The Scribbler Guardian 1: Arks Of Octava Page 5

  “Why are you crying? You’ll come back first chance. I’ll be here. Do you know the name of your story, Kane?”

  “I’m scared, Mr. Poe.”

  The real fear in the boy’s voice alarmed him and before he could ask anything else, he was gone. A flash of panic sent Poe shooting into the air and out of the bog, aiming for Octava’s Athenaeum. He landed too quickly and went sprawling for several feet before bounding up and running up the hundred flight stairs of the realm’s library. Poe flashed his credentials as he walked in and the head Athenaeum Officer nodded. He didn’t have time to fiddle with the intricate Library’s search program and found instead the Librarian. “I need help locating a story, it’s direly important.”

  The woman turned ever so slowly, her curt expression matching the pristine white dress-suit—the Athenaeum’s code for apparel. “Genre?”

  “Horror,” he shot out.

  She raised a brow for more information and Poe shook his head. “I don’t know, search them all.”

  Her painful pace indicated the necessity of speed one never needed in Octava. “Do you happen to have a title?”

  “No.”

  She shook her head with raised brows at the screen. “There are thousands here. We could be here all day and evening.” Which was quite fine to her, she had nothing better to do.

  “Kane!” Poe forgot he could search by name in the cast. “There’s a character named Kane in it.”

  “Last name?”

  “Not sure, I don’t think so, I think it’s his first.”

  “I mean do you have a last name.”

  “No, I don’t.” Poe wanted to strangle himself for not getting something so simple all this time.

  “Traditional or non?”

  “I don’t know,” Poe gasped.

  The woman eyed Poe with confused concern before fluttering her fingers over the glass surface of the screen. “I find four possible matches.”

  “The boy is seven. Look for a seven year old.”

  “Ah. Sons of Insurrection. Has to be that one. It’s Independent and an SG. Paranormal Horror.”

  “Coordinates,” Poe begged, trying not to yell.

  He ran out the second she gave the information and took to the air upon exiting the building, barely missing several security officials in winged flight. Within five minutes, he landed at the story set. A dingy, rundown hospital with a dilapidation befitting the best of any horror story. The energy in the air sent a sensation through Poe that drew tiny bumps to the surface of his skin and a tingling along his spine.

  Octava’s laws forbid anybody to barge right into a Story and so Poe had to carefully study the set around him. Spotting a lower window at the very bottom of the building, he hurried to it, remembering Kane’s comment about his playhouse under the stairs. Lowering to the ground he peered through the darkness. Nothing. Poe listened, closing his eyes, fighting to connect with the energy inside the insidious place.

  He located a sound that brought cold fingers to crawl along his spine before gripping tight. Poe didn’t want to even mentally voice his thoughts but they screamed out at him. Stories were fictional in Octava—that was the law. No characters in any story were ever to be harmed within their fictional creations. But everything about the place, the feelings and sounds Poe processed, said that law was being broken. No, it said much worse than that. It said a seven year old boy named Kane was being broken. And Poe was prepared to do something he’d never once had the urge to do outside his own story. To also crush something, anything.

  Chapter Five

  Poe ran to the front of the building and climbed the many wide steps to the entrance. He was finally met with the Story Law’s force-field that prevented those not a part of the story from entering in. Drawing on the power inside him, he placed his hand on that shield and read the code. Then he used his power to mirror the codes at one location, and parted it enough to slip through. Immediately Poe was filled with information. The hospital was a children’s hospital. The year was 2025. The future? Poe had been tipped off by one of the residents somehow. Could that have been Kane? Did him tipping Poe off automatically earn him a legitimate place in the story? Or had the Scribbler written it that way and Poe became that character somehow?

  The front door opened with a loud creaking and Poe gazed around at the abandoned corridor before him. The scars on his face and neck suddenly felt covered in angry ants. The sounds he’d heard near that window hit his ears and Poe became aware of the gun in his hand. He also knew how to use it. But what was he? A policeman? He didn’t have on a uniform. Maybe a detective.

