Fathom by Mikel Parry

CH – ICE TOMB

Blinding fragments of light began to slice their way through Demo’s thick blanket of darkness. Each beam blended into one column of light that then illuminated the hazy images taking shape around him.

As Demo came fully back to consciousness, he let out a piercing scream of terror. He shot off the table, ripping off wires as he fell to the floor. It happened so fast that no one in the room had time to react.

“Somebody grab him! He’s gonna knock himself clean out!”

Demo struggled to focus on the person yelling he believed to be Bob Cat. But then the weightless terror of falling to his demise took over his being once more. Screaming madly, he squirmed around on the floor, still unable to bring himself completely back to reality.

“Get a grip on yourself, Mr. Ward! I don’t want to have to sedate you!” barked Roslin, nearing Demo’s seemingly possessed body.

“Back off, you blooming idiot! Ain’t nobody gonna shoot him up! Give the man some space!”

While Bob Cat and Roslin quarreled, things slowly began to clear up for Demo. He felt as if his brain had been put through a meat grinder. He needed to pull it all together, but he was busy vehemently fighting off the urge to puke his guts out. Pushing himself onto his knees, he finally gave in to the feelings begging to be purged onto the pristine white floor. The resounding sound of Demo’s breakfast hitting the tile made Bob Cat and Roslin’s argument come to a screeching halt. Demo awaited the usual retribution for ruining Roslin’s perfect world, but it surprisingly never came. Instead, Roslin’s fiery arrow landed on a different target.

“Dammit, Jo, I told you to get a bucket next time!”

Jo stood shaking in place near one of the exit doors, dangling a bucket from one of his scrawny hands. His terrified eyes were fixed on Demo.

“I didn’t want to get choked again by that psycho!” he pleaded in his own defense.

Roslin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“When this is all over with, I’m going to blow this building up with you inside.”.

“Why wait? I’d be more than happy to oblige you right now. ’Case you didn’t notice, I’m pretty good at destroying things,” snorted Bob Cat sarcastically.

Demo stood up, having regained his composure, just as Roslin opted out of Bob Cat’s generous offer choosing instead walk away mumbling.

“I hate, hate, hate that man . . . I really hate him . . .”

Bob Cat’s snicker was quickly replaced by a serious look of concern.

“You alright, Demo? You looked like you were a goner.”

Demo wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and looked at Bob Cat dead on.

“You have no idea.”

“Please tell me that I didn’t risk my neck just so you could ruin my floors again? Can you at least tell me that? If not, I’m ready to pull the plug on this!”

Roslin’s temper divulged his inner feelings of frustration. It was clear he was harboring sincere regret for.

“Dungeons and dragons . . .” Demo said softly under his breath.

“Say what?” asked Roslin.

. Jo scurried excitedly to Demo’s side.

“Did you say D and D , as in Dungeons and Dragons? That’s crazy, man! I’d die to get a chance to fight a dragon and save a damsel! Total brain fizz right now!”

All three of the other men responded in almost perfect synchronicity.

“Shut up, Jo!”

Stung by their rejection, Jo retreated to the exit, cowering like a disciplined dog. Roslin took a couple of deep mantra breaths before continuing.

“Okay . . . let’s just calm down and see what our dear Mr. Ward has to say, alright?”

Demo nodded. He had gotten better at dealing with Roslin and his expectations.

“I’m now positive that these new murders were done by a team; but a professional team with distinctive roles. I was plunged deeply into what Spencer’s mind is capable with each manifestation. I noticed a recurring theme. His role is the destroyer; the soldier or executioner to meter out what his warped mind sees as justice. But by himself he’s just a loose cannon. He needed guidance—he needed direction—he needed a God.”

His audience was visually taken aback by Demo’s declaration.

“What do you mean, God?” asked Bob Cat intensly.

Demo licked his dry lips. He wished he had some water.

“I mean God in every sense of the word. Spencer operates without rules, but he still craves praise. The piece of garbage can’t live without it. So, you find someone highly narcissistic with the intelligence to rein Spencer in, and you’ve got an unbeatable combo. The only trick would have been how to make Spencer align himself willingly. That would’ve been tricky. How do you organize chaos? The puppet master, the man that really runs the show, works deep in the shadows. That’s where he prefers to be, watching his masterpiece evolve with every killing. He was the head of his very own religion; and a he was Spencer’s God. If we’re going to stop them, we’ve got to find the monster in the shadows.”

