oh God!" I could hear Justin's voice screaming through the phone even though I was standing three feet away. "Oh my God he's gone!" Justin said. I looked at Monika, feeling my hand shake the same way it always did when I panicked. My legs felt bolted to the floor. Monika looked catatonic. I reached over and grabbed her phone.

"Justin," I said. "What do we do now? I think we should call the police."

"No Will! Jesus Christ! I'll be arrested and face murder charges. What the F man!"

"We have to do something," I said. "People are going to find out!"

"Nobody will suspect anything for a while. Please, Will you have to help me."

"What do we need to do?" I asked.

"I'm under demonic attack. Get Monika and come back. I need your help to vacate the demon from my soul. Please hurry!" The phone went silent.

"What do you think Monika?" I asked.

"We have to help him. He's possessed."

"What if it's a trap? What if it's the demon using Justin to lure us back there?"

"We have to try Will," Monika said. "We don't have a choice. He's our friend."

"I need the bathroom." I excused myself before the contents of my stomach released on the floor. The image of Mr. Chase laying in a heap taunted my mind as we waited outside for the city bus. I looked around the street for any type of distraction. The neon sign of the restaurant glowing above us. The three cars parked on the street. The light misty rain that was beginning to pool on the sidewalk.

A bus pulled up beside the curb and opened its door. "Are you ok?" I asked turning towards Monika.

"I don't know what to think right now. It's too early to process any of this. We need to talk to Justin before making any decisions."

"I understand." I said. "I hate to keep bringing this up but we need to be careful. What if it's a trap? What if the demon is trying to trick us? What if he's waiting outside the house to kill us!"

"We do need to be careful," agreed Monika. "The demon will be strong. Whenever a demon is successful is spilling the blood of a human they're able to feast, so to speak. Blood carries life and spiritual energy to humans. Blood nourishes the organs of the body and also carries spiritual energy to the cells. Whenever blood is spilled, spiritual energy is released. Since demons cannot survive on their own depraved energy they need to steal it like a vampire. The energy allows them to stay in the astral plane temporarily before being pulled back to hell. It's one of the main reasons demons seek the bloodshed and destruction of human beings. They depend on it for their survival."

"What about Corbin?" I asked.

Monika sighed. "I know. That's why we have to do this now."

"You mean, confront the demon possessing Justin at it's peak."

"Yes." Monika frowned.

The wheels shrieked when the bus pulled up to the stop two blocks from the Chase residence. Monika squeezed my hand before getting up from her seat.

"Oh thank God!" Justin came bursting down the outside stairs as we approached the house.

"Stay back, man!" I shouted.

"Please, you gotta help me. A demon. It's got control over me. Please!"

"Let's just go Monika. I changed my mind. This can't be good." I said.

"Will, can't you see? We must help him." Monika smiled kindly at Justin and took his hand, leading him back into the house. It was her nature, so loving, she would rather die than see someone hurting.

"What'd you do with Chase? He still alive?" Monika asked.

"Yeah, I mean no. I don't think so. I mean. Oh God!" Justin shook.

"Where is he?" Monika asked.

"In the basement. I moved his body down to the basement."

"What about Corbin? Is he still here?"

Justin buried his face into his hands. "I don't know!"

Monika turned towards me. "Will, would you please go down to the basement and-"

"I'm not going down there, no way!" I protested.

"Will, please, do it for me."

My heart pounded with each step down. I lost my footing twice but was able to grab the handrail and keep myself from falling. The basement was dark. I searched for almost ten minutes, nothing. No trail of blood, no body. I ran back upstairs. Monika was in the living room rubbing Justin's back and consoling him.

"There's no one there." I called out.

"I know." A voice sounded from behind me. I turned in time to watch Corbin swing a Louisville Slugger down on my head.

Chapter 24

"Will, glad you weren't killed, or put back in a coma, or whatever." Justin's voice was smug. I awoke in the basement of the house. I recognized symbols etched on the wall, the same symbols at Corey's house and the Gateway lab. My head throbbed, I reached up to check for blood. It had dried.

"Where's Monika?" I asked.

"Don't worry about her. Leave that to me." Justin said.

"Corbin? You guys set me up."