  Putting the gun in the back pocket of the denim pants, he hurried on. Having a working knowledge of the hospital layout, Poe knew the exact location of the door that would lead him to the level below. He sensed not just Kane, but a host of other children. As he made his way down several flights of stairs, the horror sounds became more real—louder, scraping against his mind, attempting to mark it with its powers. The energy was strange, new, and foul. Poe resisted it as he rounded a wide corridor. Eerie lights lined the ceiling of the long hall, casting a greenish hue on the painted cement walls and countless metal doors. The site alone was enough to give one nightmares. Kane was in one of these rooms. Playrooms beneath the stairs.

  Poe began with the closest door and peered into the small square window near the top. His stomach roiled. Dear Divinities. The medical instruments and gadgets told the details of the horror story. They were using children for medical experiments. But were they breaking the laws, were they actually hurting the children was the question he needed to answer.

  He was ready to vomit after creeping along the entire length of one side without finding Kane. Starting on the other wall, he continued his search. He needed to examine one of the kids. See if there were real wounds. The sound of a door banged and Poe quickly entered one of the rooms. He looked around and found the wall lined with cage-like beds holding smaller children, toddler sized. The sound of suffering gripped his guts, some moaned and whimpered, others sat or laid silent and staring. Poe hurried from bed to bed, examining their bodies with a trembling hand, the wind rushing out of him. Dearest Divinities, it was real. The horror before him was real. This was no makeup and everywhere he touched, brought real pain to the child.

  Voices returned, louder, and Poe hid beneath a bed near the door. When the coast seemed clear, he crawled out and exited the room, resuming his search for Kane. Another door opened and again Poe hurried in the nearest door.

  “Kane!” he gasped, running to the single bed against a wall. Kneeling next to it, he fought to see through his eyes, something clouded his vision. Liquid fell over his cheeks and he wiped at it, realizing it was the crying phenomenon. “Kane, I’m here. It’s me Poe. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  He made soft whimpers, fighting to look with his eyes, unable to move due to the metal contraption on his head.

  “Don’t try to move.” Poe touched the lacerations and bruises, rage filling him at his whimpers. “They’re not supposed to do this Kane. They’re not supposed to really hurt you.”

  Kane fought to speak around whatever they had in his mouth and Poe scanned the instruments attached to him. What were they for, what were they doing?

  “I’m going to be back, I have to report this to Octava and they’ll release you. You’ll come live with me. For good. I’ll see to it. I will only be gone for twenty minutes and then I’ll be back to take you from here.”

  He began to cry now.

  “Who left this door open?”

  Poe jerked to the deep voice in the hall and ran to the corner. The door suddenly opened wider and Poe shoved it, smacking the man in the face. Darting around him, he raced down the corridor and headed up the stairs. At encountering two large male nurses he remembered the gun, drew it and fired without thought. Poe jumped over the toppled bodies, taking the stairs by two while yelling erupted behind him.

  He made it to the front door and yanked it open only to s
lam into the invisible barrier, jetting him back into the room. The yelling grew louder and Poe scrambled for the shield, focusing his energy with eyes closed. Countless footsteps pounded the floor behind him and Poe shot a hand through the shield as they yanked his other arm, pulling him back in.

  The atmosphere on the outside of the shield created a fierce suction that won the tug-of-war and Poe tumbled down several stairs outside the horror hospital. Gasping, he stared at the insidious faces glaring at him from the inside.

  Poe realized he had his wings on again—just as before entering the horror story. He leapt into the air and flew like a maniac to the Capital’s Enforcement Center. Again he made a crash landing but the pain didn’t register as he tumbled along the cement then fought his way to a mad run for the building’s entrance.

  Tearing through the huge glass doors he raced up the stairs leading to the mountain sized front desk. “I need to report a Debase Code Seven-Seventy.” The disturbance on the impeccably uniformed officer’s face had Poe nodding in agreement. “Independent Paranormal Horror Province, Sector five, SG fifty-three.”