They each took a moment to reflect on what Demo had said, but it was Roslin who finally broke the silence with a surprisingly Jacky-like response.

“I hate to burst your fairy tale bubble, but according to people in the know, they’ve already got this thing in the can. If I was to go along with this, I’d have to believe that all of the evidence is misleading, and that all of the man hours, put in by not only me but all of my people, was completely wasted? Is that what you’re telling me? That I’d go against every sensible fiber of my being to cover your tracks, just in case you’re actually going to solve this case correctly?

Demo felt a familiar itch crawling up his arm, but fought the terrible urge to scratch it. He was on to something big and he knew it. He wasn’t about to walk away now. He was going to win.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Roslin turned away rubbing his chin roughly. He stomped one foot on the ground confidently before turning back.

“Then tell me what you need. I’m all in. One way or another, this thing ends for good.”

Demo glanced at Bob Cat, whose tongue was apparently tied tightly in shock, his eyes glazed with amazement at what he’d just witnessed.

Demo looked back at Roslin, feeling brave. “I need to be alone. There’s something I need to do and I can’t do it with anyone around.”

Roslin swallowed his anger. It took everything he had not to lash out in frustration at Demo’s never-ending list of wants. But Demo pressed on.

“That means you too, Bobby. Whoever this is has an incredible skill set; the best I’ve ever seen. He probably knows we’re here. He has more than likely been having us watched for quite some time; maybe even before we knew we were involved.”

Roslin quaffed at Demo’s remark.

“I highly doubt that. We’re the best at what we do, and nobody gets in or out of here without us knowing about it. Nobody.”

Demo shook his head as he stared at the ground.

“I wish I could believe that, but this man doesn’t use normal tactics—he uses the human soul—as far as I’m concerned he could have gotten to anyone.”

Demo turned to see Roslin pause midair with one finger pointing directly at him, but he wisely decided to keep whatever he was going to say to himself.

“I’ve got to go soon. I’m sensing that this maniac is planning something bigger than just murdering one or two people at a time. If I’m right, he wants to set something up intended to be the climax of his damned existence; a literal sacrifice for the world’s unwillingness to listen. A lot of lives could be at stake.”

Demo began to walk steadily for the exit. He was a man on a mission. What he did needed to be done, despite the sting he felt at having to treat Bob Cat with such disregard. He had assimilated enough of the personas of mad men to feel the dark clutches of evil slowly trying to encase his heart. Was he losing himself? Was he in too deep? Taking one brief look back at the men he was leaving behind, he saw a very disappointed Bob Cat refusing to look back at him. But Demo needed to be convincing; he couldn’t give in to his own humanity.

First, Demo decided to go to the last place he really wanted to go; home. H was letting his more sensible self take the wheel and drive him to an unproductive slumber so his body and brain could recover. He knew more than anything, he needed some rest.

Once there, the familiar smells of his unkempt ode to laziness hit him with a deep nostalgia. Mixed with the now partially scorched wall from their idiotic escape, it reminded him how far down he had gone. It was far from perfect, but in the storm he was enduring, was a moment of reprieve. Ripping at some caution tape that had been placed outside his door he entered then sat on his bed. He blacked out from pure exhaustion within a few beats of his heart. Collapsing like a ragdoll that had been played with one too many times, he fell into a deep sleep.

The night was filled with heartbreaking remembrances that tortured his soul; a convolution of real events mixed with the summoned up nightmares of Spencer the Blood Vulcan’s mind. Demo’s mind was spinning wildly out of control until suddenly there was one point of absolute clarity; the dead, still body of his late partner, Mike. Demo felt his eyes sting as if hot acid was being poured directly into them.

Mike, no!

But his greatest fears were being relived. Mike had been shot. Not only had he been shot, but multiple times. His dead body was slumped on a couch in a room that was in complete disarray. Demo wanted to puke. He glanced down at his trembling feet at a small pile of empty beer cans. He had been drinking and the last thing he remembered was the vicious argument they had gotten into. His heart ached; he already knew what would happen next. He needed to escape this vivid nightmare; he needed to release himself from the prison he had built, brick by brick, by years of self-torment.

Demo woke up suddenly. Still feeling overwhelmingly sick to his stomach, he wallowed around on his dingy sheets. The images were fresh yet brought with them an age old pain. Doing his best to meditate himself back to sanity, he mumbled out loud.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I’m truly sorry.”

