The Somnibus: Book I - Finding the Mark (A Paranormal Thriller) (9 page)

S
tate road 40 was about as desolate at it got, even
more so at eleven at night. A portion ran through the Ocala National Forest
that had no cell phone reception and few houses. The ranger stations were
spaced far apart, and without cell coverage, there wasn’t much chance of
getting help if you needed it.

The address was on Deer Fly Road off Fort Brooks
Road, in the middle of the forest. As I got closer to the Juniper Springs
Recreation area, I kept my high beams on, searching for any indication of the
turnoff. No
doubt
it would be poorly marked, if at
all.

A reflective sign in the distance, on the right
side of the road, caught my eye. I slowed as I approached the sign and
squinted. The sign read “eer Fly Rd.,” but I figured the D had just faded with
time.

A wooden arm crossed the street and I stopped and
got out with my lights shining on the gate. I passed a mailbox before reaching
the gate. The vinyl letters were aged and curled at the edges, but still
legible: Mallen Bell.

The full gravity of the situation prickled the
back of my neck.

Pushing the gate open, its rusted hinges squealed
before tearing from the timber, causing the gate to collapse on the ground. I
walked back to the Jeep with a nervous grin and continued to follow the dirt
road. Wood splintered under the tires as I drove over the fallen gate, and the
headlights shone down the overgrown dirt track. The road seemed familiar and my
skin tingled when the silhouette of a barn materialized in the distance.

The beams splashed light onto the dilapidated
structure as I pulled up. The barn had two main doors; the left one secured and
closed, the other only half clinging to its hinges. A wooden beam split the
large opening above the main doors, like eyes watching over the crooked wooden
smile of the barn.

I shut off the engine, but kept the lights on.
Stepping out of the Jeep in front of the barn, my senses were in overdrive. The
slight breeze felt like gusts, and my heartbeat echoed in my ears. My feet
shuffled toward the barn as if in protest to what I asked of them. I entered
through the crooked doors and noticed an unclean light burning at the far end
of the barn. The stalls were empty, but the smell of manure hung heavy in a
silence that seemed unusually loud. Mort said he would guide me but I knew I
was on my own.

Light escaped through a small crack where a door
hung slightly open; it was the door from my excursion to the farmhouse when I
bridged Mallen. My mouth dried as my hand reached out to the knob, heart
galloping and skin crawling as the door moaned open. The dingy light hanging in
the small room made it difficult to find my way. I leaned my head in while my
feet remained outside, as if that would keep me from any trouble that may have
been waiting.

The small room held a sink, only half-attached to
the wall, a dried-up toilet, and a makeshift shower stall that consisted of a
window with a hose hanging through it. I peeked behind the door, nothing. The
boogieman I expected to snatch me never did.

I turned to leave and I came face to face with a
familiar reflection. I flashed a half grin to myself before walking out of the
bathroom.

A warm breeze strolled through the barn and caught
the attention of the small hairs on the back of my neck. My brow wrinkled and I
stopped for a moment, footsteps continued beyond mine. I spun around to find a
figure looming in the space between the bathroom and me. The dirty light
flickered, giving only brief hints as to who stood there.

“Hello, Michael. We knew we could count on you to
follow instructions.”

My forehead creased as I tried to place a face to
the familiar voice.

“You were right, Mort. He sure is a gullible young
sap.”

I jerked back around. Another silhouette stood at
the opening to the barn. Brittle hay crunched under their footsteps as they
closed in on me from both sides. Mort and Mallen continued to walk toward me,
and I instinctively shoved my right hand into my pocket.

Mort spoke again, and I spun around to face him.

“Shut up, Mallen!
It’s
okay, Michael. I know you’re confused. I need time to explain.”

“Why? You could have just told me whatever you
needed to before putting me through all of this.”

