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Enter the Mist
Author's note: I began writing this piece after I decided on the setting in Victorian London, and there is something dark about those times, so that is how I began writing.
The fog shrouded the eerie night air in London. A boy, an orphan was wandering the streets to find some souls to pickpocket. He approached an enormous house, kind of like a mansion. The color was an eerie combination of black and purple. There was definitely something up with this house, he decided. Suddenly, his ear caught distant sounds. It sounded like the clunking of a horse’s foot and the wheels of a carriage moving, but the sounds of the horse’s feet clicking were hollower than usual. The boy plunged himself behind a fence near the house to see what was coming. As the cab approached he noticed something. Something scary. Something terrifying. The cab driver’s face was bony, and the horses looked almost skeletal. The fog condensed all of a sudden. As he turned to leave, he made one last look back, and found himself staring into a pair of bony eyes.
“What are you doing, sneaking around here? Don’t worry child. You will be put to good use.”
The boy was sprayed with a gas, and he was thrust into the carriage. He seemed to be hypnotized, in a trance, with no hope of escaping. Around the corner, Little Mickey, another small boy from the orphanage, which was really just a stable where orphans hung out by themselves, opened his mouth wide, his legs trembling beneath him. He had just been wandering around town. The boy was new to the orphanage, he had just arrived yesterday; Little Mickey had forgotten his name. He turned on his heels, still trembling with fear as beads of sweat began to form on his forehead despite the chilly weather, and he sped back to his home, in the foggy evening.
Dawn was approaching as Police Constable Mark Jones gripped his coat tightly, as the cold breeze passed through the foggy graveyard. Soon, this fog would be replaced by the bustle of everyday London.
This was one of the most anticipated times of day for Jones. One more hour until he would be home to his wife, for a nice, warm steaming cup of tea. His breakfast would end his sudden pangs of hunger he had experienced tonight. Tonight felt different than most in a way, in a nice way. He decided that it was time to round the cemetery for intruders one last time.
All the graves looked almost the same, unless you looked closely, because then the figures could be seen more clearly. The sun was beginning to emerge over the horizon, but it was not penetrating through the fog yet. Constable Jones looked to the ground for a moment, and then brought his head back up as he trudged through the graveyard. Suddenly, something in the distance caught his eye. The bodies of two huge figures situated near a grave could barely be seen; they were equipped with shovels and were digging at the ground.
“Hey! You there! What are you doing” Constable Jones yelled.
The black figures faded into the horizon. Constable Jones ran over there as quickly as possible, his breath getting heavier. The distance was much farther than it had seemed. By the time he had arrived at the site, the two figures had gotten away. Constable Jones looked down and saw no noticeable changes to the ground around him.
Constable Jones saw a small piece of paper on the ground where the two men were near. He picked up the paper, flipped it over to see what was written on it, and he saw a message:
See you on the DARK side.
Constable Jones felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as he wondered about what the cryptic message could possibly mean. Finally, Constable Jones decided that this message probably meant nothing, so he threw it back to the ground, where he found it.
Anyways, the two men were too far from the beginning; Constable Jones did not even spot what grave they were digging near. He grunted in dismay. People these days, everyone acts stranger every day he thought. He decided that the police would have to know of this, even though they wouldn’t do anything.
Grumbling, Constable Jones trudged on to the police station to report what had happened.
The orphanage was basically just a stable where the orphan boys stayed; there were cheap beds and mattresses to sleep on, and there were a few tables and chairs, and that was it.. They were mostly self-dependent. One man, Maurice, who took care of the orphanage, just let the kids do whatever they want. He just came around randomly to see how they were doing, and was cruel to them; he barely gave them enough food to live on.
Eddie was hanging out, sitting on his bed, as night was approaching. The usual daily routine around the orphanage was getting enough food and resources to survive, along with a few games. Nothing happened around here. There were always new boys coming into this orphanage. Michael was one of the leading figures of the orphans, one of the “old” boys. Eddie found him to be a little too arrogant. Eddie and Michael were both around the same age, as were many other boys at the orphanage. There were also some little kids in this place. The stories of the kids who stayed here were usually all the same. No one had a family that they knew of, or they all had run away from their homes, having only one parent or none at all.
“Where’s Little Mickey? That little fellow should’ve come back by now,” Michael wondered. Michael was very fond of Little Mickey, and always took care of him.
Two thuds were heard at the door. Eddie hoped Little Mickey came back with good news. Anyways, yesterday, a new boy, Joe, had just arrived at the orphanage. He was not at the orphanage either. There was no guarantee he was coming back. Some kids leave to go back home after their first day here.
In a blink of an eye, Little Mickey burst through the doors, his legs shaking, his hands trembling, his lips quivering, yearning to get words out.
“The… the… house. On Wentworth Street. The big one…”
Little Mickey collapsed. Everyone huddled around him.
“Spit your thoughts out,” Eddie urged him. “You’re safe now”.
“Get him some water,” Michael ordered.
Little Mickey was given some water and helped up to his feet.
“A carriage… full of ghosts! Skeletons! A man came out and took that new bloke… What’s his name? He was just wandering, and I came by and saw him.” His voice cracked. “I just saw him, looking around. A bony driver, ghostlike, a pale face, sprayed some gas on his face. He was put into some trance hypnotized… I’m warning you guys, something is happening.”
“Joe’s the new boy. Anyways, are you sure this is what happened to him?” Michael asked him.
As everyone engaged in conversation and started firing questions at each other, the little ones were scratching their heads, while Eddie sat on his bed thinking. What if what Little Mickey said was true? Some investigative work was going to have to be done eventually.
Eric Alvarez: the expert of manufacturing things at the British Museum. He built everything from little trinkets to big grand clocks. Tinkering with objects amused him. His dedication was the result of the love for his job. The intricate motions of the small objects never ceased to amaze him. Another factor that kept him working was the death of his dad. Eric’s dad had died mysteriously, about a year ago, supposedly of natural causes, but that was hardly believable. Eric missed him. It had been almost been a year since the tragedy.
Clarke Thompson was the head of the department Eric worked in. He had told Eric to go to the funeral of Arthur Williams, an important figure who was the head of the Atlantic Club, tonight. Eric had no clue what the Atlantic Club did, but he knew it was full of distinguished figures. Their clandestine activities were usually shielded from the minds of the regular public.
The clock struck eight o’clock. Most of the workers in the museum had gone home by now, but there were a few like Eric who always stuck around past the regular working hours. He knew Percy Smythe was still working downstairs in the library.
“I see your working late again, Mr. Alvarez”.
Eric turned around and saw himself looking into the gleaming eyes of Jack Prothroe. Despite his white hair and his wrinkled face, anyone could tell that he was strong and confident; his back was straight and his chin was held up high.
As Eric opened his mouth, Jack Prothroe began talking.
“Did Clarke tell you about my offer.”
“No… what offer?”
“That old fool. He never remembers anything. See, I need workers for my growing department, which I feel will gain more importance in the future.”
“What your department?”
“You must tell me whether or not you want to work for me or not. It’s strictly confidential. The public does not know about. You will also be getting a higher pay for your dedicated work.”
Eric wondered what Sir Prothroe was talking about. “I’ll need some time to make the decision”.
“Okay. Take your time. Just consider this option. We need people with dedication, just like you.”
“Yes. I will consider your offer. Thank you, Mr. Prothroe”
“All right. See you later.”
“Good day, Sir. Or shall I say, good night.”
Prothroe shot Eric a weird look, and Eric wondered, why he had to say that stupid line? Thoughts were lingering in Eric’s head. He was wondering what all of this business about the new department was about. It could bring more interest to his life than he currently had. Anyways, now it was time for him to attend the funeral of Samuel Williams.
Eric arrived at the funeral in a carriage. The white building was overflowing with people dressed up in fancy clothing. The black plush seats were set up neatly in rows and the dead Samuel Williams was in a closed coffin.
Eric watched as people flood began to flood in and start chatting. It was clear they weren’t here for just the funeral; this was just another social event to them. It seemed to Eric that many of these people were distinguished figures. Eric continued scanning the room, and while waiting for the ceremony to start, he spotted a woman, around his age, which Eric thought he could possibly talk to since she was by herself.
A bell rang as the clock struck nine’ o’clock and everyone took their seats. Eric sat next to the woman he had spotted.
“Hello. What’s your name? I’m Eric Alvarez.” Eric asked her.
She seemed polite. “I’m Irene Dawson. How are you?”
Eric and Irene both stared at the stage blankly for a moment, before resuming their conversation.
“Anyways, Arthur Williams must be important since they’re having such a big event… though I don’t know why he was so important, Irene said.
“I’m still confused… most of what he did was not known to the public I’m guessing. I’m here because by boss told me to attend this funeral.”
“Oh. I’m here because my dad is sick and told me to go for him. He needs to know what happens at these things. Look, I think the casket is about to be opened.”
A middle-aged man in a dark suit stood by the dark casket. He opened the casket slowly. As the man took a look inside the coffin his mouth opened wide, but no words were coming out. Then everyone looked closer at the coffin from their seats, and then discovered that there was nothing inside it. The coffin was empty. It was a conundrum. People began to murmur, and soon, some people started yelling, and the yelling erupted to a buzz, where nothing could be heard.
As the whole crowd buzzed, Eric noticed a man in the back of the crowd, a man with gray hair. His face twitched and then held a slight smile, a wicked smile, as if this event was just the beginning of something bigger, something much bigger. He turned and exited the room.
“Why is it empty” a man behind Eric muttered.
“Is this some kind of a joke?” another man yelled out.
“Great… chaos at a funeral. How unusual… and interesting,” Irene told Eric.
“Wonder what must’ve happened to the old man.”
The hosts of the evening engaged in intense chatter, as they had no idea what was going on. Everyone was directed to the exits; the men who were making an attempt to control this situation were failing to get everyone’s attention, and this whole matter was becoming hopeless.
On the other hand, Eric was not too bummed out about what happened. He had expected this to be some kind of boring funeral with a bunch of rich people showing up just for a social time. This mystery made him excited; he had also made a new friend, Irene. Even through all this chaos, the face of the smiling man was suspended in his mind. Anyways, Eric said bye to Irene and went home, to his warm and comforting bed.
The next day, Eric was back at work in the museum. His head was still spinning from last night. London was still buzzing about the catastrophe of the disappearance of Samuel Williams from his coffin. When Eric had informed Clarke of what went on last night, Clarke had merely nodded his head. Eric looked up from his work, and saw Clarke heading his way.
“Can you do me a favor? Go down to the library and retrieve this book for me”. He handed Eric a slip of paper.
“Ok, I’ll go get it.”
Eric walked through the empty hallways, which were dimly lit. Mostly everyone had gone home, as night was approaching, and the average workday had already ended. Jack Prothroe came from behind Eric and caught him by surprise.
“Hello Eric. Have you considered my offer?”
“Yes sir, but I’m afraid I can’t decide without knowing what kind of work I’ll be doing.”
“Very well. My department is the department of unclassified artifacts. No one of the regular public knows about this department.”
“What could be so unclassified? What type of work will there be to do?”
“Well… Lets say the fur of a werewolf was found, or the fangs of a vampire, or maybe even the scales of a never before seen monster? We work with these types of things. My examples are not necessarily true, they are mere examples.”
“Oh… I see. I’ll need some more time to think about it.”
“Ok. Just make sure you truly consider this option”
“Yes sir. I will”
Jack Prothroe went off somewhere, as Eric thought about what kind of work could possible be done in the department of unclassified artifacts. The thought of unclassified artifacts interested Eric, in a creepy way. Anyways, he approached the door of the library and entered the room. Eric found Percy Smythe working hard at his desk, examining a book with his round glasses on. Percy sensed someone entering, looked up in a startled fashion, and reached for something in his pocket. Eric jumped back in surprise.
“Hi. How are you, Eric.”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m doing okay. Sorry for my troubled face earlier. I thought here may be some unwelcoming company approaching.”
“Oh… anyways, Mr. Thomson wanted me to get this book.”
As Eric was reaching into his pocket midway through his sentence, the doors of the library flung open. One by one, two huge men entered the dimly lit room. Their bodies took up the entire doorway, blocking all light from the outside hallway. They were both wearing black coats, and looked ready to fight. Just as Percy took a silver pistol out of his pocket, the men knocked it out of his hands.
“Where’s the final book.”
The one with the scars across his face was asking Percy for a book. Eric ran behind a bookshelf to hide. He did not want to get involved in this mess. The man picked Percy off of his seat, and threw him into a bookshelf, causing the shelf to collapse.
“I don’t know. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
The man with the scar punched Percy across the face as the other man surveyed the room for any site of the books. It seemed like the men were completely oblivious of the fact that Eric was even in the room.
“I told you before, give me the bloody book. It’s the last book ever written by Arthur McDougal. And we want it.”
Percy was flung against another bookshelf, and the thump was loud. All Eric could do was watch. Out of the corner of his eyes, Eric noticed something. There were books burning in the fireplace. Eric then turned the other way, and spotted a book that read, The Final Key, by Arthur McDougal; he had found the book that the two big men were looking for.
“I think the book is burning in the fire,” Eric yelled.
Both men were distracted from Percy and ran over to the fireplace. They put their hands in the fire and started scrambling and looking for the book, and they were flipping all the books over and reading their covers. The fire did not seem to faze them at all. The other big man turned to the man with the scar.
“We need to get out of here, Mamba. People will be coming our way soon.”
The two men trudged out of the room. Eric took Arthur McDougal’s book in his hand. Before anyone came, Eric scanned the book quickly. He turned to the back page of the book. There, he found a saw bump. There stood a barely noticeable pocket. He reached inside, and his hand came out with a strange pebble. The pebble had a smooth texture, and a slightly oval shape. But the weird thing about it was its color. It shined with a brazen black, containing a few greenish and reddish streaks in it. Eric placed the pebble into a pocket of his wallet, and then rushed over to Percy to see how he was doing. There were streaks of blood across his face. Percy was breathing hard.
“Eric… The house… Wentworth Street… George Gatwick.”
Percy closed his eyes. Those were the last words to be spoken by him. The name, George Gatwick, sounded familiar to Eric. He didn’t know where Wentworth Street was, or what was so special about it, but he could find that out, eventually. Jack Prothroe entered the room to see what the ruckus was all about. As soon as he spotted Eric kneeling by a fallen Percy Smythe, he knew something was wrong.
“What happened here? What did they do?”
Apparently, Prothroe had seen the men leaving the museum.
“They came in looking for the last book in a series written by Arthur McDougal.”
Eric was hesitant about whether or not to tell Prothroe about the pebble he had found.
“We need to find out what happened here… Those men were up to no good.”
“And also, Percy whispered a name when he died. George Gatwick. And he whispered the name of a street, Wentworth Street.”
“Ahhh… That’s the industrial leader. He’s a very rich businessman.”
