From the Heathens He Came

By Keris White

Who created us, was it God, or a multitude of Gods.
What if our God(s) were simply misinterpretations of our real fathers. What if the truth was more terrifying beyond known comprehension. Are we told everything we need to hear or are we led to believe everything we are told.

One man's seemingly impossible mission into an ever looming dementia.
Join Doctor of Paranormal Psychology Larry Marx as he uncovers a hidden truth of a possible ancient cult conspiracy. Discover the shady, interesting and sometimes downright insane characters who will stop at nothing to silence those who threaten their tightly-held secrets. Uncover the huge corruption in the US government displayed in the highest realms of power, and those very same people who run the institution; have they had it too good for too long, is their time up? This man is prepared to do anything in his power to unleash it, even if his obsession means losing his mind, life or those around him.

Life is a game of chance and the risks are his alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481784801

Keris White

"Keris White comes from the UK and lives in cornwall, he is very conscientous of the upheavels in society as is highlighted in the subject matter of the book. He has a keen interest in Science-Fiction/Horror and very knowledgable in the fields of Science and the Paranormal. His story is one of mans hardship in the harsh reality of the 1980's, where greed, coruption and secrecy is rife not just socially but also politically. Keris White wants to enthrall the reader and send them on a one-way ticket to madness with no guarantee of ever finding a way back to sanity.

Book preview

FROM THE

HEATHENS

HE CAME

KERIS WHITE

authorhouse.jpg

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2013 by Keris White. All rights reserved.

Editor: Dakota Spear

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   02/15/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8479-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8478-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8480-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

PART I

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

PART II

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

PROLOGUE

Washington Memorial Hospital ICU:

"Nothing is worth this much, nothing!?’

‘Larry’

The voices were hampered and near enough muted; his mind was the only audible sound he could hear. His imagination conjured up images of the recent past and fed him all of the information he needed, to shake off any temporary bouts of amnesia that was at least the start of an attempt at a revival. It told him that his body wasn’t awake, he was in a dream world at present, and would have to wake soon. The organ of thought’s audio nerve impulses twitched then sprang into activity as a voice was heard.

‘Larry, Larry?’

Efferent nervous fibers sent signals through the memory patterns of the brain and it was decided that the intellectual lobe would indeed be sufficient in dealing with this new and disturbing audio phenomena. The collective consciousness known as the mind, manifested thoughts and emotions it had created previous to the incident, then through recognition of emotional response, it attained the identity of the voice pattern. It was distinguished and welcomed. Yet the voice phenomena alone didn’t have enough presence to fully recover nor activate the docile brain, which only recently lay dormant and practically comatose. It seemed futile that no neurological arousal was ever going to succeed in kick starting a response large enough to wake both of the parties, the brain and its host Larry. But then just as success seemed out of reach, a violent flash of streamed bright light made itself too extreme for the mind’s eye not to take notice.

A Female’s voice yelled

"It’s not your time!’

The Brain and its host Larry awoke.

In a natural reflex, he thrashed out his arms screaming and lashing out at anything that came too close for observation. There was no atmospheric empathy from the strangers surrounding him, that he would have perceived to be true or at least fitting, once a patient in a traumatic situation had woken. Instead he was met with curious glares of animosity from the doctor and his nurse companions, as they forced him back into his bulbous pillow which supported both his head and back.

"Amy!’ He cried.

‘For Christ sake restrain him!’ said a dominant, over-powering male voice. The surrounding nurses grabbed and held onto the erratic patient’s arms and legs, to stop him thrashing about and injuring himself. The Male Doctor thought it worthy to try a more direct approach in his reasoning.

‘Mr. Marx please calm down! You’ve suffered climatic exhaustion, you must rest!’

Yet even the doctor was in admiration of the fight Mr. Larry Marx had put up in defiance of being ordered what to do. There was no warning, too much electrical activity passed through Mr. Marx’s brain, it was brought on by the events which had happened earlier to which he had heard that female voice. He convulsed spewing clear white liquid from his mouth and temporarily choking on this unfamiliar fluid.

One of the nurses with quick wit tilted his head to clear some of the liquid which was foaming from his mouth. It wasn’t a recurrent seizure so could not be classed as epileptic. It was seemingly unprovoked so it had to be a complex partial seizure or in other words unexplained.

As Mr. Marx’s body succumb to abandonment and went into sinister spasms, he could sense the familiarity of the doctor which hovered over him but true identity was near enough impossible due to the intensity of the seizure. His nerve center was under attack, and the complicated network of nerve endings could not control the muscles inside him. His arms and legs flung out and flapped around, he was struggling and in desperation of clinging onto someone that could help him stop this uncertainty. But he, all the same was helpless one of the nurses gasped ‘he’s going into shock!’ The doctor was agitated and annoyed that his methods were not working on this particular subject. ‘This is madness? Nurse, can you please calm him down’ he barked. The nurse grimaced at the misfortune of asking a question that seemed easier to say than do.

‘How?’ she replied dumbfounded.

The doctor, his eyes seething with the nurse’s show of incompetence, bellowed. ‘Have you ever heard of Godamn Morphine?!’ The nurse was staunch. ‘He’s already had too much, anymore and we’ll lose him!’

‘Do it!’ ordered the doctor. Mr. Marx was now over his apparent seizure, but that still didn’t stop him from faking it. He was in a composed state of awareness yet he was still raw and numb from reality’s harsh awakening. ‘Where’s Amy?’ he questioned the nurse who was ready to induce more sickly morphine. She was honest or at the very least she thought she was being honest. ‘I’m sorry we don’t know who Amy is?’

Mr. Marx pleaded, referring to the morphine ‘don’t give me anymore of that, please.’ The nurse smiled. Larry quickly shook his head to adjust his senses and answered his own previous question. ‘Never mind.’

He blurted out the next thing that entered his line of thought ‘where’s my car?’

The doctor known as Philips interrupted the conversation ‘Your automobile is probably where you left it… now Mr. Marx you’ve suffered post-traumatic stress, you must stay here under our supervision for a couple of days, do you understand?’

