Allan awoke face-down in a puddle, his head throbbing. Disoriented, the brutal memories of this most recent nightmare flashed through his mind. He tensed with an imagined pain that lingered from a bullet that had ripped through the chest of another man’s body. An incoherent voice still echoed in his brain…

Pushing himself up from the damp floor, he opened his eyes groggily. He found himself in a dimly lit ‘cell’ of chain-link fencing laced with barbed wire. There were several identical cells to his right and his left, and several more along the adjacent wall. Its appearance was more suited for a dog shelter. It certainly smelled like one.

He looked around to find a ragged vagabond crouched in the corner of one of the cells on the far wall.

Well, that accounts for the smell.

“Fine weather this afternoon, isn’t it?” the old man’s voice echoed.

Allan’s head throbbed at the sound.

“What do you think of our accommodations?” the old man gave a throaty chuckle. “I hear they provide a free continental breakfast in the mornings.”

Allan turned away, ignoring him the way he usually would to a beggar on the train platform.

“I assure you Allan, I’m no beggar.”

Allan’s eyebrows rose in curiosity. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“I have many names.”

A lunatic. Great. I should have kept my mouth shut.

After a few seconds of silence, the old man continued, “For purposes of protection, of course. These men had been after me for decades. I guess I got sloppy. You may call me John.”

Allan met his gaze for the first time. “What men?”

“The hooded men who locked you up in here.”

Allan’s mind filled with visions from his dream of cloaked men attacking him from all sides.

“But… that wasn’t real...” Allan croaked, dumbfounded. “Where are we?”

John scratched his filthy white beard in thought. “That’s a good question. I was unconscious when they dragged me in here all those years ago.”

Years? There’s no way he’s been here that long and still lives with any sense of sanity.

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

Oh, boy. Who is he talking to now?

“I’m talking to you, of course,” he explained. “I was agreeing with you that after all these years I’ve barely been able to hold on to any shred of sanity.”

Allan’s mind went numb. “How did you... what...”

“How did I what?” John persisted.

How did you know what I was thinking?

“Oh, that.” He flashed a toothy smile. “That’s just a natural talent of mine. Sorry if it disturbs you.”

Natural?! There’s nothing natural about it!

Their eyes locked, and silence ensued for many moments. Then, without warning, John gasped and grabbed the link fencing for support, his hand narrowly missing a cluster of barbed wire.

“It’s you…” he panted, his body going rigid.

“Excuse me?”

John dropped to his knees and began muttering to himself. No… he was praying.

Oh, boy. This guy has totally lost it.

Moments later John scrambled back to his feet. “I thought this day would never come! I had almost lost hope!”

Against his better judgment, Allan replied, “What are you talking about?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“The Final Seraph has Ascended!” John’s aged body danced with new life.

Allan stared at him incredulously.

The man grabbed the fencing with both hands and shook it. “Do you know what this means?!”

“Honestly?” Allan couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “I haven’t the slightest.”

“There’s so much to tell you. So little time.” John released the fence and began to pace around his cell. “The men who attacked you are a secret elite group known as the Creed of Nephilim. They are led by Tamerlane of the ancient Timurid Empire.”

The Creed of who?

“The Creed of Nephilim. Anyway, the name isn’t important.” He spoke impatiently as, to Allan’s shock, he slammed his hands down on the barbed wire fencing. “What’s important for you to know is that the man you know as Timur Demyan is this same Tamerlane to whom I am referring. He is a very dangerous man, and I am certain that by now he has learned of your Ascension.”

My what?

“I don’t yet have time to explain. If he finds out my secret, he will do everything in his power to destroy you. And I won’t lie to you, he has a lot of power.” His hands were bleeding profusely as he grabbed at the fencing and shook it. “He has powers far beyond your ability to comprehend. We have to get out of here. Fast.”

----------------------------------------

High above their damp dungeon through multiple layers of cement, the sun dipped below the horizon. Allan’s head still throbbed from being knocked unconscious several hours earlier, and he found it extremely difficult to keep his eyes open. Without warning, he had fallen asleep on the cement floor. Another nightmare had engulfed him, from which he couldn’t escape. He was very much aware that he was dreaming, but he couldn’t force himself awake no matter how many times he tried.

