Day two was the first day of work of the decade.  When I put it like that it actually sounds pretty big.  In fact, it was just another day on the job.  It all went smoothly and I couldn’t have been prouder of my staff for a great week that was coming to a close.  I no longer feared whether I had people who could get the job done.  After ending the work day I’d spend the remainder of the night hanging with a few buddies and laughing at the worlds dumbest partiers.

side note: It seems that my dreams have been becoming increasingly vivid and disturbing.  I am not scared by them, they wondering why there is so much fighting and epic.  I am waiting to find a definite connection.  When I know…you’ll know.

Part 2: Nightfall

*                    *                    *

Tokyo, Japan

The roads lay to waste.  Cars lined the roads as if shaken and thrown across a craps table.  Sirens filled the narrow roads and echoed up through the skyscrapers.  The last ray of light dips over the horizon.

A street light flashes green to the dead traffic that it once directed.  Still the streets remain empty and lifeless.  Suddenly a man emerges from the American Embassy.  He rubs his eyes in disbelief.  The once bustling streets of Tokyo, Japan have been reduced to a graveyard, but yet not one body remains to be seen.

The man pulls his black jacket shut and flips up the hood.  Inspecting the area the man sees holes in many of the windows and vehicles as if the bodies had been forced from them.

“Hello!!” There is no response.

He gasps for airs in a panic.  He turns, looking for anything or anyone, stubbling through the rubble.  A look of mystery and fear crosses his face.  The look that can only be given when every last person in Tokyo has vanished.  A slight brezze fills the air and the man calls out again.

“HELLO!” Nothing, “What the hell is going on here?”

The wind picks up and stirs the debris.  He ducks and covers for the nearby record shop, the door is locked.  He scans the area quickly and spots an enclosed bus stop.  The wind whips past his face, road signs and sheet metal soar through the air.  He kneels down and takes shelter in the corner .  The wind picks up more dragging cars through the streets.  The tires screech across the pavement.  Street lamps and poles tear themselves away from the road creating a shower of sparks and leaving darkness in it’s wake.  A car drags across the road violently.  The man looks up to see the car screeching towards him.

“No, no, no.”  He gets up and moves towards the opposite end of the bus-stop anticipating the car stopping at the curb.  Once more the wind picks up forcing the car up and over the curbside.  The high wind pulls the car up into the air and heaving it through the air ripping off the top of the small bus stop.  The man throws himself face down onto the ground with his hands over his head.

“Jesus Christ!”

Without warning the wind stops.  The man slowly emerges onto the street and lifts himself to his feet.  He can hear whispers in the distance.

“Is anyone out there?”  He puts his ear to the air.

“Now…” a voice says softly.  A loud rumble sounds in the distance and a shockwave throws the man to the ground followed by a plumb of smoke.

The man coughs while struggling to his feet, pulls his hook back up and looks through the settling smoke.

“…we are everywhere.”

A large crowd of people surround the man as the smoke settles. They all stand lifeless-like with eyes as dark as the night.

DESERT: Somewhere outside of Baghdad

The desert stretched for miles across the Earth.  The sun reflected back up through the atmosphere literally cooking the surface.  The sun raced towards the ground.  Off in the east two Arab men run for their lives, knowing not even what they run from.

A loud rumble sounds in the distance.  The sun continues to approach the horizon and dip behind the distant mountains.  The two men turn and look to the east towards a village.  The lights from the homes begin to go out and then buildings shake apart.  They exchange a panicking phrase in Arabic and begin to run into the west.  One of the men trips and falls to the ground.  The other looks back in fear.  A cloud of smoke rushes towards them.  He keeps running leaving his friend screaming in terror as he is swallowed by the smoke.  A shockwave hits the man from behind forcing him to the ground.  A dark figure rises from the desert sand.  The man looks up at the mid-sized man shrouded in black.

“Who are you?” the man says to the dark figure.  There is no response, only a nod.  The man turns to find his friend behind him.  His body lifeless and his eyes black.

