28

Cain rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin that wasn’t quite enough to be called facial hair, but wasn’t gone enough to make him look like he were years younger. He cocked his head and leaned in close over the sink to look deeper into his own eyes. He craned his neck back until he felt the cracking in between his joints. This was two years before the torrential rainstorm that would barricade the people of Salem in their homes, but only a month after the accident in 1986. Cain looked into the mirror and imagined his brother standing beside him. He nudged the bathroom door closed as he balled his hand into a fist and held it tight against the sink. Images of the crash flashed in his mind like a pendulum—always returning to the center before swinging, just barely out of sight. It wasn’t a new memory, it had recycled through his mind several hundred times since the accident, but it had been as volatile as a stab wound.

Flashes of a warmer memory entered his mind. It was Halloween a few years prior. Cain was all set to be a pirate for the spooky season. He was dressed in the garments and had his grunts and laughs prepared days prior. His mother even crafted a paper bird that she sewed onto the shoulder of the costume. Abel, on the other hand couldn’t decide what he had wanted to be. At first he settled on a plain old skeleton—something their father offered up at his indecision, but it never seemed like it was what he wanted. He was sure to let them know about that. A week before Halloween and Abel had thrown the largest tantrum he’d ever seen. Abel needed to be a pirate the moment he saw Cain trying out his costume.

Cain remembered giving his parents attitude at this...he was the pirate, and Abel only wanted to be one because he was one. He remembered the look on Abel’s face when he looked up to him. Their parents made a happy compromise that he could be a skeleton pirate—taking the excess bits of Cain’s costume and re-purposing them to Abel’s. This had made Abel happy, but Cain remembered being bothered by it in the moment. He was the one who wanted to be a pirate originally and it wasn’t fair that now he wasn’t the only pirate.

His hand gripped the sink tighter, he wished that Abel could stand beside him like he did that day—he’d give anything to have his only problem be that his Halloween costume was copied. The thoughts kept returning transforming to the day of the accident. He wondered if there was anything he could have done to change what happened. What if I stayed in the car, instead? Mom might have taken longer coming out because Abel would have walked slower....walked...Maybe the guy in the other car would’ve just missed them. What if he went to the bathroom and caused her to take just the littlest bit longer? That guy might have crashed into somebody else but that wouldn’t matter! It was important he crashed into them. Abel...

He bit his lip again as the day was laid out before him once again. Worst of all he was knocked unconscious when the other car hit them. Maybe if he was awake he could’ve helped somehow. He’s the older brother and he’s the one who got knocked unconscious. Stupid. Stupid!

He turned back and opened the door, stepping quietly out into the hallway and peeked into his room, Abel was tucked into his covers on his back, his eyes were closed and his chest rose up and down peacefully. The kid’s damn good at being okay. He probably doesn’t even blame me at all! He’s so good at being okay it scares me...That’s my goddamn brother and this guy just slams his car right into him! He paced back and forth, finally settling on walking back toward the bathroom and he held his hands on the edge of the sink, gripping as tight as he could. He could almost feel where he was in this same spot the morning before. It was certainly close to where he’d be the next morning. The only thing worse than having nightmares when you sleep is seeing them every time you wake up.

29

Cain was out of the house by eight. He headed out the same time that his mother did, although they parted ways as they headed down Cardale avenue. She was headed to the store and he the library. Abel was home and would spend the day with their father as it had been his day off. Cain saw an envelope sitting on the table as he passed by with an elegant looking "0" stamped on the back. It intrigued him for the slightest of moments, but he saw his father’s name printed on the backside, so he let his curiosity wane as he stepped outside. There it only grew to a feverish intensity which would only settle as he laid his eyes on the library. It always gave him ease; there was always another book to read—even if it read like garbage. He always felt a warmth when stepping inside that he didn’t many other places. He pulled the doors open and walked inside.

He wanted to bring Abel here so many different times, but his parents were never the biggest fans of him going on adventures without them and they also didn’t like the library. Cain only remembers his father visiting the library once to donate some old books he had.

Cain stopped in his tracks in the entryway as a stray feeling tightened his spine unlike anything he’d ever felt. It constricted and his arms began to shake for the slightest of seconds. In a flash it was gone and he’s hyper aware of his surroundings—the woman that sat behind the customer service desk, the younger boy who walked past him, the whispers of the couple on the floor above them. He blinked twice before swallowing whole. He looked around to see if anybody else had felt what he had, and when he found that everything else had moved on as if nothing had happened...he did too.

