Of fond memories and frightful dreams.
By Tim Simons
"Mr. Avery, there is an attorney, Cole McCorkle, on line three.
Do you want to talk to him or should I put him off? " His secretary
knew the drill, especially when he was working on a response he had
to file with the court Monday morning.
" Cole McCorkle " He said aloud. The memory of the death
of his father flooded back to him. Cole had been the family's attorney
since he could remember. He had been the executor of his grandfather
and father's estates. Paul wondered why he would be calling now; his
father had died nearly ten years ago.
" I'll take it Susannah " His finger lingered briefly over
the button; it's light blinking impatiently. Paul had a sense of apprehension
about the call. He thought briefly about telling Susannah to handle
Cole then changed his mind and pressed the button. "Cole, Cole
McCorkle is that really you? "
The laugh was familiar though somehow older; raspy " You bet
it is Paul. It's been several years since we've spoken, how have you
been doing? "
"Well, my professional life has been going well" Paul felt
a knot swell in his stomach. "I suppose you know, Emily and I
divorced about three years ago." His career had cost him his
marriage and allowed him to bury the emptiness in his heart.
When Paul spoke again his voice was less congenial, straightforward
" I wouldn't expect you to call me Cole just to socialize. I
can't think of any family members who might have died lately. So what's
this about? "
Paul could here the rustling of papers over the phone, finally Cole
spoke " Well Paul, point of fact, I've been called out of retirement
to execute the last phase of your grandfathers will." He paused
for a moment letting his words spin in Paul's mind. " You see,
this weekend marks the fiftieth anniversary of your grandfather's
death "
Paul glanced at his calendar on his desk. It suddenly struck him
that it also marked the tenth anniversary of his father's death. He
wondered why he never had noticed that odd bit of morbid trivia. "
I can't believe there would be anything left of the estate. I thought
that was all dispensed with years ago? "
"It is a bit strange Paul, but your grandfather left a parcel
of land with a small trust, to allow the property to be maintained.
He gave strict instruction that none of the family was to be told.
" the aging lawyer's voice warbled slightly.
"So what does this have to do with me exactly Cole?" Paul
thought about the wonderful, extraordinary stories he had heard about
his namesake, William Paul Avery. In his youth, grandfather made his
first fortune as a wildcatter in the oil fields of Oklahoma and Texas.
He took that money and educated himself, ending up with a law degree
from Harvard University. WP made his second fortune in real estate.
Upon his death, a vast estate remained, assuring future generations
of Avery's would work solely out of desire, not necessity.
"Your grandfather's estate is at stake here Paul. If you don't
make it to Oklahoma this weekend, I am empowered to begin a formal
action of dissolution of the Avery family trust. The proceeds of which
to be given in total to your grandfather's alma mater."
Paul sat in shocked silence, stunned by the magnitude of Cole's revelation.
Dozens of Avery family members lived wholly on his grandfather's patronage.
Now fifty years after his death, WP's specter threatens to reach from
beyond the grave, snatching the golden spoon from their gluttonous
mouths. "What do I need to do?" his voice was choked with
emotion.
"A packet will arrive by courier this afternoon. In it you will
find your travel itinerary, plane ticket and a detailed instructions
of where to go and when to meet. I advise you to do two things; Follow
the instructions to the letter and tell know one of your activities."
Cole paused wondering if Paul was getting it all. "Do you hear
me Paul? Do you understand what I am saying?"
Paul swallowed hard "Yeah I got it all Cole. Believe me I understand
everything."
"Good, I'll see you this weekend in Oklahoma." Cole hung
up without saying goodbye. Paul sat staring at his father's picture,
curious why his grandfather had contrived such a plot for the fiftieth
anniversary of his death.
Paul contemplated not going; he could care less about the trust.
His father had left his mother a small fortune and Paul had managed
to carve out his own financial security. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins had
all been raised on the teat of grandfather's benevolence. Addicts,
he doubted they could muster an ounce of self-reliance in the event
of such a catastrophe.
