After Jack and the boy scrambled through the shattered door, they found themselves in a shadowy unfinished basement with a dirt floor. Turning, he saw that they had stepped out of an empty stone archway. Symbols were etched in each stone, similar to the ones in the compound. He reached through the empty space of the gateway, but nothing happened. The compound was gone. He wondered how they activated it and if it always opened to the Order compound. Did they move it from location to location on this end?

There was no time to investigate though, they had to escape before the priests came through. He took the boy’s arm and climbed creaking stairs to the first floor of what turned out to be an abandoned house. It was at least a hundred years old. Dusty tables and a few chairs were strewn about the rooms, and a threadbare red sofa sat under a cracked window in the living room. The old hardwood floors groaned as they made their way through the kitchen. A few cracked dishes lay along the chipped yellow countertop.

Moments later, after a brief run through thick forests, Jack found himself grasping his dirt-stained white robes in one hand as he peeked around a row of tall green bushes with little red flowers. Their bitter scent made his nose twitch, and he fought the urge to sneeze. In front of them, an old general store sat in an empty parking lot. A single green pickup truck rested behind the store. He wondered what day it was. If it was Sunday, the store might be closed.

A sign on a post in front of the store told him that they were in Sibley, Missouri. At least they weren’t far from Kansas City. The weight of the gauntlet on his hand was foreign, but he was hesitant to take it off. He told himself he was worried about a threat, but the truth, he knew, was that it felt good. The energy from the metal glove flowed straight up his arm and into his chest, making his body pulsate with power.

“Our ride will be here in a minute,” Jack said, looking down at the boy clinging to his robe. He had called Greg from the policeman’s mobile phone, turning it on just long enough to make the call. Luckily, he remembered Greg’s number. After the call, he pulled the battery out of the phone, praying that the police didn’t have time to locate the handset. After what seemed like an eternity, Greg’s small blue import pulled into the parking lot. Jack took a deep breath, grabbed the boy’s hand, and stepped out from behind the bush. A violent sneeze exploded from him as he opened the rear passenger door.

“What is happening?” Greg asked as Jack settled in beside him.

“Go, quick,” Jack said.

“Jack—”

“Go!”

Greg turned the wheel and sped away.

“It’s all clear,” Jack said, turning to the boy in the back seat. “We’re okay.”

“Clear from what?” Greg asked.

“Bad guys,” Jack said.

“Why are you wearing a dress?

“It’s a robe,” Jack said.

“What the hell is happening?”

“I was abducted by a cult of supernatural Christian zealots bent on protecting the world,” Jack said, as he put the battery back into the policeman’s phone. “Lots of murder and mayhem.” He powered the phone on and scrolled to the last number.

“Um—” Greg said.

“Ha, the detective’s number,” Jack said.

“And the boy?” Greg said, nodding his head toward the back seat.

“Also kidnapped, almost murdered, hold on,” Jack said, lifting the phone to his ear and hitting the call button.

“Detective Graves,” said a woman’s voice.

“Detective, this is Jack Blackwell.”

Silence.

“Graves?” he asked.

“Where are you? What did you do to our officer at the hospital?”

“Nothing, I just cuffed him. Look, there’s a homicidal occult in Sibley you have to shut down.”

“Mister Blackwell, I need you to—”

“Listen to me, there are some sick people making human sacrifices out here.”

“All right, Mister Blackwell, I hear you. Where in Sibley?”

“Just off the highway, about two miles south of the old general store. It’s a big white abandoned farmhouse with a few old cars in the yard. Long overgrown driveway. Very creepy. In the basement, you’ll find an old stone archway. It’s…” Jack searched for an explanation, a reason for the police to take the archway. “It’s valuable, stolen. They’re hurting kids down there too, you have to—”

“Got it, we’ll go, now Mister Blackwell, listen to me—”

“Call me Jack.”

“Jack, listen. I don’t know what you did to our officer in the hospital, but you’re in a lot of trouble. I need you to come in now.”

“I can’t do that, not yet. I have to find someone.”