‘I know that voice?’ Larry inquired while scanning the room for clarification.

He managed to focus on the imposing male doctor in front of him, his face was becoming clearer and clearer until clarity was near enough to perfection.

‘You’ Mr. Marx wheezed while trying to deal with the shock of identifying the Doctor.

But just as he was about to grapple for the Doctor’s looming lapel, a sharp, shooting pain in his chest and shoulder pegged him back onto the bed. He remained determined to go for the Doctor, but suddenly the pain was too much for him to bear, he clutched his shoulder. Then, too over-come with exhaustion he relented, ceased his fight and fell back into unconsciousness.

23:40

‘Is he awake?’

It was a distant elderly voice that upon first hearing, Mr. Marx had accepted he was dreaming. He was about to lift his eyelids when he heard a second younger and considerably lower voice mutter incoherently at the foot of his bed.

‘No chance, I gave him a sedative a couple of hours ago, he’s flat out.’ Larry decided against it, instead he remained still as a corpse with his eyes closed tightly. He strained to listen in on the conversation that was taking place barely above a whisper, his sound reception was just about audible to hear correctly.

‘. . . We need him out of the picture, that’s for sure’ said the elderly sounding voice.

There was a slight pause ‘he’s already fucked a lot of things up for us. What did your superiors say?’ The younger voice seemed more disturbingly ambitious.

‘This is the perfect opportunity.’

‘Good, it’s about time I say’ said the younger voice

Mr. Marx stirred in an attempt to unsettle his would be murderers, all the while keeping his eyelids fixed shut.

‘Wait! Shh . . .’ Ordered the elderly voice to his associate until he was satisfied it was safe to continue ‘Okay… how will you set about doing it.’

The younger voice wasn’t easy for Larry to identify. ‘I’ll put something in the I.V line.’ He made murder sound sickly simplistic.

‘What exactly, it needs to be untraceable?’ The other voice sounded very worried about the whole concept of the plan.

The younger voice had it covered ‘I’ll put another blood type in the I.V drip nobody will suspect a thing… he’ll be dead in a couple of hours flat. Then just to be on the safe side and to satisfy the coroner, we’ll do a blood transfusion before he signs the death certificate.’

The elder man disagreed ‘Too risky our time window isn’t very lenient.’

The younger voice was desperate for another method to be considered so he threw his last hand. ‘Okay what about Sickle Cell Anemia?’

The elder scoffed at such an insane idea ‘What? You’d go with that? You’d say that, that was the cause of death? In case it had escaped your notice, he’s white!’ The younger man’s spirit wasn’t dampened by his elder’s negativity.

‘It’s been known to affect a rare number of Caucasians; the parasite engulfs and destroys all white blood cells, so that the body cannot fight the infection. I’ll give him something that could replicate Sickle cell, then we do the blood transfusion… no one will know the difference.’

The young man had it all worked out, and his elder gave him credit, yet, had to be seen as difficult to persuade ‘you are one evil and sick individual, I don’t want my name to any of this!’ he made his point clear.

‘But you’d agree to it right?’ The young man asked with a grin and a seemingly psychotic stare. His elder remained silent and refused to give his opinion or supply an answer.

In order for Mr. Marx to reclaim his memory he was going to have to think back, way back to that night, that one night which changed everything in his life and repositioned his destiny… .

PART I

THE PENN CASE

1

Capitol Hill Washington DC:

Thursday January 31, 1980

20:17

The bitter winter’s evening air descended a biting chill from above. The city’s street lights glared and paved the way to a large and auspicious manor house, which stood proudly at the end of Constitution Avenue. The house was huge and stood almost boisterously above any other residence in the illuminated avenue. This particular house of residence belonged to a brash and foolhardy Senator; his very name would be met with immediate scorn from his opposition had it been unwittingly dropped into a conversation. Some other Senators or members of congress would even revert to cuss or spit vile venom had anyone been in their company and had unwittingly mentioned afore the name. In hindsight anywhere in the Senate the very utter of the man would cause immediate profound responses, most negative only rarely were a few encouraging.

Senator John Walters was a rather insightful and patient man, although revered by many as a time waster or waste of senate space, time and money; he would stand firm in his beliefs and would never leave a room before sharing his opinion. At the age of Sixty Six, he knew that very soon his career in the government and serving his country would be over with. With a great deal of modesty he gave himself two years, before he would be not so much as ordered but advised to leave his position or hand it over to a younger more competent, up and coming individual.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more it became clear that no individual in his cabinet was suitable to fill his shoes. Experience was one thing but actually putting things into practice was indeed quite another altogether. If he was bluntly honest with himself and his staff, no member of his cabinet had the cohunes for his position, he was stubborn, fierce and never outspoken, and nobody matched his built up qualities. Even primates could nod their heads and hold a pen and even agree or obey with the majority; but it took a human or more specifically a man to disagree otherwise.

Slowly, making his way to the front gate of the Senator’s abode, was a handsome, young and ambitious man, his name was Larry Marx. His profession had him involved in the relatively new field of science, paranormal psychology. Doctor Larry Marx was barely twenty-four yet unmistakably mature for his age, he didn’t have the very easiest of upbringings for he never knew who his real mother nor father was. Larry was a broad shouldered, muscular individual standing just below six foot, yet still his presence was undeniably felt by anybody who was in his company. He had a smooth white complexion and the deepest of brown eyes, yet he spoke in a soft but firm English accent.

Larry had always been fiercely independent even as a small child; he would stick up for himself and face up to people who tormented him for having foster parents. But sadly he never had a stable parental figure as he was moved from care home to care home by the social services, seeming almost negligent of his needs for a stable family environment. He approached the gatehouse guarding the huge iron gate which was an over imposing feature, designed to make weary of any unwelcome visitor present. A short, heavily built but well-dressed gentleman paced over to him, in an authoritive fashion, choosing to walk briskly rather than run and look cowardly.

‘Can I help you?’ The guard asked in a neutral tone, neither warming nor prejudiced

Larry replied feeling his shoulders tense as the wind picked up, and the crisp air sent a chill that crept down his spine.