A plan brown package arrived that afternoon just as Cole had stated.
Paul stared at it for a moment and then burst out laughing. He found
it ironic that so many lives and millions of dollars teetered in the
balance, held there by a nondescript box. If he choose to toss away
the box, dozens of charities and family members would be thrown into
financial chaos, while one New England university, would find it's
coffers overflowing. On the other hand if he opened it, all would
remain as is, the status quo continued.
Paul cut the box open up neatly with a razor, then carefully removed
its contents, one first class round trip ticket, rental car and hotel
confirmation numbers and the instructions Cole was so concerned that
he follow exactly. Paper clipped to the typewritten sheet was a handwritten
map and a barely legible note telling him not arrive at the meeting
destination before 11:30 p.m., Saturday.
Since Paul's divorce, he had lost the ability to dream; night after
night he slept in the darkness. Tonight something sprang from the
recesses of his mind. It was a strange thing, filled with dark places
and human oddity. A war was being waged, creatures, hideous creatures,
swelled from the bowels of the earth, tearing flesh, gnawing on bone.
Paul tried to flee the carnage, hide from the hellish charge. Winding
mazes, cavernous tunnels, each one leading back to them; he ran, and
ran and knew he could never stop running.
As suddenly as he had fallen into the dark labyrinth of his dream,
he awoke. Covered in a cold sweat. He opened eyes and felt the warmth
of the sunrise, bleeding through the partial closed shade, dancing
across his naked body. He stood glancing about the room, half expecting
the ooze of his dreams to be seep from the cracks of the room's wooden
floor. Exhausted, he collapsed onto the bed, feeling less refreshed
than before he went to sleep.
A hot shower helped to wash away the linger tentacles of his nightmare.
He toweled off and stared at his visage in the mirror. Dark circled
ringed his eyes; Paul thought he looked as if he had aged ten years
over night. Dressed, he sat in an overstuffed reading chair, staring
aimlessly out the window. Finally the taxi arrived to take him to
the airport.
During his grandfather's day, Oklahoma had been a barren, windblown
piece of earth. Thanks to President Roosevelt's New Deal and the Army
Core of Engineers, several dozen dam and lake projects transformed
her into a luscious, verdant place. Paul pulled away from the rental
car agency in a sleek black sedan, admiring the numerous flowers and
trees. He thought to himself, this definitely wasn't Stienbeck's Oklahoma.
He drove through several small towns, finally reaching the one marked
on the map. It had only two streets which intersected like an x so
his hotel was an easy find. Since he would be attending his meeting
after dark, Paul wanted to familiarize himself with the route to the
rendezvous during the daytime. Ten miles past town, he turned on to
a dirt road, which coordinated with the line drawn on his map. The
bumpy road was lined with trees that increased in density with each
passing minute. Finally after several minutes the trees had grown
so thick that very little sunlight filtered through them. Paul glanced
down to find the switch to turn on the sedans headlamps, looking up
he immediately slammed on the brakes. The vehicle came to a stop inches
away from a large imposing metal gate. He got out of the car to check
the gate and discovered it was secured with a new chain and padlock.
He began surveying the area; where the gate supports ended began a
large cyclone fence. Paul got back in his car and checked the map,
assured this was the place; he drove back to the hotel to rest for
his late night meeting.
The Savoy had once been a thriving place, teeming with cowboys and
roughnecks. Save for the ground level, the majority of her floors
where permanently shut down. The rooms where sparse, utilitarian;
no phone, no television, nothing hanging on the wall, just clean pressed
white sheets and an old AM dial radio next to the bed. Paul took off
his shoes and sprawled comfortable out on the bed. His mind wondered
through the fragments of his early morning nightmare, Cole's insistence
that he come to Oklahoma, the journey to his grandfather's property.
Tired he closed his eyes, to rest an uneasy sleep.