"We need you Will, it's your lucky day!" I didn't respond. "You see, Corbin did make Project Gateway come alive, but it needs someone special, a distinguished operator. That's where you come in, and your girlfriend."

"Yeah, what's your motivation?" I asked.

"It's simple Will, you're going to make us rich. There are people, well, I don't know if I'd really call them people, that will, let's just say, sell their souls to get what we have. They don't talk much, in fact, they don't talk at all. They speak through their eyes."

"Who are they?" I asked. "Demons? Like yourself."

Justin laughed. "Quite the opposite actually, but it really doesn't matter, see, you're going to hell, only you won't be saving anyone, you'll be freeing them. Gateway works both ways you know."

"You sold your soul to the devil." I said. "And for what?"

"Business, family business. My uncle brought me in. Taught me the secret recipe. I think you know him." Corbin emerged from behind a stack of file boxes.

"You're trying to finish what Sunny Miller started. Open the Gates of Hell." I said.

"Oh, they're already open. The doctor, my great grandfather, he just didn't have an usher, he didn't have a Resurrectionist. Only a Resurrectionist can guide a soul out of hell."

Justin pulled back a curtain. Monika stood bound and gagged, chained to the wall. Justin approached her, removing her gag. "He's possessed! Will, Justin's possessed! I tried, the cleansing, it didn't work. I'm not strong enough!"

I stood up and looked over to Monika. "You are strong enough Monika, believe me, he's faking."

"What? How can you tell?"

I turned toward a bewildered Justin. "It was me, you know, the devil you conjured." Justin stepped back from Monika, confused by my statement. "You should've seen your face when I crawled out of depths hell and appeared before you. I'd imagine you threw your underwear away that night, at least it smelled like you should have." Shock was the only expression on Justin's face. "See, let me tell you something about demons," I glared, "because I know a little something about them, since, well, since I was one. They don't care about money, riches, or power. They just want to see the soul destroyed. You've already done their work for them. Congratulations, you can take over as bitch boy for your dear ole granddad."

"I, I don't understand." Justin's voice was weak and broken.

"Because you're in darkness, that's why you don't understand. Why you can't comprehend the light. Don't worry, the demons are great teachers. They'll teach you. Just don't expect the lesson's to be easy. At least not for you. Let's just say they tend to lean towards more forceful methods of teaching. Or, you could save yourself the trouble, let us go, repent, get started on the right path."

"And what path would that be?" Justin asked.

"The path that leads to God."

"Enough!" Screamed Corbin as he lunged at me, burying his bat into my chest and knocking the wind from my lungs. I watched Justin turn to Corbin through my watery eyes.

"What's he saying? You said we could work a deal with the demon, make a pact, and they would grant us anything we wanted. Riches."

Corbin growled, "we can, and they will."

Corbin handed Justin a knife. "Here, take it. Cut the bitch's throat." Justin looked down at the knife in his hand, his eyes as wide with apprehension. "Well ... the hell you waiting for?" Justin hesitated before dragging one foot closer to Monika.

"Wait! Wait! You said you needed both of us. Justin, you know that I can't do it myself. I need Monika's invocations to put me in trance, only she can do it."

Justin turned towards Corbin. "He's right, we need them both."

Corbin walked over to me putting his face into mine, his breath in my mouth. "Actually, I fixed that little glitch. Came up with something new, you'll like it, you can access hell without even being in trance." Corbin held up the small silver box that Justin carried in from the trunk of his car. He moved away and put his face into Justin's. "Now get on with it."

Justin couldn't control the spasm in his hand. "Damnit boy!" Corbin knocked him to the ground and grabbed the knife from his hand. He stepped up to Monika, pressed the palm of his hand hard against her forehead causing her neck to snap backward. Her head crashed violently into the brick wall behind her. The color in Monika's eyes faded before Corbin ran the blade across her throat.

Blood gushed down Monika's neck, soaking her blouse and pooling on the floor. She gargled fluid and gasped for air until her head slunk down onto her chest. I opened my mouth to yell, but couldn't. Justin scurried into a corner, hands trembling. Corbin turned to him. "Was that so hard?"