That’s why Gatwick’s name had sounded familiar to Eric. Eric felt stupid for not realizing that earlier.
“Oh. I could go talk to him later. I’ll write him a letter. Lets hope he responds soon.”
“Ok. I’ll get some cops to do some investigate work. And go to the postal office in the museum. They’ll give you Gatwick’s address.”
Eric went back to Clarke without the books he was sent to retrieve. Another crazy day for Eric. The image of the Percy Smythe covered in blood was still in his mind. He could not fathom what had gone on for the past two days, between the disappearance of the corpse of Samuel William’s to the attack in the library. Eric kept wondering about what was going to happen next. After going to the postal section of the museum, Eric went to home to get sleep.
By the time Eric arrived at his house, he had found out that George Gatwick lived in a mansion. Instead of going to sleep, he decided to send a letter to Gatwick describing the incident at the library and why he wanted to meet up with him. Under his lamp, he wrote the letter. Hopefully, he would get a reply soon, but Gatwick was probably too busy to reply. All Eric could do was wait. After writing the letter and putting it into his mailbox for the night mailman to take, Eric returned to his room, turned of his lamp and plopped down into his bed, and shut his eyes.
The next day Eric was working at the museum. At his lunch break, he was supposed to go to the house of George Gatwick. To his surprise, he had actually received the letter back from George Gatwick in the morning, which was unusually quick. It read:
Hello, Mr. Alvarez. I am sorry for what has happened to your friend, Percy Smythe. I hope I can be of assistance to help you discover who has murdered him. I would be pleased to talk to you about his death and about the murderer’s. Come to my house today, anytime between 12-2. I sent you this letter to your museum, because I wanted to speak to you as soon as possible.
Now, it was time for Eric to go visit George Gatwick. He began his walk through the streets of London, which were bustling with people on their lunch break.
Meanwhile, Eddie was roaming the streets; this was the perfect time of day for Eddie. The sun was at its peak in the sky, and the streets were jam packed with people. He worked best in crowds. As he walked through the streets, he spotted a young woman, with black hair and a young slim figure, walking with an old hunched man with gray hair, most likely her dad. He decided that they would not be able to catch him, even if they noticed that he had stolen the old man’s wallet.
Trudging stealthily behind the man, Eddie scanned the pockets of the man to see where his wallet was located. He saw a bulge in the right pocket of the old man’s jacket. Eddie pulled his hat down at eye level. It was time for him to take action. His fingers reached into the man’s pocket empty, and they came up with the wallet. Eddie started walking a bit quicker to get in front of the man before he noticed. As he turned around for one last time, he saw the man checking his pockets in confusion; the young woman, his daughter caught Eddie looking at them, and immediately started chasing after Eddie. Eddie saw a big mob of people ahead, and ran into it. Eddie knew that people would start noticing that he was a pickpocket soon, so he acted quickly. Using his nimble hands, he slyly removed the money from the old mans wallet. With the wallet in his hands, he slowed down a little bit, bumping into someone else.
The man glanced down at Eddie for only a moment, and the ignorant man with a blank look continued waling. A smile began to form on Eddie’s face. He had placed the old man’s wallet into the ignorant young man’s pocket, and in return, he had gotten the young mans wallet. Two for one. Eddie slipped into the ally and escaped as the man whom he had exchanged wallets with continued walking.
The young man who had had his wallet stolen from him was Eric Alvarez; he had been thinking too hard to notice a little boy at his side. Eric continued walking nonchalantly to the manor of George Gatwick. Finally, Eric saw two big gates in front of him as he approached the mansion, and beyond those gates were a huge manor with a lush green garden. The two wolves perched on the gates had an evil mysterious stare, with their yellow eyes, and this caused Eric to shudder for a moment.
As Eric traversed the cobblestone path leading up to the front door, he thought about how George Gatwick would respond to what had occurred; hopefully Gatwick would have an answer to all of this. Eric stood at Gatwick’s front door, contemplating about what was to come. He had never talked to such a distinguished man before. When Eric faced the knocker, he shuddered, as he noticed that it sported the face of a wolf.
Anyways, as soon as Eric knocked on the door, the door flung open and a butler, dressed neatly in a tuxedo, stood in front of Eric. His hand motioned for Eric to follow him inside. As Eric walked through the corridors of the mansion, Eric stared in awe at his surroundings. Everything inside seemed to augment the greatness of the mansion. As Eric was observing the intricate artwork on the walls of the mansion, his world went black for a split second; he had crashed into a wall. Eric thought about how embarrassing it was, as the butler was staring at him, but Eric put on a foolish grin. The butler then motioned for him to enter a door.
“Here you go, sir. Mr. Gatwick has been awaiting you.”
Eric nodded. “Thank you.”
Eric was surprised to hear that a wealth business man, George Gatwick, was actually waiting for his arrival, the arrival of a common nobody. Wearing a red bathrobe, seated on a sofa, George Gatwick sat.
“Ahh… Take a seat Mr. Alvarez. After reading your letter, I presume we have much to discuss.”
“Hello Mr. Gatwick. My friend, Percy Smythe, whispered your name in his last breath. I thought you could be of assistance to help finding the culprits behind his murder.”
“I may be able to help. Could you give me more information about the premises of his murder.”
“Two huge men barged into the library of the museum looking for a book written by Arthur McDougal. They beat up Percy because he would not get the book for them, and told them he didn’t know what they were speaking of. While I was sprawled on the floor, away from the men, I spotted the book the men were looking for. I flipped to the last page of the book, and I spotted something weird.”
Suddenly, the eyes of George Gatwick widened as Gatwick inched towards Eric, more interested in the conversation than ever.
“What did you spot? What did you find?”
“There was an oddly colored stone. I took it. I have it in my wallet.”
George Gatwick’s sight sharpened, and honed in on Eric, with squinted eyes. It seemed like an angry spirit possessed him.
“I must see it!”
Eric paused for a moment, wondering why this business tycoon was so crazed.
“Show me already!”
As soon as Eric reached into his pocket to extract his wallet, he noticed that something was up. The wallet in his pocket felt smooth, while the Eric’s wallet had many raggedy edges. A lump began to form in Eric’s throat. Once he took his wallet out of his pocket, he turned even more solicitous. The Eric held was a rich black; Eric’s wallet was brown. As he glanced up at George Gatwick nonchalantly, he noticed that Gatwick was staring at Eric with a ice cold laser glare. Eric felt like he was burning up inside, as he began to feel nauseous.
When Eric opened the wallet, he looked in the pockets and saw no money. All he saw was a card that said that this wallet belonged to Horace Dawson. A light bulb went off in Eric’s head, even though he didn’t feel all that smart. The boy who had bumped into him on his way here must have previously robbed Horace Oldfield, then switched Horace’s wallet with Eric’s.
“Where is the pebble?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Gatwick. I do not have it. I think some little kid took my wallet, and switched it with someone else’s.”
Now, George Gatwick’s eyes lit up like the devil.
“How much do you want?”
George Gatwick took out some bills from his wallet. This made Eric realize that George Gatwick was not paying for his way home, but was actually paying for the pebble.
“100? 200? 1000?”
It amazed Eric that someone would pay this much for a mere rock.
“No sir, I really don’t have it.”
With his teeth clenched, George Gatwick managed to speak.
“Well then. Give me the description of the boy, if there was one.”
“He was a little taller than 5 feet. He had a greenish-brown raggedy jacket… and his hair was curly and black.”
Gatwick motioned for the butler to escort Eric out of the room.
“Wait sir… what about the death of Percy Smythe.”
“I can’t help with that. Sorry”
As Eric was forced out of the mansion and back on the street, he felt mixed feelings of disappointment and anger. He had made an effort to come all the way the Gatwick’s mansion just to have his wallet stolen from him. Anyways, now he would have to write a letter to Horace Dawson about his missing wallet.
Eric sat lazily on his desk at home; he was going through his mail; all he usually saw were notifications about rent, mail about joining different clubs, and advertisements. As he was scanning through his mail, something caught his eye. It was from the address of Horace Dawson; he had replied to the letter that Eric had sent him. Eric stared into space for a couple of seconds, then hastily opened the envelope and undisclosed its contents. He couldn’t wait to see what kind of lame message this letter would hold, and what kind of old man he would have to meet to return the wallet. Horace Dawson, what kind of name was that, Eric thought. Eric began to read the letter:
Mr. Eric Alvarez,
Thank you for finding my father’s wallet.
Eric paused, and wondered about what “my father’s” could possibly mean?
I would like to meet up with you to get his wallet back, and talk about the mishap that occurred. Anyways, my father is sick right now, so he can’t come to meet with you right now. And are you the same Eric as the one I met at the funeral of Arthur William’s? Anyways, I guess I’ll just have to find out when we meet. Lets meet at Baker’s coffee shop at the time you suggested, around noon.
Eric came out more pleased with the letter than he had expected.
A dim lamp, which stood in, the corner of the room lit up the room. The faces of the four men were barely lit up, but everything else was black.
“I see you have failed me. How could you? The task was so simple… all you had to do was get a stupid book… actually a very important book, but still. I’ll go easy on you guys this time around, or at least one of you,” the unknown voice spoke.
Mamba and Peter looked at teach other. They knew one of them was going to be punished. And to be punished was as good as being dead.
“Don’t worry master, we won’t fail you again,” Mamba, the scar faced man retorted.
Peter, the man who was with Mamba during the destruction of the library corralled, “Yes master, do not worry.”
“Don’t worry, John. I know for sure that you will not fail me again. Boneface, take him away. Mamba you will be given another chance. Just be sure you don’t fail me again.”
Boneface smiled in the corner of the room, his hollow face gleaming like the face of a skeleton as he dragged John away.
“No, no. Please don’t do this…Nooo” John’s voice echoed off the empty walls.
The unknown figure turned to Mamba. “Here are your instructions. This is your new partner…”
Eddie emerged from Grillon’s Bakery, just having stolen two freshly wrapped buns. He couldn’t wait to open the packaging and engulf his mouth in savory goodness and buttery warmth.
Eddie moved away from the store, wandered onto the next street, and as he turned left at the corner, he saw a figure that stood out in his mind, reminiscent of something that he had heard about. The image in front of Eddie’s eyes was the scene that fit Little Mickey’s description of what had taken place. A purple-black house stood at the center of the street. He remembered Little Mickey describing the “horrific” events that had shook his entire body with fear. Eddie was still dubious of what Little Mickey had described, and his curiosity got the best of him; he decided to stick around to see what was going on with the house. Anyways, Eddie didn’t have an appointment to go to or something.
As Eddie snuck behind a wheelbarrow, a light flickered inside the purple house. Eddie got down on his knees and eyed the house. The house intimidated Eddie, as absolutely nothing was happening. A group of boys had passed by talking about their grades in school, and soon after, an ignorant couple walked by, staring at each other. Eddie should have pick pocketed them when he had the chance. A man selling pastries in his cart walked by the street; he was probably going home for the day. Eddie checked his watch, a silver Rolex he had stolen of some ignorant fool’s wrist and he realized that an hour had passed. Dusk was approaching. Eddie decided not to waste anymore time, but just as he got up to leave, action at the door made him immediately fall back to his position.
Two enormous men, grumbling under their breaths, emerged from the door. Eddie decided that he needed to snoop around.
As the men began to walk, Eddie crept behind them stealthily. The men took a sharp left from the house and once they reached the end of the street, they took a right. They won’t notice me, I’m hidden pretty well, Eddie thought. One of them men whispered into the other’s ear. He thought he was safe, at least for now. In a split second, two huge men stood in front of him and dragged him deeper into the alley that he was hiding in, and lifted him against a wall.
A hand was clamped on Eddie’s mouth, as he attempted to cry for help. The men pushed Eddie up against a wall and held him there for a few seconds, before letting him go. One of the men placed his hand over Eddie’s mouh.
“I think he’s the one. He matches the description we were given.” a man with one too many scars on his face said to the other man.
“Yeah.” The other man replied.
“Hey kid. We’ve been looking for you. Actually… we were just assigned to find you. I’m Mamba, and this is my partner Peter… wait never mind… Peter is long gone. This is my new partner, Fred,” Mamba said as he flashed a sharp gleaming silver knife in front of Eddie’s face.
Eddie wondered what could he have possibly done to be hunted down by two humongous bounty hunters.
“This brat is licking my hand.”
Fred removed his hand from Eddie’s face for a second.
“Shut up, unless you want scars on your face. Then you’ll look just like me. We can all be happy. Or at least me. Oh yeah, and the point is, we know you have Eric Alvarez’s wallet.”
“Yeah, give it to us.”
“Hey Fred, shut up newbie. I do the talking around here. Let me handle this. Anyways, where’s the wallet. Let him speak for a second.”
“Don’t cover my mouth again, because I won’t be able to talk, and thus, I won’t be able to tell you where the wallet is.”
“Little boy. Don’t disrespect Mamba. Now you better…”
Fred’s voice was drowned out by Mamba’s voice.
“Hey Fred. Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet and let me handle this? Yes, I believe I did. Now little kid, listen to me. Show me the wallet. We want it.”
Eddie filed through his memory of the wallets he had gone through. He remembered finding something peculiar, a pebble, in one of the wallets, the wallet of the young man who he had given the old man’s wallet to. The wallet was in the pockets of his pants, if he remembered correctly. Eddie realized that he needed to stall this conversation.
“Why is your name Mamba? What does that mean?” he said.
“Well, a mamba is a smoking fast snake… you probably never heard of it. It is very stealthy, and clever too.”
Eddie checked Mamba out.
“Wow. You look really stealthy and clever. I see why you have the name.”
“Thanks. You would be a good kid, if you hadn’t stolen what we want.”
Fred broke into the conversation.
“Mamba, I think he was being sarcastic…”
“He wasn’t talking to you, and shut up. No one asked you to open your mouth. Oh yeah, kid, give us the wallet now.”
“Ok, fine. The wallets in my jacket pocket. The left one.”
Mamba reached into Eddie’s pocket and extracted the wallet, and began to examine the wallet, looking for the pebble.
“There should be a stone in here. Where’s the pebble.”
“I know where it is. I jammed it in the corner. Let me have the wallet. I can find it if you guys release my hands.”
“Ok.” Mamba grumbled. “You have ten seconds.”
Eddie took the wallet, reached into the corner of it, and rolled something into the distance by accident.
Mamba and Fred looked away for a second, but that was enough for Eddie’s escape. He had rolled a coin instead of the pebble. Eddie took of his jacket, to gain speed, and fled into the distance.
“Come back here,” Mamba roared.
Eddie heard footsteps and blatant swearing coming from behind him, and he knew he couldn’t turn back. After a while, the footsteps behind Eddie had subsided and Eddie came to a halt, panting. Now it was time for him to find Eric Alvarez. Eddie would have questions for him.