" Mr. Avery, It's 10:45 p.m., do you hear me? " The voice
sounded far off, he tried to block it out, but then came the repeated
pounding. " Mr. Avery are you in there? "
Paul stirred, " Yeah, I hear you". The room was dark save
for the crack of light seeping from the hotel hallway. Opening the
door he was greeted by the small-shriveled old man, dressed comically
in an aging bellboys suit.
" It's 10:45 p.m. sir, this is you wake up call." The old
man pointed at his watch, as if to give validation to his claim.
"Yes thank you." Paul was about to close the door, but
remember something he wanted to ask the old man "Excuse me, do
you anything about that place just about 10 miles north of hear, just
west of highway 30 on a dirt road?" The old man just stared at
him blankly "It's got this huge wrought iron gate at the entrance."
Spreading his arms, Paul mimed an attempt to conjure the gates image.
"Oh yeah," said the old man " Everyone knows that
place, The rumor is that over a hundred years ago some kind of cult
use to worship out there. Place is supposed to be still possessed
by the devil."
Paul stood momentarily stun by the old man matter-of-fact revelation
"You don't believe that do you?"
"Well, there is a lot of the devil around here. You see it's
taught that God is an almighty general and we his fervent soldiers.
I ask you Mr. Avery, what is the purpose of an army without an enemy?"
The old man paused and gave Paul an exaggerated wink.
"In these regions, our preachers and ministers warn us that
the Devil is as prevalent as the word of God. That he lurks in every
unknown thing hides just out of vision, whispering sweet damnation."
The geriatric bellboy walked into Paul's room, going to the window,
he pulled back the faded, thread bare curtain and pointed in the general
direction of his grandfather's property. "That area just beyond
the gates, that your inquiring about, is supposed to be such a place.
Those who drive out there late at night, claim strange wailings carry
in the wind. Course that rumor been around since before I was born,
so don't much believe it myself. " The wrinkly old man smiled.
"If you don't need me any further sir, I'll return to my post"
"No, thank you for the wake up call. " as an after thought
he added " and for the story ".
"Anytime Mr. Avery, anytime." Laughing, the old man turned
and headed back to the hotel desk.
Turning on the light, Paul shut the door. He sat back on the bed
think about the old man's whimsical tale. He remembered that back
during his childhood, it was the last house on a dead end street.
It was owned by a couple who where both archeologist. They traveled
a lot and their house remained in perpetual disrepair. When they would
return, trucks would follow, unloading crates, some of which looked
like wooden pine caskets. The neighborhood kid's would all sit around
and make up wild stories about where the couple had been and what
the crates contained, it made for many a memorable campfires and sleepless
nights.
During his a sleep a heavy rain had fallen, turning the dirt road
into a muddy mess. He secretly hoped to find the gate still locked.
Paul slowed as he approached, the gate stood wide open, beckoning
him on. He noticed in the bright headlight, there were no visible
tire tracks in front of him in the mud. Cole must have arrived before
the rain.
Continuing past the gate and out of the canopied tunnel, Paul was
surprised; the road seemed to stretch on for some distance. It was
another ten minutes before he saw a man made structure. It looked
like some kind of monolithic art, one on each side of the road. As
he passed by the smooth blacken rocks he noticed some kind of symbols
carved into the stone. After another ten minutes trudging through
the mire the road suddenly turned to cobble stone. Not long after
that he came to a stop.
Turning off the car, Paul quickly got out. He stood staring, shocked
by what he saw. Here in the wilds of Oklahoma, away from civilization,
stood an immense Romanesque structure. It's front was a traditional
eight column portico, which lead into the temples entrance. Each column
rose forty feet into the air, it's base shaped like a grotesque monstrous
foot, it's capital, a hideous talon which dug deep into the supported
roof. Sumerian pictographs and what looked to be either old Hebrew
or Germanic rune alternated along the columns shaft. Just beyond the
portico's peak, Paul could see a large umbrella style dome. Though
there was no visible source of light, yet the whole area seemed illuminated,
cast in a pale eerie glow.