It took what seemed like hours to finally feel completely assured that Roslin and Bob Cat had both come through on his request. A tinge of remorse still edged his emotions. Everything about this case changed the way he operated, how they operated. Trust now sat on a knife’s edge for all of them. One wrong decision could send his carefully constructed house of cards tumbling down into nothingness. He was behaving erratically, this he knew, but it was intentional. In his mind the only way to deal with such perfectly orchestrated chaos was to lose himself in it—let all logic go and nurture the madness within—he could only pray that he wouldn’t lose himself completely.

Standing at the edge of the docks he felt the brisk air rush in and out of his lungs, leaving a frosty chill behind. It was much colder outside than it had been earlier. He recalled the first time he had come here and all the horror he’d experienced. But that’s why he was here. He came to the one place that was still an open question mark. The site of the mysterious disappearing car, or at least he maintained as much.

Scuffling his feet so as not to slip, he looked at the now ice covered tracks that were barely visible. This had to be the spot; at least that’s what his brain was telling him. It felt sadistically right—all that pride and power— except for one big screw up. He stood facing the river, realizing that he more than likely wasn’t alone. An ominous presence lurked in the shadows of the massive warehouses, just out of sight.

Sitting in the shadows like always, sneaking, hiding . . .

He stood motionless, but his brain was a superhighway with bumper to bumper traffic; sparks of information sped all trying to snap the million pieces of the puzzle together. An illogical trove of clues created in Spencer’s mind had to be turned into a tangible understanding of a spree of heinous acts.

What is the message you are sending? What do you want me to know?

He was so caught up in his unspoken debate with himself that his fully exposed back was an easy target. It took just the blink of an eye for the small amount of force that hit him to take an immediate effect. Even halfway through his gravitationally inspired descent, Demo’s mind remained foolishly oblivious to what had just transpired. It wasn’t until the harrowing rush of air against his face ripped him free from his thinking that he let out a scream of panic. He was falling. But it was where he was falling that sent him into a new level of terror. He was falling into the river. Within seconds, his gangly body hit a newly formed, thin layer of ice. Immediately it gave way under his weight letting out a horrific crack. Millions of razor sharp, icy needles buried deep into his flesh. He was now fighting for his life in the c frozen jaws of death.

As he kicked his legs madly, his hands desperately searched for an opening in the ice layer. The current beneath his feet was ripping him away, streaming him into the river’s dark fathoms. The air in his lungs was being compressed out of him with each passing heartbeat. Sheer terror now gripped his every thought.

I don’t want to die down here! I don’t want to die in this ice tomb!

He felt himself begin to fade. The cold was taking a serious toll on his energy level, like a watery vampire sucking each chilled drop of life out of him. The probing hands rapidly turned to pounding fists. His head felt like a sinking boulder that he could no longer fight to keep up. Something needed to happen and happen fast. Watching as the cloudy layer that imprisoned him started to slip further away he knew his life was coming to an end. He would more than likely never be found. His body ripped into a million pieces in its icy tomb..

I’m sorry, Bobby . . .

As his life essence flowed out of him, he was suddenly jolted by a forceful burst of energy, followed by a beam of light that broke through the murky water. It was almost angelic in its presentation. But it was short lived. From above a strong arm plunged into the icy grips of the river to save his life.

Demo felt a strong tug begin to pull him upward. He felt completely weightless and detached. All of his feeling had, for at least the time being, frozen over. But with a few more mighty yanks on his collar he was swept onto a solid piece of cement. He peered up to see who his guardian angel was but instead was met by a foggy haze.

“I’ve got you, Demo! Man, hold on!”

The cloud refused to clear from his vision. That didn’t matter much though, since Demo’s body was twitching from an uncontrollable shake. He had been under too long, and his body was beginning to shut down. Doing his best to open his almost completely numbed lips, he mumbled out his plea for life.

“I’m so damn cold . . .”

Again he felt weightless as his mysterious savior picked him up and carried him up some stairs and into a parked car. Demo listened as they fumbled with their keys until finally the engine clicked over with a quiet purr. With great relief, saving waves of heated grace burst from the car’s heater, blasting full throttle at Demo’s frozen limbs.

“You’ve got to get those clothes off, and I need to get you to a hospital!”