There was a rumbling sound coming from the floor above, this was enough to cause the receptionist to look up and then over to Cain with a look that he knew immediately as "which of us is going to check that out?" Cain almost responded with a look that said “which one of us is paid to check that out?”, but thought against it when he realized that the receptionist had no intention of leaving her book that she’d been gripped to.

Cain stood still no longer, moving out through the hallway and toward the stairs. He wasn’t surprised when there was a different receptionist sitting behind the desk when he would return the next week. He continued up the stairs and moved passed the bookshelves that threatened to sandwich him in on both sides. Normally he’d take a left a little less than twenty paces after getting off the staircase to go to the Adult Mystery section, but the ruffling sounds and sounds of books thudding against one another continued straight through.

He followed it past the younger boy who had passed him earlier and he froze as the boy continued along, his eyes followed the boy as he walked back to the staircase and made his way up to the third floor. That was why he froze...that little boy looked like Abel when he was a few years younger. He had a similar mushroom-style haircut—one that Abel would be embarrassed to wear today. The face was a bit different...in the glance Cain saw of his eyes he could tell they weren’t his blue, and the nose was a bit fatter. From the front it was obvious, but not so much from the back, and he couldn’t help stare as the boy left his sight at the personification of the weight on his heart.

The loudest of the thuds sounds behind him and jolted him back to reality. He continued back toward the rear of the library, entering a room he realized he never had actually entered before. It was just passed another receptionist area, but there sat nobody behind the desk. It seemed that one of two things were possible: Either nobody ever came up this way, so the heads were able to cut some costs on receptionists, or times were especially bad and they straight out weren’t able to cover the space. He hoped it was the former, personally. Now with the knowledge of this whole different area maybe he could branch out and find some new books. As he pushed the doors open he ducked just in time to avoid a book flying directly at his face.

"Woah!" He called out, startling the girl in front of him who had just launched the book from the bookshelf in front. To her credit she hadn’t been looking. Against her credit she threw a book. "What the heck are you doing?" He asked. She looked back once, a second was all it took for her green eyes to strike him solid. She looked really cute, but the thought only processed for a fraction of a second before he took a step back and held his hands up, but with a hesitant sort of step he walked closer. "You know there’s a more efficient way at finding the book you want, right? And I’m sure it’s not even here with all of..." he looked around for any identifying genres, but can't seem to find it—all the shelves are unlabeled.

"These are the undesirables, nobody wants these," she said, returning to her pulling books off the shelves, looking at the face, then tossing it aside.

"Well, that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I mean, every book somewhere had someone wanting to read it."

"It’s just what they are. I’m not the one that made them that way."

Cain found himself scratching at his arm, shaking it off immediately. "Well, okay, then. If nobody wants them, why do you?"

Another book flies past his head. She wasn’t looking when she threw it, but a piece of him said that it might have been aimed at him.

"I don’t want these ones, obviously. I’m looking for a very specific one, I thought it was here. Today it is not."

“Maybe someone else checked it out?”

She glared at him, “Impossible.”

“O...kay,” he said, "Mind some help looking for it?"

“Yes."

"Okay, so what’s it look like?"

She stopped and turned to look at him. It’s the first time she has done so for longer than a moment, “That’s a yes I mind. Not a yes you can help…” she looked behind her toward the bookshelves she’d still not checked and sighed, turning back toward him, lowering her head. "Okay, you’re tall. Go fetch the higher shelves of the ones over there." She pointed him off toward a shelf on the right hand side of the room. "It’ll save me from having to get a ladder."

"You mean a stepladder."

She turned to him and stared holes into him. "I don’t have time for your bullshit. Either go look for a black book with markings on the front or shove off."

"How strange are these markings...?" Cain asked, not missing a beat. He was intrigued by this mystery book, after all, but if he were totally honest with himself he’d say his heart was pounding out of his chest.

She sighed and turned once again, dropping the book she was holding. "Think of shapes you’d doodle in class...you do go to school, right?"

He nodded.

She thought a moment and an idea flashed across her face. "Great, so you must come here often?"

"Yes...I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at though."

"Do you have a library card?" She asked, taking a step closer to him.

It made him uneasy and he took a step back, "Uh...yeah...?"

"Excellent. When I find the book I’m looking for I’m going to need you to sign it out for me."