“Her name is Ann, I know, but nobody else remembers. Not the officer in the hospital or the ones that responded to the school. Nobody, Jack.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack shifted his weight in the small seat and tried to move the phone to his left hand, but remembered the gauntlet.

“I… I don’t know. I know I got the call, I know I had a case and now it’s a case nobody remembers. Not even the people at school. They called it a fight between students, but I saw the classroom, I know it wasn’t just a fight. Jack, you need to come in.”

“Graves, I swear I didn’t have anything to do with that. Well, the fight, yes, but not the forgetting. All I did was handcuff your guy and grab his phone. They took Ann at the school and I have to get her back.”

“Who took her, Jack? I questioned the professor and the students right after it happened, and they saw it all. They said you broke through the door. I’ve even got my notes, but my computer files have been erased. And now the professor doesn’t remember it that way, and neither do our responding officers. They don’t even know who you are and the professor doesn’t remember Ann showing up for class.”

“That can’t be right,” Jack said.

“You’ve got to clear this up. You’re real or I’m losing my mind.”

“Your mind is fine, Graves… I think I might have an idea though.”

“Please, tell me,” she said.

“I need to find Ann first, but I’ll help you clear it up when I’m done.”

“Wait, Jack, I can help you,” she said, an edge of panic entering her tone.

Jack thought for a moment, a detective might be useful. “Maybe,” he said, “First, go to the Sibley house, you might get answers there. It could be the Order wiping memories.”

“What’s the Order?” she asked.

“Just go. I’ll call you back soon, don’t trust anyone.” He pressed the end button and pulled the battery out of the phone.

After a short silence, Greg said, “Um, Jack?” He glanced from Jack’s face to his gauntleted hand and back to the road.

“You’re probably not going to believe me.” Jack laid the phone down on the middle console and slipped the gauntlet off his left hand, pushing down the panicked urge to slam the thing back over his fingers as the power drained from his body “But here it goes.”

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Despite the sudden weariness that seemed to settle into his bones, Jack managed to make it through the entire story. They were well down the highway by the time he was finished and Greg hadn’t said a thing. Jack was waiting for a lecture or Greg’s declaration that he was losing his mind, but to his surprise, it never came.

“So what now?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Bobby said Darean’s horde was at the cemetery, but I need to go to school first, I guess. Graves said that nobody remembers but she may have missed something.” Or, I may be able to jump into the professor’s memories, Jack thought.

“Okay, you have to get dressed first,” Greg said.

“No time for that, I have to catch the professor. We’ll figure out the rest after.”

Greg nodded.

“You’re taking this in stride,” Jack said. “Do you believe me?” Jack studied Greg’s face.

Greg glanced over at him and then back at the highway. “I saw what you did in the office. It was…” he stared out the windshield, grasping for the right words. “Ben was a wreck after you left. Talking about murder and forgiveness and his mom.” Jack nodded and turned his own attention to the highway as Greg spoke, thankful that Greg wasn’t asking about what he saw in Ben’s past. “I felt the fear rush into me and then out toward Ben, and I knew you were controlling it.”

They continued the rest of the ride in silence. In the backseat, the boy stared at the passing suburbs. Jack and Greg watched the road in front of them. It was late afternoon as they pulled into the Adina University campus.

“Leave it running and keep an eye out,” Jack said. Greg nodded.

Luckily he saw only a few students walking the halls, and they didn’t pay much attention to him. For all they knew, he could be a theater student in costume. At least that’s what he hoped they were thinking. He passed by Ann’s classroom, but the door had been completely removed and there were no signs of a fight. He paused, running his hand up the metal door frame, remembering Ann in his dream. She stood in the middle of the classroom with her white pajamas on. Asking for help. Goosebumps crept up his arms and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He turned away, jogging toward the professor’s office.

“Professor?” He knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. The professor spun in his chair and stood up.

“Yes,” he said, as he slid papers into a worn leather satchel.

“My name is Jack and I have a few questions.”

