The Somnibus: Book I - Finding the Mark (A Paranormal Thriller) (8 page)

B
arnes stood from his desk and met me in the middle
of the lobby.

“Can I help you, Michael?”

“I need to get into my vault again.”

“Sure, follow me.”

He led me down the hallway and let me into the
private elevator. I made my way to the vault and grabbed the remaining
pictures. The metal box sat in the middle of the floor, and I pulled at the
latch, but it remained locked. I had no key, so my attention went back to the
photos. I put the box under my arm and made my way back through the maze and
into the lobby.

“Thanks.” I waved my right hand, pushed my way
through the doors, and sped home.

An extreme sense of purpose engulfed me as I
grabbed my mother’s trace from my pocket and sat on the floor. I held the
letter that Mort had written in my lap. I wouldn’t hide anymore, and I wanted
answers as to why my parents had died. I didn’t know if I would get all of the
answers, but I knew where to start.

Closing my eyes and allowing my mind to relax, my
thoughts remained clear and focused. My mind’s eye recalled the close-up
versions of the Somnibus
;
the metallic stench and the
yawning sockets of Mallen when he’d attacked me the first time. I thought of
the suffering he’d put my parents through when he’d murdered them. My thoughts
intensified as I waited for the energy to blast me to that awful place. An
eternity seemed to drag by and I nearly gave up when the green flash assaulted
my eyes.

My chest burned as I flew through the darkness. I
opened my eyes and took a deep breath when the pain subsided. The green
periphery told me I had bridged, but this time was different. I had no control
of my situation, as though being led through the dingy memories of someone
else’s mind.

The desolate, gray landscape filled the dark
place, but it wasn’t the location of the Somnibus. Sadness sunk into me
like
I’d never experienced before; more of a depression. My
eyes squinted while trying to make sense of my surroundings.

I stood on a dirt road facing what appeared to be a
rundown barn and made my way toward the splintered structure—a passenger in
someone else’s mind and body. I’d bridged somewhere, but not to Mallen or any
other Somnibus, having become a person with real feelings. Studying my hands,
examining each side I noticed a mark in the center of one palm, different from
mine.

The barn got closer as I wandered down the dusty
road. I searched for clues as to whose body I’d possessed. I focused on taking
control of the body, but my mind screamed with a stabbing pain deep in the base
of my skull. The pain overwhelmed me, so I relaxed my thoughts and waited for
the scene to evolve.

Approaching the open door to the barn, I stepped
inside. The smell of manure and hay hung heavy in the air even though there
weren’t any animals. Shadows filled the scarcely lit building. A dirty light
hung in a room at the far end of the barn. I passed empty stalls while being
drawn toward the faint light. Trying once again to seize control, the searing
pain forced me to stop. I stepped into the room and into the face of a
stranger.

The image peering back from the mirror was that of
a tall, lanky young man, dressed in torn clothing. Powerless to make any moves,
I remained a passenger trapped in his mind and body, whoever
he
was. I struggled
to find the energy to eject myself from his body, but my efforts were useless.

The longer I stood in front of the mirror, the
clearer the reflection became. The man behind the mirror was a young Mort. His
face had no emotion while he held his right palm to the mirror, revealing not
only the mark at the center of the hand, but other marks too.

Several vertical slits in his wrist ran from the
base of his palm to his mid forearm. His left wrist rose to reveal the same. A
horrific pain pulsed as I tried to escape from the horrid place. Depression
strangled my desire to fight, and I left the bathroom.

I walked away from the barn toward what appeared
to be a rundown house. The vise squeezed the base of my skull as I stepped
through the aged front door. 

The air smelled of age and buttery light from the
full moon filled the room as I walked through the front room and down a narrow
corridor to the back of the house. I stopped in front of a slightly open wooden
door. With a nudge, the door creaked open and gave way to a small room, empty
except for pictures lining the crackled walls.