"Why can't you just sign it out for yourself? I mean, if you don’t have a card you could easily-"

"I can't get one." The phrase was so simple, but she said it with a tone that wasn’t quite irritation...it was almost sad. “If I could I would. So, mind helping me out?"

"I sense a complete 180 from shove off."

She turned back around and made a step further down the shelf. "Get to work. The receptionist who is actually going to care if I’m making this mess will be here in an hour or so."

“It seems that you come here often too.” She didn’t smile, or react at all, really. “So what is this book about?”

“Nothing special.”

"That makes it seem like it is extra special, you know that?" He reached up toward a book on the top shelf—the same one she was picking from.

"What do you like to read?" She asked.

"My, aren’t we getting personal?" Cain joked.

"I don’t actually care. Talking will make it go faster, and I’m sure you could talk up a balloon."

"I see...well, then I read lots of things. I mainly try for the bible every third Tuesday, but this month I was planning on double dipping and trying every second Tuesday."

Her pace slowed for a second, he could see the reaction on her face and started to laugh. "It’s a joke, I’m a nerd, get it?” She eyed him for a moment and resumed before moving down to the next shelf. “No, I try not to read the good book, I’ve had enough of it for a life, personally. I only come up here every so often, not much so recently."

"Something happen?" She looked at a thin book and made a look of disgust. "Gods, look at what trash they allow to be published," she interrupted herself, passing it along to him.

"’Colors of my Eyes, a thriller that will put you in your sheets!’, what does that even mean?" He asked, setting it back on the shelf.

"No, toss it." she said. "That one deserves to be undesirable."

He looked for a moment from the book to the shelf and set it back neatly. “I don’t know. It sounds silly, but I haven’t read it, so I’m not the person to judge.” He pulled down some more books that look shoddy at best—whether they were damaged or just looked plain off. He set them down gently onto the pile and then moved onto the next that didn’t satisfy her vague criteria.

"You didn’t answer my question," she said, tossing another behind her.

"Huh?" He asked, looking at her as she moved down the line faster.

"You said you haven’t been coming around much lately. Did something happen?" Her eyes didn’t leave the shelf, they scanned each cover from head to toe.

"Kinda rude to just assume, you know?"

"Am I wrong?"

He stared into the spine of a book for a moment, the cracking sounds of his legs threatened to overtake him, but he pushed it aside. The image of that boy that looked just like Abel shot in his mind for a moment, but vanished just as quick. "I really would rather talk about anything else to be honest."

"Now you don’t want to talk,” she mumbled, tossing another behind her. “Quite unfair, don’t you think?" She asked, "You come here wondering what I’m looking for and I’m more than open with my answers"

"Well, not ex-"

"But I can't seem to get a straight one here, shame."

A part of him wanted to get angry, but another part saw the tiniest of smirks on her face. In that one smirk he understood. Anything to distract from the obvious hurt that happened. He was sure he was a terrible act of hiding it.

"I was in a car accident this past April," he said, smoothly, slowly. "I’m okay, obviously, but my younger brother became paralyzed from the waist down."

She looked over toward him, "Your fault?"

The response surprised him, there hadn’t been any of the reaction he’d been expecting. "Oh my god! Is he okay? Are you okay? You must be so scared!" It was almost...refreshing. He already knew how he had felt deep down about all of what had happened, and he realized that with every person that knew about it the same reactions came from them. It only doubled down on what he felt and gave a sickness to his stomach, but now...he didn’t feel that. It felt almost nice to just say it and to have a reaction he didn’t expect.

"I think so sometimes," he said, returning to his row. "But it always comes back to one spot—the actual hit—and I realize that there wasn’t anything I could have done."

She moved on to the next book, "Shame. My Mom died in a crash when I was four."

"Really?"

"No, I lied. I was three."

"Huh," he forced himself not to say the very things he had been thinking. Of anything he could consider it the kindest courtesy.

"You seem to get it," she said. "Not many people do."

"Uh, thanks...I guess?" Cain looked back to the shelf as his hand brushed against the next book, a thick cloud of dust exploded off of the front, causing a coughing fit. “I’m not sure what you mean, though.”

“I hate sugar coating. It’s a waste of time and people’d be better off without it.”

Cain finished off the shelf he’d been looking at and didn’t seem to find what she’d been looking for. He walked across the aisle and stood up on his toes to check out the next bookcase. “I think people would be better off if they didn’t drive like a maniac.”

The girl said nothing, Cain slid a thick brown book from the shelf and noticed there had been an even thicker black book tucked flat against the back panel. “Hey, I think I found it.” He took it out and before he finished she snatched it out of his hand.