The sun stood high in the sky of London; for once it wasn’t dark or gloomy in London. Eric sat inside Baker’s coffee shop, waiting for Irene to come. The wallet fiasco was very crazy, and him meeting up with Irene was completely coincidental, Eric thought.
Eric looked up and scanned the room. He checked his watch; it was 12, Irene should be here soon.
When Eric looked up again, he saw her. She took a seat.
“Hi. We met at the museum. I’m here for my father, just like last time we met. He’s still very sick so he couldn’t come right now.”
“Hi… fancy meeting you here. Anyways, here’s your dads wallet. I can’t believe I didn’t realize my wallet was switched until…”
The waitress came to their table and asked for their orders. Eric and Irene both ordered their coffee, black.
“It was a little boy… that thief. I don’t even think that the police care that there are little devils running around the streets. After what happened, I went to the police station to report what happened, and I was just blown off.”
“Yes… I had something very important in my wallet. George Gatwick wanted it very badly.”
“Wait… do you mean the rich businessman George Gatwick? You met him?”
“It is a long story… what had happened was that two huge men, like trucks, barged into the library of the museum and were searching for a book that Percy Smythe, the head of the library, knew about. They killed him because Percy Smythe refused to give them the book. I watched it all. When I went over to Percy, he whispered Gatwick’s name, so I decided to go see Gatwick. He was particularly touchy when I mentioned the pebble I had found in the book. It was like something possessed his body as soon as I mentioned the stone.”
“Oh… that pretty interesting. Well anyways, the super important pebble now lies in the hands of some kid.”
Suddenly, an outside voice entered the conversation.
“You almost got me killed. And you’re lucky I saved your stupid stone.”
Eddie was pointing at Eric, breathing heavily.
“Who carries a super important pebble in their wallet, and gives the bad guys my description? Do you want the bad guys to succeed?”
“Wait, you didn’t give the pebble away when you were going to be killed? Good job. I had told only George Gatwick about you, and he is supposedly a good guy… Did he find you?”
“Two big men came after me. Gatwick is probably a phony that sent the men after me. Oh yeah, and I refused to give them the pebble, since a boy at my orphanage, Little Mickey, claimed to see a boy be kidnapped by some poison gas at the purple house, so I knew something was definitely up.”
“Good job. Wait, what did they look like?”
“Well, as I said, both were huge, and one had many scars on his face.”
“They must have been the ones who killed Percy Smythe… and looked for the book. Oh yeah, there were some big men who stormed into the museum, and killed the librarian for a book, which had the pebble behind its back cover. He whispered Wentworth Street and George Gatwick before dying. That’s why I went to visit Gatwick, a prominent businessman, and told him about you…”
After remaining quiet for the entire conversation, Irene spoke out.
“I think I see what’s going on. Or at least part of it. Gatwick is planning something evil. He’s the culprit.”
Eddie nodded in agreement.
“That’s definitely right. We’re going to need to do more investigation.”
On that note, Eric looked at his watch, and saw that it was almost time for him to leave.
“My lunch break is almost over. Lets deal with this matter later. Lets meet at my house at eight. Eddie you should come too.”
Eric wrote down the address of his house and gave it to Eddie and Irene.
Back at the museum, Eric sat at his desk, half of his mind still focused in on the events that had fallen in place. For the first time in a while, Eric was tired of doing his work, conducting cursory work. Finally, Eric decided to go pay a visit to Jack Prothroe, even though he hadn’t fully considered the job offer he was given. He decided that he would have enough time to decide by the time he reached the department of “unclassified” artifacts. Anyways, he had to talk to Prothroe about what he had gone through
While walking, Eric thought about the new events piling themselves on top of each other on his life.
“Why hello there, Eric.”
Eric jumped up, as he was so deep in thought, he did not notice Prothroe come from behind him.
“Hi. I was just coming to see you about an important matter. The matter is partially regarding the death of Percy Smythe.”
“Oh. What may that be? I was just going to ask you what happened with George Gatwick.”
“Actually, I have a confession to make. In the book that the men were looking for, there was a pebble on the final page. I did not think would hold any importance, so I never told you about it. When I mentioned the pebble to Gatwick he became super intrigued in the conversation, and the fact that I didn’t have it since my wallet was robbed, he erupted in passionate anger. It was scary; it was like a devil possessed him. He was no help in finding the murderer. Anyways, when Percy Smythe also whispered Wentworth Street when he died. And also, the robber of my wallet confessed to having the pebble and two big men had come after him… I reckon they were the same men who killed Smythe. I think that Percy’s spoke Gatwick’s name because he was the culprit behind all of this, not the savior.”
“I agree. We got some investigation to do. Something is going on. Something big.”
“Yeah, a whole lot of mishap occurred the day I visited Gatwick. By the way, Wentworth Street Anyways, I need to get back now… And we still have a lot to discuss.”
“Yes we do. We should meet later. I’ll come by your house tomorrow morning.”
“That sounds good.”
Prothroe and Eric walked their separate ways in the hallways, and Prothroe turned around, and called:
“And have you determined your position on my offer?”
“A lot has been going on lately. I haven’t gotten a chance to fully think. Also, I haven’t been able to talk to Clarke about it yet.”
Prothroe muttered under his breath as he walked down the hallway.
Eric sighed. His mind was jumbled with an atrophy of distorted ideas and things, like a basket with twenty different types of items in it. Eric would soon go home and have to deal with the main problem at hand.
Eric was making tea in his house, waiting for Irene and Eddie to arrive.
Two knocks were heard on the door, and Eric opened his door and Irene and Eddie entered. They greeted each other, and then took a seat in the living room, where the tea was placed on the table, each person taking their own cup and sipping slowly. After a few minutes of sipping tea and small talk, Irene spoke out.
“I think we should check this stuff out. The police don’t really notice when this stuff happens. They probably just think of this as a coincidence. We need to do something before something bad happens,” she said.
Eddie’s face lit up with curiosity.
“I agree. I think we should split up and investigate different places. This way, we’ll get more done,” he said.
“Eddie, me and Irene will investigate. You stay put in this house, while we go check some stuff out. You can stay here for the night.”
“That’s not fair! I’m the reason you even know half of what’s going on.”
“You need some rest. You can stay in my dad’s room for the night.”
A light bulb went of in Eddie’s head. He knew he could leave without their permission; he was not one to follow the rules.
“Okay, fine guys. I’ll stay put. Just remember, next time I’m coming.”
“Where should we go?” Eric asked Irene.
“Lets go to the house on Wentworth Street; we could probably find somewhere to stakeout without being caught.”
Irene and Eric moved to the door and left, and said “good night” to Eddie. But Eddie had his own plans.
The street lamps dimly lit up the streets as Eric and Irene strolled to Wentworth Street. They saw The Café Royal, a restaurant, on the corner of the street.
“Lets ‘eat’ there and see if we can find out anything about the house on Wentworth Street,” Eric said.
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Before entering the restaurant, Eric and Irene went to get a good look at the house on Wentworth Street. There it lay in front of them: it was like a ghost story taken out of a book and translated into a real life house, because of the purple figure and the dim whit lights around it. There was definitely some shady business going on around here. He took a look at Irene, and they both headed into the light red colored restaurant, which was lit up and seemed out of sync with the house on Wentworth Street.
“Let’s sit here.”
Irene motioned to the seats where the house could be clearly seen through the big glass windows, and Eric and Irene took their seats, waiting for a waitress to come over.
“Hello, what would you like to order?”
The waitress in a plain red outfit stood in front of Eric and Irene.
“Before we order, we have some questions to ask… We’re actually undercover detectives. There is something going on in London, and we have some questions to ask about the house located right over there, on Wentworth Street. We think something may be up.” Eric said, as he pointed in the direction of the creepy house.
Irene glared at Eric. She was surprised by his abrupt decision to act as detectives. The waitress fidgeted nervously, as she was fazed by the fact that she was serving detectives.
“Don’t worry, I have nothing to hide. I’ll try to answer your questions.”
Irene entered the conversation with confidence in her voice, as she decided she might as well go along with the whole detective ploy.
“Do you ever see anything happen at the house?”
“Sometimes, I see people in these black suits entering the door, and there are meetings, but there are only 3 or 4 people entering the house at the time. I presume its some type of meeting place. But I only work during the evening at night, so I could go get my manager to answer your questions for you, if you want.”
Before Eric or Irene could reply, the waitress left their table and began talking to her manager. As the waitress was telling the manager about Eric and Irene, the manager just nodded with no change in emotion.
“Smooth move.” Irene muttered.
“Sorry… I couldn’t help it. But at least we got some information.”
The manager trudged over to Eric and Irene’s table. His pitch-black hair was combed neatly to the side, and his gray pupils made his eyes stick out; his stride towards Eric and Irene’s table was firm and steady; he meant business.
“Get out of my restaurant right now. We don’t need no detectives here. Leave.”
Eric had a confounded look on his face with his mouth open wide; he wondered why the manager got so angry over a simple question. Eric looked over at Irene; she seemed like she had the exact same question looming in her head.
“We just have a simple question.” Irene pleaded.
“No. I will have none of it. I do not want part in this crazy business. There’s nothing happening. Go home.”
Solemnly, Eric and Irene exited the restaurant into the gloomy night, to go home. Eric looked over at Irene, but she did not look too sad; instead, she had a slight smile on her face.
“At least now, we’re sure that something’s going down. Something big,” she said.
Eric realized what she was talking about. The manager would not have gotten tso secretive if nothing was going on.
“You’re right. Thank god. Anyways, come by house tomorrow morning. A friend from the museum is coming over to help us.”
“I’ll see if I can make it. See you later!”
Eric and Irene both took separate cabs, which were waiting, outside the restaurant to get home.
Old William Douglas dug the graves for people to be buried. Through his years of grave digging, he had become hunchbacked and the shoveling the dirt had begun to make him weaker, as his age began to take a toll on him.
Anyways, he stood in the night air, the moon at its height, gleaming down on his face, panting, near the grave of Arthur Williams. His shovel hit the dirt. He looked back, and surveyed the area, making sure that no one was watching him. The men had pressured him to do this; they said they would give him money, lots of it. And they would not be pleased if he failed at his task. It was a simple one.
Eddie strolled calmly through the foggy night streets of London. It wasn’t that hard for him to find George Gatwick’s mansion. Many people knew where it was; it was huge; all he did was ask a cab driver, and found out that Gatwick resided on the outskirts of London. Anyways, he would get inside the gates to find out the secrets held by Gatwick. Eric would probably be proud of him for conducting this investigation. Actually, Eric would be mad, but it didn’t matter, Eddie decided. Eddie wanted to do this.
Eddie knew the streets of London like the back of his hand. He knew that if he took the alleyways as shortcuts, he would reach there quickly, and would have a better chance of beating Eric back to the house. Hopefully, he would encounter no trouble along the way. But with his recent luck, he would.
As soon as Eddie stepped onto the street, and looked ahead of him, he retreated to the dirty, slimy, gray wall. The two men who were going to kill him were walking ahead of him, most likely to Gatwick’s house. Eddie started breathing hard, and becoming more nervous; he doubted the men would hesitate to kidnap or kill him this time around. Then Eddie took two deep breaths and calmed down; this time he wasn’t going to get caught.
Eddie walked down the dimly lit street, where particles fog engulfed the air, allowing Eddie to just barely see the outlines of the two men. Bits and pieces of their conversation could be heard through the scintillating night air.
“The world… changed… us… power… unleashed upon.”
“Yeah… Gatwick… soon this world.”
Eddie gasped when he heard of what they were talking about. There was something happening, which definitely involved a great deal of importance on the future of the world, which was much greater than anyone imagined. Eddie continued to strain his ears in an attempt to hear more of their conversation, but failed.
They took a right turn at the end of the street, and Eddie peeked around the wall separating the streets. There he saw two steel yellow-eyed wolves perched on top of the gates at the center, staring coldly. The silvery hairs on Eddie’s neck stood up as a cold chill swept over Eddie’s body.
After the two men entered the gates leading up to the mansion, Eddie saw that they were careless in their duty; they left a slight opening in which Eddie could slip through. Now Eddie had his dirty work done for him; he wouldn’t have to find a way in. Eddie squirmed through the black gates, making no sound, like a ninja, and saw a vast garden and a cobblestone path. Some serious investigation needed to be done, and he would have to cover the grounds of the mansion, Eddie thought to himself, as the moon lit up the fog, revealing an eerie mist.
As Eddie treaded the cobblestone path, he heard a door slam shut; the two big men had infiltrated the front doors, probably to make more plans with Gatwick. Now, Eddie scanned the area to make sure that no one was there; then moved to find clues into whatever was rising. Suddenly, he heard heavy chains rattling, as if there was a creature there. Eddie rushed to the backyard to see what was up. There was a dim light being emitted from a rusty white shed type thing, and quiet voices could be heard. Eddie saw that there was an opening at the bottom of the shed, and moved closer to the shed and leaned against the wall next to it.
“Don’t worry boy. You’ll be free tomorrow. You’ll help us catch our runaways.”
Eddie heard a fierce roar and the shaking of chains, which in turn rattled his bones. Eddie moved back slowly, still facing the shed, then turned around and sprung into an all out dash to return to Eric’s house to tell him what had happened.
Eric stood at his front door, frustrated that they learned so little about the creepy place on Wentworth Street. At least he knew that important people met there, judging by their black suits, but that wasn’t enough. It gave no insight onto the occurrences in London. Just as Eric reached for his keys, he heard leaves shaking and a twig crack in the bushes behind him. Eric turned around, wondering what was creeping behind him. All he could see was darkness and a still bush. Eric was sure he had heard something coming from there. But he decided it was nothing and turned back to enter his house. The sounds of something moving came again, and Eric decided to take a risk and walk to the bush to see what was there. Eric crept as quietly as possible, top toeing, and quickly looked over the bush with his fists in the air. And it was no surprise who he saw: Eddie. Eddie put a foolish grin on his face.
“You’re in trouble. You weren’t supposed to leave.”
“Well, you’ll be happy when you hear about when I found out.”
Eric pushed the key through the slot and entered the house, along with Eddie.
“We’ll talk in the morning. Now go to sleep.”
Eric was tired from the long day he had and did not want to talk any longer than he had to. He set Eddie up in his father’s old room, and Eric took off his shoes, socks, and coat, and without changing, plopped down on his bed and went to bed.
Eric read the morning’s newspaper while waiting for Prothroe to arrive. He had just had a conversation with Eddie about Eddie’s exploration the previous night. Eric was still a little dubious about what Eddie said about the creature, but even if the rest of what Eddie said was true, there was something horrible coming over London, and possibly the world, soon. Eric wondered about the plethora of things he needed to inform Prothroe about, such as the adventures Irene, Eddie, and he had gone through so far. Hopefully Prothroe could help in finding a solution, or at least help in furthering the investigation process. In the midst of his thoughts, Eric heard two knocks at the door, and invited Prothroe inside, and they both took a seat on the couch.