  She spun to the communication pad on her right, fingers flying over the screen. A few seconds later, she turned to him. “Commander Sprig says come now.”

  Even with Poe’s hurrying, it seemed to take him an hour to navigate the building’s interior before arriving at the second to last floor of the facility.

  He forgot to knock and entered, finding a man facing a wall in the massive glass office.

  “Yes, do enter.” The flawless young man turned and faced Poe. “Tell me what you have found in the Independent province.”

  The tinge of disgust regarding the Indie Province didn’t go unnoticed as Poe gave him all the dirty details, watching his face closely.

  “And how exactly did you come to this conclusion?”

  Poe froze, not once thinking of the need to divulge his gift. A gift he knew might be thoroughly examined, tested, or worse, closely policed. He thought quickly. “One of the characters in the story told me.”

  “How did you come by this character in the story?”

  “He escaped. In a dream.”

  The look the man gave wasn’t a good one before he lowered his brilliant emerald gaze and fingered one of the glass statues on his desk.

  “If you would but send a team to inspect the boy’s claims. He is seven and has no reason to lie.”

  “What is your species?”

  “I’m a first class Miskriat, sir. I was hired by Mr. Sardin to oversee the activity in the Independent Provinces.”

  “And this boy came to you in a dream you say.”

  “My Scribbler has empowered me with special communication abilities.”

  “And who is your Scribbler?”

  “J. P. Howe. Sir.”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Poe wanted very much to say he’d seen it with his own eyes. “If it makes a more plausible case, I saw the crime with my own eyes.”

  This drew the man’s sharp gaze. “I need more than dreams to sanction forced entrance into a Story.”

  Poe panicked. “If you need reference to the credibility of my word, Senior Lancaster can attest for me.”

  Finally, the weight he needed. The man wasted no time contacting the commanding official of the Progenitor to the Paranormal Guardian. Poe strained to make out the man’s mutterings while he faced the wall of glass, feeling like it was all taking forever.

  The man finally turned and sat at his desk and began to write. “I shall issue an executive order pursuant to Octava’s Actori incumbit probation in pursuant of the realm’s code of ethics. You shall accompany the seven team squadron as a witness.”

  “Thank you sir, I will.”

  Poe left and waited as instructed in the corridor at the front of the building. “Your presence is requested on level seven in the Regulatory,” a male administrator called to him.

  Poe was already racing toward it before he could get the words out. The idea that they were hurting Kane in the endless minutes of Octava protocol felt like the worst idea of his existence.

  Once in the entirely white room, he was given a suit to put on. Not only had Poe never seen the procedure done, he didn’t really know what it consisted of and now wished he did. He eyed the seven men in the same uniform he was given. It looked a lot like a space suit.

  They were quickly briefed on the simple process of entering the Story’s force-field, flashing credentials, and doing a routine check. The Captain nodded to the men standing before him and a flash of light later, the crew stood on location.

  There was no time to marvel as Poe did as instructed and lead the way. Upon reaching the force field, he paused. “Go on,” the commander ordered. Poe took a step and passed right through with ease. The suit? Interesting. The first oddity he noted was the condition of the entrance. It seemed… cleaner maybe. Orderly. Heading to the stairway that led to hell, he moved with reserved caution down the steps. The sound of eerie silence would challenge even a hardened horror constituent.

  They entered the first room and Poe was relieved to find it much like he remembered. But upon careful inspection of four children, every infliction of horror proved to be fiction.

  And when they finally made it to Kane’s room, the boy was there. Playing with his toys. He bound up to Poe, excited and happy to see him.

  And Poe had never seen a more evil picture of perfect and sound health.

  ****

  “The window.”

  Poe bolted up in bed and jerked his head right, searching the darkness of his bedroom. “Kane,” he whispered. “Is that you?”