“Ahmed, NO!” Snap out of it!”

“He is mine now.  As are you.”  The dark figure claps his hands.  All is dark and gray.

The Arab man stands in the middle of an empty gray-like desert.  He falls to his knees, puts his hands in his head and begins to cry.

*         *         *

My name is Turner Strauss.  Only one week ago I was thrust into one of the most terrifying, godless situations I had ever faced.  Today I live with the consequences of my actions.  I have learned that sometimes the best way around Hell is to blaze a path straight through it.

[to be continued]

The true meaning of fear is recognized only by those who have fought their demons face-to-face.  Those who fear the night only truly fear what they cannot see.  I have been to the darkness.  I often felt as a child that my life on this planet was meant for something more, what I didn’t realize was, that Something, would be the key to the salvation of all mankind.

Late September is the most beautiful time of year around here.  The leaves on the trees resemble a Monet across the horizon and the cool, Fall air creeps in.  And while everything is dying it seems that this is when the world seems so much more alive.  I spent most of the past year at my grandmother’s house.  My brother, Peter, lives there and we would spend time hanging, having a few beers and smoking cigarettes.  The back porch, where we spent most of our time, overlooked hundreds of evergreens on the acre’s surrounding her property.  Off to the right side of the porch an old hay field lay untouched for the better part of a decade.

“So, what are you doing with your life, man? My brother asks while he exhales his cigarette smoke.

I shrug. “Every time I find something to do I realize how much I hate it.” I take another pull from my cigarette.

“Get a girlfriend, she’ll straighten you out.  Look at Julie and Me.”

“Yea, look at you too,” I laugh, “I just don’t have the time.”

This was a complete fabrication.  I just wanted to relieve myself of the subject matter.

“Plus, I’m twenty-three years old.  No need to settle down now.” I guess that was as good an excuse as any.

“Touche,” my brother laughs.

“But, something may come my way.”

“You mean a girl?” he askes

“No, No. I mean life.  I need to be patient and make sure that what I do satisfies my needs, not everyone else’s,” I explain.

“Damn straight, my brotha-from…the-same-motha.” We laugh like a couple of school girls for a moment. Peter flicks down his cigarette.

“Alright T, I’m outta here. Julie and I are going up town for a nice dinner!”

“Enjoy big guy…Hey! I heard the New York Strip is fantastic.”  He didn’t hear me.

It was strangely quiet out that day.  The wind wasn’t blowing and not even the rustling of little critters in the small brush could be heard.  I was milking my cigarette.  Normally I would have sucked it down in a four or five breaths, but I wanted to savor the flavor.  Taking the last drag I tossed the butt into the backyard.  I leaned on the railing and hung my head for a moment.  Still it remained silent.  Suddenly, the tranquil air was startled by the sound of a bottle hitting a tree below.  The air felt dead.  Like all life had been sucked away.  With the sun at the horizon the day had turned to an amber glow.  There was no one to be seen and no bottle in the lawn.

“Wait…Where did that tree come from..”

The tall oak tree stuck high out of the ground.  It was ancient.  The trunk looked as though a giant had tied it into a knot with his bare hands.  A gentle breeze touched the top of the tall grass in the field.  Something wasn’t right.  I turned to enter the house.  The door was locked.

“Just Great.”

The sound of another bottle striking the tree filled my ears one more.  My jaw shuttered for a second.  I play with the handle trying to force the door open.  My stomach rattles with the same force as my darkest nightmares. I turned back towards the edge of the porch.  Still, there was no one to be seen.  My heart raced faster than a triple-crown contender and I was finding it hard to breath.  Off in the distance a small black figure rose from the grass.  I gasped for air and turned to make haste.  Before I could take a step an invisible force had hit me in the chest like a sledge hammer knocking me onto the porch bench.  I was unconscious.

There is a whisper.

“Here, you will wait.”  In the window the sun crept below the trees and the tall dark figure rose from behind me.