“Hello Eric. I presume we have much to discuss.”
“Yes we do. By the way, the boy who had stolen my wallet is at my house. He’s trustworthy and has useful information. He can help out.”
“I see. Anyways, tell me what happened so far.”
“Yesterday, me and my friend, Irene, went to do some investigation on Wentworth Street, and we received some very weird responses. The manager of the restaurant we were at got furious once we asked our question, but we managed to squeeze information from the waitress. She said that some people in black suits meet there often.”
“Ahh, I see. I’ve heard of the house on Wentworth Street somewhere, though I can’t recall.”
“Also, the boy, Eddie, went through some adventures…”
“Eric, your toilet won’t flush.”
Eric blushed, embarrassed by the conduct of Eddie, as he invaded the living room. Interrupting their conversation. Prothroe stared at Eddie for a moment before looking away.
“Hello.” Eddie complacently said as he plopped down on the couch, taking a seat right next to Eric.
“Hi, I have heard interesting things about you.” Prothroe blatantly replied.
“Okay, now lets get down to business. Eddie, want to explain yesterday’s events to Mr. Prothroe,” Eric said.
“Okay. I followed two big men, the ones who tried to kill me and probably the ones who killed your friend, into the mansion of George Gatwick. They talked about a massive takeover of the world or something. Once I infiltrated the grounds of the mansion, I went around to the back to investigate. There, I heard voices coming from a shed. Some guy was talking to a creature about unleashing him. After that, I heard a defeaning roar, so I ran away as fast as I could. That is all.”
“By the way, I now recall what the house on Wentworth Street is. That is where the Atlantic Club meets, I remember my friend telling me that before. Anyways, we must do some further…”
Two knocks were heard at the door. Eric opened the door for Irene, who took a seat on the couch, and Eric introduced Irene and Prothroe to each other.
“As I was saying, I think we need some background as per to what Gatwick is doing and what the Atlantic Club is looking for,” Prothroe continued.
“Yeah. The disappearance of Arthur Williams probably had to do with the current activities of the Atlantic Club… somebody, or something is trying to revive something…” Eric said.
“I think we should check out the book written by Arthur McDougal, it may hold some important facts and clues to what we are dealing with. Right now we need some historical background,” Irene added.
Eric and Prothroe looked at Irene for a moment, while Eddie shrugged at the idea.
“That’s a great idea. We could get a basis to work of off. But we can’t go to the library of the museum right now. It’s being cleaned right now. Hopefully it will be done by the evening. Anyways, I have to head to work now.” Prothroe said.
Eric looked down at his watch; it was almost nine.
“I guess I’ll go back to find out if anything new happened at the orphanage. The kids are probably wondering where I am anyways,” Eddie decided.
“See you guys later,” Irene said. “I have to go work in a restaurant,” Irene chimed.
Nighttime approached as Eddie returned to Eric’s house after spending his day at the orphanage. Anyways, Eddie was determined to explore the depth of this mystery with Eric during this fresh evening, where cool breezes were sweeping over Eddie. Eddie walked up to Eric’s door and turned the knob; Eric’s house was locked. Eric never said anything about being late, Eddie thought to himself. Eddie saw that a window was half open. Might as well take advantage of this situation, he thought to himself as he climbed through the window.
Eric came home from work, and when he opened the door to his house, he saw Eddie sitting on his couch, eating saltine crackers. Of course he’s inside the house, sitting as if there’s nothing wrong with being inside someone else’s house without their permission, Eric thought to himself, as he waved to Eddie and went to the kitchen to grab some food and to put his black duffel bag down.
“Hey.” Eddie said.
“Hi,” Eric replied.
“By the way, I think we need to do some creeping around tonight. Something is definitely going on. When I went to the orphanage, Michael told me that an unusually high number of kids were disappearing. They thought that I had vanished too.”
Eric face brightened a little bit. He really wanted to figure something out, and Eddie was the right person to do it with; Eddie would always take risks.
“Oh. Where should we go?”
“I think we should go to Wentworth Street, but this time lets do some deeper investigation. Somewhere closer to the scene. Like right at the house.”
“Ok. I’ll go. You could stay here.”
“No! You can’t make me. This was my idea.”
“Yes I can. You’re the one who broke into my house, so stay here.”
As Eric left the house, he knew that Eddie was going to come, one way or another. And he also knew that he could get much more closer to the scene and take much more risks with Eddie around. Anyways, Eric walked through the reddish evening skyline, which was darkening with every step all the way to Wentworth Street, and finally, Eric found himself standing at the corner of Wentworth Street. As soon as Eric started walking towards the house, he heard the bushes behind Eric rumbling. Eric knew that it was Eddie. Might as well scare him to teach him a lesson, Eric thought.
Meanwhile, Eddie hid in the bushes waiting to scare Eric. Suddenly, he heard heavy footsteps approaching, the sounds getting louder. This time, Eddie wondered who it could be; Eric wouldn’t be walking towards a random bush. Suddenly, a face shone in front of his face. Eddie flinched. The face gleamed with evil, lighted up in the dark night. Eddie moved to a wall where he could move no further back, but then realized that the figure was just Eric with a flashlight.
“I wasn’t scared.”
Eric rolled his eyes and snickered at Eddie’s demise.
“Sure you weren’t.”
Eddie’s cheeks were red and he felt hot with embarrassment.
“Whatever, we have some serious work to get to. No time for games,” Eddie said.
As soon as Eddie and Eric were about to make a plan, two men walked into their vision. Eddie and Eric retreated behind the green, prickly, pine bush for cover, and looked through the bushes, and realized that it was the two huge men again; one entered the house and one stayed at the door.
“It’s those men again… I’m pretty sure Fred, the less scary one, is at the door.”
“You know them so well… It’s like they’re your best friends,” Eric retorted.
Eddie ignored Eric’s comment, and just as Eric and Eddie were about to formulate a plan, the sound of horses shuffling their hooves and wheels rattling filled the air. A skeletal man emerged from the cab along with two other men dressed in black coats. Little Mickey wasn’t hallucinating about what he saw, Eddie thought to himself. Eric shuddered as he saw the dark black glow emitted around the horses. Fred greeted the two men in black coats, and let them in, and as the skull faced man went inside, he conversed with Fred about something, and then he entered, leaving Fred to guard the place.
Eddie leaned forward to Eric’s ear in a tense manner.
“Lets get closer.” Eddie said.
Suddenly, Fred went inside. Eddie and Eric knew that this moment would be ephemeral, so they moved quickly.
“Let’s go around to the side. If we go through the front, he might hear us,” Eric concluded.
Eric’s words hung in the air as Eddie dashed to the edge of the yard of the ouse, and Eric followed, as they went around the side fence until reaching some bushes.
“Lets go through these bushes,” Eddie said.
Eric nodded, but he was feeling uneasy about passing through the small space. Eddie slipped through the space easily; he barely made a sound. On the other hand when Eric went through, leaves bustled and twigs cracked. Eddie snickered at Eric’s futile efforts to make it through the bush. After he made it through the bush, Eric brushed the dirt off his body, and glared at Eddie.
“Find a window,” Eric said.
“Ok. Come with me.”
They crept around the sides of the house, bending over to see if any windows to the basement were open. Eddie motioned for Eric to lie down in front of a window. Eric looked through the window, and saw people in black suits sat around a table, planning something. There were a bunch of scattered papers on the table; Eric scanned the room to see if he recognized anyone. The hairs on Eric’s neck rose as he stared in utter silence at the man whom he had seen smile at the funeral of Arthur Williams. The manager of the restaurant down the street was also present. Eric winced when he saw the side of George Gatwick’s head. The suspicions that they had about Gatwick were all true. But the figure at the center of the table sitting on a huge leather chair with ancient signs as a design was a man with fading gray hair that Eric had never seen before. Eric blinked and slapped himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Apparently Eddie had heard Eric slap himself and stared at Eric for a few seconds before turning back to the group of people. Out of the corner of his eye, Eric spotted a picture, which resembled a graveyard, and a system of underground pipes leading up to somewhere were also drawn. Eric remembered reading about gravediggers in the newspaper a few days ago. There was a definitely a correlation between the gravediggers and this event. Eric looked by his side to tell Eddie something, but Eddie was not there. That kid had disappeared, again.
Eric moved to find Eddie, and saw him lying on the ground next to a different window.
“Are you crazy? You could have gotten caught.” Eric whispered madly to Eddie.
Eddie put a finger to his mouth and pointed the open window. Eric nodded at him as soon as he realized why Eddie had come here. They both became dead quiet in an attempt to hear the conversation.
“The underground… must be set…” George Gatwick spoke.
“Use the key… by tomorrow night.” the central figure bellowed.
“Anyone who knows anything must die. For all we know, there’s people with the power needed to stop us,” another figure called out.
All of a sudden, heavy footsteps were headed their way. Eric and Eddie shot each other panicked expressions with their eyebrows raised, and they retreated to the bushes, as quickly and quietly as possible. They saw the heavy footsteps were Fred, who was checking for perpetrators. He grumbled about the open window and about hearing someone lurking. Fred shut the window and aimed his flashlight at the bushes as the flashlight beamed on the bushes covering Eddie and Eric for a split second, then went back to his original position at the front.
“Well, that was close,” Eddie said.
“Let’s stay here for a few minutes.”
A boy came to the back; Fred must have sent him to lookout for intruders. Eddie then realized something; that boy was Joe, the missing boy from the orphanage who Little Mickey claimed had been “hypnotized”. But it was true; the boy stared into space with a blank stare, like a zombie spirit had possessed him. So the rumors of the poison gas were true.
“I know him. I think I could get some info from him. He was in the orphanage before he was hypnotized,” Eddie told Eric.
Eric decided that they would have to take risks after what they had seen and heard. “Okay, fine you could try. But don’t get caught.”
Eric watched from the bushes as Eddie went out and confronted the boy
“Hi. Joe. You’ve been hypnotized. Can you tell me what’s going on,” Eddie spoke in barely a whisper.
Joe stared blankly at Eddie, without blinking. Then he shook his head, blinked once, and it seemed like Joe came back to life again.
“They’re planning something evil. The ancient powers will rise. London, the world will be in chaos.”
Eric emerged from the bushes to ask Joe something, but just as Eric was just about to ask his question, Joe began talking.
“No, this is wrong. Leave before I tell my master.”
With those words, Eddie and Eric retreated into the bushes and ran off into the approaching night, back to Eric’s home.
Eric and Eddie were back at Eric’s house, deciding what approach to take about the huge event that was possibly taking place tomorrow.
“We need more people to crack this thing; we need to figure out exactly what is going on,” Eric declared.
“Only people that we can trust can know,” Eddie mentioned.
“I’ll call Prothroe and Irene. It’s happening tomorrow.”
“Good. Meanwhile, I’ll go get something to eat.”
Eddie drifted off into the kitchen. Eric sighed. The fate of London, or maybe even the world, depended on them. Eric just hoped they weren’t asleep. Eric called Irene first.
“Hi. Come to my house. Something’s happening tomorrow. Eddie and I just went to Wentworth street and figured out something.”
“Really? I just got to the best part in my book. The thief is about to be caught. But I’ll come right now, if it’s that urgent.”
“Thank you. Prothroe’s coming too.”
With those words, Eric hung up. Eric called Jack Prothroe now. The phone rang twice as Eric waited. Eric really hoped Prothroe wasn’t asleep; he was an essential part of the team. Finally, Prothroe picked up the phone.
“Hello. It’s Eric. Can you come over to my house right now? Me and Eddie went to Wentworth Street to do some close up investigation, and we discovered horrifying things; we think there may be something bad coming up.”
“I was just about to go to bed.”
“But I think I can make it to your house. Under one condition.”
“You must work in my department after all this mayhem is over. I have a feeling our department will be expanded after this “event” occurs.”
Eric had to admit, the supernatural was pretty interesting.
“Okay, I’ll work for you. You just have to convince Henry Clarke to allow me to switch departments.”
Eric knew that Prothroe was smiling on the other end of the phone, as he now waited for everyone to come over to his house.
Eric, Irene, Prothroe, and Eddie sat in Eric’s living room, wondering about the series of events that had occurred. It seemed like everything was interconnected, like some kind of prophecy coming to life. Everyone had informed each other about what they knew and their adventures.
“Eddie, what did you say about hypnotizing people?” Prothroe said.
“A boy in my orphanage saw a boy get hypnotized by some kind of gas/spray.”
“Do you guys think, that if a person had the right motives… and if the boy who’s story Eddie was told was true… they could take over an entire building with that spray?”
“I doubt there’s that much spray to take over a whole neighborhood of people… besides, it would be impossible for them to go around spraying everyone… unless, the underground pipes have that gas,” Eric said with his mouth wide open. Prothroe’s eyes shone and his face glimmered in curiosity.
“Eric, can I see your newspaper.” Eric reached for the newspaper, which was sitting on the couch next to him. Prothroe flipped the pages until abruptly stopping ona a certain section. He threw the newspaper with an article titled London Leaders Meet face up on the coffee table. “A meeting of the entire parliament and other important people is going to be held… tomorrow. Something is definitely happening there.”
“We should go to the library at the museum,” Irene said.
“I have the keys to the museum. We have to get there quick. And be quiet on our way there.”
Eric, Irene, Eddie, and Prothroe began their silent walk to the library after entering the museum. Their journey to the museum had been safe; people were still walking the streets at 9, so they did not look out of place. Eddie squinted his eyes to attempt to see in the pitch dark museum, but that did him no good.
“I can’t see anything. It’s so dark. We should’ve brought a flashlight”
Prothroe looked in Eddie’s direction.
“None of us can see. The last person who leaves turns off the lights of the museum. Don’t worry, I know how to get there.”
Eric was thinking too deeply to pay attention to the darkness surrounding him. He was dreading the information that the books may contain; it may make matters worse than ever. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the library. The bookshelves were arranged neatly in rows and the floor was swept clean of Percy’s blood. Prothroe flipped the light switch and dim lights came on.
“Let’s look for the books McDougal wrote.” Eric motioned to the shelves and began walking there.
“The books are arranged by the author’s last name… I would check for the book in the ‘classified section, since it’s pretty important,” Prothroe said as he began walking over to a section of books in the back; Eric Irene, and Eddie followed and they began looking for the books written by Arthur McDougal. Irene’s eyes began to gleam.
“Guys, I think I hit the jackpot, come over here,” she said.
Everyone else walked over, and three books written by Arthur McDougal in a series called The Path lay before their eyes.
“We better start reading these books. We have to do this as quickly as possible.” Prothroe said.
Eric looked at Eddie for a moment with concern in his eyes.
“Eddie, can you read?” Eric asked.
“Yes, my parents taught me when I was young.”
Eddie had ran away from his home after his mom died and his dad left him; he was forced to live with aunt, and his uncle who was an alcohol. Even though Eddie spoke with confidence, he was still unsure of his abilities; he had not read in years.