“Yes, this is it!” She tucked it under her arm. “Okay, let’s go sign out and we can part ways. You can go back to...well, whatever you were doing.” She turned on a dime, it barely gave him any time to blink.

“Woah woah hold on a second there,” he held his hands out.

She stopped and sighed, cocking her head without turning back around, “What?”

“I don’t know...it’s just all so weird. Like you’re in a rush or something. It’s a book, not a heart for a dying patient.”

She turned at this, “Just a book? God I can’t believe you. Come on.”

“If it’s so special what’s it about? I’ve never seen anything like that. What, Greek? Jewish? Those marks are old.” He didn’t know where the curiosity bug had bit him, but there was too much that was off for him to just do what she wanted.

“It’s like I said, nothing special,” She was defensive, and he knew he was right on the money.

“Okay, then you won’t mind waiting for me to find something before we sign out? It’d not make much sense for me to sign stuff out twice.”

She looked back to him with a don’t push me kind of look. “I don’t have time for this. I’ll just find someone else to-”

“-To lend you their library card?” Cain asked. “I think you’d have better luck asking someone for their car keys.”

“You overvalue that damn card,” she said.

He shrugged, “I don’t think so...but if you’re sure then I’m gonna go find my stuff then head out.” He started past her, letting his snare catch in three...two...one…

“Stop.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He did.

“Why do you want to know so much about it?” She asked.

Now it was his turn to play the cool guy and talk without turning, he thought, it made him grin. “I don’t know you. I don’t know that you won’t just hightail it out of here as soon as it’s signed out and I get stuck with all the fees.”

She didn’t respond.

“Exactly. I’m happy to help out, but I come to this place too. So it isn’t really about what kind of book it is. Not wholly, at least.”

“Why would I ditch town over a book?” She asked.

“I dunno, but it’s very special to you that you were considering stealing it, no?”

“I wasn’t going to-”

“Those books there,” he pointed to the large mountain. “The receptionist—not the one already downstairs, the one that’s coming in next wouldn’t let you within ten feet of this building if she saw this. Obviously she’ll know because the one that’s down there now will report it in when shift ends in...fifteen minutes” he glanced up at a clock on the wall. He knew this because he enjoyed her much better. Her name was Mrs. Nesbitt, and she loved talking about what kinds of books they were getting in...but that was beside the point. “If you were planning on finding it just to read it here...well, I doubt you could in one sitting considering how thick it is, and second I don’t think you’d get the time before you were asked to clean up the mess and escorted out.”

She said nothing.

“And since I only just came up to check on the noise there wasn’t any plan on how to get the book out, am I right?”

Silence.

“So, for whatever reason you need this book. It looks old and it’s hidden away here in the Undesirable section, probably a low print or a one of a kind. That kind of thing I get, collectors eat that kind of stuff up.”

“I’m not going to sell it-!” she bursted out, not meaning to, shaking her head. “No, just shut up!” She tried her hardest not to scream.

“I don’t know why, and I largely don’t care why—I kind of do, but it’s not my main priority. I just don’t want to end up on the short end if I sign it out for you. So if I do, I’m going to need some assurance.”

The way he spoke reminded him of his father. It put memories in his mind of how he must have sounded negotiating for their car. You see sir, I’d like to pay you, but I’m going to need some assurance the thing drives. May I take a spin? He wasn’t too sure on the details of what actually went into buying a car. He’d only seen it on the telly or read about it in stories.

She shook her head, “423 Diamond Way, Talbot.” She said.

“Huh?” Cain looked at her in confusion.

“It’s where I’m staying, Apartment 237. Help me out here and meet me there tonight at 6 and I’ll prove I’m not jumping ship.”

“All the way out in Talbot…? That’s like...a wicked long bike ride.”

Now it was her turn to be confused, “I thought you drove…?”

Cain shook his head, “No, not my time yet…” and left it at that.

She shrugged. “Come, or not. That’s your choice.”

Cain thought about it, he could probably hitch a ride on the bus and it’d only take him forty or so minutes. He knew Talbot well enough—he had friends that lived there when he was down in Sunnyside, closer to Talbot than he was. Cain didn’t want to ask his father for a ride because he knew his father would make an extremely large deal about his boy going to see a girl.

He nodded his head and looked up toward her, “What’s your name?”

She looked at him, he couldn’t read what emotion was on her face. She hoisted the book against her side, propping it up on her hip. “Sophie.”