"Now, where were we?" Corbin forced the Gateway headset onto my forehead and strapped a monitor to my wrist. He walked back to his computer and turned it on. In a whirlwind I was transported back, back to the veil of hell.

"You're going to find the Angels, free them from the deepest hell, and bring them here. Do you understand?" Corbin instructed.

"I won't do it you monster!" I shouted into the headset. "I'll just take it off and walk away."

"If you try that again, you die." Corbin's voice sounded in my ear. "My Gateway didn't fail last time, you did."

I stood silent. Corbin knew I lied about Gateway failing. It didn't matter, I was done with his games. I reached my hand up and removed the headset. Corbin's instructions were cut off in mid-sentence. I glanced behind me at the silver cord that held my soul to my body. It was severed, my death freeing me. I felt no pain. Monika was there, standing just outside the veil. I ran to embrace her.

I looked at Monika's frightened eyes which told me more than words could. Behind her, out of thin air appeared a glow. As it grew brighter I could see a silhouetted figure. Monika turned around. She gasped and fell to her knees. I reached out and picked her up. She smiled at the figure. It was as if they were talking, communicating, but no words were exchanged. Monika's smile faded fast.

"What is it?" I asked.

She turned towards me. "It's my grandfather. He says that I have to choose. I can go with him, or I can stay with you. He says he will take me to a place of peace and love. He says I will be taken care of. He says I don't have to be afraid."

"You need to go." I said, looking down at my feet unable to bear the pain of having to watch Monika go into the light, of having to watch myself lose her again.

"He said where you're going there is pain and suffering. Will, what did you do?"

Monika's words cut to the truth. I turned to walk away, tears welling up in my eyes. I was never good and letting people see me cry, especially people I cared deeply about. Loved, even.

"William!" Monika called out. "It doesn't matter, I'm not afraid." I stopped, finally having the courage to face her.

"This isn't your fight." I paused. "Monika, I'm broken, have been for a long time. I realized it doesn't matter. I don't want to fix it. I can keep going, keep fighting, despite being broken. It took me a long time to figure it out. I had to go through hell, in fact, and I have to go again, but I'm strong now. I won't fall into the same traps. I made a promise, and I'm going to see it through. I don't care what it takes or how painful it is, but this isn't your fight. It's mine. Go with your grandfather, be at peace. Please, you of all people deserve it."

Monika watched a tear fall from my eye and splash the ground. For the first time I allowed myself to be vulnerable without being afraid. Monika smiled sweetly. "William," she reached up and touched my face, "we all deserve peace. Sometimes we have to fight for it." Monika reached down and took a hold of my hand, leading us forward into the icy cold darkness ... together.

The freezing air took our breath away. Monika coughed violently.

"Monika, I'm so sorry."

"Now what Will?" She looked at me with uncertainty, trying hard to gain control over her coughing. Her lungs needed time to adjust to the foulness on the dark side of the veil. I hesitated to find the right words to tell her.

"I will pray," she said. "I can see some of your thoughts here, Will."

"Stop, Let me tell you the truth. You deserve it. I owe you that much." I took a deep breath. "Allison's father, it was me, I killed him. Now, I have to save him. The boy at the farmhouse, I tried to kill him too but thankfully you stopped me." Monika didn't respond, didn't show emotion. She just stared. "I'm going to pay my debts. I'm going to bring the light to Mr. Channing." I looked down at Gateway, the headset still clutched in my hand. "I know some people, brothers, they can help. I just hope I can find them."

Monika's eyes filled with compassion as she slightly held back tears. "We need to get to a refuge," I said.

"That's a good plan," Monika said. "I'll locate the nearest one."

"What? How, I have no clue how to get back to the one I was at."

"Leave it to me," Monika smiled. "Don't forget Will, I've been working with the spirit realms long before you came on board." I was relieved to see Monika joke, even for a moment. Monika got to her knees and drew a circle around us. She asked me to sit within the circle and hold her hands. She led us in prayer. She asked her guides to illuminate our path to the refuge. When Monika finished, she thanked her guides and slowly opened her eyes. "There." Monika pointed to a faint glow of light far in the distance.