The floor moaned under my feet as I stepped
inside. My eyes fought through the stale air and green haze, adjusting and
widening when I stopped in front of one of the pictures.

Two young boys, maybe eight, stood in front of a
small house. My mind shook as I stared at the boys’ faces. They were the same:
two identical Morts.

I panicked at the thought. From the reflection in
the mirror I assumed I’d bridged to Mort, but now that I knew he had a twin, I
didn't know which Mort I’d bridged in to. Fighting through the pain, I gained
control of the body and forced my hand to take the frame off the wall. The pain
continued to stab in the exact spot where my spine meets my brain, but I had to
endure it. I slammed the frame into the wall, shattering the glass and causing
the picture to fall to the floor. Slivers of glass found my flesh as I shuffled
through it to grab the picture. I flipped it over, hoping for some type of
information on the other side; I wasn’t disappointed. 

Mort and Mallen at the farmhouse,
Summer
1953.

Pain forced me out of control, I again lost
control over the body, and I walked out of the room. The vise clamped down
further on my skull while my skin burned and my head filled with rage. I wasn’t
sure if I’d bridged Mort or Mallen, but whoever it was, he was pissed. 

I rushed toward a small room at the end of the
hallway and entered a bathroom. My skin tingled, and depression gripped me when
I stepped into the bathtub. Trying to gain control again my mind ran from the
pain, forcing me to remain a passenger.

I laid my head back and closed my eyes. A flash of
white light hit me and I hoped the energy would return, sending me to my living
room. It never came, and my eyes opened to the still-green haze. 

The bathroom was light and clean, and birds sang
from outside the window. The warm water relaxed me as I enjoyed the pleasant
memory when a voice made me flinch.

“Ahem….”

My hands jerked out of the water and Mort stood in
the doorway.

“Get out, asshole! I’ll be done in a minute.”

Mort locked the door and made his way over to
me. 

“I said get out!” I leaned from side to side.
“Whatcha got behind your back, Mort?"

Mort jumped at me and tried to grab my arm. I
slipped my arm away and punched him in the side of the head.

I yelled, “What the fuck are you doing!”

He grabbed me by the arm and I pulled him into the
tub. I noticed the syringe in his hand and fought against him as he climbed on
top of me. The water made him slippery, and he stabbed at my arm but caught the
fleshy part of my shoulder. I winced when the needle disappeared into muscle.
The medicine took effect quickly, and I lost control of my muscles. Mort
divided first into two, then four, and finally the images just swirled away.

My eyes opened and Mort knelt beside me, his hand
in the tub, holding my wrist with the palm facing toward the surface. He had my
wrist bent backward and his lips moved, but I couldn’t hear him. The silver
blade of a knife flashed before he pushed it under the surface of the water. I
tried to pull my hand away, but the medication severed the connection between
my mind and body. 

Mort pressed the blade to my wrists, leaving long
vertical incisions in its wake. I felt no pain as the skin splayed open and
blood spurted into the water.

Mort stood over me while light faded from the
room. My eyes again grew heavy as my shoulders slid down and my head submerged
below the water that had become an opaque crimson.

The pulse of energy surprised me, and sent me
hurling through darkness. My chest burned when my eyes opened, and I found
myself back in my living room. I tried to sit up, but my body was slow to
react. My head wanted to fall backward and I fought to keep it upright. Slumped
in my seat, the palm of my right hand glowed with a familiar brilliant green. I
sat motionless, watching as it faded into the flesh of my palm. The pain
in my chest receded, and the heaviness in my limbs lifted as the glow dwindled
away. My head finally fell backward, and my eyes slowly shut.

I
had no idea how long I’d been asleep, or
unconscious, whichever it was, but I awoke to darkness. Hoping to find some
clarity to the cluttered memories of my last bridge, I went to take a shower. I
now understood why Mallen wanted to make Mort miserable, but what did my mother
have to do with anything, and why had Mort killed his own
brother?
The water poured over my head while the unsorted pieces continued to drift
around my mind. My thoughts were scrambled, and I obviously didn’t have my full
mental capacity about me. I toweled off with no more answers than when I had
stepped into the shower, but my mind felt clearer. 