‘I have an invitation to this evenings… gathering.’ The guard seemed to change from overly inconsiderate, into a more perplexed, subtle attitude.

‘May I have your name, Sir?’

The Doctor recognised the sudden change of character and reacted accordingly

‘You may, I am Doctor Larry Marx.’

The guard gave a slight grin as he checked the register in his hand; then drew his gaze at Larry and replied.

‘Very well you’re on the list Doctor; do you wish to be escorted up to the reception?’

The doctor fixed his eyes beyond where the guard was situated and was alarmed at the huge conifer bushes that took the house out of view. The guard immediately picked up on Larry’s startled concern.

‘It’s quite deceptive sir. The house is at least a mile or so behind me, the grounds are quite expansive.’

‘I see, in that case I wish to take the escort if it is possible?’

The guard laughed ‘I don’t blame you. Nobody ever seems to want to travel up there by foot, please come this way sir.’

Larry was chauffeured into a 1980 Mercedes Benz 450 SL waiting to be put into use once more. The Mercedes Benz 450 SL was two-door coupé doused in a champagne metallic coloured shell. The Car had dark brown leather interior, with a four point five litre fuel injection engine. It consisted of power steering; power assisted four-wheel disc brakes, a central locking system and cruise control. The seats of the vehicle were comfortable brown displayed leather, and as soon as Marx rested his back his muscles seemed to be at peace with the furniture.

The driver to the side of him seemed nowhere near intent on initiating a conversation and remained painfully in silence, so Marx viewed the scene from outside his window. All he could see from what the glare of the headlights would permit was a road littered with tiny drive pebbles at the front, and to each side outstretched fields of darkness noticeable only by the apparent moonlight. The spherical lunar object dimly lit a few trees in the distance, but other than that the place seemed drab and featureless. For the first time in the duration of the journey up to the house, the chauffeur spoke.

‘Why have you been invited to tonight’s arrangements, Sir?’

Good question Larry thought. He was at a loss of words; even he himself had no idea why the Senator to the social event summoned him. But Larry decided to portray an air of obnoxiousness in his approach to an awkward question.

‘What business is it of yours?’

The chauffeur was infuriated at such a pig-eared response, but managed to quell his temper enough to reply.

‘You are right sir; your business is not mine.’

The vehicle came to shuddering halt in the tarmac driveway. Larry hesitated for a moment wondering whether the chauffeur would extend his courtesy by opening the door for him in a formal fashion, but it seemed futile to expect such an act of kindness. Instead Larry pulled the handle and removed himself from the car, as he began to take a few steps to the reception the Mercedes Benz screeched off down the hill from where it had come from. He walked casually over to the large wooden panelled front entrance door, extended his hand and gave it a slight push with his palm; the door creaked then moved back with enormous strain, sounding off a large screech.

‘Hello.’

A house servant filtered past a guest or two who were heading to the main function room and went to meet Larry’s curiosity.

‘Doctor Marx? Ah, the senator will be with you shortly, if you would kindly wait here while I inform him of your arrival.’

‘Thank you.’

The house servant roughly in his mid-fifties, scuttled away to an adjourning door far across the reception room. The reception was a huge circular room clasped in a warm, soft but expensive rouge coloured carpet. The walls were hardly anything spectacular; they stood painted in a cream, which was easy on the eyes. A priceless crystal chandelier hung at the top of the ceiling, positioned in the middle of the room, which bathed the reception in splendour. It was quintessentially the only piece of extravagance that in it, gave the impression of a rich background. Opposite Larry was a magnificent Victorian staircase that seemed to ascend forever. The steps rose above the ceiling’s height very mansion-esque style; Larry strained his neck to see where the steps finished, but failed to do so. Where did they lead, or more importantly where did they end? He asked himself never expecting an answer to present itself.

There were many doors that led to a seemingly endless number of rooms and places within the house walls. Was it possible that on the ground floor at least, most of these white plain looking doors were main entrances to twelve or so function rooms?

Larry refused to bare or contemplate the enormity or vast hugeness of the manor house for fear of disappointment or astonishment. There was a sudden but small squeak from one of the doors that faced him. He spun around expectantly, to see a figure or presence appear in one of the doorways, but his expectation was unfounded, until he heard a gruff voice behind him.

‘It was gracious of you to accept my invitation doctor.’ Marx, indeed startled met the sound with his sight, and saw the presence of a slightly dishevelled Senator John Walters puffing on a specifically imported Cuban.

‘No please mister senator; I feel I should be the one owing you the grace.’

Walters smirked at Larry’s reply and continued in a heavy voice ‘It was the least I could do. After all it’s quite rare that I get to entertain such interesting people, Doctor?’

‘You’re too kind. But with all due respect sir, I fear that your interest in me is slightly premature?’

Larry said moving slowly toward Walters, noting that the Senator was actually taller up close and quite threatening. This response drew a quizzical expression on the senator’s rough and aged features.

‘How do you figure?’

Marx found himself fumbling for words or a decent enough answer to combat the question.

‘Well speaking frankly… I’m not the most critically acclaimed Paranormal Psychologist, Sir?’

An excited grin appeared on the Senators face.

‘Exactly, still my people tell me that the public holds you in quite high esteem.’

Larry smiled meekly looking down at his shoes like an embarrassed adolescent.

‘I wouldn’t know about that, Sir?’

‘Of course you wouldn’t? You’re too bashful for your own good Larry.’

An uncomfortable silence intervened between the men, it lasted for a few agonising seconds, and to Larry it seemed as if the Senator was weighing him up, he had good reason to. Larry’s bottom lip trembled as he made an attempt to break the silence

‘May I be honest with you Mister Senator?’

‘Of course you may?’ Walters said, looking slightly down at him due to his six-three height.

‘I’m quite petrified about tonight Sir. I mean I will be dining with Washington’s most influential people!’

The Senator seemed to show compassion for Larry’s situation and fear of rejection, by trying his best to put him at ease he laughed off such a suggestion.

‘Nonsense my dear boy, these people happen to be merely puppets for the government; they do not deserve high praise just because of their presence here tonight.’