I warned Monika about the hunters and scouts that patrolled the roads in hell. "Don't be afraid, Will." She said. "They can sense that." Monika agreed it would be best practice to stay off the beaten paths. Monika prayed without ceasing as we trudged through death. Her strength was amazing. Her ability to focus, to hold her mind on God was a powerful thing to witness. The passage to refuge was difficult, but we were never attacked, not even once. Even if we would have been I like to think they'd have been more afraid of us than we were of them.

The journey drained Monika, but she never let up. She was far braver than I. We were greeted warmly at the refuge and given much needed time to rest. In fact, they were even expecting us.

There was a knock at the door of my guest room. "Come in." I said. My eyes were closed. I didn't have the strength to stand up.

"Hello, William." I jumped straight out of bed and onto my feet. The voice was so strong. I knew it well. I couldn't breathe. Dr. Z. walked towards us, radiant in life and love. His love for me was powerful, overwhelming.

"I'm here to help you bring light to Allison's father." He said.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"With James." Dr. Z said.

"James?"

"You've met him. He helped you escape."

"You mean Jimmy? You know him?" I asked.

"He's my brother."

Chapter 25

I glanced around the room, stalling, trying to make sense of it all. Dr. Z. didn't have his wheel chair, his legs were healthy and strong. He appeared young and vibrant, like he'd been transformed.

"If you're here, that means you're dead."

"William, I've been dead for a very long time." He said.

"Who are you?"

"I'm known to the world as the Disciple whom Jesus loved. We've been working, bringing light to lost souls for hundreds of years. My name's John. John Zebedee. James is my brother."

"You're, you're John the apostle." Monika said. I couldn't believe what was unfolding.

"Your brother James, the sons of Zebedee. Part of the inner circle of Christ. One of only three human witnesses to the miracle of the Transfiguration." Monika said. John nodded his head.

Monika and I exchanged glances. "It can't be," I said. "How were you on earth? You were my doctor."

John looked at me. "I drew the elements and materials from the surrounding atmosphere and manifested a physical body." John paused, "You know a little about the process." I hung my head, ashamed of my malevolent past.

"I've heard of it." Monika said. "Ectoplasm. Right?"

"Yes," John said.

"But don't you need a human being to draw the ectoplasm from?" Monika asked.

"The social worker. She was a natural, her office was right next door."

Monika smiled. "This is amazing. It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine." John said.

"So, Jesus, he's real?" I asked.

"Yes, very real." John said.

"And you said he loved you the most?"

John smiled. "That was my human ego coming through. I had not mastered it at the time I wrote my Gospel. Jesus loved all people, equally."

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"Teaching."

Monika sat down. "So the Gospel of John, that was really you?"

"Yes, there are many truths in it. Some were lost over time. Not all of what you have today is exactly how I wrote it over two thousand years ago."

"How does something like that get lost?" I asked.

"Times were primitive. We didn't have copiers and fax machines. We had word of mouth. I watched you play the telephone game when you were a child. You understand what I am getting at." John said.

"So, you were BFF's with Jesus?" I asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

"What's a BFF?" John asked.

Monika smiled. "It's slang, it means best friend." John's look of bewilderment continued.

"Yes, we were quite close on earth." He said.

"What was he like?" Monika asked.

The smile returned to John's face. "You have an expression for it. Something like; if I had a nickel for every time I got asked that question." We all laughed.

"You're funny Dr. Z., I mean John, err sir." I momentarily forgot who I was talking to. It felt like I was back in Dr. Z's office. He had a magical way of getting me to relax and open up.

"I was once human you know. Really, not much different than you two are now. My soul is perfected now but that doesn't mean I've lost my sense of humor."

"What do you mean perfected?" Monika asked.

"My soul, it has been filled with the Holy Spirit. It has perfect union with God. I am born again."

"So it's true, the Holy Spirit is the key?" Monika asked.

I turned to both of them. "Help me out here, I'm lost. I don't know if I can easily accept all of this. I don't know if I believe."

"Neither did Thomas. I guess we know how that turned out." John smiled.

Monika laughed. I sat dumbfounded. "John's Gospel. He wrote about the Holy Spirit, the advocate, the helper." Monika said.

"I didn't know you were so religious." I said to Monika.

John looked at us both. "Religion doesn't matter, only love matters."

"Do you mean Jesus loves Buddhists?"