That was it, just Sophie. It was so...unfitting that it almost did in a backwards sort of way. He smiled and he held out his hand, “Hello Sophie. My name is Cain Gray, and I’ll see you at 6, but first let’s check that book out, shall we?”

30

Cain was on time. The bus ride wasn’t bad, he had guessed the time it’d take almost to a “T” and was able to find the apartment building with no issue. This part of Talbot he hadn’t ever been to, Diamond way certainly seemed an antithesis for its namesake. Garbage hang in the street and it looked much lower maintenance than even Sunnyside—which had its fair share of economic issues. Salem was a bit better off in comparison to the much of the northwest. It obviously wasn’t California levels of wealth streaming in, but it was the perfect place for those with just a little bit extra cash to just get away from everyone else. Who’d willingly travel to Oregon, much less in the town that shares the namesake with the infamous witch trials? It was like doubling down on the bad voodoo, but for the Salemites it seemed to be the exact opposite. Things, when not smashed in by a car, went fine.

Cain opened the door to the apartment complex and walked inside. He made his way up to the second floor. He passed by an older man on the stairs who had a nasty cough and quickened his pace as he searched for the door numbered 237.

He knocked once and waited. He wondered if he should have brought something with him...but before he could continue the door opened and Sophie looked at him, “Huh, you actually showed.”

She wore her hair up in a bun and he stood there a moment, desperate for his voice to come and save him from looking the idiot. “Well, yeah,” Cain said, looking down to the floor. “I mean I said I would.”

“Right...well, are you going to just stand there?” She stepped back into the apartment.

He nodded hurriedly and stepped inside. As he did he immediately was overcome with the smell of what seemed to be conflicting air fresheners. He had to swallow a whiff of it at first that almost made his eyes water, but it calmed down afterward.

“Don’t mind the smell,” she said.

“I...didn’t even notice it,” he almost coughed. “It smells awful,” he corrected.

“Yeah, I know. I’d change it if I could.”

“Your parents like it or something?”

She walked further into the room which looked antique. The sofa itself looked like it was at least a decade old or longer. It looked as if it carried a warmth at one point, but it had no longer. “No. You came here for a reason, remember?”

“Uh...yeah,” he said, off guard. He looked around as he caught up with her and found a picture hanging on a wall. It showed smiling faces all knit together, but the only issue was that the family in the picture was Asian. Chinese, Cain thought. Something Sophie definitely wasn’t. “Uh...who is this?” He asked.

“Previous residents.”

“All this their stuff?”

“Used to be.”

He turned to her, “Okay, I think it’s fair I ask a few questions.”

She sighed, “I don’t know where they went. Not here, haven’t been for at least a month. The landlord doesn’t seem to know or care. The smell is theirs, I keep it up so he doesn’t come snooping.”

“Don’t you have a proper home? Parents and everything?”

“My Mom died in a crash.”

“O-Oh...right.” He felt so stupid for forgetting. “And your Dad?”

“You came here for a reason,” she repeated. “Do you want to know about the book or not?”

“Y-Yeah,” he said. “It’s here?”

She left him alone for a moment, coming back with the thick book in her hands. “Of course it’s here.” she said. “At first I was going to skip town...like you said.”

She said it so blunt, it took him off guard. “Y-You’re still here, though. Something change your mind?”

“I did some looking in on your name,” she said. “Normally I wouldn’t have, but it sounded familiar. Your father works for the Genros Foundation, does he not?”

The question was so odd to him, he couldn’t help but make a face that asked any question he could have posed.

“I have a manual here from his work. I was able to find your family name in it. That’s why I stayed...it might be fortunate that we ran into each other.”

“Manual…? Is it like a phone book? Do jobs really come with those kinds of things?”

She motioned toward the book she’d been holding. “It deals with this. Before I do, I need your word that you’ll stay quiet about it.”

“Why?”

“If I tell you that then how am I supposed to know?”

He took in a breath, she looked serious enough about it. Something about the whole situation seemed like it was more serious. “It’s going to depend on what’s actually going on. It sounds like you’re in some serious trouble.”

“It’s going to depend on if you agree or not. That’s all it depends on. I can easily just head out now and that can be it. I am choosing to place some trust in you, can you do the same?”

Cain nodded.

She let out a deep breath she’d been holding. “To answer your previous question, no, jobs don’t typically give out manuals with a list of employees on it. My father kept a running tab. He was cautious, especially since they were responsible for my mom’s death.”