“Eric, you and I should go through this book.” Prothroe took out the final book written by Arthur McDougal from the shelves.
Eddie and Irene took the other two books, and all of them walked over to one of the many tables scattered in the library. Eddie plopped down in his seat, put his feet up on the desk, and began flipping through his book nonchalantly. Eric glared at Eddie for a moment, but didn’t want to disrupt the silence by telling him to put his feet down. Eddie bore a hole into the pages with his eyes, failing to focus; he could not differentiate between the letters too well. I need to concentrate, anything could be important, Eddie thought to himself. Eddie looked at a wall for a few moments, cleared his mind, and looked back at the book. Eddie read the title of one of the chapters of the book: The Ancient Mysticism. It seemed like this man had been doing some research.
Irene became engulfed in the things this man had written and researched. She wondered what kind of life this man had lived since he discovered all of this, and she wondered how he even came by this information in the first place. The secret power of the ancients was spoken about, and how they were held in some type of objects. Irene found the stories of how the great structures of the past were built through some mystic power fascinating. But then she realized what this could mean if these powers were unleashed in the world. She continued to look through the contents of the book, and read about how there were some sacred places in the ancient world, which could join together. Irene continued to flip the pages in amazement.
On the other hand, Eric and Prothroe were going through the final book, staring in horror; if this was what Gatwick and the rest of the evil people were trying to do, soon, nowhere would be safe. McDougal’s final book spoke of the ancient people coming together to create an all-powerful lock and key that would hold a power that none other could match, which would allow the wielder of the power to control whatever he wanted, as long as he went under the right position in the world at the right time. But a pebble created by an ancient clan, which could stop the chain of events from happening. So that was why the pebble was so important. McDougal wrote on his last page, that he was going on a quest to find the stone, and after that, a bunch of words were scribbled: eht yek sah neeb derevocsid. Prothroe and Eric glanced at each other, with puzzled looks on their faces.
“How shall we decode this,” Prothroe whispered.
“I’m not really sure… Lets try arranging the words I guess, that’s what they do in all the books I read.”
Prothroe stroked his chin with is hand; Eric rested his chin on his hand. What could this mean, Eric thought. Finally, Eric decided to start decoding the message in the simplest way possible, and then get more complex. He looked if the letters were arranged backwards. Suddenly, Eric realized the first word was “The”, and the rest of the words were arranged similarly.
“The key has been discovered,” Eric said, just a few seconds after they started solving the puzzle.
“Huh,” Prothroe replied.
“That’s what this message says. You just have to look at each word backwards.”
“Ah. I didn’t catch that. Anyways, I think this means the Atlantic Club has the feather and the necklace. Those blokes at the Atlantic Club may be attempting to do something with these powers. But we have the pebble to stop them.”
“We should find out what this key is… and more importantly, what it could possibly mean to the world.”
“Let’s continue reading…”
The clock turned; they read into the latest hours of the night. Something dark was looming in the midst of London, and they had to stop the power from rising. Eric looked out the window for a moment; he was exhausted from all this research; then Eric glanced at the clock. It was 2:30 in the morning. He realized that everyone must be tired by now. He looked over at Eddie; Eddie was looking at his book, and shutting his eyes for a second, then opening his eyes and then looking back at his book. Irene was resting her head and staring blankly at the book. Even Prothroe was barely moving through the pages.
“I think we did enough.” Eric broke the silence in the room.
“I’m with Eric,” Eddie and Irene chimed.
They looked over at Prothroe, and they saw him with his head on the table, about to shut his eyes.
“I agree,” Prothroe managed to spit out from his resting position.
Everyone momentarily grinned before going back to his or her exhausted looks.
“Let’s see what we’ve found out while reading. Eddie you go first,” Eric said.
“Fine. Arthur McDougal wrote information about the ancient mysticism or something like that in the book I was reading. He spoke of other forces battling him to get it. There was a creature spoken about, which I think I had seen at Gatwick’s place, called the crevis of the night; it was said to be extremely powerful but useful when kept under control. There were four stories mentioned in his book; they were from different cultures, but they all spoke of the same prophesized lock and key. On the last page of the book, it simply said, the beginning is the end is the beginning. Irene, your turn.”
“Okay then. In the part of the book I was reading, McDougal mentioned a way to bring the ancient powers to life. Also, the book spoke of how great structures in the past, such as Stonehenge, the Pyramids, the Valley of Kings, and the Ancient Mayan Temples, and more, would hold secrets to the powers if activated the write way. In this book, he wrote all about his research to find out how these ancient structures were built, and the ancient scriptures and spells were mixed to create a power. He said that his research showed that when the key and the lock were united, the man who connected them would have unlimited power. That’s just the important stuff. Eric and Prothroe, it’s your turn.”
“I’ll begin.” Prothroe said. “The final book detailed amazing and horrific things at the same time, such as what the powers could be harnessed to do: the wielders of the power could harness weather to control the universe, and could even control people, up to a certain point. Considering who may start this cycle it, it’s more horrific than amazing. The pebble in our possession is the only thing that could counter the joining of the lock and key. We imagine the ancient powers may start an evil revolution in the world if they are unleashed. Then, at the end of the book we came across the code. Eric, tell them about it: you decoded it.”
Eric took a deep breath.
“In the book we were reading, we saw a code. There was a bunch of scrambled letters that came out to read ‘the key has been discovered’. And I’m pretty sure the bad guys have the key, since me and Eddie heard them say they do. Also, a group of people have to conduct a ceremony, and at the completion of the ceremony, the wielder of the lock and key must go under a certain location for the powers to work. And on the last page, there were a bunch of charms listed and how to make them.”
Everyone sat, staring at each other momentarily, then looked away in sheer exhaustion.
“Let’s leave and go get some rest.”
Everyone nodded in consent, just happy to go back home to get some sleep. Irene hoped her father had not noticed that she was gone yet, so she could sneak into the house.
“By the way, I know someone that could help us. He’s the best detective around. Or at least he used to be.”
Eddie, Irene, and Eric stared at Prothroe in silence.
“Detective Jacob Watson. He’s my old friend. I’ll talk to him tomorrow... I mean today. Good night everyone. By the way, come to the museum by five tomorrow.”
Everyone said his or her goodbyes to each other before heading home.
The sun rose in the sky. Beep, beep, beep. The alarm rang, and Jack Prothroe went back under his covers after hitting the snooze button of the alarm. He didn’t want to get up and go to work; it had been a long night; this was the third alarm that rang that morning. Finally, Prothroe emerged from the darkness underneath covers. Then he remembered; he had to go pay a visit to Detective Watson. Prothroe dialed Watson’s number, and the phone rang, but he did not pick up; he was probably busy at work. Anyways, Prothroe decided he would go take a walk to Watson’s house at four. Prothroe now brushed his teeth, took a shower, and dragged himself to work.
The alley stunk of rats; there was garbage on the ground at every corner. The sky was getting darkening, and it was just a quarter to three. There was definitely something weird going on today.
“Watson, there’s lots of stuff here.”
Charlie, a police detective asked his boss, Watson, who was the head detective of the police department of London. They were dealing with the mysteries surrounding the recent disappearances in London; over 15 people had been reported missing in the past two weeks. The women around the corner had been crying; she had sent her son out to get bread, but he had never returned. Watson was deep in thought; how could all of these disappearances have occupied without leaving a trace. They were searching for any clues in the alleyway, which was the shortcut to get to the bakery; the alley was also a perfect place for someone to nab him.
“Look over there.” Watson pointed to a wall. There were some royal red streaks of blood on the wall.
“The boy must have struggled,” Gibson, the other police detective pointed out.
Charlie and Gibson moved to check the other parts of the alley, as Watson stared at those marks. He shone his flashlight on the different places, and then he saw a paper. Watson picked up the paper. He grunted; it was a stupid flier for the grand opening of some stupid new store.
“I’m done for the day. I’m going to head back to my home. See you guys later,” Watson said.
They nodded, and parted, Watson heading to his home to get some rest and the other two men going back to the police station.
Watson sat on his couch, reading the evening newspaper. No unusual events were described in the newspaper; while Watson was reading the headlines, he heard two knocks out at the door. Watson lifted himself of his couch, and opened the door; in front of him stood Jack Prothroe, whom he had not seen in what felt like ages.
“Ah, my old friend. Hello Watson.”
“Long time no see. What shall we discuss today, Sir Prothroe? Have a seat in the living room.”
“This is super important. A chain of events which are going to change the course of the world are supposed to occur tonight, in London. The signs are very ominous.”
“Good. Kind of. This information may help with the search I have no leads on. There have been many disappearances of people in London in the past few weeks.
“This may have some correlation to my findings. Some friends and I have been doing some snooping around ever since we all met after some men ransacked the library. We have a substantial amount of evidence to deduct that the Atlantic Club is behind all of these ‘happenings’. And we need help to stop these people. That’s why I came to you. And Gatwick is behind a lot of this.”
“Gatwick… that slimy piece of dirt. That criminal killed my partner… Now its time for payback. I’m in.”
“We have to go to the museum, where I’ll introduce you to the rest of the gang. I’ll tell you all about everything that happened on the way there. It’s a long walk.”
“Perfect, let me get my stuff,” Watson replied as he went to get his weapons, ready for war.
“By the way, the guy who started this investigation is a young man named Eric Alvarez. Don’t tell him about his father. Not yet.”
Watson nodded at Prothroe. He wondered what kind of group was assembled.
“Foolish boy, tell us what you had seen the other night.”
Joe was not fully immersed in his previous trance at this moment; the meeting with Eddie and the other guy was still fresh in his mind. By accident, he had let slip the fact that he had seen people in the backyard on the night of the meeting, when he was keeping guard. The poison spray was working well; Joe could not think well.
“No I can’t,” he muttered.
“Do you want to live,” Mamba said.
Mamba and Fred were interrogating the boy for some useful information. After that line, the boy returned to his hypnotic form, where he was completely servile to what others told him.
“It was an orphan boy, with a young adult. The adult seemed really panicky, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and he was kind of tall.”
Mamba now looked at Fred, knowing that they were both thinking the exact same thing.
“It’s Eddie, the brat who tricked us. Now we have to figure out who the other guy is,” Mamba said.
“Lets tell Mr. Gatwick first,” Fred said. “He’ll know what to do.”
Fred and Mamba left the boy to go see George Gatwick. They walked to the room next door, where George Gatwick was busy in work, hoping that he would be happy with their accomplishment.
“We’ve most likely figured out who was snooping around in the backyard yesterday. There was an orphan, the one that you told us to look for, and some other young man with him. We don’t know who that man is though. He had dark brown hair and brown eyes, and seemed really panicky,” Mamba said.
“Most likely? You dare tell me most likely?”
Mamba and Fred started shaking in fear; they did not want to be taken away. Suddenly, Gatwick burst into laughter and then snapped at them.
“Just kidding. But okay job. I presume the young man must be Eric Alvarez.” George Gatwick scribbled something on a piece of paper, and handed it to Mamba. “This is the address of Eric’s house. I took it in case Eric ever did anything bad; I was always suspicious of him since the day we met. Tell Boneface lead the creature there and unleash it. Eric must die. So must Eddie.”
Eddie sat on the living room floor observing the many marbles Eric had. There were so many colors and sizes, ranging from clear to light red. Eric had not gone to work today to catch up on sleep and to prepare for the night.
“Eddie, do you want tea.”
Eddie sat on the couch for a moment relaxing, but then he heard a scratching, growling type noise.
“Hey Eric, do you hear that noise?”
Eric turned the stove off for a moment.
“There’s some scratching at the door,” Eddie said. “I’ll go see what it is.”
“Check from the window,” Eric replied.
Eddie gasped after seeing the fearful beast outside. The creature had jagged yellow dirty teeth, razor sharp claws, and fearful deep blue scales. It had evolved from the creature Eddie had seen before; the bones were covered.
“Eric, you’re going to want to look at this.”
Eric came to the window. Just as he was about to scream from the frightfulness of the creature, he heard marbles rolling on the floor. Eddie had spilled Eric’s entire marble collection at the door to slow down the beast once he entered.
“We have a few seconds before the creature gets through,” Eddie said. “Lets go.”
Eric was still experiencing anger and confusion from his marble collection going down the drain to the creature that was about to rip his house apart.
“Let’s leave through the back. I’ll lead,” Eric said.
A deafening roar was by the time Eddie and Eric had exited the door and ran for a good thirty seconds. Their trap had worked to slow the creature. Eric spoke to Eddie in short breaths.
“Lets... go… to… museum.”
Eddie nodded as they ran. They could hear the cries of the creature growling under its breath as the footsteps were gradually becoming louder. They knew they didn’t have much time to escape the creature, the crevis. Eddie took a look back, even though he knew he shouldn’t. In the distance, a blue wolf like thing was chasing after them and gaining ground.
“Lets take that alley. The creature won’t fit through, and it’s a shortcut.”
Eric just nodded at Eddie and they took turned. In front of them, on the next street, the museum stood, waiting for their arrival. Or at least that was how they felt. Eric took out his keys, opened the door, and ran inside with Eddie.
“Lets just hope the creature doesn’t find out we’re here,” Eric muttered.
“How did it find us in the first place…” Eddie wondered.
John Mansfield and Joshua Harris, two members of the Atlantic Club stood outside the house in the foggy dark sky. They had just left a meeting of the Atlantic Club, where all of their plans were revealed, and there was not a good ending for the world.
“We can’t tell anyone else about this,” John said.
“Yeah… We’ll be killed if the wrong people find out,” Joshua said.
“Their actions are too dangerous.”
“We’ve got to tell someone who can stop this madness.”
“Lets go the British museum. I heard they’re trying to stop the powers from rising.”
“But we have to gain their trust. Or our plan could end in pain for us.”
“That’s not going to be easy. They’ll think we’re spies.”
“We have to try. This is happening soon. They’ve got to believe us.”
After waiting in the museum and catching his breath for a few minutes, Eric looked down at his watch to see how long they had before everyone began arriving at the museum to make the final plan. It was still four, and everyone was supposed to meet up at five.
“Eddie, lets go to Irene’s house, and bring her to the museum, just in case the creature tries to find her.”
“I doubt they’ll be after her though; they probably don’t even know who she is. But its not like we have anything better to do; lets go. She gave me her address before.”
Eric and Eddie exited into the gray foggy atmosphere outside. As soon as they walked out of the museum and began walking to Irene’s house, they saw two men in black coats walking their way. Their faces did not give away bad intentions; they were solemn and their faces did not have much emotion. One man whispered to the other.
“Eric, what do you think they want? They’re probably up to no good.”
“Just wait and try to avoid them. But they don’t look dangerous.”
The men walked over to Eric and Eddie and confronted them.
“I’m John, and this is Joshua. You work at the museum right?”