Demo rolled his head; although still in tremendous pain, he could at least see clearly again. The voice had been suspect but the face solidified for him that his rescuer was Martinez. He watched as Martinez helped him get his coat off before tossing it into the back seat of his parked car.

”No, no, I’m fine. I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

He looked at Demo, dumbfounded.

“I don’t care what you think! You almost died out there! Just what the hell were you doing out there, man?”

Demo shrugged.

“Looking around . . . no big deal . . .”

Martinez shook his head with a deeply frustrated look tattooed on his face.

“Looking around for what? What would bring you out here?”

Demo looked down at his sloshy, ice-buckets for shoes. He slipped one off and watched a snow cone full of slush plop onto the car’s floorboard where it melted away into nothing. He was about to answer the question when something else began to itch in the back of his mind; a question that he wanted answered. Still shivering wildly, he looked as sternly as he could at Martinez.

“A better question is what are you doing here?”

Martinez shifted in his seat. It was obvious that he wasn’t used to being the one under question.

“I was in the area and heard a splash in the river, so I rushed in to check it out.”

Demo took on a harsher tone.

“Cut the crap, Martinez! This is the murder scene of a cop! It’s freezing out and we both know this is the last place anyone’s gonna be hanging around!”

Martinez was shocked. He had known Demo professionally for quite some time now and it wasn’t like him to be so dark and ferocious. Martinez looked away appearing surprisingly distant and disconnected.

“Martinez, tell me! I’m not messing around!”

Suddenly Martinez erupted.

“Because Jacky told me to; she told me to tail you! You’ve got her all worked up and worried so she asked if I’d be willing to keep an eye on you, so I did! Don’t pin this on me! I just saved your damn life, man!”

Demo slumped back into the car seat to ponder.

Who pushed me? How long have they been watching me?

“Ok, I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve just been through a lot lately and needed some space. I came out here to look for something.”

Martinez stared at Demo incredulously.

“Well, did you find it?”

Demo nodded.

“I think so.”

Martinez put his foot on the gas.

“I’m taking you in. You look like death and I’m not about to leave you out here in the cold.”

Demo nodded again but then caught Martinez’s eye. He was trying to will Martinez into understanding something.

“I can’t be taken in, Martinez. Don’t take me back to Jacky.”

“But that’s my job! That’s what I’m supposed to do! I ain’t gonna lose my job over this, Demo. You know me better than to ask me to do that!”

Demo gazed out the window and sighed.

“I’m asking you as a friend.”

Martinez pounded on the steering wheel with a tightly clenched fist.

“Martinez, just drive me to the courthouse. I’ll be fine from there. We can pretend this whole thing never happened. Please; you can’t take me in; I’m begging you. A whole lot of lives may depend on this; please.”

Martinez looked beside himself. He was a man of honor who strictly adhered to a certain code of conduct. Now he was caught between loyalties and he was steaming with frustration.

“Fine, fine! I’ll take you to the courthouse and drop you off! But I’m telling you, man . . . if Jacky finds out, it’ll be my badge. I ain’t supposed to be doing this stuff, dude. I ain’t gonna bail you out again.”

Demo nodded, and then muted the conversation by turning his full concentration on what passed outside the frosty car window. Despite his freezing extremities, a surprising warmth surged up within him. He was closer to solving this case than he’d ever been, at least so he thought. His dark journey was coming full circle.

When Martinez pulled up to the courthouse, he looked nervously around, making sure they hadn’t been seen.

“Okay, we’re here. You can sit up and get out.”

Demo did as he was told and slid out of the car like a snake. Martinez sped away leaving a shivering Demo standing directly on the courthouse steps. His mind was swinging around from one thought to another like a deranged monkey. Slowly, he slipped off his pants, unbuttoned and removed his shirt, and then kicked off his shoes. He felt the intense cold gnawing into his flesh like a school of piranha. Kneeling at the steps of the courthouse, he put his hands up high in the air.

Okay, god . . . do you see me now?

Raising himself up slowly, he sluggishly walked over to the only phone booth he knew of. crammed himself inside of it, and took a deep breath.

So what now? What’s your next move?

Pulling out his soaked wallet, he fished around for a credit card. With his nerves on edge he clumsily swiped it and dialed a number from memory. Taking in the moment in its entirety, he waited for an answer. It finally came and so did his only words.

“It’s me.”