Monster of the Dark Read online

  “Okay,” Carmen said simply, though she had no idea what he was talking about.

  The examination and subsequent treatment didn’t last long. Thankfully, she got a change of clothes—real ones this time. In any case, the animal’s bites produced severe lacerations at worst, which were easy to heal. There was just her hand to be concerned about, which the doctor set in a few minutes before putting it in a cast.

  Janus asked her questions about her family and her home throughout the treatment. Carmen had never really had any friends, so that subject didn’t last long. She was a bit hesitant to answer his questions at first, but she opened up more once it seemed like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. She recalled with muted glee the story her mother had always told her about when she was born: that she was so beautiful that three of the nurses fainted, and the lights went out after flickering wildly. She still didn’t know why her mother always looked upset when she said that, but Janus only nodded seriously. Then Carmen told him how, almost a year ago, she hadn’t been hurt when she fell off the jungle gym at her favorite playground, and that all the people there had just stared at her while she brushed herself off. Janus laughed at that one, and eventually Carmen did as well. She guessed it was kind of funny how everyone had made it into a big deal when it really wasn’t.

  “Okay,” the doctor said. “She’ll be all right. Just give her two or three days to fully heal that hand.”

  Janus nodded. “Right.”

  She didn’t receive a lollipop from this doctor, though, if she was offered one, she’d probably refuse it. The doctor then left, and Janus turned to Carmen.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I guess so, she thought. She had no idea what she was supposed to be ready for.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He helped her out of her bed and then led her out of the room. Carmen still had no idea where he was taking her, but she was just happy he didn’t put those handcuffs on her. They didn’t talk as she dutifully followed behind him. While she walked, however, she couldn’t help but notice his bloody clothes. He was nearly covered in her blood. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

  They entered an elevator, went down several floors, and continued on, still without saying a word. This floor was bathed in a softer light. The walls had a slight, almost organic curve to them. There were even plants here and there, and many, many doors. Each had a number, but other than that, the doors were nondescript. They passed dozens and dozens of them until they finally stopped at one that read 111724.

  “This is where you shall stay between forgings,” Janus said.

  Carmen looked at the door hesitantly and then at him. “What’s forging?” she asked.

  “You are little more than raw iron,” Janus started, “but we shall heat you to the melting point, mold you into shape, shock cool you, and then, finally, you will be steel.”

  Carmen felt decidedly cold and all the more nervous when she heard that. She looked at the door again and, now that she thought about it, realized there was something behind it, much like there had been something behind the other one. She took a step away from it.

  “But that is not for today,” Janus continued. “Today, there is someone I’d like you to meet.”

  She didn’t want to meet whoever or whatever it was, but he opened the door before she could protest. The next thing Carmen knew, she was knocked flat on her back by some…entity, and it was now on top of her. She screamed, but it was no use. Something big, wet, and slimy washed over her face again and again with no mercy. She reached out and felt fur, and it was at this moment that she opened her eyes. It was a puppy—a German shepherd puppy, upon further examination.

  “This is Mikayla,” Janus said. “She is yours.”

  Carmen could only giggle. She had always wanted a dog, but her parents never agreed to it. Mikayla continued to lick her face as Carmen struggled to her feet. Janus beckoned her inside the room. She entered, and the puppy bounded playfully after her. The room was easily as nice as her bedroom back home. There weren’t any windows, nor was there a holoprojector, but there was a bed, toys, books, a couch, chairs, and a small table with a plate of food on it. She was quite hungry, now that she thought about it. She looked back at Janus and smiled.

  “I’ll come for you in time,” he said.

  “When do I go home?”

  Janus paused for a moment. “111724, one day—maybe tomorrow, maybe years from now—you’ll learn not to ask stupid questions.”

  He then closed the door and left her alone.

  3

  The Forging of 111724

  “I wonder why you’re here?” Carmen asked.

  The dog simply stared back at her and wagged her tail. Carmen knew Mikayla couldn’t speak; she hadn’t gone completely crazy. She’d never been able to read animals before, and until now she never really wondered why. The puppy had been only company for the past few days. She hadn’t seen Janus or anyone, other than a doctor who removed her cast, but he barely said a word to her. It was hard to tell time; there were no clocks, windows, or even a calendar. A week could have passed for all she knew. Yet, even a week would feel like no more than an hour with her new friend.

  “Everyone says I’m different. I guess they’re right. That’s why I’m here. But why are you here?” Mikayla barked and then licked her face. Carmen laughed. “I was being serious,” she said, still laughing lightly. “Why would you want to be in here with me? I bet you’d rather be outside, running and playing in a forest somewhere.”

  Mikayla made no response. Carmen waited for a moment, half expecting at least a whimper. She sighed and leaned back to rest against the wall when it was obvious that nothing was forthcoming.

  “I used to go to the park all the time. I was always able to run the fastest. Even some of the older kids couldn’t keep up. I bet they couldn’t keep up with you too.”

  Mikayla wagged her tail. Carmen took that as a “yes” and smiled. She then leaned forward, stopping just short of the dog’s lethal, ever-licking tongue.