Surprised as he was, Marx remained in silent awe as the senator asked

‘You seem somewhat beleaguered?’

‘I am Mr. Senator. I’ve never met a politician who could speak his mind?’

With that Walters pressed a firm grip on Larry’s shoulder and motioned him into a door on the right hand side of the room. Before they both entered, the senator spoke ‘I can see this is going to be a very beneficial relationship, indeed.’

As the two Gentlemen passed into the Gallery a mixed crowd of people gathered in what appeared to be too concerning a huddle.

They were congressing and admiring each other’s garments and boasts of how they’d make the United States better, with their unique ideas and principles. Once they noticed Larry’s intrusion, they fell silent with immediate looks of utter disdain.

‘Eiw, No he won’t do, he won’t do at all that chap . . . very common.’

Walters made an attempt to disperse the crowd by passing through it and then to the other end of the room, he called for Larry to follow suit. Finally when the senator was happy with his position at the head of the crowd, he bellowed. ‘Distinguished guests, may I introduce our newest and most welcomed addition, doctor of Paranormal Psychology Larry Marx.’

There were undoubtedly a few sneers and panicky whispers of concern. Larry was getting the distinct impression that a few guests knew and disapproved of the title of his chosen profession.

‘Send him back to the gutter, my word look at that suit, says it all really doesn’t it?’’

Suddenly a pompously, over-dressed Gentleman sneered ‘what does he expect, a friggin’ medal.’ There were a few childish sniggers from the outburst, which seemed to sum up the whole room’s reaction. Larry was about to respond in kind with something along the lines of (No just respect as well as the next man) but bit his lip very hard and stared at the Gentleman as if he had gravely dishonoured him in the most extreme fashion. Then, as if refusing to let this awkward moment pass by a Lady said

‘Indeed. He looks awfully common to me… any civilian can borrow a suit?’

Quite taken back by the crowds menace, Walters intervened ‘well come on! Let’s make our guest welcome, dammit!’ The crowd turned their backs in disgust and conversed among themselves. Just as the mood seemed to be slowly settling a heavy accented Texan Gentleman approached the senator and Larry.

His official title was State Representative of Texas and his name was Bill Red Hendrix, an old fashioned cowboy with a long silver pony tail tied in two plated braids. The Senator sighted Bill out of the corner of his eye and said to Larry.

‘Oh it’s Red’

‘Red’ Larry said confused.

Red swaggered over lifted his whiskey glass and made no room for introduction as he laid into Larry with all the subtlety of an Arctic truck passing through a quiet neighbourhood.

‘Well I’ll be a son the damned! You’re that Tommy right?’ Marx felt a sudden patriotic surge pass through him; it was as if his birthplace of origin and national identity was being scrutinized and under threat.

‘I am English, yes.’ He replied. Red scratched his nose with his podgy thumb, knocked back the shot in his glass and said quite brusquely.

‘Hell boy! You’re a long way from home to be meddling in other nation’s affairs?’

Marx fired back meeting fire with fire ‘excuse me, this is my home now.’ Hendrix refused to back down and steam rolled on.

‘You ain’t home boy. In fact you’ve upset a lot of my people with your work! Some of those of which happen to be my good friends, so you can sort of understand why I’m being so blunt!’ Marx never intended to lie down and accept defeat; neither would he fall to the level of the man before him.

‘That’s no excuse for your manner towards me.’

‘You just listen here boy and you sure as hell better listen good! You watch yourself; I’ve gotta lotta people who have deep misgivings about you… and your high and mighty country’ said Red. Larry took a step forward and towered over him, in readiness to floor the man.

‘That constitutes prejudice doesn’t it Mister Hendrix?’

‘I don’t like foreigners making a pretty penny from our huge economy, fact is, you rely on the States and you’re too stuck up to admit it!’ said Red.

‘Is that a fact’ said Marx.

Walters could see the tension mounting between the two as they both compared each other’s size and physique but remained eyeball to eyeball like two Rottweiler. So in good stead he stood to the side of Larry, straightened up and said. ‘Bill. What the hell have you got against the doctor?’ Hendrix stepped back, confused and spat ‘nothing that won’t keep till later, I s’pose?’

Walters continued ‘Well For the sake of your reputation see that it does keep, you hear?’

‘I won’t spoil your fancy party; you need not worry about that. But see to it that you don’t invite any more troublemakers to future occasions. I refuse to dine with people like this poor excuse for a head doctor!’ said Red.

‘You kiss your mother with that mouth?’ Marx baited.

‘What did you say boy?’ Hendrix cursed while he clenched his fist.

‘Cool it! You’re making a scene Bill!’ Walters ordered as an ultimatum. Hendrix turned his head from Larry’s direction and said through gritted teeth

‘Excuse me… gentlemen’ then passed into the crowd. The Senator sighed and seemed despondent that there could be no friendship between his two associates.

‘I can only apologise profusely Larry, Bill Hendrix has got one mighty big mouth sometimes’

Marx swallowed and replied wide eyed as if a little surprised ‘I admit I wasn’t prepared for such a hostile reception. But what’s done is done.’ Walters cunningly knocked back the remaining wine in his glass then said with an air of conviction.

‘The man’s a dammed fool! His career in politics is only so, for were it not for his father’s business acumen in oil management, he would never have been wealthy enough to send his child to a top law school!’

‘As loathsome as he may be… is he a threat?’ Marx asked out of favour. Walters fiercely shook his head and gave back a look of frankness.

‘What do you think?’

Marx replied ‘he would have me believe he is, he is the big fish in this pond so I wouldn’t like to piss the big fish off?’

The senator laughed at Larry and patted him on the back ‘never, his constituency consists of nothing more intelligent than inebriated slack-jawed yokels. Unfortunately he is the least of our worries.’

Marx would have begged to differ from what he had witnessed but replied in earnest.

‘I’ll take your word for it, Sir.’

A slight grin seemed to appear on the Senator’s face as he said ‘remember my word isn’t worth spit without trust? I’m a politician and don’t you forget it.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind sir. So you believe I should be open-minded?’ Marx said.