“Sure. Let me see. Okay. Hello, my name is
Mortensen Bell, and I’m part of a group of people that can bridge the minds and
bodies of others. Your mother had a special stone that we would like you to
give to us. My twin brother had a crush on your mother, but he repulsed her. My
brother, being the prick that he is, subsequently killed your mother and
father.”

The rage welled up in me with every word he spoke
about my mother. Mort continued. “In his impulsiveness, though, he didn’t think
through the fact that once she died, her stone would remain loyal to only her
family members with the gift as well.”

“So what?
Why does it matter if I have her stone, and why
did she have to die over it?”

I spun around when Mallen spoke from behind me,
his tone several degrees colder than Mort’s.

“Come on Mort, shut up. Jesus, just give us the
stone. I don’t have time for a history lesson, and you don’t deserve to possess
such a powerful object.”

He stepped toward me, and my eyes narrowed in
anger. I fingered the stone in my pocket, its coolness radiating into my skin.

Mort held his hand up to Mallen before talking
again.

“Hold on, Mallen. I think he deserves at least a
little explanation. Michael, you have an impressive gift, more powerful than
most. You have made this more difficult than we’d hoped. The fact that you can
fight your way out of a bridge makes you an asset. That strength can be used to
help many people live comfortably, starting with you.”

“How so?”
I tried to sound interested as a means of
stalling while I thought of a way to get out of there.

“Imagine being able to bridge the minds of the
powerful, the minds of those who make the real decisions. Take Mallen and
myself, for example. We have the power, sure, but we can only bridge the weak,
the feeble-minded. You, however, have the ability to bridge to anyone you wish.
Your mother had the same ability, but she refused to use it. Imagine the power
that you could have.”

“But if we have the power, why do you want the
stone? It wouldn’t be any different
than
you using
your own. I mean, it’s not the trace right? It’s me.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, kid.” Mallen
said, once again jumping into the conversation. “Of course the stone has something
to do with it. It allows you to use its extra power. We can gain that power
with the stone.”

“Why even ask me for it, why didn’t you just take
it from me? That would have been much easier for all of us.”

Mort interjected this time. “There’s a rule, we
cannot take a trace that does not belong to us. The trace has to pass through a
family member. If I simply take the stone from you, it will become just a
stone. It would be rendered useless.”

“Well, I guess we need to come to some sort of
agreement then,” I said.

“Well, well. We may have a team player here after
all,” Mort said.

“Let’s think about this for a second,” I thought
about that bastard Mallen; staring into his eyes, concentrating, focusing. I
found the stone in my pocket and curled my fingers around the smooth edges
while my eyes closed. The surge struck me, and the pain hammered me in the
chest.

My eyes opened to a staggering pain at the back of
my neck and the green periphery of my vision. I opened my eyes just in time as
my body folded to the ground in the middle of the barn. Mort stood on the far
side of my disabled body and stopped moving forward, confusion etched across
his face. His head slanted to one side as he processed what had just happened.

I stood still in Mallen’s body as I tried to
formulate some type of plan. My head screamed with agony as Mallen lost control
and struggled to push me out of power. Mort lowered his head and broke into a
dead run toward me. I steadied myself, bracing for the impact, but it never
came. He rushed by me, barely brushing my arm, and disappeared into the
darkness outside the barn.

I stood over my crumpled self while I fought the
pain that gripped my head. Scanning the barn, I noticed a storage room under
the stairs leading to the loft. I ran over and pulled the door open. A rope
hung on the back wall. Grabbing it and moving to one of the beams in the center
of the barn, I sat down and tied myself to the wooden support. The knots
probably wouldn’t hold forever, but I hoped it would buy me enough time to bridge
back to myself and secure Mallen before he released himself.

I closed my eyes and tried to close the bridge.
The force came once again, and I found myself lying face down on the dirt floor
in the center of the barn. Trying to gain control, the barn spun around me. The
pain in my chest subsided, and I levered myself to my knees. Mallen struggled
against the knots and his hooded eyes caught mine. He fought against the rope
as I ran to reach him before he got loose.