“What?! You said she was in a car crash years ago.”

“There was a similar situation back then when something high-risk of theirs was stolen. It turned out it was one of the engineers trying to profit off of one of their designs. The people in charge didn’t know that at the time. My father believed that they may have put out hits as a scare tactic. The guy who crashed into my mom had no identification. He was a ghost for as much as the police could tell. It was a quiet day, witnesses even said that he’d been speeding like crazy on a normally slow day.”

“That’s...awful, but sounds a bit crazy if I’m going to be honest. They’re a high profile company...do you seriously believe that they’d do anything to harm you? As long I’ve been alive my dad’s worked there. Worst thing to come of it is his long hours.”

“I know how it sounds. It doesn’t make any sense, it’d be a PR nightmare if it were true. But…”

“He still works for them, right? And he really believes they’re behind it? Doesn’t that contradict itself? If I believed I was working for people that could do something like that I wouldn’t be working there anymore.”

She looked away, “There’s no way they’d let him quit. I know how crazy that sounds.”

“My dad studies fish and the ocean,” Cain said. “There’s no way anything dangerous is coming of that. I’m sorry what happened to your Mom, but I think this is just a little too much for me,” he said. “I think you should contact the police or something to get a real place to stay...or something.” He started to back off toward the door, turning-

“What if your brother’s accident wasn’t an accident?” She asked.

It stopped him cold in his tracks, one hand on the doorknob.

“That was another thing that caught my attention,” she said. “I know car accidents aren’t rare...but they weren’t able to identify the body, were they? Complete ghost?”

He didn’t move. He answered slowly, the images of the wreck entered fresh into his brain. “No name to the body, no registration to the car, but it was just an accident. Police said it was a robber on the run.” He turned around. “It’s just a coincidence.”

She looked at him with something in her eyes, it looked like contempt. “It’s not. Janice Humphrey, Management Arctic Systems. Brain damage after a car slammed into hers last year. Teddy Thornton, R&D Arctic Systems, lost a leg after a collision five years ago. Sharon Upton, R&D Arctic Systems, miscarried after the trauma of being in a terrible auto accident three months ago. Wayne Banner, Marine Biologist Head Arctic Systems, his entire family was killed in a tragic auto accident four years ago,” She continued on a list of twenty-five names in total, she didn’t even need to read off of the list. She had them memorized. “My father was keeping tabs on all of the employees at his work that were involved in accidents. Twenty-five people all at different times, but in each and every single one the other party could not be identified.”

“That’s another point that has me confused on this whole thing,” Cain began, as if only a single point were something small. “These all seem like…I dunno, extreme measures for taking out a hit on someone. Like, how could you be assured you’d find someone willing to toss away their life and destroy a vehicle no less just to take out one person?”

“I don’t know, I’m not the one who came up with the idea. People obviously did it as there are bodies for it.

“Ghosts,” Cain said, taking a step back in.

“It’s suspicious,” she said. “Every single one. Obviously there isn’t any evidence to do anything legally about it, but it’s suggestive.”

The thought of it burned something hot in his chest, “You mean that someone crashed into our car because of that book?”

“I think so. I can’t tell you why that would be a go-to method of enacting a threat, but I can’t argue with what’s happened.”

“What the hell is so goddamned important about that dumb book?” He found himself louder than he intended, but he couldn’t stop it. “What could be in there that’s more important than Abel’s legs?”

“Shut your damn mouth for first,” she said, hushing him and bringing her finger to her lips, “you’re going to cause a scene. Second, I think I might know in part the answer.”

He fully let go of the door and walked up closer. “Show me.”

She nodded and opened up to a passage in the book, “Come here.”

31

GODSONG

Existence cannot exist without the active will of its creator. Without will the order of the manyverse begins to devour itself like the mighty ouroboros. The Craftsman vanished from the manyverse when they stepped across the Darkbright into Luxmund. It would follow logically that the order of everything should have collapsed the moment that this event happened. The fact that it did not and we persist to this day suggests a few different possibilities. Firstly, when The Craftsman’s waves were exposed to light they didn’t simply disappear. The whereabouts and what form that which they took thereafter is an unknown variable. Secondly, The Craftsman wasn’t the only order of will within the manyverse. It is possible that this second engine of will continued its existence if The Craftsman’s own ended. This second engine, an ancient creator substitute that existed before the creation of all. It would be more apt to say that The Craftsman was a creator substitute for the engine, dubbed GODSONG, however, it exhibits no signs of sentience, so it was merely considered that of an engine, a just-in-case by The Craftsman.