Eric started shaking. Hopefully they weren’t there to kill or kidnap them. Eddie and Eric were no match for two grown up men. Eric then realized he needed to muster up courage to confront them; he did not want to seem weak.
“Yes he does…Who are you guys,” Eddie blatantly asked before letting Eric reply.
Joshua hesitantly looked at John, wondering if they should follow through with their plan.
“You can’t tell anyone. We’re members of the Atlantic Club, kind of; they are planning on doing something terrible, and we need to stop it. At today’s meeting, they revealed their plans to unleash the ancient powers. Alone, it would be difficult for you guys to stop them. But together, we could stop this takeover,” Joshua said.
“And how can we trust you,” Eric asked.
“I don’t know. Just listen to us. We’ll tell you everything we know. But we’re your last hope,” John replied.
Eric took a hard look at John and Joshua and saw that they were genuinely troubled by the actions of the Atlantic Club and that they sincerely wanted to help.
“Enlighten us,” Eric said.
Joshua began reciting the tale.
“At the meeting today, the events which were going to take place tonight were discussed. First, they warned us about an orphan and a museum worker, who were working together; I’m guessing that’s you guys. Also, they warned us that there were people at the museum working against us. Then, they unveiled their plan. There’s probably much more to it than you guys think. There are three events happening at the same time, working together to unleash the ancient powers. First off, there’s a meeting with all the important people going on, and everyone there is going to be hypnotized by poison gas, since they believe that most of the people who have the power to stop them even if the powers are released are going to attend the meeting. Second, there is going to be an ancient power unleashed in the streets; Gatwick is going to walk to a location in the streets form his mansion; this involves a necklace and a feather. Third, a powerful group will be performing a ritual with three ancient items at the purple house, allowing sacred locations across the world to join in a beam of light; Gatwick will go under this beam and activate the powers. Hopefully you guys know enough to fill in the gaps.”
Eddie was staring at Joshua during this entire story, with his mouth wide open. It was just as they imagined.
“Whoa… we need a plan.”
“Hold on, I’ll get my friend from her house. She has been with us this whole time. You guys, John and Joshua, go to the museum and wait there. We will be arriving soon.”
John and Joshua nodded in agreement as Eddie and Eric went off to get Irene.
Irene was standing at her door awed by what Eric had just told her; he had informed Irene of the creature that came after them and that they came to her house to bring her to the museum.
“We’ll explain once we get to the museum,” Eric said.
“The creature could still be out there, looking for you. Are you crazy?”
“Too late for that now. We got to go, quick.”
“Whatever you say.”
Eddie was on the sidewalk, ready to rush back to the museum.
“Guys, we better hurry. I just heard a roar,” he said.
Irene left her house, and instead of walking at a leisurely pace, the three raced in an all out sprint to the museum.
As Eric, Irene, and Eddie entered the museum, the first thing they saw was a man with a gruff black five o’ clock shadow and dark black hair interrogating John and Joshua; Prothroe was just standing there, watching the interrogation. Eric ran over to try and stop this man from harming John and Joshua
“Hold on, they’re good guys,” Eric said.
“And who are you?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Prothroe was not giving any clues; he was just standing there in silence, smiling, letting this arguing rage on.
“I’m Eric Alvarez, and I work at the museum.”
“Oh. Hello. I’m Detective Watson; I’m helping you guys out.”
Eddie moved next to Prothroe and whispered something to him.
“So this is the guy you were talking about… cool,” Eddie said.
“First of all, lets discuss this situation so everyone’s on the same page,” Irene said.
“Let me begin explaining,” Eric said. “First of all, does everyone know what’s basically going on so far?”
Everyone nodded their head in consent
“Everyone should share their own part of their story. Eddie and I were in our house, when we saw a creature at our front door. It seemed like the crevis, the creature spoken of in the book written by Arthur McDougal. We ran to the museum, and then we left to call Irene. On our way, we met these two, who claim to be from the Atlantic Club, and they want to help us; basically be double agents. Let them explain their story,” Eric continued.
John looked at Joshua and decided that Joshua would recite the story once more.
“We were members of the Atlantic Club for around five years. Lately, their ideas have been getting more and more ridiculous, and we believe that they are taking things way too far this time around. They’ve been preparing for this event for a while now. They warned us about workers at the museum. I think they know you guys are trying to stop the ancient powers from being unleashed. There’s going to be three events occurring simultaneously, which will successfully unleash the ancient powers spoken about in Arthur McDougal’s book. We were recently informed of the location of these events: underneath the graveyard, Gatwick’s mansion, and the Atlantic Club’s house. And underneath the graveyard, under Samuel Williams’ grave, the pipes begin since some kind of ancient spell was used to create the gas, and that spell resurrected Samuel Williams from the dead since it has that kind of power when placed under a grave.”
Everyone was now perplexed as they were wondering about how the Atlantic Club could be stopped.
“There have been many disappearances reported in London in the past week, and whenever I looked into any, I found no leads at all. That was, until Prothroe informed me of poison spray and the Atlantic club earlier today,” Detective Watson said.
“I have some things to add in case anyone forgot,” Eddie said. “I know that a kid was hypnotized by some poison spray, that there are two big men working for the Atlantic Club on our tails, and that there’s this guy who controls all the weird creatures, like the wolf like thing and the ghostly horses.”
“There must be something we could do,” Irene said. “We’re going to need more help.”
“Well, I have two men that work with me that can help,” Watson said.
“And I could probably get some help from people in the museum,” Prothroe added.
“Even with this help, how are we going to carry this out,” Irene asked.
There was stillness in the room; the lightest sounds of other workers in the museum could easily be heard. Two minutes passed. Everyone was still deep in thought. Five minutes. Ten minutes.
“Guys, I think we should…”
Eric interrupted Eddie.
“I have a plan.”
Everybody now turned to Eric to hear what he had in mind.
“You guys start walking. I need to tell Mr. Clarke, my boss, something,” Eric told Eddie and Irene.
Eric needed to inform Henry Clarke of something, and this was an urgent matter. It was important that Clarke knows this. Eric entered Clarke’s domain. The lamp was dim and Eric barely saw Clarke’s face in the dark yellow light. Clarke looked at Eric with a feeling of understanding, like he was yearning to do something, as if he knew what was going on.
“If Prothroe comes here to ask for help, help him. He’ll need it. There’s something terrible going on in London.”
“Oh ok. Just as I presumed.”
“I fear that it’s worse than you thought.”
“Don’t worry, we will succeed, I hope… Anything else?”
“Yes. I am probably going to transfer to Prothroe’s department if we come out alive.”
“Just as I predicted. I was just about to hire a new employee, Richard. Well, that’s going to be his test. He will help Prothroe with me.”
“Ok. Good. See you later.”
Clarke gave Eric a smile and a thumb up, as Eric ran off to join up with Eddie and Irene. They were going to travel George Gatwick’s house, to stop whatever dark event Gatwick was going to partake in. Too bad the sky was turning darker, and the world was getting closer to being forever changed.
Detective Watson had called Charlie and Gibson, the police that worked with him, to assist Prothroe on his mission; Watson was going a separate way with John and Joshua. Prothroe, Charlie, and Gibson were now scouring the dimly lit hallways of the museum for people who could join them on their adventure.
“I think Henry Clarke may still be here. He could be help,” Prothroe said.
Charlie and Gibson nodded blankly; they were still processing the information they had just received about the darkness in London and about what kind of danger lay ahead.
Prothroe knocked at Clarke’s door, and saw him talking with some new guy, whom he had never seen before.
“Hello Henry. Do…”
Prothroe nodded as if both of their mindsets were on the exact same thing: stopping the evil from rising.
“Richard lets go. Its time,” Clarke said to the new guy as everyone piled out of the room, and onto the streets to visit the grave of Samuel Williams, the former leader of the Atlantic Club, where they would head into the adventure ahead.
Watson, John, and Joshua casually walked to the Atlantic Club’s meetinghouse. The gray fog was condensing in the unusually dark sky. John shot a look down at his watch.
“It’s 6:00. The ritual begins in an hour.”
“That gives us enough time to stop it,” Watson grunted. “But we have to work fast. And we can’t get caught.”
Joshua looked up to the sky, and saw ominous clouds. They were a dark grey, turning pitch black.
“It’s going to rain soon. Hard. There’s a storm coming.”
Finally, they reached the end of the street, and stood at the corner for a moment. John and Joshua then drifted away from Watson; they did not want to risk being caught with an outsider just yet.
“Now wait,” Watson said.
Five minutes passed. Then, a figure began to appear in the fog, growing clearer as it meandered in their direction. John advanced to Watson.
“There’s Barry. He’s the member we were talking about. He’s not too important, but be quick just in case.”
Watson approached Barry.
“Hello. How are you doing?”
“Who are you? Move. I need to go somewhere.”
“Well, I need to do something first.”
Watson brought his fist down on the top of Barry’s head, like a bowling ball falling from the sky, and Barry collapsed like a boneless man.
“Bring him into the alley,” Watson ordered.
Watson wore Barry’s clothes; he was now disguised as a member of the Atlantic Club, ready to enter the house everyone feared. ____________________________
Constable Jones pulled his jacket closer to his body; the graveyard was giving him the creeps today, but he had to continue working for the money. Jones hadn’t seen anything shady since the two big men with shovels. He looked down at his watch. It was only 6:30. He still had a long night to keep watch. Hopefully nothing spooky would happen. In the distance, Jones saw five figures approaching him. They better not be looking for trouble, he thought to himself. Jones put his hand on the gun in his pocket, just in case it needed to be used.
“Who goes by?”
The figures slowly grew as they crept closer to him.
“There’s something big happening,” a man said. He seemed knowledgeable, with his wise wrinkles and determined look. “We’re going to the grave of Samuel Williams. We could use your help.”
The man seemed trustworthy and true to his word.
“Okay. Just tell me who you are all?”
“I’m Jack Prothroe from the British museum, and these people are all helping to stop this occurrence. This is Clarke. Charlie. Gibson. Richard.” Prothroe pointed to each person. “By the way, at the grave there is supposedly a underground tunnel which is what will fuel a horrific event.”
After thinking for a bit, Jones realized he had not kept to close of a guard on this vast graveyard.
“Well, that’s a possibility. I’ve only guarded the entrances lately. I haven’t kept too close a watch on this huge graveyard.”
“Come with us. We could use your help. Life as we know it is in great danger,” Prothroe said.
Constable Jones stood there thinking whether or not he should embark on this journey. But then again, if the world was going to end, he might as well help.
“Ok. Lets go..”
The six-man army trudged to the grave. They had heard from John and Joshua that there may be a hole at the grave today.
Charlie leaned over to Gibson.
“There’s someone there… digging.”
“Your right. Lets sneak up on him. Make sure he doesn’t escape.”
Prothroe, Richard, Clarke, and Jones stared at Charlie and Gibson as they began crouching and moving steadily and quickly to the man who was at the grave of Samuel Williams.
Jones took out his gun from his pocket. Prothroe pushed the gun backed into Jones’ pocket and made a motion to calm him down.
“Hold on. Don’t shoot unless necessary,” Prothroe said.
As they neared the man, they saw him look at them in bewilderment, with fear in his eyes.
“There’s no use in running now,” Clarke said.
“No. No. Please don’t kill me. I’ve completed my task,” the man yelled out with fear in his voice.
“And what task would that be?”
“Your group assigned it to me. I dug up this thing. I’ve been working on it for the past few days. The path has been ready. I’m just trying to fill it back up.”
Clarke moved closer to the man for further interrogation.
“What is your name?”
“Why sir… I’m Will Douglas. Your group hired me.”
“We’re not the perpetrators that hired you. And you’re going to help us stop those bad guys,” Henry Clarke retorted.
The eyes of Will Douglas widened in shock; these people were trying to stop the evil people for whom he had been working.
“They’ll kill me if they find out I helped you.”
Jones walked in front of Clarke with his gun in his hand, and pointed it straight at Will.
“Well, guess what? You’ll be killed if you don’t,” Jones threatened.
Will stared straight at the ground, wondering what to do in this catch 22.
“Okay. They offered me a lot of money, so I decided to help them out.”
“Get to the story,” Charlie growled.
“They wanted me to dig a hole beneath the coffin of Arthur Williams, and this would unveil an underground passage.” Will scratched his head. “They said they would use this passage for something, but they did not specify. Tonight, I was supposed to fill the passage back up and make sure no intruders came along.”
“Too late for that now…” Gibson muttered.
“We want you to come with us through the passage,” Prothroe said.
Will’s face was stricken in horror; he knew that the passage ahead was dangerous, but he had no choice. It was time to correct his wrongs.
Prothroe knew there would be many dangers in traveling through such a tunnel, but if everything was as he suspected, there would be a system of pipes, filled with poison spray, ready to be unleashed upon a crowd of the most important people in England; they would have to find where the spray originated, and prevent it from being released
Eric, Irene, and Eddie walked through the tainted gray streets while the sky above them was getting darker by the minute. To Eric, this whole scene seemed unreal. Eric never imagined he could possibly be involved in an adventure like this. This was a super dangerous mission, especially if Gatwick had a plan to ward them off. Eric just wished they would not have too much opposition, but they had many tools to use in the bag he was carrying, just in case.
They walked through the streets in silence, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. For all they knew, the creature was still on the streets.
“Which way do we go now,” Irene asked once they reached the end of an alleyway, which Eddie had suggested they take. Eddie looked left and right for a few seconds, and then thought, and then decided.
“Umm… This way.”
Eddie pointed to the left.
“Are you sure,” Irene asked
“Yes. Kind of.”
Eric glared at Eddie.
“So you bring us through this shortcut saying this is ‘kind of’ the way to go? Great.”
“Actually, I’m sure it’s the other way. I remember that building last time I went.”
“You better be right,” Eric growled.
Well, at least this path saved them a good twenty minutes. The trio trudged along their path until reaching a huge fence. The hairs on Irene’s arms stood up as she saw the grey wolf statues with huge yellow bulging eyes.
“This place is creepy.”
Eddie walked up to the gates and shook them.
Eric examined Eddie.
“You think you can climb over?”
Eddie knew that he would have to do these types of things; that’s what he was useful for.
“Make sure I don’t fall.”
Eddie grabbed onto two separate bars of the gate, went onto a little base, and jumped up and successfully grabbed onto the top of the wolf. As he pulled himself up, he saw himself staring straight into the wolf’s eye. It hypnotized him; he couldn’t take his eyes off.
“Eddie you can do it,” Irene whispered softly from the ground.
Eddie came back to his life and continued his trek over the gate. He jumped off, landed softly on his feet, then dusted himself off.
He opened the lock from the inside. Eddie and Irene now looked at Eric for their next orders.
“This place is creepy,” Charlie said.