I knelt next to him but he kicked me in the head
when I reached for the rope. The blow clouded my vision, but the room stopped
spinning and I got to my feet. I quickly worked my way behind Mallen. He had no
defense as he reached around the pole, fists whirling in the air. I cinched the
rope from behind and tied a few more knots out of his reach.

He growled and spat in the air as his situation
became more desperate. I moved around to face him, and he grew still, his eyes
dark with anger, his lips peeled back, and his head tilted to the side. His
facial expression changed, and he chuckled before erupting into a full-blown
belly laugh.

“You have no idea, do you? You have no idea what
this is
about
. You can’t resist it. It will catch up
to you whether you want it to or not. It will find you; it always does. You are
one of us. You have the mark. You know it, deep down; you are one of us!” I
searched the barn while he spoke. “We won’t let you forget it. I promise.”

I walked over and picked up a shovel that leaned
against a stall door. My eyes glared at Mallen and he smiled while I smirked in
return. Walking over to him, twirling the shovel in my hands, I stood over him
with rage scorching inside of me, the likes of which I had never known.

He spat at my feet before speaking. “You don’t
have the balls to…,” he started before the back of the shovel landed flush
against the side of his head.

His body went limp before convulsing on the
ground. Blood streamed from his ear, nose, and mouth, his head caved in. His
eye on that side half spilled from the socket. Blood leaked to the dirt floor;
the dirt floor where he deserved to die.

I stood over him, satisfied, as the earth became
moist and dark around his pathetic body. He exhaled one last time before his
good eye fixed into the space above him. His body slumped against the rope, and
I dropped the shovel at his feet. I searched through Mallen’s pockets and found
his trace. Dropping it into my pocket, I scoffed at him as he lay there. After
one final glance into Mallen’s dead eyes, I turned and walked toward the
crooked opening of the barn.  

M
ort had run out of the barn, and I had to find
him. My head peeked out and scanned the area. Though Mallen seemed to be the violent
one of the two, Mort had gone through all of this for a reason. He wouldn’t
just disappear and let me go on my merry way.

He had answers, and I had questions. Mort was now
the hunted, not me. The house sat on a hilltop to my left, silhouetted against
the night sky. The wind picked up, raking fallen leaves from the dirt road. I
made my way up the hill to the melody of insects and rustling trees.

The aged wooden boards squealed as I stepped onto
the porch. The front door was ajar, allowing a flickering of light to escape
from inside. I stood to the side and reached over, nudging the door open. The
hinges groaned, and I stepped into the doorway of the front room. My skin
tickled at the sight of a silhouette sitting in the corner. My eyes strained to
confirm what my mind already knew.

“Come in. Have a seat. Let’s finish our
conversation,” Mort’s voice floated from the dark corner of the room.

“I think I’ll stand thanks.”

There was an awkward silence before he spoke
again. “What did you do with Mallen? Did you kill him?”

“Yup.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Unless he’s able to put the blood
back into his body and he recovers from his head being caved in on one side,
then yeah, I’m sure.”

“Remember when he showed you what I did to him all
those years ago, in the tub? He looked dead then, right?”

My head spun when I remembered watching Mort slit
Mallen’s wrists. My mind reeled at the possibility that Mallen would somehow
walk in the door behind me. He read the confusion on my face and spoke. “It’s
the stone. The trace allowed his wounds to heal. Remember when you asked me how
I remained the same age for all these years?”

“Yeah.”
I made my way to the opposite side of the room
and sat in a chair. I kept my attention on Mort, but I wanted a view of the
door as well.

“Well, that’s the answer. My trace heals my body
and allows me to go on living.”

I gripped both stones in my pocket. “What if you
lose your stone? What happens if someone else takes it?”

“Like I said before, it won’t work for anyone
else. However, without direct contact, it can’t help you heal either. You see,
as long as we have possession of our traces, we can live forever,
you
can live forever.”

“Why go through all this?”