‘Open minded?’

The Senator repeated ‘Larry you have got to be one of the most open minded people I have ever had the fortune to meet… but that is precisely the attitude.’ By now both men had run dry of things to say to each other, Walters glanced at his fifteen hundred dollar gold, wafer thin Rolex and said with surprise.

‘Well! Doctor would you mind taking your seat in the dining hall.’

Marx seemed in genuine shock, as if caught off guard ‘Me? Of… of course sir.’

The Dining hall was large and displayed nauseating grandeur; it was fiercely reminiscent of the over-indulgent, self-obsessed decoration of the Roman Empire at its height of a dominant period over the western world. Placed neatly on the custom built twenty five-foot long solid oak table, was an impressive spread of shinning, silver cutlery in the most pristine condition. The Dining room’s ambiance was filled with rapturous laughter; the atmosphere seemed under first observations, joyous although obviously under false pretence.

All the other non-essential guests had been dispensed with quickly and left discretely, giving way to the social elite to enjoy the occasion without hindrance from the lower classes with one exception Marx. Larry made a nervous smile as a joke was made by one of the overly zealous guests; to his left seated at the helm of the table was the senator who seemed to be the night’s main attraction, dabbling in polite conversation with whoever had the courage to question his affairs. Sitting opposite the Doctor was Walter’s desirable wife, the proportionately balanced, well adjusted, thirty-something April. A broody and handsome young, bald headed servant made his way to April’s beckoning of a raised crystal glass. With careful attention to detail he poured the long awaited, expensive Chardonnay in April’s sparkling crystal glass.

‘So Larry, tell me a little bit about the Paranormal?’

She was outright with a keen eye on him. The servant had tilted the bottle until the last contents had slid into April’s awaiting glass.

‘Thank you Raul you do spoil me.’ She purred while giving the quickest of glances in his direction.

Larry could see that from her display of affection for the servant, that there was undeniably some sexual chemistry between the two, which had so far escaped her husband’s notice. April was barely thirty-one yet never looked a day over twenty-two, she was attractive, buxom and curvy with a hint of being a fully-fledged seductress when she so wished to.

She was evidently only with the senator due to his vast power and wealth; even the most optimistic relations councillor could see that fact. Walters had noticed Marx was stalling so turned and said ‘I’m afraid you’d have to excuse my April; she takes a certain interest in your work, too certain at times.’ Larry glanced at April who was elegantly dressed for the occasion in an emerald fashionable dress that complimented her green eyes and brazen, fiery red hair, bracelets hung from her thin wrists.

He gave a welcoming smile and said ‘Please, I’m only too happy to answer… regarding your question Ma’am, Paranormal Psychology is a huge field could you perhaps be more specific?’

April gazed her striking green almost jade coloured eyes deeply into Larry’s browns, smiled and said lightly ‘Okay, so do you chase ghosts and such?’ Walters poured scorn on her question by giving her a stern look of disapproval.

‘April!’

She gave an innocent response ‘What?’

A few of her younger companions raucously cackled, this had been mainly brought on by the vast quantities of wine and other substances they had either consumed or induced before the dinner had commenced. Marx tried to shift his view from her constant, over-powering glare; still he was captivated by her Goddess-like beauty.

‘To answer your question Mrs. Walters, my field of concern is more concentrated on… extra-terrestrial life.’

April had seen an opportunity she refused to miss, so tormented mercilessly and seized the moment.

‘You mean little green men?’

Her companion’s burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter, they were bordering on hysteria. To make matters worse one of her companions squealed, delirious with laughter ‘stop it April! You’re killing me!’ crude reactive answers entered Marx thoughts it was along the lines of,

(I wish she was)

With a fair air of modesty in her response April admitted ‘no, I’d like to know’ Marx replied fairly embarrassed yet wistfully and with humour ‘well, among others Ma’am, yes.’ Suddenly this had blown the wind out of her sails and she had been downplayed, she gave Larry credit by pretending to lose interest in the conversation and caught up on the latest gossip with her friends.

Yet the delightfully eccentric April still refused to become completely detached from Marx’s conversation with the senator, or more truthfully the doctor himself. Walters gently tapped Larry’s wrist as if to obtain his full attention, he lowered his voice so as not to be heard by the other guests surrounding the table.

‘It’s a case of minding your P’s and Q’s here Larry, these people are regarded as the social elite of this city not forgetting the country, but for the life of me I have no idea why?’

Larry feigned an appropriately placed chuckle ‘of course mister senator. May I ask why you have invited me into your home for this evening’s event?’

Walters leaned forward quite urgently ‘you are quite valued by your patients and certain members of this community…’ Marx cut in abruptly and made a derisive remark ‘well it certainly doesn’t feel like it tonight sir,’ he paused then sudden realisation dawned upon him, he had identified his arrogance.

‘I, sorry mister senator please go on…’

Walter’s seemed unfazed by the interruption and continued as if it had never taken place ‘to cut a long story short, it would have been mighty rude of me not to have done so!’ The senator laughed.

Marx still unsure about the senator’s sense of humour said ‘ha, I guess, but seriously, why sir?’

Walters had sensed Marx’s desperation so resorted to a new form of tactic, he said barely above a whisper.

‘You’ve had some rather extraordinary theories, and off the record some insightful discoveries concerning outer worldly life forms… I won’t name anything for these walls have ears. And not to put too fine a point on it, but you need lucrative sources, able and willing to fund your exploits, correct?

Larry nodded but sounded a little aggrieved ‘I couldn’t agree more sir; I’ve been a little luck lustre of late, trying to find somebody that would contribute. But I don’t rely solely on hand-outs; I don’t see myself as a charity’

‘That’s so typical of you, Doctor that really is’ said Walters chomping on a ration of the finest cut of juicy beef.

‘It is’

‘You can’t see a gift horse even when it is presented to you’ Walters had sought to enlighten the confused Marx.

‘Look you’ve misunderstood my point. I’m that willing participant; any monies you require will be readily available in a trust fund I give to you.