Night had swallowed day.  Two lights filled the night on the exterior of the colonial white house.  This was my house, or at least it once was.

[to be continued]

Sandra’s eyes open as she gasps for air. She chokes on her own blood and begins couching uncontrollably.   The pain is too much to bear. She rolls around for a moment. She is no longer in the house where Connor had stabbed her.

There is a heart monitor attached to her finger. With her other hand she grabs her neck. A bandage?

She is in a room with a few medical monitors. It is dark. The walls are concrete and there are no windows. No telling if it is day or night. Someone can be heard in the hallway approaching the room. The click of polished leather shoes fills the hallway. The kind only business men wear.

Who saved my life? Sandra thought to herself.

“It is I who has taken the liberty of saving your life.” A tall elderly man steps in the hallway.

“And you would be?”

“Charles Jayden.” He extends his hand to her. She hesitates.

“It was you that broke into his house. Why are you after him?”

“Well it was my men who broke into the boy’s home. I was merely attempting to retrieve stolen property.”

Charles circles the room watching Sandra as she gathered herself on the medical table. It seems that all the pain she had felt was purely mental. She had been completely healed. She had no idea how long she had been out. Judging by the severity of the wounds she received it was well over a week ago.

“What do you know about The Basement?”

“Only a brief history of the building that used to be built overtop and the history of the tunnels and the Underground Railroad. It was the last check point to the North. The house that was built over it was a normal operating Victorian mansion. It was burned down in the early 1900’s during the great depression. That is pretty much all I know. And I used to play inside there as a kid.”

Charles looked on in disbelief.

“What did the boy know?”

“Nothing. We played there as children, but other than that he spent most of his life in New York. We’d play together when his family was visiting around the holidays. The Basement was a perfect place to hid and stay warm in the winter time.”

He flung himself at her choking her against the wall. She tried to fight back, but did not have the strength.

“That’s bullshit! He activated the power sequence and is nowhere to be found. Now you either know more than you are leading on or it is he that knows and you are covering for him.”

Sandra was having trouble breathing. The bandage was beginning to bleed again from the knife wound. She screamed. Charles threw her to the ground and begins to walk towards the door.

“You’ll tell me what I need to know.”

Sandra sits herself up against the cold concrete wall to catch her breath. “Shultz make sure she stays quiet,” Charles slams the door behind him leaving the man in the dark room with Sandra.

Connor wakes up in a sweaty panic. It is night.

Where am I? The air smelled fresh. There was a light breeze through the front of the lean to. Stepping out into night, Connor, looked up at the sky. He was still trying to understand what had happened. He looked down at his ring.

“Sir, everything alright?” A man called from behind.

Connor jumped. “Listen man, stop sneaking up on me like that and remember what I said? Don’t call me sir. Connor will do.”

“Yes sir, sorry sir…I mean Connor. The names Riley. Riley Hurlbit.”

They shake hands.

“Let’s go for a walk.” Connor leads the way back towards The Basement. The moon is full and the air warm. The men walk in silence. Connor has a purpose. Riley follows with much interest. Connor reaches down and opens up the iron door. Riley holds the door as Connor descends into the dark.

As they approach the floor below Connor turns and faces Riley.

“Please explain.”

“Sir?” Riley questions.

“What is this place and why isn’t it 2009? I killed my girlfriend and in her dying moments she tells me to come here and plant this,” he points to his finger, “into that,” he points to the Coat of Arms, “because “he” is after it. Please explain.”

“He? Charles Jayden found you in 2009?”

“I guess? They nearly tore apart my house. Tracking me down.” He pauses and looks around “Wait, Jayden…there was a young man on the screen out there talking with Jayden on his name tag.”

“That is Charles Jayden of 1945. Leader of The Ring of Man.”

Connors face emptied of emotion. His hands dropped to his side.

“Come in here. I will show you.” Riley shows Connor into a room off the main atrium.