Paul's heart fluttered, his minded screamed for him to turn back,
but curiosity had deafened him. Propelled by shear will, he walked
up the steps to the landing. Reaching out he ran his hand up and down
the inscribed granite pillar it felt warm, alive. His feet tingled;
looking down he could see small blue veins woven into the rock-hewed
floor.
" I see the obscurity of our location didn't prevent you from
being punctual." The familiar voice startled him.
Cole McCorkle had been in his late twenties when his grandfather
had died. A once spry, jocular man, he had been weathered like a statue,
ravaged by time. "This building, this property, the whole thing
is incredible!" Paul spun around with arms spread wide as if
to emphasis his excitement "I can't believe it, what the hell
is this place?"
The old man smiled " Do you know anything about early Christian
architecture?"
Paul shrugged " A little, I took a year of comparative religions
during my junior year in college."
" Have you ever heard of a Martyrium?" Cole's voice seemed
stronger more commanding, than it had sounded the day before.
Paul closed his eyes, trying to recall the answer " I think,
if my memory serves me, it's a church or temple built on the grave
site of a Martyr."
"Sorry, You forgot to phrase your answer in the form of a question."
Paul chuckled at Cole's game show humor. "Yes, your correct Paul.
This is like a Martyrium but not Christian."
Paul thought it strange, the elder lawyers choice of architectural
analogy. "Then your say this is some kind of grandiose secular
gathering place, sited over a grave?"
"Secular, non-secular. None of that is important right now.
What's important is completing the task for which you traveled all
this way. Come now." Cole motioned for Paul to follow him "Let's
get inside out of the damp night air. Everything will be revealed
to you in due time."
Paul hesitated, his sensibilities reeled with all he had seen and
heard. That voice which had screamed for him to turn and drive away,
now whispered softly, biding him run. The beast of curiosity welled
within him once again, threatening to destroy all those who challenged
its will. Cole turned and starred at him wide eyed, saying nothing,
fueling curiosities passion. Paul couldn't stand against the tumult,
failing, he began the long walk to the temples entrance.
Both men stood silently in front of a large golden door, surrounded
by a round ebony trifoliate arch. The elderly lawyer pulled a small
key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. It swung open effortlessly,
reveal a long narrow foyer awash in the same luminescent light covering
the outside of the temple. The two men entered the building, a wave
of nausea rolled through Paul's body.
"What's wrong are you sick?" Cole had stopped to check
on Paul.
"I'm sort of hypoglycemic. I should have eaten something before
I came." Paul start to slowly slide down the wall, afraid his
legs would give way.
"No, this won't do. I'll help you." Cole used his right
hand to wrap Paul's left arm around his should. Then with his left
he reached around Paul's back and placed his hand underneath Paul's
right arm. The two lawyers made their way slowly down the hall.
The main room of the temple was circular. In the center was a gilded
raised dais with steps all around. An exact replica of a clear midnight
sky was imbedded into the domed ceiling. Twelve rows of stone pews
encircled the room. Paul noticed in the center of the dais was a black
marble pulpit or alter. Eight straps of what look to be brown cloth
hung in regular intervals from its edge. Gold symbols, similar to
those carved into the granite columns, where embroidered on each strap.
"Here lay down, I'll get you something to eat from the Kitchen."
Cole lifted Paul up and set him on granite pews. Its warmth soothed
Paul as he vacillated in and out of consciousness. Paul dreamed of
the summers he and his fathers spent sailing. Stripped to only his
shorts, his father would act as helmsmen and he forward hand of the
mighty Flying Dutchmen. Wind and water would race by, as the calm
sun kept watch over the two at play.
Slowly he awoke from his stupor "What Happened?" Paul shook
his head try to clear his mind. He remembered that he had felt nauseous,
that Cole had helped him into a large circular room and then he passed
out. He tried to sit up, but was unable. He looked down the length
of his body and say eight brown leather restraints securely fastened.
"What are you doing to me?"
"Welcome back Paul, we do so prefer you conscience for the ceremony."