“You’re one of Pete’s friends, aren’t you? How can I help you?” The old professor pulled his sport coat from the back of his chair and slid into it before picking the satchel up. Pete was his only friend at Adina, a graduate student teacher in Jack’s introductory theater class. He liked Pete’s easy-going, creative nature. He found it a good balance to his sober evaluation of reality. They went to lunch at least once a week on campus. And while Ann wasn’t in his theater class, Jack knew Pete was friends with her too.

“That’s how you know me, as Pete’s friend?” Jack tried to sense the professor’s emotions, but they were mangled, tumbling between confusion and fear.

“Yes, I’ve seen you two together. He was just here.” the professor said. He seemed to be fumbling with the thought. “I’m… I’m sorry, I really have to go.” His statement sounded almost like a question. The professor took a step forward, but Jack placed his hand on the man’s arm.

“Professor, please.”

A torrent of emotions swept through Jack’s awareness. The professor had seen him with Pete and had a clear emotional response to him, but the underlying memories were fragmented. And the professor had a strong urge to run away from him, but he couldn’t tell why. Jack willed more energy into him, but the fragments would not come together. They reminded him of his own broken memories. The other times he bridged, the emotions had naturally flowed into memories. He wondered if Darean and his Shi could permanently manipulate someone’s memory. Jack let go, and the professor reeled back, leaning against his desk.

“Sorry, I’m looking for someone and thought you might be able to help,” Jack said.

The professor sucked in a long breath and said, “I don’t think I can. I…” he stared over Jack’s shoulder, eyebrows knitted together, “I don’t feel well.”

“You probably need rest,” Jack said, trying to will a sense of calm into the man. He would have to find answers at the cemetery. If Bobby was right, he would find Darean’s followers there. He spun on his heel and stepped into the hallway.

“Jack?” Pete walked toward him, head bobbing and arms swinging in his usual loping gait. But Jack felt anxiety rolling out of him.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked.

“Oh my God, I thought you were dead,” Pete said, throwing his arms up. “I’ve been searching for you and Ann all day!”

“Why?”

“I was in the courtyard when the cops showed up yesterday, I saw them haul you away. When I asked people what happened, they said you were with Ann, but I couldn’t find her. They said somebody knocked her out and carried her away. She’s not at home and I’ve texted and called. When I called the police, they said they never heard of you or Ann.” Pete’s voice grew louder and he gestured wildly with his hands. A smooth sheen of perspiration gleamed on the surface of his rich sepia skin.

“Easy,” Jack said, willing him to calm down. “You saw someone carry Ann away?”

“No, that’s what people said, but now, now they—”

“They don’t remember,” Jack said.

“Right, and I’ve been roaming the campus and trying to call you since yesterday.”

“I lost my phone,” Jack said.

“And your clothes?”

“Yeah, those too. And now I’m trying to find Ann.” He walked toward the front entrance and Greg’s waiting car. Pete fell in beside him.

“There are men around campus. I think they’re looking for you,” Pete said.

“What are they like?” Jack asked. He felt Pete’s curiosity and excitement mix into his anxiety. As a theater major, he had a keen sense for drama and loved a good story, in the real world or on stage.

“Scary,” Pete said. “Empty eyes. They give me the chills.”

“Gray eyes?”

“Like cataracts or something,” he said.

“You should be scared,” he said. They were probably Darean’s followers, Jack thought. Or, they could be with the woman from Union Station, but he doubted it. She was probably Shen, but he couldn’t know for sure. Maybe the Shu fought among themselves.

“Who are they?” Pete asked.

“Bad people,” he said out loud, but not exactly people, he thought to himself. “Why do you remember what happened when nobody else does?”

“I don’t know. I only saw the police carry you out. I didn’t see what happened inside.”

Maybe that was the key, Jack thought. Maybe Darean just wiped the memory of the people directly involved. What else could the Shu cover up? How involved in human society were they? If they had this kind of power, they could do almost anything.

“Do you know where Mount Mora Cemetery is?” Jack asked.

“Independence, I think,” Pete said. “Why?”