The room had a small window and light shined through the dirt stained window. The walls are lined with large framed pictures of different scientists, and a flag that was a mixture of the Confederate and Nazi flag. Everything was covered in a dirt or dust. Connor scanned the photos across the wall. The pictures looked decades old but the equipment that was displayed in the background was way ahead of its time. He finally stopped at one of the pictures and recognized Jayden right away.

“This is The Basement. It was created by a man named Charles Jayden. The Ring of Man is a group of extremist from governments throughout the years that were hell bent on “world domination” if you will. It is a secret society that has existed for hundreds of years. In 1859, the confederates posed as one of the final stops on the Underground Railroad to trap African Americans that attempted to flee the South…” Riley is interrupted.

“Please get on with it.” Connor demands.

“The Basement is capable of moving back and forth between different time periods. That much we know. Some time ago, we don’t know how long, the ring that activates this power sequence was lost by Jayden. No one had seen the ring for decades until finally in 1859 a family was brought through the tunnels to be freed. Once they found out the husband was wearing the ring…”

“They killed my entire family and I barely escaped with my life.” A tall black man appears from the door way.

“This is Louis Robinson.” Connor and Louis shake hands.  “He is one of the only people to meet Jayden face to face and live to tell about it.”

Connor raises his hand to the men. “This ring?” The both stare at the sterling silver band rapped around his right ring finger.

“What the — ?” Riley and Louis look at each other. “We need to make for the camp now.” Louis makes for the exit. Connor and Riley closely follow behind.

Back at the camp the three men gather in the tent most nearest to the center. They open the large draped door. A woman stands inside. She is tending to a small fire and is cooking some food.

“What seems to be the problem guys?” Connor asks.

“We are ready to begin Julie,” Riley states, “Connor has returned with the ring. We can begin the operation against The Ring of Man.”

Julie is Riley’s wife and seems to have knack for map reading. Her tent is filled with maps.

“They are all of the same place.” Connor point out.

“Same place, all different time periods. You see throughout history The Basement has had different occupants, and in some cases no house over it. After the Depression the mansion above was burnt down in hopes of riding The Basement as well.” Louis explains.

“Now you said Sandra was killed?” Riley asks.

“Yes, I had awoken from a nightmare and she caught me off guard in my house.”

“Here is the map for 2009,” Julie places the map on the table, “ Connor’s home is about a quarter mile due East of The Basement and we should be able to slip in relatively undetected to extract Sandra before she enters your home.”

“You’d like to think that’d work.” A strange voice says from behind. The men draw their weapons on the stranger. A young, but weathered, Caucasian man stands in front of them. He is dressed in blue overalls with work boots. His beard hasn’t been trimmed in some time and his hair is tied back in a pony tail.

“And who might you be friend?” Louis barks.

“Someone who’d like to see you stay alive a little bit longer.”

“Oh yeah, and what makes you think that I won’t make your grave right here?”

“Because if you ever want to see Sandra alive again, or have the chance to kill Charles Jayden, I suggest you listen.”

The three men lower their weapons and lend an ear to the man. The man turns and grabs a nearby chair and pours himself a cup of coffee and grabs one of the steaks cooking on the grill. Julie, Louis, Riley and Connor look on in disbelief.

“Charles Jayden knows that Connor holds the key to his machine is doing everything in his power to monitor the use of it. Any attempt to use it would result in the death of every single one of you.”

“How do you know this?” Connor asks.

“Let’s just say I have been privy to a few trade secrets.” The man explains.

“What do you recommend we do then?” Riley asks, “Sandra is an essential part of our operation. Not to mention the need to put a stop to Jayden.”

“There is a place far from here. A place no one knows about and has been forgotten for many years, a place much like The Basement. You will have to endure temperatures most have never felt before. The Adirondack’s hold some of the greatest mysteries in history and one lays just beyond Big Deer Lake. It’s called The Attic.”

“Who are you?” They ask.

“Shultz, the names Tom Shultz. And by the way, Sandra is alive.”