In the living room, I shuffled through more
pictures when my phone chirped from the counter. I picked up the phone and
wondered why Honeycutt would be calling me at nine at night?

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s David Honeycutt. I haven’t caught you at
a bad time, have I?”

“No, it’s fine.” There was a bit of a pause on the
other end.

“I’m working late tonight and wondered if you
could stop by my house. I seem to have missed a couple of signatures I needed
from you on Mort’s paperwork. I’m not far from your house.”

The kitchen was a mess and pictures were scattered
around the living room. They would still be here when I got back.
“Um, sure.
Text the address and I’ll come by in a little
while.”

“Ok, thanks.”

A few seconds later, the text came. He only lived
a couple of miles away so I grabbed the pictures from the kitchen table and
shoved them into a kitchen drawer before heading out the door.

Honeycutt had presented himself in a disorganized
way when I first met him, so I didn’t expect such a well kept, beautiful home.
Two large columns stood on either side of the oversized front door. The place
appeared empty, but the address on the mailbox at the entrance gate was
correct. Parking in the circular drive and walking to the door, I took one last
look around before pushing the doorbell.

After a minute or so, he opened the door.

“Come in.”

Honeycutt stepped aside and gestured me through
the door. I stepped into the foyer and he scanned the area outside before
closing and locking the front door.

“Come into the kitchen,” he said, leading me down
a long hallway and wobbling
like
he was drunk. “Have a
seat. I won’t keep you long.”

We sat at the table, and he fumbled through his
briefcase. I didn’t know what it was, but he wasn’t quite himself. He stumbled into
the kitchen, and as he shuffled through the papers, he seemed confused.

“Are you okay?” Without acknowledging my question,
he continued to shuffle through the papers.

His head finally rose. My heart leapt to my throat
and I tensed, sliding my chair away from the table. His pupils had pushed the
white from his eyes, the orbs solid black without a hint of life. He sat tall
in the chair, and I jumped from my seat. I turned to run out of the kitchen
when he yelled to me.

“Michael! I know what you saw last night, what
Mallen meant for you to see.”

“Mort?”
I stopped and turned to face the voice. Honeycutt
sat there, but Mort was behind the words. He remained seated and I made my way
back to my chair, sitting in it a distance from the table. His lifeless eyes
held mine, his voice without inflection as he continued to speak.

“You’re innocent in this. You have become a pawn
in a game to get to me. Mallen played on your sympathies. He wants you to
question my motives.” Beads of sweat rolled off his forehead, racing down his
fat cheeks and onto the papers that sat on the table. “I’m not dead, but I will
be if you don’t find Mallen’s
trace
and destroy it. I
will be lost forever, and you will never be safe.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t have much time, so listen. He made a
mistake; he showed you where it was. He hid it at our farmhouse. He never told
me where he kept it, but he spent most of his time in that barn. I would bet
it’s still there.”

“But I watched you kill him. You drugged him and
killed him.”

“I can’t explain now, but you have to trust that I
had good reason to do it. Mallen is a dangerous person, he always has been.
Your mother trusted me and now you must. I have to go. This body can’t take
much more of this. Go to the farmhouse. The address is in the paperwork from
Honeycutt.”

“But Mort, why….”

He stood from the chair and wobbled as he tried to
find steady legs. He said one last thing. “Your life depends on you destroying
that stone. I will guide you as best I can, but my time is limited. When I come
to you, just shut up and listen or let me steer you. I will show you what to do
when it’s time.”

He disappeared down the hallway. I jumped up from
the table and ran to my car. My mind spun on the drive home. I had no choice
but to go with what Mort had told me.

Pulling into my driveway, I sat for a minute
before I took a deep breath, and headed inside to find the papers from
Honeycutt.