‘Trust fund’ stammered Marx, he was undoubtedly finding it difficult to place his words correctly.

Finally he summoned up his courage and tried his best to shake himself out of his startled disposition ‘I’m… well I’m speechless sir. You would honestly help me out financially?’

Walters placed his index finger over his own protruding, aged lips as if to signal silence

‘You are a valuable asset my good doctor, a rare commodity who stands by his principles and one who wouldn’t be deterred by the ugly interferences of corruption. Your kinds are very hard to find these days. Believe me I’ve tried Oh how I’ve tried but to no avail.’

‘I take your point; you have my utmost gratitude Mr. Senator, and I’m touched.’

The senator hissed as if disturbed ‘try not to make too much of a scene. You’ve already attracted some unwelcome eyes, these damned people lack moral fibre… there isn’t a shred of it in any one jack of them!’

A pasty looking gentleman at the other end of the table hastily made an exit in quite a hurried fashion, he was head of the senator’s main security staff his name was Bartholomew Barns, and Walters picked up on his sudden departure.

‘It looks as though I’ve found their informer, and most trusted he was too’ he said describing him in relative calm. Marx was too involved in his own tumultuous emotions to notice the informer; he was unduly concerned and seemingly oblivious. He whispered trying to understand the Senator’s motives.

‘You risk a lot sir, perhaps too much, why?’

The senator refused to hold back ‘this government needs to be brought to its knees; it’s the epitome of greed, I should know. I’ve seen it in practise. It has so many questions to answer for; they’ve had it too good for too long now. These things happen from time to time, perhaps revolution is too drastic, who knows?’

‘You do realise something now don’t you?’ the Senator said.

‘No?’

‘They know about you now, or sorry should I say they know of your alias, Larry Marx is an Alias, correct?’ Larry nodded half expectant to continue the conversation further but was pleasantly surprised when the Senator said nothing in conjecture to revitalise the subject matter.

Larry took this as a signal to move back to the original subject ‘you want me to…’ this time he was cut short with an almost plea-like stand from the senator.

‘There is no one else… believe me! Every crusader has either been bought or shut up permanently. You have the traits, the knowledge required to do the job… you alone, can do this.’

Marx set in motion to dismiss the plea with an abysmal approach ‘it’s too difficult for one man to cope with’ Walters rudely pointed his fork in Larry’s direction then said with a chortle and mouthful of chewed vegetables

‘No you’re wrong, it’s more than that’

Larry sighed and took a quick sip of the warm Chardonnay which now graced his glass ‘okay; let me consider a few things sir…

‘What is there to consider? You are fully aware of the risks, but your desire is the fuel for you passion, your passion to find out what’s really going on behind the scenes. Forget the risks! The people, No! Your people want answers… go out there and get them for the people you serve!’

Walters seemed confidently adamant. ‘It’s a big decision, that’s for sure’ said Larry with a long intake of breath.

Walters smirked ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking son, take thirty years from now, when you’re mid-way through your life, you don’t want to look back on something, some decision you knew you should have made but didn’t? You hesitated, and in doing so you destroyed a dream will you live out your life knowing that the your world could have been what you wanted… that my friend is called regret… what is the point of living life if you don’t live life?’

‘You’re quite persuasive.’ Marx said. Walters resented that description and alternated it to suit his own, unique outlook ‘No, I have a way with words and…’

‘An answer for everything’ Larry fired back seeing competition.

Walters smirked again then boasted ‘what do you expect, I’m a politician.’ There was that all too familiar awkward pause which intervened fizzling out the conservation leaving it for dead.

Marx saw this as the perfect opportunity to be excused to relieve his heavy bladder in one of the many bathrooms situated in convenient places around the house.

On exiting the dining hall and passing through one of the hallways he heard rustling and a few muffled giggles, he turned the corner to see the recently excused April having one of her erogenous zones titillated. The area of satisfaction was a crevice between her neck and shoulder, which was being dutifully nuzzled by the waiting staff member Raul under a haze of marijuana smoke. She looked hot and flustered as the devious servant was servicing her inappropriately. Fortunately for April and her piece of meat, Larry begrudgingly decided to move on without their notice of his presence.

He took the first door to his right and thankfully had stumbled into a rest room, after he had made use of the urinal he stared at his reflection in the medium sized mirror in front of him.

‘A mirror is a visual representation of alternative perception… the distortion in your features could be another you in a paradoxically different dimension’

A voice said standing by the exit.

Marx thought it to be the senator who could have followed him

(Okay now I’m worried)

He felt tempted to look at this intruder but when he moved his shoulders he heard ‘keep looking into the mirror’ he felt something wet come into contact then pass his face and splash onto the mirror.

‘This is called scrying… it’s what the ancients used to do in order to see their ancestors or spirits of those who controlled their dreams.’

Larry fixed his sight into the mirror as he tried to use his imagination ‘nothing is happening’ he confessed once his eyes grew wearisome and dry.

‘Not everything is as it once seems… maybe something happened but you never felt its presence or departure. Time has passed’

The voice left the room and Marx laughed at his own gullibility, he finally returned to the dining hall after twice choosing the wrong door. He was conflicted with a mixture of emotions, mostly those of sorrow for his unknowing friend who was in the middle of a deception that he feared he could not pick up on.

(Or can he, and doesn’t care?)

He placed himself down on the vacant seat next to the senator and made an attempt to re-establish his enthusiasm which had been until recently stolen.

‘So how about it, show your appreciation for my generosity; help me stop the spin-doctors for good!’

‘No one will know about this’ said Marx. Walters looked at Marx with compassion and with pride in his tone he voiced nearing undying devotion.

‘This is between the two of us, and that is where it stays.’

Larry opened his mouth and was about to voice his opinion, but he only heard Walter’s voice interrupt.

‘Before you answer, know this; every man has his weakness, be it greed, honour, respect, virtue, gluttony, lust or even love. They will throw everything at you and more they can kill your nearest and dearest. These people Larry; you have no possible conception of the things they are capable of. But you’re better than that I know you are, you have no attachments no personal attachments anyway, in short you’ve nothing to lose and everything to gain. But it is not a decision to be taken lightly? You either accept or decline there is no maybe? The only advice I can give to you is fear the reaper; for he now knows your name… he so vehemently hates you with the bitterest of contempt Doctor. This will be like no other enemy you’ll ever encounter, he comes in all manner of guises, deception for him is essential.’

