The Lamp: The Lamp Series, #1

By jason cunningham

The Lamp is a fast-paced dystopian thriller that follows the harrowing journey of Levi, a hardened ex-boxer, and his companion, a smart teenage pickpocket named Violet. Together, they unravel a dark mystery that spans the ages, all while a mysterious form stalks patiently from the shadows. But in a world where the lines between good and evil are heavily blurred, it's impossible to know who to trust. 
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Content Warning: This series contains adult language. Not intended for younger readers or those averse to high tension. The Lamp Series is a quiet epic which explores the classic themes of good and evil in a raw, unflinching manner and may excite the more sensitive reader. Proceed with caution.

Reading Order: 
The Lamp (Book One) 
Dark Works (Book Two) 
Society of Light (Book Three) 
Falling Embers (Book Four)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phantom Fiction
• Release date: Oct 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781498918220

Book preview

Preface

The Lamp Series is chronological. Please read the books in order for the fullest experience.

Books in this series:

The Lamp (Book 1)

Dark Works (Book 2)

Society of Light (Book 3)

Falling Embers (Book 4)

Chapter 1

THE LANDSCAPE WAS STARK and unapologetic — a pile of tall buildings set against glass waters glimmering beyond a concrete retaining wall. The midnight breeze carried soggy coupons and newspaper leaflets across shadowy asphalt, like ghosts scrambling for safety. Rain-slicked streets reflected blinking neon from the nearby Gentlemen’s District , short bursts of illumination offering reprieve from the darkness in short intervals. Here the air was charged with energy and smelled of damp garbage and car exhaust.

A beat-up sedan slowed to a creeping halt, smoke clouds pluming from underneath the hood. The choking engine rattled as red neon hues splashed across the scenery, revealing a wall of graffiti just beyond the sidewalk. Possibly a warning to stranded motorists — just ditch your car and run for it.

But this particular motorist didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. The door of the rusty sedan fell open with a groan and two designer shoes emerged to meet the wet pavement. Levi’s face bore no emotion as he carefully stepped out of the car and removed his suit jacket, folded it neatly, and placed it on the driver’s seat. He circled around to the smoldering hood and unlatched it to look inside.

It didn’t take him long to arouse the locals.

A noise broke sharply, reverberating among the buildings somewhere behind him. Levi didn’t turn around. He recognized the sound as that of a basketball hitting the ground in measured bounces, its echo spreading across the deserted city block like a war drum thumping outside ancient city gates. Someone was hoping to gain his attention.

Thirty feet from Levi’s car stood four imposing figures on the street. The one dribbling the ball was no more than twenty years old, with gothic tattoos inked into his upper arms. The wall of muscle beside him steadied a box cutter against his side, ready for action. They were the welcoming committee on this side of town, and locals dreaded running into them.

Tattoo Man slammed the ball with greater force, inviting a response from the harmless man in the dress shirt and slacks. They wanted to see the fear in his eyes. To see him sweat, maybe even beg a little, before stabbing him in the gut and strolling away with his wallet.

Levi’s back remained to them as he hunched over to tighten a loose hose in the engine compartment. The group descended upon him slowly, loose gravel from the busted cement crunching as they lurched forward. Their threatening shadows stretched forward, ominously covering Levi’s form.

Levi clapped his dusty hands together, wiped them on his slacks, then casually turned around and faced down the four menacing youths, a look of mild annoyance residing on his face. Are you guys still here?

There was a brief standoff. The air became very still, as if the wind itself wanted to observe this curious encounter.

Tattoo Man stared into Levi’s eyes and saw something that he didn’t like. The thug’s heart quickened, a feeling of dread catching in his throat.

Levi took a deliberate step toward the group, and Tattoo Man instantly took a step back. An empty expression hung over Levi’s face as he invited the welcoming committee to move closer to him.

The big man threw a chilly nod to his friends, all of whom appeared equally spooked. The group turned tail and retreated in the direction in which they had come, each step taken more quickly than the one preceding it. Levi stepped inside his car and fired the engine, which came to life with a deep rumble. He pulled away into the night, heading to a place of rest.

FOUR HOURS EARLIER…

Hinnom Valley Prison

(Hard Labor Camp)

A prison guard, standing six-foot-three, rapped on the cell bars with his stick as he strolled down a darkened corridor which smelled like black mold and pain. Reaching Levi’s cell, he stopped, took a deep breath and reached for a ring of keys on his belt. Levi heard the jingle, but ignored it. He knew the drill: inspections and pat-downs at six and nine. Wait, it’s after nine.

You’re free to go.

That got his attention. Levi rose from his cot, chewing gum that had lost its flavor hours ago. Free to go where?