John laughed. "Yes, very much so."

"What's the significance of the Holy Spirit?" Monika asked.

John turned serious. "The Holy Spirit is the advocate and the helper. Whomever prays earnestly and asks for it, God will send it. The Holy Spirit is a type of messenger. It delivers love, God's love, his essence into a person's soul. This love, it's a part of God, his energy, his light, his soul. It burns away sin and error. It renews the soul, cleanses it, and makes it like his own."

That explains the burning light I experienced each time I prayed in hell. It felt like my heart was on fire." I said.

"That was God's love entering your soul, burning away your sin, making you whole." John said.

I took a step back. "I don't know, that was no love, it was painful."

"Sometime love is painful, Will," Monika said, her eyes quickly looking away.

"No, this felt real, like electricity." I said.

"The love of God is a real substance, like electricity." John said. "Do not confuse it with the human concept of love."

"What do you mean?" Monika asked.

"The love of God is a physical substance. It radiates throughout the universe. The universe could not survive without it. It's the life blood. Much like the sun fuels the earth, the love of God fuels all. It's power is infinite. Your scientists have just begun to scratch the truth of this self-renewing energy. The darkness is working to keep this discovery unknown, but one day the world will know the truth."

I sat down next to Monika. "This is a lot."

"I understand. I will leave you to rest." John said.

I nodded as John turned to leave. "Wait," I called out.

"What about Allison? I have to see her?"

"She's working to free her father."

"I've said this before but I really wish you guys could just zap him free. Life would be much, much, easier."

"There is no automatic salvation, William. Salvation is available to all who seek it but it is not an instantaneous process. Prayer, lots of it, that's your salvation. If people believed they are automatically saved they will become complacent and stop looking. This leads to spiritual stagnation, spiritual death." John said.

"The darkness wants you to believe salvation is automatic." I turned to see Sarah standing behind me. "My husband discovered the scientific truth that is still unknown to the world. He discovered the physical substance of God's love. An energy that has infinite potential, even to heal and renew the body. It's the same energy, the light that burns so great in the spiritual realm. The false prophet got word of the discovery and deceived my husband, playing to his weakness. My husband always loved the church, but sometimes to a fault. He feared God. He was haunted by the fact he failed out of seminary and by doing so felt he failed God. The false prophet offered him a chance at redemption. The prophet lied, teaching my husband that he failed because he was soft, that God was a vengeful God, tormenting people for their sins. He taught my husband to preach fear and hold people captive to the fear, ensuring he would always have followers. So when the leader of the Puritans approached my husband with a prominent position he gave into the temptation, forced by fear to keep his discovery a secret. Over time his mind became twisted. He lost everything, his job and eventually his family. Jamison and Ned, Puritan teenage misfits with no promising future in the church other than cleaning offices and scrubbing church toilets, discovered my husband's research. They were determined to escape the church and reveal it to the world. It cost them their lives, as well as my own."

"I don't understand. Why would the demons want your husband to preach? Wouldn't preaching be counterproductive to an evil agenda?"

John stepped closer. "It's a subtle illusion. If people learn to be afraid of God, to fear him, they will naturally turn away and stop seeking. Their actions and deeds will be based in fear and not in faith. It's a volatile mix leaving a hidden anger within a person's soul. It's the one truth I hoped you'd see for yourself during our sessions." He said.

"I never saw it before. I did fear God. All my actions were done out of fear. If I messed up God would increase the intensity of my anxiety. Having to be perfect all the time is a recipe for an anxious mind. God didn't demand perfection, I did. I became my own worst enemy."

"Healing is a journey, William. Now you can see." John said.

"So the demons, they wanted to keep this discovery secret, keep the light hidden."

"Angels, actually. Angels that fell and rebelled against God. The same Angels that sent me to the gallows." Sarah said.

"The men with the gray eyes." I said.

"Once great, fierce defenders of the Kingdom. Now seeking the destruction of man. The fire, the light within extinguished." John said.

"Can you stop them?"

"That's what we're working for." Sarah said.

Feelings of great compassion for Reverend Channing arose from my soul. He was no different than me. In his own way he did what he thought was right.