“Kill him.” the dark voice echoed in his mind. “Kill him now!”

He found himself hovering over an unfamiliar fallen opponent, holding a knife high above his head. It took every ounce of his will to restrain the muscles that desired to plunge down and finish the deed. The terrifying voice grew louder and louder, but he forced himself to concentrate. With a surge of willpower, he dropped the knife and stared at his unfamiliar chubby hands.

Am I in Sleep Mode?!

In the real world, his hands fidgeted uncontrollably as he struggled to awaken. The nightmare was causing such intense anguish and rage that a small sliver of light escaped from his glowing closed eyelids. A silver aura began to encircle him about as more and more light seeped from between his eyelashes.

Without any warning, his eyelids flew open with an explosion of light. A loud crash echoed off the walls as a large radius of the barbed-wire fencing shattered into dust. Around the edges of John’s cage was a gaping hole where the remains of the barbed wire glowed red with an intense heat.

“My dear boy!” John exclaimed. “You’ve done it!”

Allan moaned in pain as John staggered over to him. He placed his hand on Allan’s shoulder and carefully turned him over. The silver glow was dissipating from his eyes while his face portrayed a look of intense pain.

“What happened?” he groaned as John helped him sit up.

“You’ve awakened.”

“I know, but what happened?” His left hand moved to cradle his forehead.

“No, I mean you’ve truly awakened and Ascended as the Final Seraph.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“It means that your powers have finally manifested.”

“Get out of my head!”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it,” John explained, dragging Allan to his feet. “We need to get out of here. I’m surprised Timur hasn’t come for us yet.”

Together they staggered toward the chamber’s entrance. John peeked around the corner. No guards. The next room opened to a series of dimly lit hallways that followed multiple large pipes attached to the ceiling while several smaller pipes with various valves ran down walls.

“I think we’re in the underground pump room of Buckingham Fountain,” Allan guessed.

“Buckingham?” John stammered. “We’re in London?”

“No, Chicago.”

John looked confused but didn’t comment. Allan recognized the distant humming sound of the pump. As they traveled further along, the humming sound grew louder. Before long the hallway opened to a familiar large chamber. It was here that Allan had been knocked out cold earlier. This time, however, there were no cloaked men within it. It was as empty as if the event had never occurred.

After a few minutes, they located an opening to a large overflow drain with sunlight peeking through the end. John led the way through the dark tunnel. It was difficult to maneuver because of its slippery downward slope.

Upon reaching the end of the tunnel, John sloshed ahead and climbed the rungs of a ladder with ease and dexterity. He waved to Allan when he reached the top, not looking the slightest bit winded. By the time Allan reached the surface of the Chicago boardwalk, John was out of sight.

“Psst!” he whispered from behind a trash can. “Come on! Let’s go!”

Allan scrambled to keep up with John. When he finally caught up to him at Lake Shore Drive, John was standing on the side of the road with his thumb out, hitchhiker-style.

“No need for that.” Allan began crossing the street. “We can just take my car.”

Judging by the orange and pink hues of the sky, Allan was surprised how long he had been trapped down there. As Allan neared the spot where he had been attacked, a cold chill spread down his spine. Surrounded by yellow police tape was a small crew of men from the fire department. Each of them had a badge on their left shoulders that stated they were members of the Hazardous Incident Team. It looked like they were cleaning Jason’s remains.

“Leave it alone,” John advised. But Allan couldn’t resist. As he approached the yellow tape, John grabbed Allan’s arm, so hard it made Allan wince.

“I said leave it alone,” he warned. “You’ve got blood all over your shirt. You’ll only attract suspicion.”

Allan glared at him, ripping his arm free. “Who do you think you are, anyway?”

An officer approached them. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

“Now you’ve done it,” John murmured.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Allan stated. “I’d like to report an attempted murder.”

----------------------------------------

© Copyright 2022 R.M. Mulder. All rights reserved.