  “I wonder what your home was like?” she asked. “You can’t be from here. You’re too nice. You saw Janus—he’s my handler. He’s real mean. Believe it or not, my first day here, he actually shot me,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. Mikayla inched toward her with head cocked to the side. “Yeah, he really did.”

  She paused before she continued. “My mother said, if I ‘stay good,’ they’d let me go, but let me tell you a secret.” Carmen’s voice was now just barely audible. “I think I’m going to run away. If I can get out of here, I’ll try to find a policeman. My parents always said that, whenever I needed help and they weren’t around, I should go to the police. You should come with me.

  “My parents would like you,” she continued. “You’re so pretty and well behaved. My mother always said we couldn’t have a dog because it would leave…accidents all over the house, but I don’t think you would do that. I could even take care of you. …How would you like that?” she asked.

  The dog gave no reaction, which made Carmen nervous. Shortly after, though, and for no apparent reason, Mikayla looked at the door, barked, and then rose to all fours. Carmen looked at the door just as it began to open.

  “You’re so smart,” she said to the puppy under her breath.

  She hadn’t sensed anybody coming. It would be a little stupid to plan her escape with someone listening over her shoulder.

  It was Janus. “It’s time,” her handler said simply.

  Carmen had no idea what, exactly, it was time for, which was par the course for this place. She didn’t complain, though; she didn’t have any choice. She said goodbye to Mikayla with a kiss on the dog’s head and then left the room. Janus started walking immediately. Carmen followed, staying close to his side. There were a few people in the hall, but the combination was never different: one child was always paired off with one handler. Boy or girl, from no younger than she was to, at most, a few years older, it made no difference—no ch
ild wandered the halls unattended. Everyone’s movement was purposeful and direct. She received a brief glance of curiosity from a passerby now and then, but that was the most attention anyone was paid. There was virtually no talking as well.

  She looked at Janus in that moment. She had never met a person like him before. When compared to his peers, though, he wasn’t all too different or even unique. Physically, he was powerfully though subtly built. He was quite different from the heroes her father used to watch on the holo all the time. Janus’s muscles seemed more…useful. He, like his peers, appeared to be about her parents’ age, but their energy, like their outward manner, was something else entirely. Her parents had always been expansive, open, and warm, albeit depressed. With most of the handlers, she’d sensed no such thing. They were trim, focused, and intense. Janus notwithstanding, she couldn’t really say they were bad people, at least by their energy. They were simply…fire.

  “For now, 111724, we shall communicate through telepathy,” Janus spoke.

  “How do I do that?” Carmen asked aloud.

  She didn’t even know what the word telepathy meant! She guessed it had something to do with hearing Janus’s voice in her head—something she hadn’t even known was possible until she met him. When she wanted something to move without touching it, it just happened. It always had, but how do you speak without speaking?

  Janus glanced down at her while her eyebrows scrunched together.

  “In the end,” he began, “you will realize that, ultimately, there is very little I shall directly teach you. You already know what you already know. If you need to speak to me, stop thinking about it and just do it.”

  She thought about what he said until she realized she shouldn’t be thinking about what he said. She should just do it…somehow. Carmen looked at her handler then thought and then not thought about her task. When that proved impossible, she simply thought the words in her head.

  “Like this?” she thought…spoke…said, whatever it was.

  “Good,” Janus replied. “A Clairvoyant doesn’t have to be taught their abilities. They simply decide whether they use them or not.”

  “What’s a Clairvoyant?”

  “A Clairvoyant is what I am and what you shall realize you are after you stop fooling yourself.”

  Carmen glanced at him, but he didn’t bother looking down at her. He simply walked on, not seeing just how flummoxed she was. How was she fooling herself? She thought he’d said they were both monsters. Were Clairvoyants monsters, or was she a monster and needed to be a Clairvoyant to ‘stay good?’ This was all too confusing.

  “But…but—”

  Janus cut her off. “I do not mind your questions, 111724. I promise you that I shall answer everything you ask to the best of my knowledge, even if you won’t understand the answers. However, you get ahead of yourself.” He paused for a moment. “Your question is not a simple one. A Clairvoyant is the end state, and to understand what makes a Clairvoyant clairvoyant, you have to understand the perspective from which a Clairvoyant derives his or her clairvoyance.”

  Janus was right: she didn’t understand anything he said. Her parents always told her she was smart, and she guessed they were right, but everything he said was quite simply beyond her. At least he was answering her questions, though. Carmen was on the verge of asking him to elaborate when Janus continued.

  “Most people have it wrong. We are not technically clairvoyant. We do not see the future, and we are not aware of things that no one else can perceive…per se. We are simply more sensitive. We are more sensitive to the Dark.”

  “What’s the Dark?” Carmen asked.

  The two of them entered an elevator, and Janus pushed the button to the floor they were going to before he answered. “The Dark is the source of your power. It is the generative force of everything about you. It is your master, but you are not its servant.”

  “But what is the Dark?” she asked again.