It is what I would refer to call a probability matrix. Clawed in shape it exists on a level above waves, above flesh. Whatever we existed as before GODSONG existed with it. Energy on infinite levels runs through the engine that powers its own sort of will. As we know it, it is the physical representation of the manyverse—it is through GODSONG that Luxmund populates with new possibilities.

The name GODSONG is due to the melodic waves emitting from the engine. It emits at any and all frequencies, able to tune to that of another universe or even a living creature. Using these frequencies it can usher in its will of those waves it connects to. A song of unhearable tones bends will to GODSONG. The Craftsman would utilize GODSONG to guide their own Noctem, but found an interesting bit of resistance when attempting to tune to the frequencies of Luxmund. They found it possible, but the ever increasing universes would ruin the sync that manual use of GODSONG had brought. Reading this, it seemed more than likely that GODSONG’s responsibilities were twofold. The autonomous actions it carried out by its own non-sentient will, whether they be programmed from the before or not, and then any manual input from The Craftsman. It is repeated in these texts that under any circumstances should no form of sentient life have any contact whatsoever with this device, should the situation arise. Considering the tone of these texts, it seems that the work of The Craftsman was highly scrutinized.

Cain took a step back after reading the passage. “Wh...What is this?” He didn’t know half of what the book was talking about...a world of light? Craftsman?

“There’s a bit before this that explains some of the weirder terms,” Sophie began, closing the book, holding her fingers firm down on the cover. “...but that’s the part I wanted you to see. I think that engine it speaks about might be what they want so much with this book.”

Cain furrowed his brow, he took in a breath as if to dissect what she’d said. “You think that thing is real?”

“Think about it, why else would they care so much about a book?”

“That part is still under heavy consideration,” Cain said, pacing to the side. “Besides, that’s only one passage of...well, you see how thick that thing is.”

“Okay but the beginning just starts out as some Greek philosopher’s story. Do you think anyone would be willing to kill over that? This here is a supposed power of an omnipotent being that’s just waiting with a sign attached to it saying “use me”.”

“Well, how do we know something like that even exists? Like, this book seems to be very detailed as if the person who originally wrote it was actually there.”

“Well, they’re a collection of stories found by an old philosopher…”

“Yeah, but who wrote the stories?”

“It only refers to them as an old beggar.”

Cain tapped his foot, “I want to believe you...trust me, I do. I want there to be someone else to blame for the accident...but there’s just too much here for me to put blind faith into. Supposedly some beggar wrote stories of places he couldn’t have been to and about things he couldn’t have known about, so he plucks a random farm-boy up to study in his great and magical library for all of his existence?”

Sophie didn’t say anything to him, she only looked at him with a confused look that only grew as her jaw dropped. “How...did you know all of that?”

Cain stopped pacing and looked at her. “Huh?”

“The parts you just said...I didn’t tell you those bits of him reading in a library or being a farm hand.”

“So…? I got lucky.”

She shook her head, “Without reading the first few chapters? I doubt it.”

Cain had no idea what she was talking about...so what if he guessed that an old philosopher as she had put it was a farmer before he became important? Most if not all were back then...it was kind of the lifestyle. There was something so cyclically trapping about this conversation, he regretted coming in the first place. Surely what she was talking about couldn’t be so. There were too many uncertainties and holes. Why didn’t he leave, then? The door was right there, she wasn’t blocking him or even restricting him from leaving...but he stood still. You can leave right now and prevent any more headache inducing chat.

He stood still. It was because of Abel. He woke up every morning thinking of Abel and what he could have done different to save him his legs. Every morning he wished he could do anything to fix the injustice brought to him...and standing here was a possibility.

It made him laugh inside even calling it a possibility. There was no possibility that someone—anyone could have written those events as they happened.

Something pushed forward in his mind immediately after this pressing thought. He regurgitated an image so vile he was sure he would have emptied his stomach if he’d had anything to eat for dinner. The rotund scaly body sat on plump legs inside the earth, shielded in stone and magma. A long neck extended upward, framed in the stone where it lie, and at the end of the neck was a humanoid face that was expressionless save for the scar that ran along the length of its mouth. He came back into himself and then at once he found his body moving on its own accord, following a rhythm predetermined. He walked toward Sophie, who mouthed a question he didn’t hear as he came close, then backed up. He went to the book and opened it to just after the section they were reading.