I was ready to help. John guided us through the barren wastelands toward that hateful city. The journey was difficult and my mind was filled with questions that I was nervous to ask. I felt so insignificant next to him, even though he never treated me as such. He told me we were brothers in spirit, created by the same God. Upon reaching the forsaken city I worked up the courage to ask, or in my case, blurt out a question.

"You were present at the last supper."

John paused. "Yes."

"The Holy Grail." I waited. Silence.

"Yes?" John asked.

"Umm," I felt stupid for asking. "Is it real?"

"Yes."

"That's awesome!"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, if a person drinks from the cup he gains eternal life." I said.

"William, it's just a cup. It was made of clay as was the custom at that time. I don't even know if it survived all these years. Probably not."

"You mean it doesn't have magical powers?"

"No, just a cup. You look surprised."

"I just thought it would be cool. You know, to have eternal life."

John stopped me. "What do you think this is?" It hadn't dawned on me, at least not yet. "Eternal life is for all," John said. "You don't need a magic cup. Just faith." I walked along in humbled silence.

"What was his greatest miracle? Raising the dead? Casting out demons?" I asked.

John turned and placed his hands upon my shoulders. "His greatest miracle was when he washed the dust off our tired feet."

"What? I don't understand."

"That is why you cannot see the Kingdom of God."

"This is as far as I can go. The guards will surely recognize me and our cover will be blown. This is Jacob. He works with us. He will take you through the tunnels under the city and guide you to my brother. James will take you to Channing.

"Wait. I don't know what to say." I said, hoping John would write me a script or give magical words that would save the Reverend.

"Don't underestimate yourself, William. I see a lot of potential in you. Have faith, allow the truth of God speak through you. He will teach you what to say. Pray."

***

"My friend," James said with a big smile. I embraced him.

"Jimmy, I mean St. James, you don't know how good it is to see you." I smiled. "You tricked me though. Why didn't you say who you really were? You don't look like a saint, not with that huge scar across your chest."

"Herod's sword left a nasty mark huh?" James said.

"It did." I said.

"You weren't ready. Knowing the truth of my identity would have been detrimental to your spiritual growth."

"I don't get it?"

"You needed to confront your demons with the help of God, by listening to his voice within your soul. This is how faith defeats fear. In your triumph over fear, faith burned its presence in your soul. We were with you but you still could have fallen. John and I prayed without ceasing for your deliverance. We left you clues along the way."

"The writings, the women's journal, it wasn't a coincidence I found them was it?" I said.

"It was no coincidence. We can guide but we cannot directly interfere. Had we interfered we would have been in violation of your free will. Free will is needed for soul growth. It brings us closer to God."

The joyous reunion was cut short. I had work to do. James made the sign of the cross and led me into the dungeon, to face my fear, to face Reverend Channing. He stood guard, the demon's powerless against his light. I inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. I stepped forward. The Reverend lay motionless in the corner of the small room. God had been with him the entire time. Reaching out for him. Loving him. He never reached back.

"Reverend Channing." I said. He didn't respond. I inched closer. "Reverend." It's Will. William Stark. I'm the last person you want to see, but I've come to help. You don't have to stay here, not anymore. Look." I pointed to the door. "It's wide open. We can leave, together."

I watched Reverend Channing lay motionless on the ground. I reached out and placed my hand upon his shoulder. He jerked backward and growled. I jerked my arm back and moved farther away. I stood silent. Unsure of what to do or how to proceed. The familiar feelings of anxiety gripped me. This time I didn't avoid, I prayed. God help me. Teach me what to say. I breathed. "Look Mr. Channing. I can't force you to come. No one can. Not me, not your wife, not Allison, but they love you just the same. They never stopped loving you. Sometimes it looks that way but in the end love is the only thing that's real.

All this hell that's around you, it's only a temporary illusion. It can't last. It will only stay around you for as long as you let it. You've been lead to believe hell is eternal. It's a false teaching. It was spread by the false prophet to trap souls in darkness. Let go of these beliefs. Let the light in. Let love help you. It's not easy, it's not automatic, but it's real.