Paul starred at Cole, his features had smoothed, wrinkles faded. His
lips, face and hair had regained the color of youth. He had changed
his cloths and was now wearing some kind of black ceremonial robe.
Closing his eyes, he strained to fight off his panic. Paul shook his
head again, this time hoping it would wake him from the nightmare.
"Paul, I liked you to meet your grandfather, WP."
Just pass Cole; a man was coming up the dais steps. Paul squinted,
trying to focus, his grandfather looked exactly as he was pictured,
tall, viral, with a strong chin and bushy eyebrows. " No. "
leaked out of Paul's mouth, partially out of shock, mostly out of
fear. His grandfather, if he hadn't died fifty years ago, would surely
be dead by now. Even in the modern annals of science, such prolonged
life was impossible.
"This can't be, that's some actors makeup job or mask but that
isn't my grandfather, your hear me? Release me now, Cole, now! I beg
of you please. You've had your fun." Blood rushed to Paul head,
he couldn't understand why he had been strapped to the table or why
someone had chosen to imitate his grandfather.
"Don't be obtuse Paul. You surely can't think this is some kind
of hoax. A fifty-year-old joke willed by some sycophant old man. No
Paul, this is your grandfather." Cole stroked him gently on the
forehead. "So be a nice boy and say hello to your grandpa."
"If you're my grandfather, then why? Why are you doing this
to me?" Spittle shot everywhere, as Paul choked out the words.
"Because me son" his grandfather's voice was rich and soothing
"I gave you wealth beyond need and you failed to give the only
thing I wanted in return. The Avery's, the McCorkle's, we where all
intend for something greater than simple existence." The elder
Avery gently took Paul's hand and bent down to whisper in his ear
"We serve the old ones, the ancient masters. They lye in the
catacombs and tunnels below, waiting for their day when they shall
return to do battle, claiming this world and it's universe as their
own. In our servitude we are granted certain gifts, magical powers
and a place of honor in the coming epoch. We do this" He released
his grip from Paul's hand and stood upright "in the name of our
families, past, present and future."
"But what of me, I'm an Avery." Paul said angrily.
His grandfather smiled at him warmly, almost lovingly. "Cole,
will you clarify it for him please."
Cole nodded "We choose a select few from each generation to
join our fold and work to bring about the return of the old ones.
We had such high hopes for you." Paul thought he could catch
a glimpse of sadness in his grandfather's eyes " but you preferred
to litigate instead of propagate. Membership requires that you bare
seeds for our continued fight."
"And what of those not selected" Paul felt weary, he tried
to struggle but his nausea left him weak.
" Just as we have been chosen to serve them, they others have
been chosen to serve in differing ways." Cole smiled maliciously
" So you see Paul, we must pluck the weed that is your pitiful
soul and replace it with one more hospitable to our needs."
Paul's grandfather bent down tenderly kissing him on each check "I
know you think I'm a monster. But I do this for the pistils you've
yet to pollinate and the flowers that will come to bloom."
Paul felt his consciousness flutter; the two men began chanting,
softly at first. It's sound grew as unseen voices joined the unholy
invocation. They called forth dark masters, as their fervent supplication
reached its shrieking crescendo. He could feel the heat of their breath;
smell the putrid rot of flesh. Bile swirled in his throat, choking
him. Blasphemous fiends burned into his soul; wrenching at it, violating
its secret place.
"Good morning Mr. Avery, How was your weekend?" His secretary
was dressed smart, professional, but it couldn't hide here radiant
youth and beauty.
Paul spoke softly "You know Susannah, I've been meaning to ask
you but do you think we could perhaps go out sometime"
"Why Paul, I never thought you'd ask. You've been divorced for
so long, I just figure you gave up on women." Susannah seemed
genuinely enthused by the proposition
"Well I decided Saturday night, it's time to turn over a new
leaf." He opened up his office door, then turned facing Susannah
"By the way, if you don't mind. I'd like you to start calling
me WP."