The quizzically challenged, expressionless Marx supped at his Chardonnay and remained stuck in an astonished, wise but deep-felt thought.

2

The Penn Residence

Friday February 1, 1980

03:05

The Bedroom had been plunged into darkness for a good five to six hours now. Everything seemed serene among the crumpled bed linen apart from the fact, that unaware to the docile Ms. Amy Penn her nasal was expelling intolerable amounts of blood. She remained in a near peaceful state of unconsciousness, until a trickle of her own body’s rejection entered her mouth. She then unintentionally, tossed and turned and was in a considerable amount of agitation. Her own taste receptors on her tongue instantly recognised the escaped thick fluid and initiated a sequence of responses to inform her.

She woke with a sudden immediate start and let out a slight confused whimper of concern

‘wha?’

Suddenly the full impact of realization struck her and she cursed ‘Shit!’ with that and with full effort she struggled to arch her back. Then sprung her hips off the bed before rising to her feet and pinched her nose with the thumb and fore finger.

As a result of the unsociable awakening, before vacating her room she knocked her outstretched elbow on the door frame.

‘Godamn it’

The blood was seeping down her white satin nightgown as she stumbled into the hall and hurled herself into the bathroom. With one attempt at the bolt she slid it in place and locked the door, frantically she grappled at the paper towels hung in a box on the wall. Then feeling quite exhausted she collapsed onto the toilet seat and waited patiently for her own body’s defences to kick in and congeal the blood. Feeling deprived of his own need of rest; Amy’s husband David had left the guest room, which he had been banished to only recently. He muttered as he strode into the hallway toward the direction of the bathroom.

‘Not again. You gotta be kidding me’ He stopped in front of the bathroom door and whispered trying to keep his temper. ‘Do you know what time it is Amy, Christ?’

There was no answer. Dave was feeling very tempted to smash on it but decided against it and relented, instead and with understanding he talked through it.

‘Come on baby open the door, we can talk this through you know work this out.’

He was met with a torrid response that sounded too near emotional fragility.

‘This isn’t about you and me, Go away!’ He felt reasonably disheartened and remained staunch.

‘Keep your voice down, you’ll wake up the neighbourhood!’

It had been an unstable couple of weeks for the partnership; something sinister had come between them, the reason being was not evident but had so nearly separated the two. So swallowing his pride Mister Penn had decided to sleep alone in the guest room until things could be settled. But he was deluding himself because he knew it would be too difficult to address the problems that created a barrier between him and his wife Amy Penn. There was a moment of silence as if Amy was contemplating, but then from behind the door Mister Penn heard a tirade of violent knocks and smashes.

In her moment of insanity, Amy let out an agonising but painfully piercing scream and smashed the bathroom mirrors, which had become the victims of her volatile nature, with a deodorant can.

‘You don’t get it do you!’ she shouted.

‘Get what, what the hell is there to understand? All I know is that you’re avoiding me’ he said. With one stamp of anger, David put his foot through the wood, which left a splintered hole. Then keeping with momentum, shoulder-charged the door with full might, the lock snapped and he had gained entry.

The sight that befell him had him very near to an emotional outbreak as well.

Right before him, looking a shadow of her once former, radiant self, sat his partner slumped over with tears streaming down her cheeks. In her right hand she clutched a shard of the broken glass mirror and remained transfixed in a stare. Her night dress was high, so David had the misfortune of seeing the self-harm to her legs, where small cuts ran with more blood and trailed down her thighs. The only words that came to David’s mind were defensive put downs.

‘Look at you; you’re a Godamn wreck! What good is harming yourself gonna do huh?

You need some professional help’ Amy stood up and reacted in a melodramatic way to the harsh words that she had just let herself hear.

‘I can’t live with this shit anymore! You don’t believe me, no one believes me! I can’t just get on with my life when I don’t have people believe in me anymore!

It’s killing me can’t you see that?’

‘I just don’t know what to say, so what, you’ve lost your confidence? I mean come on give me a sign here? I can’t live with a wife mentally unstable’ he said inconsiderably, he had had it with his wife’s unpredictable behaviour. This had spurned Amy on so she raised her hand to her husband and glared at him. ‘Then I refuse to live with a man who has no compassion… In sickness and in health, you bastard!’

Mister Penn made a desperate attempt to compensate for his wrongdoing but he fell flat on his face.

‘You know I didn’t mean that’ with that he thought it fit for an invitation to wrap his arms around his wife’s quivering shoulders. But Amy rejected his advance and pushed him back, then quickly moved away into another corner of the bathroom. ‘Get away from me! Don’t even touch me! Don’t look at me! Nothing!’

Mister Penn was dazed in every sense of the word. ‘We’ve got children, our children in the next room trying to get some sleep! And you want to do this now, Are you insane?’

Amy laughed ‘correction, my children they are my children you are just a substitute father, and that’s all you’ll ever be in my eyes.’

She stepped back waiting for her husband to lash out, but he had more respect for her than to do something foolish not that it wasn’t tempting to him though given the circumstance. He felt grated, he had never expected such viciousness to come from her mouth; it was the spite that really affected him, an ultimate put-down to his manhood. He dropped his head shaking it.

‘That hurts Amy. That really does hurt. For all I’ve done for you in the past? Yeah and now it’s all coming out! I took you in; I put a roof over your head; I took on the burden… no that’s the wrong word, I took on the responsibility of helping to raise your kids from a previous marriage; I didn’t have to.

But I chose to, because I didn’t want to see my kids grow up with a drunkard waster like your asshole of an ex-husband!

What would you have preferred Amy, our children to be nurtured in a stable family home or neglected in some suburban shit hole, don’t even bare thinking about does it?’