He leaned forward, bringing his face into the
light. His eyes grabbed mine and held them captive. “Mallen has been the
problem all along. He is the one that has always caused the chaos, and it’s my
fault. I discovered the power by accident and thought he had it also, since we
were twins. He didn’t believe me and I couldn’t convince him to try the stone.
That day when I went into the bathroom and did what I did, he didn’t let you
see what happened afterward. I tossed my trace into the water and it boiled and
swirled around him. A few minutes later, he emerged from the tub with fresh new
skin, no worse for the wear, besides a few scars and being a little pissed off,
but alive. He believed me after that, though he never truly forgave me for the
method I’d used.”

“Well, if that’s case, I’m sure Mallen’s dead,
then. I took his trace and got rid of it before I came up here.”

Mort leaned back in his chair and clasped his
fingers together, holding his hands to his chest. “The trace has to be
destroyed. Not just
gotten
rid of, but destroyed. I
sent you here for that purpose, to destroy Mallen’s stone.”

Insecurity swept through my head as I tried to
decide if he was sincere, or if he had something else in mind. “So this, all of
this, was part of your plan?”

“I understand your skepticism, but think about our
conversation when I came to you as Honeycutt. I told you I would lead you in
the right direction didn’t I? Mallen is gone, and you are alive. Is that not an
agreeable end to the situation?”

I thought about his words and held my response for
a few seconds before answering him. “Why did my mother die? If she’d had her
trace in the car that night, she would have lived, right?”

He hesitated before answering. “Your mother had
the power to bridge anyone, but she didn’t have the mark of immortality. Her
stone wouldn’t have saved her.”

“Why did Mallen want her dead?”

Mort stood up and paced around the room with his
hands in his pockets. “Your mother was an amazing woman. Mallen had a thing for
her, but she wasn’t interested. Mallen didn’t deal with rejection well, and he
continued to harass her for years. He showed up everywhere your mother did.
When your mother married your father, Mallen backed off for a while, but for
some reason he became interested in your mother again and started to harass
her.”

Mort’s path brought him closer to me with each
sentence he spoke. Unsure of his intentions, I scanned the room checking for
the fastest way out. He continued to talk while he paced the room. “I tried to
stop him, but he kept going to her. Your mother knew Mallen was dangerous, so
she had to be careful in her dealings with him. He finally resorted to bridging
your father in an attempt to be with your mother. Your mother was smart,
noticed every attempt, and blocked Mallen from doing it. Every time except for
the night they died. Your mother missed the signs that night and…and that’s
when the accident happened. If Mallen couldn’t have her, no one would.”

“It wasn’t an accident! He killed them!” I stood
up, sure to keep distance between us.

He stopped talking and paced the floor for the
next few seconds. “That’s all in the past. We can’t bring your parents back,
and Mallen is dead. Why don’t you and I go out and find his trace to make sure
it gets destroyed?”

He walked toward me, and I put my left hand in my
pocket. My body tensed when I felt the flat edges of Mallen’s stone in my
pocket.

“I’m not sure where it went. I threw it into the
woods. Who knows where it went?”

The temperature of Mort’s voice dropped, and he
glared at me with biting eyes. He walked closer, more aggravated with my
answer. “Well, let’s at least try,” he said through clenched teeth.

Mort’s demeanor changed and my mind searched for a
reason as to why he had become more and more agitated. Then a possible answer
flashed in my mind.

“How do we destroy it if we find it?”

“I’ll show you when we find it.”

“No, why don’t you tell me now?”

He glared at me with colorless eyes. “Quit fucking
around, Michael! Show me where you threw my stone!”

With those words, the pieces of the puzzle flew together.
They only had one trace between the two of them.

I flung the chair at Mort and ran from the house.
Mallen’s stiffening remains greeted me when I ran into the barn. The ropes
pressed into his skin where rigor mortis had started to take hold. I ran up the
stairs to the hayloft overlooking the interior of the barn, laid on the edge,
and watched for him.