The guard slid his key into the lock, rotating it until it released with a loud clunk. A dull buzz sounded and the heavy door shifted, metal whining against cement as it peeled to the side. Turn around and place your forehead against the wall. I’m going to open the door slowly. Do not resist me, Levi.

Levi laced his fingers behind his head and turned toward the brick wall of his cell, placing his forehead against it. The guard took note of Levi’s bulging forearms and scarred hands. He shook his head with a sense of amused awareness.

I never filed an appeal, Levi pointed out.

"Your conviction was overturned. Warden said to get you out of here as quickly as possible. And he emphasized the quickly part."

Nice try. They don’t overturn cases like mine.

Well, the guard sighed, they did.

The guard approached Levi with grave caution, his trembling fingers caressing the trigger guard on his firearm.

I want the vest, Levi demanded.

You don’t need it.

If you’re taking me somewhere, I want the vest.

How about I just hand you my gun; would you trust me then?

Wouldn’t hurt, Levi answered.

Yeah. That’s always the problem with you — you don’t trust anybody. You don’t need a vest, you don’t need a gun. No one’s going to try anything.

You think I just fell off a turnip truck, Marty?

I just do what I’m told, the guard replied as he placed a pair of cuffs on Levi’s thick wrists and led him out of the cell and into the corridor.

* * *

Levi stood at the exit station as a tray of items slid toward him, underneath a bulletproof partition. He leaned over to view his possessions and felt embarrassed. Someone like him should’ve had more to his name.

A woman in a blue uniform watched him curiously from behind the glass. She was sad to see him go but didn’t know exactly why. All the prison guards knew his reputation, but Levi rarely caused a fuss. Just don’t provoke him. She knew that much. She observed him passing a hand over the items, a vulnerable glimmer in his eyes.

Something wrong? she asked.

Nah, he responded. It’s just been a while.

Seven years, huh?

He nodded, peering down at a silver watch, leather wallet, designer shoes and a folded suit.

"Is this everything?" he asked, thinking surely there had been more. These were now his only possessions.

There’s a twenty spot in the wallet, but yeah. That’s it. Your car was released from impound. Warden even charged and gassed it for you. Might want to change the oil though. It sounded a little rough. Otherwise, you’re clear to go.

Levi and the woman shared a look, a moment. He then gathered his items, everything he owned, and left Hinnom Valley Prison for good.

* * *

Twenty minutes after facing down four hoods on a windy downtown street, Levi sat in his car, plowing through a giant cheeseburger. It had been seven years since he’d tasted anything with actual flavor, seven years since he’d tasted freedom.

Outside his grimy windshield, life went on as usual: storefront shops packing it in for the night, sidewalk strollers out for some action, bars still hopping. It all felt unreal to him. Am I actually free?

He wadded up the burger sack and tossed it into the passenger seat, then rolled down his window to suck in a deep breath of pungent city air. Not just any air, but the kind that smells like liberty. A strange sense of excitement danced in his chest and he knew that it was real.

The nightmare had finally come to an end and going wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, was no longer a dream inside the walls of a prison camp. He was now free to dwell and mingle among the living.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed two guys and a girl offering timid glances in his direction. They were trying to avoid being too obvious but Levi could feel the guys prodding one another. Is that really him? Are you sure?

It was enough to deflate his mood. He was too tired to entertain college kids tonight. Levi yanked the gearstick down into drive and pulled away, the car’s suspension groaning as if waking from a long nap. He needed something he’d been dreaming about for far too long as he wasted away in that dump. Home.

* * *

Levi pulled to the curb of a nice, older brownstone. It was on that very stoop that he’d killed many afternoons, basking in the energy of a city on the move. He’d rested on the top step with a chilled glass of tea, beside a potted green plant that he’d managed to keep alive for more than a year. The plant was gone now and the black iron handrails leading up to the stoop were chipped and spun with cobwebs.

For a moment, he thought about not even going in but he didn’t know where else to go. He had purchased the small apartment home twelve years prior with prize money he’d won from his first fight as a professional. But in that moment, as he gazed at the apartment home through a filthy windshield, it all seemed like a lifetime ago.

He was now banned from boxing, penniless, and suffered from deep scars in his soul that he feared would never heal. Then again, he was also a free man.

Levi wondered if it was all a trap. Maybe there was some well-connected enemy who wanted him dead for what he had done. Would he find someone waiting for him inside the apartment, gun loaded and cocked? For all he knew, the pardon was simply a ruse to get him to take a dirt nap outside the jurisdiction of the prison camp. But deep inside, he doubted it. After all, the warden and all the guards liked him for the most part. With the exception of a few minor scuffles, he had kept to himself and never caused trouble like most of the other inmates.