The difficulty is part of the process, part of the journey. It shapes us, teaches us, helps us to become like him. Strong. Our personalities are a gift from God, but our character, that's built by us. We have the power to keep fighting. Believe me, I'm as broken as they come. My past, my mistakes, what I did to you. I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it back, but it's with me forever. In time I hope you can forgive me, but it will remain. I can't change it, not the past. All I can do is use it. Learn from it. It's part of me, part of my experience. It's dark. It isn't pretty, but it's mine. I paid a heavy price for my choices and actions. It took going through hell to teach me that there is a better way. I was too blind to realize that God was with me this entire time. Loving me, caring for me, guiding me, even here, even in hell."

Reverend Channing kept his face hidden in his arm the entire time I spoke. "Come with me." I said. He didn't move. I stepped closer and reached out my arm for a second time. The Reverend didn't move. "Please, come with me, you won't be alone. There's help, for both of us, if we choose to accept it. We can heal. We can do it together." For a third time I reached out my arm to Reverend Channing. He swung and swiped it away. His nails scratched my skin and drew blood. I pulled back. "Pray, ask the Father to send his Holy Spirit and fill your soul with his essence. His Divine Love. Please, I beg you." I fell to my knees.

James walked into the dungeon and placed his hand on my shoulder. "It's time to go. You've done all that you can for him." He guided me back to the tunnels were Jacob guided me to John who was waiting outside the city. He didn't say a word, only smiled and nodded. Monika embraced me back at the refuge. Allison and Sarah cheered my efforts. I had never felt so down.

"I failed."

"No," Allison said, wrapping her arms around me. "You planted the seed. That is all one can do. That's all that is expected of us. I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me, for my family. Will, I love you. More than you could ever know."

Monika watched from the corner of the room. She smiled faintly and walked away. An air of sadness surrounded her spirit.

"Now we pray. Have faith. God will take care of the rest. Remember what you said. Love is the only thing that's real. In the end, love will win out. My dad will be raised from the dead."

John walked into the room along with James. They smiled and nodded in approval. "I'm sorry Dr. Z., I mean John. I must be the worst person you've ever worked with. I failed again. Just like I did back in your office."

"No William, there is no failure. Only learning, only growth. Your path was long and hard, but you grew. Would you agree?" I nodded. "Then you haven't failed. All people are on the path that leads them home, leads them to God. You just happened to take the long way." He smiled. I smiled in return. A small weight lifted from my shoulders.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now is a time for rest and celebration. We are taking you to the realms of light and love. There's a banquet planned in your honor."

"I don't deserve a hero's welcome."

"Your soul was lost, but now it has been found. What greater joy there is in heaven than to welcome it home. You pulled souls from the pit of darkness. Resurrected them. The Father promised a spot at his table for all who wish to feast. Your spot has been prepared and is waiting for you." I felt so humble in that moment. So undeserving.

"William, I wasn't just saying that I saw potential in you. I truly meant it. You saw the souls who are still lost." I nodded thinking back to all the poor wretched souls still trapped in hell. "It's ultimately your choice, but we would love to have you on board. There are many groups and organizations in the spiritual realms dedicated to rescuing lost souls. It's a great and honorable work, but it's not easy. The potential to fall is always there, but we will be with you. We will guide you, that is if you choose to continue this work, if you choose to be a Resurectionist."

I nodded with hesitation. John sensed my apprehension, pausing momentarily, his eye serious. "We need your help Will, there's another. I want my brother back."

"Your brother? James is right here. He's fine." I said.

"My spiritual brother, like you and I. We're going to attempt an impossible mission ... an epic rescue. You met the man already, even freed him. That's why we need you."

"If I freed him, why isn't he here?"

"He went the wrong way."

"The disheveled man in the pit." I said.

"Judas. We're makin' a run at the Devil. You want in?"

###
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I live in Rogers Minnesota with my wife and our two children. The Resurrectionist was inspired by and created from a life long passion for all things spiritual, supernatural, and the mysteries of the universe. I love spending time with my family and write as often as time will allow. I hoped you enjoyed reading this book. Let me know what you thought at mgesellchen@gmail.com or connect with me through one of the links below.
Connect with the Author

Website: https://mgesellchen2.wixsite.com/the-resurrectionist

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23006765-the-resurrectionist

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32497236-the-resurrectionist-book-ii

Twitter: @GesellchenMike

