Battle the Dark: Chapter 7

"Mr. Walnut, it was nice of you to get me some coffee and breakfast.  I hadn't even eaten dinner when you took me."

"Eat.  And for once and for all, be quiet."

"I have trouble not talking.  People say I am a motor-mouth sometimes.  I seem to always be chattering."

He stared at her over his breakfast plate.  He ate, silently.  She ate hers as well, and hummed.  Then, she broke into song, "I cannot tell why He Whom angels worship, Should set His love upon the sons of men, Or why, as Shepherd, He should seek the wanderers,To bring them back, they know not how or when.  But this I know, that He was born of Mary, When Bethlehem’s manger was His only home, And that He lived at Nazareth and laboured, And so the Saviour, of the world is come."

He did not interrupt her, or tell her to be quiet while she sang.  When she finished, he said, "I said, be quiet."

"I heard ya.  Now, let's understand each other.  I have trouble being quiet when I'm nervous. And I've got a touch of the nerves today.  Imnioch.  So, I chatter.  What will it hurt?  You will be killing me soon, anyway, won't ya lad?  Then it will be very quiet."

He chewed his food.  "That was 'Oh Danny Boy' with the wrong words.  My grandmother used to sing that to me."

"She did now, did she?  Was she Irish?"

"Yes."

"Was she from Ireland?"

"Yes."

"Where?  I am from Ireland, too, and I might have known her, if she and her family lived near us.  What's your surname, child?"

He slammed his fists on either side of his dish.  The food flew out of the plate and back down.  "Stop!  Be quiet, old lady.  I'm telling you, I'm not some altar boy."

She withdrew.  But somehow, she realized she was getting to him, on some level.  Perhaps she still had a chance to save the man's soul, as well as her own life.

***

In a deep catacomb in Dublin, under one of time's preserved churches, Carlo entered the chamber, to see the familiar group of men, shrouded in darkness, gathered around a large center stone, that was flanking a small fire.  He saw only twelve men, and knew the group had become smaller over time, through death and change.  He approached quietly, removing his knit hat and artificial beard.  "Hello, gentlemen."


"Ah, Mr. Hesser.  Do come in.  Notice how we are relegated to these quarters now that we must be in hiding?  This is due to the efforts of several subversives across the world," an elderly man said.


"Yes, I see.  We're in hiding now, but soon, we shall move forward."  This from a younger man, who had an eye patch.


The leader, it seemed, was a man about ten years or so older than Carlo, with white hair and very piercing blue eyes.  "We've decided to accept you back, Mr. Hesser."


"I am honored," he said, placing his small sack on the ground and sitting on a stone.


"We have been informed that you have carried out the first phase of our plan.  This reflects quite well on your loyalty, after all these years.  We know the first and foremost plan for your new freedom is to assume your role as Poseidon once again."


"Yes.  And I would lead us to a new empire."  When Carlo spoke, he was very convincing.  His words had emphasis, and his voice was commanding and echoed through the chamber.


"We have decided that you are to be a member once again, but the leadership role will only come when you accomplish the rest of your assignments.  It is time for me to retire."  The leader said, "I can do no more good, being in ill health.  Your freedom and return came at an opportune time."


"What must I do?  Whatever is required of me, I accept."


"Without knowing?"  the second man said.


"Yes.  It is that important to me.  I want to return to Poseidon and my rule as the head of The Men of 21.  Now, what must I do?"


"You must finish this first assignment, which is to get the Broderick woman to reveal her brother's location.  And then, you must finish the rest of the subversives, starting with Todd Manning."


Carlo's eyes widened.  "That will be no problem at all, that would be my life's joy."


"Then it's settled, you will proceed."


"Yes, I have quite a few things up my sleeve for Mr. Manning.  I am certain this will play out just the way The Men of 21 would be pleased with." 


***

He was sitting in the chair again, but there was another chair across from him.  Blair was in that chair, and she was gagged with a black piece of material across her beautiful mouth.  His arms and legs were fastened to the chair, and so were hers, and when he looked down, blood was pouring from her wrists, like fountains.  He felt dizzy, and he could see her eyes widening as she saw his wrists emptying onto the floor, along with hers...


Again, he sat directly up in bed.  Breathing heavily, he tried to calm himself, but she heard and sat up next to him.  "What is it?"



"Nothing.  It's nothing.  Just...I dreamed."


She felt him shaking.  "I'm right here.  You know that.  And, so is Little Ray.  He's sleeping right next to us, peaceful.  He's happy to be with his mommy and daddy."


He closed his eyes.  "I'm happy to be his daddy, too."


She kissed his neck, gently, and pulled him into her arms.  His head was resting just below her shoulder, above her breast, and he closed his eyes again, and took in the smell of her skin and perfume.  Soon, he slid his head to her lap and she slowly stroked his hair, and he shut his eyes again.  She rested her head against the headboard and checked the clock.  It was already 10:00 a.m.  He had missed the 6:00 feeding, and she hadn't, purposely letting him sleep.  He had been so restless lately and so tired.  Soon, he was sleeping again, and breathing rhythmically, head still in her lap.


She watched him, and knew it would be years, if ever, for him to get over everything he had been through.  This made her sad.  She believed that despite the things he had done that he should be ashamed of, he had also gone through more than he deserved.  It was time for him to have happiness, but it never came.  Since she had known him, and sat beside him in Rodi's, as he shared his story of losing Rebecca Lewis, later, across from him on the park bench in the park, he had never been completely happy.  It had come for a few days along the way, but never lasting and never fully accepted by him.  And, here he was, still plagued by horrifying nightmares and night terrors, and still blaming himself for all the wrongs around him.  What would it take for him to believe he was redeemed?  He had done heroic things for his family, even for strangers.  He had saved lives.  He had given money to those who needed it, and helped the police with cases.  And still, the town held on.  But more, he did.  She just touched his face and traced his scar gently, and said, in a soft whisper, "Raymond, poor daddy," and fought back her own tears.

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