Not having too many choices at hand, and not feeling up to sleeping in the car, he stepped out into the quiet street. A frightened cat scurried away from the stoop as Levi climbed the concrete steps and placed the palm of his hand against that familiar red door. It had been styled after a castle gate but hinged on one side, and scaled down. That was his one decorative choice. The king of his castle.

It was now faded from neglect. He removed a key from his pocket and pushed the door open with a bit of effort.

A shaft of light from the street fell onto the hardwood floor, revealing thick dust wafting through stale air. Levi took a creaky step inside and settled his weight. If someone were there to kill him, he’d already be dead. But death was not something that frightened him terribly these days. He thought to try the light switch and grinned. After seven days the power company is calling; how much more after seven years?

Just for the heck of it, and to quench his boy-like curiosity, he flipped the switch anyway and was immediately bathed in fluorescent light. The contrast and sudden brightness stung his eyes. He felt drugged.

This just gets more and more bizarre. Did the warden pay the light bill too? I wasn’t that much of a saint.

Moving further into his brick-walled, loft-style apartment, he recognized a strange object sitting atop a narrow wooden stand that once housed a trophy — his first. He moved closer and noticed an ugly lantern standing on a hand-written note, half-slipped underneath.

The lantern was about twelve inches high and looked like an abused antique. It appeared medieval, black as night, with an amber glass fixture set inside the ornate iron bars that snaked around the globe to hold it in place. The design seemed rather anachronistic. There were no knobs and it didn’t possess a wick of any kind.

Not only did Levi not recognize the strange piece, but he wondered how one would even go about using it. It wasn’t electric, and it didn’t appear to be a kerosene unit either. The usual candle hatch one would expect to find was suspiciously absent as well. It seemed as though the light was forged as a single unit, designed to be a non-functioning ornament.

He lifted the lantern and removed the note from underneath, on which he read the following words:

I’m the one who orchestrated your release. Now take up this lantern and guard it with your life. You will be of much use to me. Always bear in mind that your freedom was costly.

In Solidarity, K.S.

What a strange world I’ve stepped into. He knew that whoever K.S. was either wanted to have fun with him at great expense, or was sincere in his request about the homely, but apparently priceless, item on his table. He felt uncomfortable receiving an heirloom from a complete stranger, and one who was presumably still alive; enough so to write a letter anyway. This mystery man had obtained his pardon, which is no easy feat. Especially after what he’d done.

Chapter 2

LEVI SAT IN A diner booth at eight o’clock in the morning as rain gently pelted the window beside him. He had only enough money for a newspaper and a glass of orange juice, but that would suffice for now. At least I’m not busting rock or carrying logs from sunup to sundown, he thought.

His time at the hard labor camp had left him with a wiry, but strong, physique. So strong, in fact, that he had to be careful when shaking hands, lest he break someone’s fingers again.

Levi spread the paper out in front of him and saw the headline: Tensions Threaten City, Nation. He already knew about the civil unrest that had been growing steadily for more than a year since a state senator was shot dead leaving the capitol building. It was the first act of many months of violence against government officials, including a prominent judge who was beaten into a coma with a baseball bat in the middle of the street, in broad daylight.

These things didn’t used to happen, did they?

The police had started cracking down on dissenters, and green smoke was not an uncommon sight during the evening commute. Such news made the rounds at Hinnom Valley as well, since many of the anti-government agents ended up serving time there.

Levi scanned past the latest rough-and-tumble protester spat and began searching the WANTED ads. Most of the jobs required skills that he didn’t possess. Carrying or punching heavy things didn’t seem to be a very marketable trait these days. He considered calling some old friends, but didn’t have any quarters for the phone. Doesn’t matter anyway, he figured. It’s not like I remember anyone’s number.

A waitress refilled his glass and offered a friendly smile. Economy ain’t what it used to be, huh? she asked, hinting at a tip.

They don’t even list addresses anymore. Only e-mail and phone numbers.

Where you been at? she asked. You don’t got a cell phone or nothin’?

Levi shrugged. I’ve been away for a while.

That usually meant one thing: convict. She backed away with caution. Let me know if you need anything, okay?

Levi nodded politely, thinking perhaps he’d scared her unnecessarily. Gotta keep that prison thing less conspicuous, he reminded himself.

His mind traveled back to that dark place, but his thoughts didn’t settle on the backbreaking work, or the lack of quality food or companionship; he thought about books. Reading had been his only source of entertainment and for one hour each day he had the leisure to partake in a classic or two.

At Hinnom Valley, inmates would swap cigarettes and drug needles for barter. Levi, on the other hand, only accepted books and would take whatever he could get. He once gave up his dinner roll for an