Charlie walked in the back of the pack as the group of seven men traveled through this tavern. Prothroe stood in front, leading the group on their journey through the tunnel in the close to pitch black darkness; the only things lighting up their way were a few flashlights. A system of rusty pipes, presumably full of poison spray, ready to consume an entire auditorium full of people, was positioned underground. Jones looked in amazement as this was all happening in the place where he was supposed to be keeping guard. He never that something like this was possible. This seemingly lifeless graveyard was livelier than Jones had originally thought.
This tunnel will lead us to the source. Just follow the pipes.” Prothroe said.
As the group traversed the tunnel, Will Douglas was deep in thought. He could not believe he had paved a path for such a horrific plan.
The dust sporadically dropped from the ceiling of the tunnel. The screeching and movements of rats and other insects on the floor could be heard. Everyone was carrying on petty conversations. Probably to make sure they were all still safe. Gibson felt something slide across his feet and bumped into Charlie. Everyone stared at Gibson.
“What is it?” Clarke questioned.
“There’s something on the ground. It’s slithering.”
“Everyone, be quiet. I’ll use my flashlight,” Prothroe said. “It’s over there.” Prothroe pointed to where the flashlight was shining.
A medium sized slender black snake with scales was slithering about the wrong. The snake opened its mouth and screeched a eerie high pitched sound, unleashing some black venom from its mouth. Suddenly, Will Douglas let out a sharp scream. Prothroe shined his flashlight at Will. There was a horrific wound, it looked like the devil had taken a piece of his arm and inserted a deathly black liquid on his leg.
“Everyone stand still,” Prothroe cautioned, as everyone began looking down at their legs and scuffling around before standing still.
Then, someone moved their feet, and the snake slithered across the floor, which gave everyone goose bumps. Everyone but Richard. Everyone jumped up as two shots were heard, and dirt scattered. Richard was holding his gun out, and had used his precise aim to kill the snake. Some purple liquid, probably blood, was slowly oozing out of the snake. The snake now lay on the ground. No one spoke a single world, and everyone resumed walking in silence. But before they started walking, they saw Will Douglas on the floor, dead.
Clarke whispered to Richard, “Good job,” and patted his back.
Will Douglas was left behind; he had no hope of surviving after getting bitten like that. They were walking as fast as they could; the stench of dead things was filling up their noses and they could not focus. A yellow skeleton with no skull near a wall scarred each mans mind. London was supposed to be the innocent city of brightness. Thirty minutes passed before they saw something that gave them hope that they would live on and stop these ancients.
“Time to climb,” Prothroe noted.
A rusty ladder hung on the wall at the end of the underground passage. Charlie walked up to the ladder and shook it. Dust fell down from the unsteady ladder.
“This isn’t too stable. But it’ll work. We’ll have to go up one at a time. I’ll go last,” Charlie ordered.
“When you get up there, wait at the top,” Prothroe said.
Clarke spoke out in determination, wanting to play a greater role in this mission.
“I’ll go first.”
Clarke walked up the ladder, grabbed it, took a deep breath, and began climbing up slowly and steadily. The climb up the ladder seemed much longer than it looked. In the middle of his climb, one of his legs suddenly slipped off the ladder
“You okay there,” someone yelled.
Clarke was too petrified too realize who had called to him. He had to continue. They did not have time for failure. Dust came down the ladder as he continued his climb up. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he yelled down, “I made it.”
Everyone else made it up the ladder alive and free of injury. A door lay straight ahead of them, presumably leading to the classified building where the important people were meeting. Clarke took the first stand, and moved to the door, and clenched the doorknob, looked back, and nodded. Everyone else nodded in agreement. He then opened the door, and was taken aback by what he saw.
Watson, John, and Joshua had made it into the house with no trouble. Watson turned to John and Joshua after examining his surroundings. The house seemed pretty dark with the deep red carpets and the gray walls.
“One of you lead. I’ll follow you to the room you guys told me about,” Watson ordered.
Watson strolled up the stairs and into a hallway; they were lucky they had not passed any people on their way up. After they reached the hallway, John pointed to a door that was barely cracked open.
“That’s the room we were talking about. Its open.”
“I’ll keep watch. You guys go inside,” Joshua said.
Watson looked down at his watch.
“What time did you say the ceremony started?”
“We have 30 minutes. We better hurry.”
Watson and John entered the room, and were amazed at the myriad of things they saw. Books, ancient scrolls, chests filled with various items, were scattered around the room. John and Watson began searching through these piles for any useful information. Watson went through the pages of the scrolls and books like a machine. How to clean your home, a way to improve communication, and some old newspapers lay open. All of this was useless junk, Watson thought. There must be a place where the saved confidential information was saved. Out of the corner of his eyes, Watson spotted an unusually shiny handle, like it was newer and kept in better condition than everything else. He opened the drawer. Jackpot. There was a diary titled, Our rise to power. There was a table of contents in the front. The powers would be released through the connection of a set of five ancient structures across the world, Stonehenge in Britain, the Great Sphinx in Egypt, the Pantheon in Rome, the Pyramid of the Sorcerer in Mexico, The Forbidden City in Beijing. These locations would be connected through the ceremony with the three sacred objects that were probably in the possession of the Atlantic Club.
Joshua put his head into the room.
“Guys, its time.”
“Basically, the ceremony will connect five places around the world to serve as a tool to activate the powers,” Watson explained.
The trio went down the stairs to the boardroom where the meeting was being held. Watson tried his best to avoid anyone from getting too close of a look of his face. Stuart, who was monitoring this event, was blocking certain people from entering; this was uncalled for and disrupted part of their plans.
“What do we do,” John asked.
“Wait and hope for the best.”
It was their turn to enter the room. Stuart allowed Joshua to enter, but then blocked the entrance so John and Joshua could not enter.
“You two can not enter. I was ordered to only allow certain people enter.”
John gave a blank look at Joshua, who just shrugged his shoulders. Their plan hadn’t been executed. John turned to Watson with a drooping face filled with disappointment; they decided there was no use to try to pull a quick move; they would have to find a different way to disrupt the meeting. Watson leaned over to John.
“We’re going to barge in. Just wait,” he whispered.
“Lets go back upstairs and rethink our plans,” John replied.
Twenty minutes passed, and John and Watson crept back down the creaky wooden stairs. They turned the knob of the door leading to the meeting room. Watson gritted his teeth.
“I know the man that has the keys to these rooms, Alfred.”
“Let’s find him.”
Watson and John crept back upstairs to find Alfred. After a few minutes of searching they saw an unusual looking man; he was skinny and was quickly walking in a quick pace, acting as if something was going to happen to him. John whispered under his breath,
As soon as Alfred was about to cross the door of a room, Watson rammed Alfred and Watson put his hand on his face just as Alfred was about to cry for help. John turned the knob to the room, and the three of them entered. The next thing Alfred saw was a gun pointing at his head; his eyes widened in fear, Watson’s big paw still clamped around his mouth. Watson and John heard another sound; they were not alone. Watson turned around and saw a man, bewildered with his eyes wide open, with a bunch of papers and some gold in his hand; he was going through treasure chests, raiding this place and putting the items into a black sack. In the matter of a second, the man dropped his sack and sprinted out of the room. Watson and John stared at each other, scratching their heads. Anyways, now it was time for them to get to the business they came here for. Watson squinted and stared directly at Alfred.
“We’re going to let you breath, but don’t dare scream for help.”
Bewildered, Alfred nodded.
“Check his pockets,” Watson ordered.
John put his hands in all the nooks and crannies of Alfred’s pockets, and then gave Watson a slight nod. All of a sudden, Alfred realized what they were doing, and yelled out and knocked John’s hands away from him. But his yell did not go far. Watson hit the temple of Alfred’s head and he collapsed to the ground. John stared at Watson in awe; he was not a force to be reckoned with.
“Well… we got the keys,” John said.
Meanwhile, in front of Clarke lay a group of possessed people lay in front of them, obstructing them from getting past. Constable Jones’ legs started quivering and shaking. He did not know what was going on. All he saw were some huge men staring at him like zombies; there were also teenagers and children. Their mouths hung wide open and they looked like they were staring into space; they had definitely been hypnotized. There were six of them, so it was not much of a threat.
“What do we do now…”
Prothroe put his finger to his lips to quiet everyone down. The group slowly crept to the nearest door. They slowly turned the knob and pulled the door open, and that’s when the plan came short of working. The zombie people got up, and began to come after them; they had finally caught up with reality.
“Run,” Gibson and Charlie simultaneously yelled.
The group began an all out sprint to get to somewhere safe, hoping that they could escape the mindless mob of zombies behind them.
“Enter this door,” Richard yelled.
Richard pulled open the slightly open door fully, and everyone entered, and Clarke slammed the door shut behind him. Everyone took a deep breath and calmed down for a minute, before resuming to make their plan.
“Lets go find the room with the pipes. We need to shut them down.” Prothroe said.
“We should split up. It would be more efficient,” Clarke suggested.
“No. They probably have the room heavily guarded,” Richard said with a determined attitude.
Prothroe looked at Clarke for a moment.
“I’m not coming any further.”
A voice stood out, and Constable Jones was finally speaking out. He looked petrified of the events he had just gone through.
“I can’t take these risks anymore. I’m just a security guard. Nothing more.”
“Thank you for coming with us this far. Feel free to leave,” Prothroe calmly said.
Watson and John had reached the door of the meeting room. No one was in the area anymore. They knew that once they entered, there was a corner before the table, where they could hide until they were ready.
“The height of the ceremony starts at 7:30, we have five minutes to get in and shake things up.”
John was shuffling through and trying to fit the various keys on the chain into the doorknob. Finally, one clicked. John opened the door carefully, opening the door slowly so no noise was made. Watson and John went to the corner, and shut the door behind them, but forgot to lock it. John looked down at his watch again.
“We have four more minutes. So what’s our plan?”
As they were waiting, a sound startled them. They heard shuffling at the door. Watson silently took out his gun from his pocket and pointed it at the door. The man they saw ransacking the house appeared.
“Don’t move a muscle. Why are you here.”
The strange man looked down at the ground. His young face seemed beaten down. Little whiskers of silver hair showed on his face, and his blue eyes showed kindness and yearning.
“I’m Ron. I saw some boy be kidnapped recently, and I followed the culprits, and I ended up here. I’m homeless, so I wanted to help. I snuck into the house, and then I discovered what was going on. I just want to help.”
“How can we trust you,” John asked.
“One more helping hand can’t hurt.”
Watson just grunted in agreement and John shrugged his shoulders. Watson handed Watson a long wooden stick from his bag.
“Here’s my stick. Use it once we charge them,” Watson told Ron.
Ron’s mouth turned wide open; this radical action surprised him. But after he had witnessed Watson’s awesome force, he was not too surprised. Watson brought his head around the corner; the people were in a congregation of deep concentration, their eyes closed. Joshua was sitting there, waiting to be pulled out of this horror. The gray haired man at the end of the table spoke out.
“I detect disturbance.”
That’s when Watson, John, and Ron crashed the party. Watson charged into the room, his gun out. John slid across the table, all the scriptures and objects that were being used fell of the table. Ron tried to hit the man who was at the head of the table with the stick with all his might, but to his surprise, the stick flailed uselessly and shattered into a million pieces. Ron stared in awe at this man, who flung him into the corner of the room like a toy. Joshua withdrew the knife he was secretly carrying and stabbed everyone as they came closer; the blood was spurting everywhere, and Joshua had to try hard not to get any blood in his mouth. But the enemies had Samuel William’s on their side, the all-powerful leader of the Atlantic Club, who had been awoken from the dead. Watson did not use his gun; they had agreed not to use guns unless they were forced to. After what felt like an eternity, but in reality was a few minutes, most of the people were on the floor. Besides the one that would destroy them. Samuel Williams stood in front of them, and glared at them viciously, like he wanted to kill them, like they had destroyed a part of him. He pointed at them and snarled like a beast.
“You four will pay.”
Then he picked up the huge heavy wooden table and flung it at them, almost decapitating their heads. The table shattered against the wall. Seeing what they were matched up against, Watson, John, Joshua, and Ron ran out of the room, as fast as they ever did, as if they were running for their lives. But they were running for their lives. They could hear Samuel William’s conducting a solo spell in the room. The darkness was still to come.
Prothroe, Clarke, Richard, Gibson, and Charlie stood in front of the door that had the controls for the pipes. Richard had directed them here; somehow, he led the group here without failure. Prothroe thought he must be really smart, or might just be working with the Atlantic Club. Prothroe made sure he had his gun in his pocket ready too use just in case Richard was a double agent.
“Lets take out the men as fast as we can, if there are any,” Richard whispered as he moved to open the door.
After Richard opened the door, he leaped forward and pulled out his magnum just as everyone was about to attack the guards.
“Shut the door on your way in if you want to live.”
Clarke just stood with his mouth open. This guy had earned his respect. He had put him through so many trust tests. Clarke felt like he had let everyone down as he looked at the ground in despair.
“Sorry guys,” Clarke muttered.
It was his fault they were in this mess. Then Richard put on an evil half smile. Suddenly, a voice was heard outside the door.
“Anyone in here?”
Constable Jones opened the door. He had not exited the building; he came back to help them. And it was the perfect distraction. Prothroe took out his gun from his pocket and shot Richard in the legs. Richard screamed out, fell to the ground, and relentlessly swore at them. They outnumbered the guards now; they took on them and the guards were now lying on the ground.
“Shut of the pipes, quick.”
Charlie checked his watch. The gas was not going to be released for another ten minutes. They had succeeded. Prothroe went to the corner and found some rope, and tossed the rope to Charlie and Gibson.
“Tie them up. Tightly.”
Finally, Prothroe walked to the controls for the pipes, which were located in the room they were now in, and turned the wheel shut to stop the flow of the gas. Now it was time for them to join up with the others, who hopefully had succeeded in their mission.
“What do you mean we’ll improvise?”
Eddie was whining about Eric’s plan, which was not even a full plan.
“Eddie, its ok. We know what they’re basically doing. We could manage without a full out plan,” Irene responded.
“Yeah. At least we got this far. We should just go around the mansion looking for them,” Eric said.
Eric, Irene, and Eddie began walking around the garden, moving towards the back, but stopped when they heard footsteps and soft voices. They looked around, bewildered, and ran behind the closest bush they could see. Eddie crouched down and looked around the side of the bush, and sighed. He saw the two people who he had enough of.
“It’s the two big guys, Mamba and Fred. Lucky for us they’re complete idiots.”
Eric crawled out from behind the bush and began stalking Fred and Mamba. He motioned for Eddie and Irene to follow. They saw Fred and Mamba take a turn to the side of the building, then enter the backyard. As they walked to the back, Eric suddenly stopped in his tracks, and Eddie bumped into him, face first, his nose crashing into Eric’s back.
“Oww,” Eddie whispered, trying to hold his pain in.