  The silence answered like a pressing hand of doom. The window. Poe’s mind raced in reverse to the moment he was standing in Kane’s normal room where he jumped and danced around like a normal happy child. The window. Poe mentally glanced at the square near the ceiling and the sunlight filtering through. Alarm shot through him at realizing. There should be no sunlight! There was no sun! It was a façade somehow.

  Still fully dressed, Poe flew out of bed. He raced to his supply shed and shouldered his way into his wings, hands trembling. Stepping out into the night, the wind blew foul from the Paranormal Forest on his right. There was no time to worry or inquire, no time for trouble other than the one upon him.

  Poe set the coordinates even as he ran for open land then shot into the air. He needed to get Kane out of there. Somehow. But passing through the Story’s force-field was one thing for him to do, but another for Kane. The boy had his own secret way in and out but that didn’t mean Poe’s way wouldn’t hurt him somehow. Kill him even.

  He would do whatever it took. Even call in a favor from a paranormal being in the forest he lived near. There were a few that owed him.

  Poe landed quickly and quietly at the story set then removed his wings, putting them out of sight but in close range in case they needed to fly fast.

  Running up the wide flight of stairs, he chose to ignore the towering building with the hundred black eyes leading to its abysmal soul. Entering the force-field this time was easier. He gazed around the foyer and the dilapidation said they weren’t expecting company.

  When he finally made it to that horror corridor below, Poe’s scars itched like crazy again as he crept along the pale green doors. No sounds. Where was the hospital staff? Where was the chatter of normal people from before? Gone. Fake. That was the truth right there. There was nothing at all normal about anything in that place. What kind of corruption was going on was the question. How widespread was it? Where was it coming from?

  Poe ran in spurts, wanting to be near a door should he need to hide in a hurry. Assuming and hoping they’d be unlocked this time around and he wouldn’t be entering a pit of evil. He froze against the wall at a sudden scraping noise. He listened, trying not to breathe. Finally, he made out metal sliding along the floor, like a large table. But it was followed by an odd tick, tick, tick, before the dragging resumed. Grrrrrrr… tick, tick, tic
k… Grrrrrrrr…. tick, tick, tick. Grrrrrr…

  Poe stared at the end of the hall where the sound came from, still holding his breath. The sensation that something was about to round that corner moved Poe to the nearest door to quietly check if it were unlocked.

  The strange sound stopped and Poe waited, his breathing seeming too loud in his ears. He finally went back to slowly creeping, not liking that he was headed in the direction the noise had first come from. He was close to Kane’s door, he was sure of it. There was a dink in the center of it, he’d made himself remember it, but as he hurried, he couldn’t take his eyes off that corner wall. It felt like something was there. Waiting for him.

  Poe flashed his eyes at each door, taking a snapshot before darting his gaze back to that corner. Still no dink. He slowly sidled to the next door. It wasn’t this far down. He was sure it wasn’t. Had they fixed the dink? Had he imagined it?

  Crying suddenly erupted not far behind him, a low keening that gradually rose with every second until they were screaming in panic.

  “The Story Surgeon.”

  Poe jerked to the soft voice at his ear and jumped in reverse at finding a strange creature. A giant squid man with metal tentacle legs and a tail dragging behind him. Grrrrrrr… tick, tick, tick….. Grrrrrr.

  Poe walked blindly in reverse as he peered into the mirrored eyes beneath hairless brows. The strange gaze held an odd sorrow, like it wished it didn’t have to be, but there was no other choice. Poe realized everything about the head was bulbous. The lips stretched too wide across the round head, reminding him of a puppet with a mouth cut too deep.

  “He called you didn’t he? I knew he would.” The thing moved closer. Tick, tick, tick…. Grrrrrr. The oddity of its mouth transfixed Poe even as he continued retreating. “He’s our special boy. And you are his equal, I do believe. Innnnnn and ouuuuut, innnnnn and ouuuuuut…” The creature scurried left then right as it spoke. “Right through the force field, right to you.” It smiled with endless rows of spiked teeth, the fat flesh of its nose spreading with the evil grin.