David Penn believed that he had put his wife in her place and demanded that she thought twice before saying something so inappropriate and petty. But he was wrong. She tore back into him fiercely poking her finger into his chest aggrieved at him making her out to be a bad mother.

‘Don’t you dare even go there you were the one who begged and pleaded for me to come and live with you, I chose and I decided. Not you, me!

So don’t you try and turn this around and make me out as the bad guy here, because it won’t work!’

Mr Penn began to place the largest shattered pieces of glass in his hand; he feared the possibility that one of his children would step on it during the night, something he could not bear the thought of.

‘You’ve changed Amy; I don’t know what’s happened to you? Try to see it from my way if you don’t confide in me then who will you talk too?

I want to help you sugar I really do, but would you let me? That’s the problem I’m facing.’

‘You have no idea! You make me so angry!’ She said.

‘I want to understand, make me understand!’ he said.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Amy sighed ‘Because you wouldn’t believe me when I tried to tell you what happened.’

Mr Penn was becoming short-tempered he had work early in the morning and this was the last thing he wanted to deal with ‘try me’ he negotiated.

Mrs Penn felt insulted and said ‘I don’t have to justify myself to you!’

‘Amy, stop these games!’

‘You’re just pissed because you haven’t had sex with me in a while. Yeah you really want to understand me?’ baited Amy.

‘What is your problem? I’m sorry but when a husband’s wife is a stranger to him then you know you’ve got problems… Look I’ll make this clear, if you don’t want to be with me anymore just say so, and I’ll file for a divorce and find somebody that does!’

It was a bad choice of words from Mr Penn, but he felt the need to stand up to her.

‘You want a divorce? Go ahead I’ll clean you out boy; you won’t have a leg to stand on by the time the court case is over… remember I’m a poor single mother of three… you’ll be paying alimony for a long time! Fifty percent of your pay check will go to me… do you still want a divorce?’

Amy was infuriated and glared wild-eyed at her husband she was ready to take the argument to the next level if he was prepared to go there. It wasn’t uncommon for Amy to physically lay into her husband, biting, slapping, kicking and even punching him, highly strung wasn’t the word for her temper. She could be a complete nightmare when the situation called for it and she knew this.

‘I have no problem paying to bring up my children; the only problem I do have is giving my hard-earned pay to a thieving bitch spinster like you. That’s it! I’m tired of this crap it’s over!’ David felt liberated but feared his wife’s reprisal.

‘Are you sure about that this time?’ said Amy.

She looked into her husband’s face for approval; he nodded once then shook his head in disbelief at even being questioned of the subject in hand. Amy rejoiced ‘well thank God!’ David knew it would have been idiotic to go to such extreme measures like involving a divorce so in a sign of forgiveness he held out his arms in a welcoming manner to try and embrace his beloved; he moved in and grabbed her upper arms smoothing them.

‘Hun, you know I didn’t really mean what I just said… It’s just that…’

‘You’ve made it quite clear!’

Amy howled and pushed him away, he made another attempt to hold her, but she flew into a rage and swiped at his face this time using her long nails and leaving deep cuts to his right cheek. He replied with his own aggressive force by gripping her arm and slammed her into the wall, she fell down and wept, it was never meant to happen but the problem for David was that it did.

He froze (how has it come to this?)

He didn’t know what to say for this was the first time he had ever fought back against his deranged spouse, and now it seemed he had hurt her. Surely divorce was the only humane thing left for he and Amy he thought. Slowly Amy cupped and palmed at the wall using it as aid to return her to her feet, she had a small blooded graze on her elbow where she had knocked it on a plant table outside the bathroom as she fell.

‘You better get a fucking good lawyer!’ She said before blowing her long hair out of her face.

David felt water dwell in his eyes ‘I… I don’t know… I don’t know what to say Amy… that’s, that’s just not me, I can’t believe I done that’ he felt genuine pity for her there was no mistaking that.

‘When Cindy turns eighteen, you and I are finished!’

Amy announced referring to her eldest daughter who was now peering through the little crack of her bedroom door to see what all noise was about.

David wanted to fight for his marriage ‘I don’t believe that, I don’t want it to come to that Amy I love you and the kids too much to just let you all go from my life.’

Amy was standing tall now ‘you better get used to the idea, because it’s gonna happen whether you like it or not… and you can’t do nothing about it!’

She said holding her bad arm under the elbow to support it. David tied the belt of his night robe as he realised he was exposing himself; this was the last thing he needed in such an important decision the two were making for the future.

Amy caught hold of his embarrassment and desperate attempt to redeem the accident; she laughed but not in joy, more in realisation. ‘You better find yourself some whore because that thing’ she pointed at David’s crotch before continuing ‘ain’t ever going inside me again!’ He was fully covered now, the perils of never wearing underwear he thought. He had fully backed off from Amy; he was trying to create an armistice for he hoped maybe all the things said in the early hours of the morning were never really meant, he still had a chance and maybe this little space between them could be used to clear their heads then kiss and make up.

But it was never going to be, Amy was in no mood to back down and play subservient to the master. She wanted a fight; she needed a fight ‘run out of things to say? Well you dick-less, insensitive prick.’

David couldn’t believe the words and put downs his wife was throwing at him, he was hurt and had to retaliate ‘get off your Godamn high horse and talk to me when you’ve grown up a little more’ it was the only come back he could think of. Amy grinned and looked at her husband; he could see she was figuring out some kind of hurtful plan inside her head, ‘guess what I’m gonna do… I’m gonna find some guy and bonk him senseless… I’m going to make you so jealous and angry, you’re not going to believe how much hurt I’m gonna put you through! You’re not that much to look at and since we’ve been together you’ve aged more and more each day, you’re not attractive and will be very lucky if you can hook up with someone else!

Tell me something I don’t know?’

Mr. Penn didn’t laugh because he had nothing to combat her with, she was right he was ageing very fast and his looks were diminishing very quickly of late that he had no time to do anything about it. His only ally lately had been to hope that Amy hadn’t noticed this but quite clearly she had.

Instead he remained standing just staring into his wife’s eyes hoping even preying that she would realize how stupid she was being, and this had all blown completely out of proportion.

But Penn just