  She was pretty sure he hadn’t answered her question. His explanations were so dizzying that she only really understood half of what he said, if she were being generous. Worse, she could only care so much about the source of her power. After all, she didn’t even know she had power until now. Power to do what; what did that even mean? Her parents had sent her to bed without dessert at least once or twice.

  “It is the chaotic part of your psyche,” Janus said matter-of-factly. “It has had many names throughout history, but I will refer to it as the Dark. It cannot be defined. It cannot be given dimension, though many have tried. It is not tangible through the senses. It simply…is.”

  Carmen still didn’t understand. “But—”

  “111724.”

  “Yes?” she spoke hesitantly.

  “What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?” he asked.

  “Coffee.”

  “…Why?”

  Carmen had never really thought about it before. She’d always like coffee ice cream the most. “I don’t know. I just like it.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess I just like how it tastes.”

  “Why?”

  Try as she might, she couldn’t come up with a reason. “I just do.”

  “Exactly,” Janus spoke. “The Dark is what makes you you. And as you just proved, it makes you you, even if you are consciously unaware of it.” The elevator doors opened and the two began walking again. “Your ignorance, however, will not last. Your Dark is strong, easily within the top one percent of everyone who has ever lived. Consequently, you are closer to it than most. I do not know when it will happen, but one day—and I assure you it will be a day you remember—you will become self-aware. Then you will be a Clairvoyant, a monster of the Dark.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “Do you understand?”

  “I guess so,” she spoke. It was probably the biggest lie she had ever told in her young life, but it was also the easy answer. It wasn’t like he hadn’t warned her. “I don’t want to be a monster,” she muttered softly to herself.

  Janus heard her anyway. “You will have no active choice in the matter. What order you wish to impose or chaos you wish to embrace is dependent on you and your Dark. What conscious will you wield also serves the same master. Fight yourself if you wish; just remember the only reason you’d do so is because you want to.” He allowed a moment for his words to sink in before he asked, “Do you have any other questions?”

  “No.”

  He said nothing else, and they continued on.

  This floor was more heavily trafficked than the previous floor had been. The organically curved walls were gone; instead, this place was more machined and purposeful. The pattern remained the same, however: one child for one handler. The children were still around her age, but they weren’t like the kids from the previous floor. Most had minor bruises here and there. In a few cases, a child was laid out on a stretcher. Most often, the child was still alive, but Carmen was acutely aware that several were not. She wondered if that was how she’d looked after Janus shot her. In the rarest of instances, it was the handler on a stretcher and not the child, and more often than not, the handler was dead. The child didn’t follow obediently alongside in such cases—at least not of their own accord. Instead, they were suspended on a moveable platform encased in a disgusting orangish brown foam. The mass of goop reminded her of a melted marshmallow. Only the child’s head remained uncovered so they could breathe. Janus gave no reaction to any of this, so she guessed it was normal as she nervously watched it all.

  He stopped suddenly at one of the several doors lining either side of the hall. Carmen didn’t know what was inside the room, but if it was like all the others rooms she’d been in, she could make a pretty good guess. What would it be this time? Would they have a terrasaur try to eat her? Would Janus shoot her again? Would there be another one of those terrible creatures from before? Would they set her on fire and be done with it? Would there be an endless plate of vegetables for her to eat? Her future, while unknowable, was undoubtedly terrible.
>
  She didn’t sense anything alive on the other side of the door, but that didn’t really mean anything—not in this place. Carmen’s young imagination could think of plenty of horrors that weren’t alive. Enough people had to have been killed here that ghosts were certain to be lurking somewhere. She didn’t think she could sense ghosts. If she could, she didn’t think she’d want to.

  Janus opened the door, and she had nowhere near enough time to make her peace. Her breath was quick and her heart raced. The lights began flickering all around her, and no one cared. Janus entered, and she followed a half-step behind. Her obedience stood in stark contrast to the near panic she felt. She would do as Janus asked her—follow him wherever he went. She wouldn’t complain. She’d try to stay good, even if a very real part of her screamed for her not to enter that room. Carmen was used to such…intuitions. In fact, they were some of her earliest memories. But now it was a different; it was irrational, unsure. Everything felt like danger, and more than likely, she was right.

  There was nothing immediately ominous when she walked inside. This room was almost exactly like every other room on this floor: large, square, and with padded walls. Thankfully, there were no small doors housing who-knew-what. The room’s only unique feature was that the floor was covered in sand. Carmen had no idea why it was there, but sand itself wasn’t immediately menacing, so she really didn’t care. Her gaze darted around the room. There was nothing she could see with her eyes or any of her other senses. There was nothing here, other than her, sand, and Janus. She looked at her handler and then backed away. He was the most obvious thing that would do her in.

  “You have a difficult task before you, 111724,” Janus said orally.

  Carmen shuddered when she heard that. If this would be difficult, what had everything else been?

  “There are trillions upon trillions of particles of sand on the floor,” he continued. “My report tells me you are familiar with telekinesis. Considering your potential, any natural aptitude you show for anything will have quite staggering results. This is the test. I want you to lift every last grain of sand into the air and hold it there until I tell you to stop.”