Now his eyes were tearing for no reason. Just as Eddie was about to yell at Eric, he realized why Eric stopped. Around the corner, directly in the backyard, Gatwick and the man who had a skeletal face could be seen doing something sketchy. From the corner, they could see a necklace and a fiery feather that shone with a red aura, even in the darkness. Then it hit Eric. The feather was the key to the necklace. The key to activate the ancient powers. But there was another part to activate the powers. Eric just hoped the rest of the team succeeded. The ceremony would activate the lines in the sky, where Gatwick would go under to unleash the powers by joining the feather and the necklace. Too bad he didn’t know they were right under his nose. The pebble was the only thing that could stop this connection.
“Oh god,” Irene marveled when she realized what was going to happen.
Fred and Mamba joined Gatwick and the bone-faced man, and they began talking. Then the bone-faced man walked over the shed; Eddie immediately realized that was where the creature lay. Eddie’s body began trembling as the shed was raised and a beastly figure began roaring. They heard the bone-faced man boast,
“Come my beast.”
Then he chuckled. This was not the perfect situation Eric envisioned, where they would use the pebble to stop the necklace and feather from joining without opposition. But now it was a real adventure. A real dangerous one. The four men walked off into the distance, to go beneath the location where the sacred lines to connect. The bone faced man held up his hand, and a blue sign shone on his arm and on the creature; the creature then followed them, growling and panting, looking for flesh to tear apart. Eric, Eddie, and Irene all looked uneasy, but they knew what they had to do.
“Let’s go. We got to stop them,” Eric said.
Gatwick, his three men, and the beast exited the back gate and went onto the streets to reach their location. At this point, Eric really wished the others would succeed in their plan, while Eddie and Irene were just hoping that they would come out of this alive. Eric, Irene, and Eddie exited the grounds of the mansion and went out into the streets. They seemed even more dark and creepy than before. A slow, steady drizzle began coming down from the sky. It seemed like the water droplets were dissolving in the fog, and the fog became inseparable from the drizzle. Eddie reached into his packet and felt the chain his mom had gave to him before she died. It was his good luck charm. He hoped it worked. It had to. Meanwhile, Eric kept a secret spell in his pocket. Some powder, mixed with cinnamon, wolves hair, and silver dust. This would ward of the creature and destroy it. Only Prothroe knew he had it. Eric didn’t want anyone feeling too safe, because he wasn’t sure if it would work.
“Eric, where are our weapons?” Eddie asked.
“I almost forgot. They’re in my bag, hold on.”
Eric retrieved a steel magnum, a hammer, some pepper spray, a throwing knife, and a hard wooden staff that Eric’s dad had bought somewhere at an auction. Irene took the pepper spray and the hammer, Eddie took the throwing knife and the staff, and Eric was left with the magnum. After getting their weapons, they continued walking a safe distance behind Gatwick until he stopped abruptly in the middle of a street. Gatwick knew something was up; he definitely sensed their presence. Eddie ran, softly opened a trashcan, and jumped inside, by the time Gatwick was stopped in his tracks. Eric and Irene ran back into the dark alley and split up and hid in different sides. They could hear Gatwick mumbling to his colleagues in confusion. Finally, they heard heavy footsteps coming their way. It was probably the two big men. Eric heard no struggle outside of the alley. They had not found Eddie yet.
“Check that alley. I’ll check this one,” Eric heard one of the big men say.
Sweat started forming on Irene’s face as she inched the pepper spray out of her pocket. On the other side, Eric held onto his magnum with his shaking hands. They couldn’t fail now. But inside of Eric’s head, he knew he could not bring himself to kill someone directly. He had to be clever. Then he remembered the skull Prothroe had given him to ward of evil in his bag. Prothroe had said it might help at some point. Eric decided would lay a trap for whichever misfortunate soul came his way. Eric took out some string, attached it to a point in the wall, and put the skull underneath. Behind the skull, Eric placed some dynamite at the base, and gently put a flammable wire in the dynamite. So far, so good. Then Eric went around the corner of the alley with the string in his hand and took out a box of matches.
Eric could hear the big man heading his way now. Time to ignite the flame. The man reached the corner as Eric was sitting there, with a box of matches on the floor next to him. The man took a look at the skull in front of him and moved back a few steps and wondered what was it doing there, before seeing Eric. That man was Mamba, and he had many scars on his face.
“Hey what are you doing there.”
Then, Mamba saw the string about to blow up the skull in his face, and saw Eric smile. Before he could react, the skull shattered into a million pieces, blowing right into Mamba, from head to toe. Eric could see fragments of blood falling to the floor, as Mamba let out a deafening roar louder than Eric thought possible for any man, or even any creature, to do.
Outside, on the streets, Gatwick heard the explosion and the roar that shook his eardrums. There were definitely some perpetrators lurking.
Meanwhile, Irene crouched on the ground, on the side of a trashcan. She held her breath, waiting for the man coming her way to reach her. Carelessly, the man stumbled past her stationary figure, and Irene sprang into action. She came up from the ground, and hit the back of the man’s head with a hammer with all her might. The man stumbled to the ground, and Irene delivered another blow. As he was clutching the back of his head in agony, she took out the pepper spray and sprayed the sour poison into his eyes as he now covered his eyes, squinting to keep out the pain. Then, one final blow from the hammer knocked him unconscious. Irene braced herself for the creature which was probably coming in next.
“Mamba, Fred. You guys okay?” Gatwick yelled.
No response. Gatwick now turned to Boneface.
“Send in the crevis.”
“Fau der thoiw.”
Boneface said something in an ancient tongue to the creature and the creature entered the alley, ready to devour any human that caught his eye.
Irene waited in the alley, hoping to see Eric, or anyone that could help. Anyone but the blue furred, yellow fanged beast. But with her luck, she saw the beast. The beast turned its head at her, and growled and began kicking its feet, ready to charge. The alley was just wide enough for the beast to fit through. Irene sprinted to around the corner into another alley; she could hear the beast breathing behind her; she knew the beast would soon catch up and devour her insides. Then Irene looked in front of her; it was a dead end. She turned around and slowly backed into the wall, waiting for her demise. The creature advanced on her slowly, drooling, eager to get its claws on her flesh. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact. She waited. But nothing happened. She wasn’t screaming in pain and blood was not spilling out of her body. Finally, Irene opened her eyes, and saw Eric grinning in front of her, and the blue dust on the floor. Eric had used his secret charm to defeat the creature. Irene leaped to Eric and gave him a hugs.
Gatwick was even more perplexed than before. No screams of agony were heard. All of a sudden, next to Gatwick, Boneface was screaming in agony while holding his right wrist up. A blue sign shone on his wrist and was slowly fading; it was his connection to the creature, and when the creature died, its master perished with it. Finally, Boneface collapsed to the ground face first. Gatwick decided he would unleash his full wrath on the perpetrators when the time was right. He was going to play the waiting game. They would have to come out sooner or later, to check if he had gone to unleash the powers. Additionally, just holding the feather and the necklace enhanced his powers.
Meanwhile, Eric and Irene were contemplating their options.
“We’ll have to go out sooner or later. He’s going to the activate the powers sooner or later if Watson, John and Joshua failed at their mission.” Eric said.
“Lets get Gatwick right now. We can’t wait much longer. Anyways, I wonder what happened to Eddie.” Irene replied.
“Hopefully, he’ll help us if we get stuck… He’s better in the trash anyways.”
“Really,” Irene said with sarcasm.
Meanwhile, Gatwick moved to the edge of the opening of the alleyway and hid behind the wall, ready to destroy the first thing that came out. But he would make whomever it was suffer before finishing them. Gatwick could hear light footsteps moving out of the alley. Finally, he saw a young woman coming out. Gatwick got up and kicked her ankle with unbelievable power as she fell to the ground, screaming in agony. Then Gatwick kicked her again so she would have no chance to get up. Eric held his breath in, and did not come out of the alley just yet. But he knew he had to act fast, or Gatwick would do horrible things to Irene. Eric did not want to fire the gun, but he knew that there was a great chance that he might have to. Eric reached into his pocket and took out the magnum, and loaded it with bullets, then exited, and pointed the gun at Gatwick’s head. Before he knew it, Eric was punched hard in the chest and slammed against wall, and his gun was flung out of his hands onto the middle of the street.
“So you’re behind this. I should have known,” Gatwick uttered.
“You’ll never succeed,” Eric cried.
“You bet I will. I’ll crush you just like I crushed your dad, that man was such a fool. So the apple does not far too from the tree.”
Eric stared in horror as he realized what a monster this man was. Gatwick was involved in the death of his dad, and probably in a bad way.
“What did you do to him?”
“Him and some other detective tried sabotaging my plan for some illegal drug smuggling. I shot him; he resisted, even when I gave him a chance to escape. But that was a year ago. No hard feelings, right?”
So this was what his dad did all this time. He was a secret detective, and could not even tell his own son. After feeling heartbroken, Eric realized none of this was his dad’s fault; it was all Gatwick’s. A newfound rage erupted in Eric’s heart. He was going to destroy Gatwick no matter what. Gatwick then extracted a gun from his pocket, and Eric knew he was helpless. But he wasn’t going to give up.
“Join me in taking over the world, or die.”
“Never,” Eric retorted.
The, Eric saw a figure sneaking behind Gatwick. It was a dirty figure; it was Eddie. He had managed to sneak out of the trashcan. Eddie now picked up the gun and was ready to fire, directly at Gatwick.
“Any last words,” Gatwick asked Eric.
“Yes. Bye bye.”
With those words, Eddie fired three bullets directly at Gatwick’s back, as Gatwick’s mouth opened wide. Eddie immediately collapsed to the floor and began sobbing. He could not believe he had just killed a man; it was too much for him to take. Eric grabbed the necklace and feather from Gatwick’s pocket, and raced over to comfort Eddie.
“It’s okay, you did the right thing. You have more guts than I ever will,” he said.
Eddie looked up at Eric with a slight grin.
Eric then made sure Irene was all right, but she could not walk properly; her ankle was badly injured. They smiled at each other, knowing they had probably finished off the bad guys.
“Go to 129th Street,” Prothroe had said. “Eric and the others may need some help. I’ll be there with something that can destroy the undead, incase there’s still some bad guys living.”
Those were the exact directions Prothroe had given. Everyone had planned to meet up at this location; hopefully Watson, John, and Joshua had come with good news. Charlie, Gibson, Jones, and Clarke now stood at the street where everyone was supposed to meet, and realized they were the only ones there. Charlie looked to the sky for a moment, and saw something freaky. There was a beam of light shining across the sky, probably connected all the sacred places in the world.
“Guys look up.”
Charlie pointed to the sky, as everyone stared in awe.
“That can’t be good,” Clarke commented.
At that moment, they saw John, Joshua, and some guy they had never seen before running towards them with panicked expressions. They were panting, as they had sprinted all the way here. John managed to say,
“This is Ron, a good guy. He helped us out.”
“Samuel William’s is coming, and he’s stronger than ever,” Joshua added.
Watson now came onto the street, a few minutes later than the rest of them.
“Lets hope Prothroe gets back quick,” Charlie said.
“Where did he go,” asked Watson.
“To the museum, to make some liquid that kills the undead just in case it’s necessary. It seems like it is though,” Charlie replied.
Watson shot a look at the way they ran here.
“He better be back soon…”
Joshua, who had almost been stuck with participating in the ceremony, spoke out.
“We better split up and hide, or we’ll be crushed.”
Everybody moved to position themselves in the darkness of the alleys, the edges of streets, or behind trashcans or other obstacles. They were all determined to remain concealed. Watson heard movement outside, and peeked around the corner. Samuel Williams stood in the center of the street, directly under the beam of light, and he did not look happy. They didn’t have much time before Williams found and killed everyone. And they would have even less time if Gatwick showed up at the scene with the feather and the necklace. Hopefully, Eric had already taken care of Gatwick, and the pebble would not have to be used. All of a sudden, Watson heard a loud grunt. He looked back around the corner and saw Gibson crumpled near a wall; Williams had thrown him there. Watson looked around the corner of the street once more. The savior had arrived. He saw Prothroe walking towards him with a vial full of a green liquid in his hand.
“Thank god you’re here. Samuel Williams is out there destroying everything that comes in his path,” Watson said.
“Good. I brought this here in case we needed something. He was once dead, so this will work. I just need to get near him.”
“I’ll distract him. Hopefully everyone else joins.”
“Everybody come out,” Watson yelled.
Watson walked up to Samuel Williams, got down on his knees and bowed.
“Everyone, bow to the great leader of the Atlantic Club, and soon the universe, Samuel Williams.”
“Who do you think you are,” Samuel Williams roared.
Slowly, everyone emerged from their respective hiding spots and got down on their knees and bowed to Williams just like Watson had done. Confused, Williams looked around at the people surrounding him. During this momentary confusion, Prothroe ran up to Samuel Williams from behind and poured the vial of green liquid onto Williams. Then everyone moved away from William’s, as he began to go crazy and swearing.
“You little scumbags. Curse you all. The dark will rise again.”
Samuel Williams slowly turned to a golden dust, which was then washed away by the heavy rain, which began falling in the sky just as Williams died. They had succeeded. And even better news was heading their way. They saw Irene limping with one arm around Eric’s shoulder, and Eddie walking by their side; they were grinning. Eddie held up the necklace and the feather; they had succeeded. Eric then touched the pebble to the necklace and the feather, and the magical glow around the necklace and feather disappeared. The danger of the ancient power was gone. The line in the sky was fading away.
“Where’s Gatwick,” Watson asked.
“We finished him,” Eric replied with a wide grin.
“Ah. Good. The mission is over. Great job,” Prothroe said.
“By the way, the Atlantic Club’s house is on fire,” Watson revealed.
Everyone turned to Watson with confused looks on their faces.
“I forgot to mention… I set fire to the Atlantic Club’s house; that’s why I came late.”
After a moment of serious looks on their face, everyone realized they had won the war, and began laughing.
“Dinner’s on me,” Eric said.
This was one of the happiest moments of Eric’s life. That’s when Irene kissed him. Now this was the happiest moment in his life. They were all relieved they had extinguished this nightmare before it started.
Eric woke Eddie up. Irene was coming over breakfast today. It was more like lunch, considering it was already eleven. Eric picked up today’s newspaper from his porch and began reading. The headline article read:
Mystery In London
Yesterday, the Atlantic Club house had burned down to the ground. No one has any recollection of events occured. The drizzle yesterday kept everyone in their houses, but people reported hearing beasts roaring and commotion going outside. The police have no leads on this situation.
Eric grinned. Watson had told him that he had worked with Eric’s father, and spoke about how great a man Eric’s dad had been. Now Eric saw his dad in an entirely new light; Eric saw the portrait of him and now admired the man.
“Irene’s here,” Eddie yelled.
Eric’s grin widened to a full out smile. He had finally done something worth remembering about; he had a story to tell to his kids. He had entered the mist, and came out clear.