SAKONNA

Sakonna is one of the earliest creatures of the night to have been sighted in human history. As early as the first century the beast had been a visitor to our planet. Sakonna had also learned from the mistakes of The Craftsman—it could not exist as waves inside the light. As Sakonna crossed the Darkbright it fossilized itself using a shell of hardened darkness—a substance so dark it would be known to Luxmund only as a black hole. Inside the hole it would sit in space until it could attract enough space dust to create a body from which it could further travel with. As the dust and ice particles began to surround it the hardened darkness would be released. Draconian in stature with an almost human face it kept traveling closer to the planet whose light kept multiplying.

As Sakonna made its way closer to the planet more stardust gathered closer to create appendages it would understand as legs. It floated for hundreds of years until it finally made it to the stratosphere of the planet that had been rapidly evolving—new lifeforms had been created every day it seemed—the blink of an instant for Sakonna.

It made impact with the planet before humans could properly speak to one another. Sakonna had been the first to find its way from Darkbright to Earth and had been the only creature of the night to make landfall for almost a thousand years. For the first one thousand years Sakonna waited in silence, studying the landscape and how it formed—studying the people and animals that lived on the planet. It remained encased in rock as it waited, watching. It learned how they moved, how they ate, how they communicated and even how they died. They weren’t like The Craftsman, exposure to their polar opposite didn’t send their flesh to the fires of a million suns. They rested. They relaxed, enjoyed the night. It brought them smiles to close their eyes.

Being happy at night wasn’t a universal feeling, however. Sakonna could feel that the fear of the dark had remained in some human’s hearts, even at this early in their infancy. It had almost been a programmed weakness into the hearts of man. Sakonna took this information and learned it well. Humans could be afraid of the dark. Sakonna’s first recorded killing happened near the beginning of the eleventh century. Throughout the years the meteor that Sakonna had fallen to Earth had soon grown into the face of a mountain on what would soon be the Indian border.

Humans would construct near the base of the mountain. One night when the sun had fallen earlier—a longer night was in store for the humans, but it wasn’t the only thing. From the innards of the mountains a tendril rose from the meteor. It wormed its way through the rocks, carving a hollow space inside of the mountain. The protection from the light the mountain gave allowed Sakonna to temporarily retreat from its earthen shield. Some say it shall rest under the surface until it can build the energy it lost from crossing the Darkbright. What it will do then is unknown, but it shall not be good for those of Luxmund.

Cain looked up at Sophie, he was sure there was a wild look in his eyes. What was weird was that the confusion had left hers and all that was left was a determined sort of look.

“You saw it?” She asked.

“You did too?”

“Not now, no. But when I first went through the book I did. That’s why I believe there’s something up with it. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and no matter how crazy the words in it were written, or how implausible they seemed, something that led to that intense of a vision only to see what I had seen was written down in the book…”

“That’s...insane. How did it do that?” Cain asked, his fingers were gripping the book tighter. How could it have given him that image? He looked back down to the book and saw his fingers shaking, sweat started to bead on the back of his hands. He let go and started to pace once more. His stomach started to churn and he felt his head start to warm. He felt the impact of the crash once again and behind his eyes he saw Abel as the car impaled his body. He shook it off and leaned against the wall.

Sophie stepped closer, “Are you okay?”

He held out his hand and stabilized, nodding once. “We...have to do something about this. Toss it, burn it, whatever.”

Sophie turned and grabbed the book, holding it close to her, “I...can’t do that.”

Cain wiped his forehead and then his hand on the side of his pants. “Why not? If it’s that dangerous and there’s a legitimate reason why you’re hiding out here why not just burn it and be done?”

“Well...even if I do that doesn’t stop anything...it’s not like they’ll stop just because they magically know it’s burned.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“I want revenge.”

This perked his head up, he looked to her, and noticed her death grip on the book. “It might not have been for this stupid book that my mom was killed, but I believe that they had something to do with it. Whatever it was, I don’t care. I care that it happened, and I want them to pay for what they did. And what about you? Don’t you want revenge for your brother?”

Cain felt a bubbling feeling swell in his stomach, it’d been threatening to come up ever since he came in. “I want-” the image flashed again of the crash. Abel didn’t deserve this pain. You didn’t do anything to save him. You’re his brother and you didn’t do anything. “I want to know if they found this machine...Godsong…If it’s as powerful as this book seems to say it is then maybe...maybe it could fix all of this.”