“Because I’m going after Ann and I need a ride,” Jack said. Independence was a suburb just outside of Kansas City. He would need to stop by his apartment for clothes on the way. Part of him hoped he ran into one of Darean’s Shi. It would make things simpler. He clenched his fists and let the anger rise up as he walked past the classroom, the last place he had seen Ann. He reached for her in his mind but felt nothing. The water must be flowing over her box. She had to be alive. “Where’s your car?” he asked.

“The library. What’s going on?”

“I’ll fill you in on the way if you’re in,” Jack said. He already knew the answer.

“I don’t know,” Pete said. “Are you in trouble?”

“Terrible trouble,” Jack said.

Pete pretended to deliberate for a moment before nodding. “I’m in,” he said. This would work out well. Greg could take the boy to his house for safekeeping, and he and Pete could keep following the leads.

“Do you know where Ann is?” Pete asked as they approached the large metal doors to the building.

“Kidnapped,” Jack said as he pushed through.

“What?” Pete ran to catch up as they walked toward Greg’s car. The sun was going down.

“I’ll explain everything on the way,” Jack said, as he put his hands on Greg’s door and leaned down.

“Change of plans. Pete is taking me to my place and then the cemetery. You take the boy to your house for safekeeping.”

“What did the professor say?” Greg asked, looking at Pete with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing, he didn’t remember a thing.”

Jack looked at the boy in the back seat, “Hey buddy. We’ve got to split up for a while, but I’ll be back to get you.” Jack couldn’t tell if he understood, but he didn’t feel any negative emotions from the boy. He didn’t feel much of anything. The child was probably still in shock. “We’ll find your parents when I get back.”

“Marcy can start on that when I drop him off,” Greg said. “We have to call the police or social services or something.”

“You’re right, I just don’t know what to tell them.”

“You told the detective all about the cult. She can just tell them that he was found there, and we brought him home.”

Jack nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“I’m going to the cemetery with you,” Greg said. Jack didn’t have to read Greg’s emotional state to understand his conviction. It was no use arguing.

“Okay, get the kid home and I’ll call you after I swing by my place,” Jack said.

“You better, I’ll look the cemetery up online when I get home.”

“I’ll call you. You have the cop’s phone number in your phone,” Jack said and pushed off from the side of the car.

“What cop?” Pete asked.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Jack said, “let’s go.” He wondered if the phone would be reported as stolen soon or if Stangle thought he lost it. It was a police-issued phone with a bar code on the back and a good-sized battery case, which explained why it still had power. Maybe he hadn’t reported it yet, still hoping to find it in his patrol car or at home under his bed. It was likely since, according to Graves, the officer didn’t remember him or the hospital. Greg put the gas pedal to the floor, causing the little import to sputter a bit louder than usual and amble off slightly faster than it would have normally. Jack shook his head and started walking.

“Who was that?” Pete asked.

“A work friend,” Jack said. They loped over to Pete’s giant, gas devouring, 1970s Oldsmobile. The door let out a groan of protest as Jack pulled it open.

“Is he good in a fight or whatever this is?”

“Are you?” Jack asked.

“I was in a fight in fourth grade,” Pete said. “Gym class.”

“You win?”

“Nope, she stomped my two front teeth out,” he said, turning the key in the ignition.

“This may be a fight, Pete. You don’t have to come.” Jack looked sideways at him.

“I’m creatively invested,” he said. The weathered bench seat rumbled beneath them as the big V8 stuttered to life. “And, Ann’s my friend.”

Jack studied his friend in the seat next to him. He was tall, rail-thin, with dark sepia skin and a tall frohawk with yellow tips. He was one of two people Jack could call a friend, and he had never been in a fight. He saw the world through a pop-culture filter and lived to direct and act in theater. Pete was the furthest a person could get from Jack’s other life full of battle spaces, terrorists, and enemy combatants.

“Here we go,” Pete said, pulling the column shifter down into drive. “Besides, you’ll be there to protect us with your bad-ass army moves.”

Jack snorted. “Air Force,” he said.

“Same thing.”

The faded brown Oldsmobile gave an exhaust-leaking battle cry as it lurched out of the parking lot.