Towards the Darkness

By Linda Pittillo

In this prequel to Survivors of the Darkness, it is the present. Twenty-five years ago, a six-year-old Rachel Simmons witnessed the horrific murder of her mother by her father.

Her father, Dr. Joseph Arbine, was committed to a mental hospital because of his delusion his wife was already dead. Now she and her husband, Eric, are living a normal life—that is until Dr. Nicholas Mann becomes Dr. Arbine’s new doctor. Nickolas believes Rachel is in danger.

Those who have read Survivors of the Darkness will recognize the name. Nickolas is just one of those whose descendants are in the pages of the other two books. With the help of Nickolas’s foster mother, Marie, and his best friend, Father Ted, he finds out Rachel has something his nemesis Byron wants.

Byron figures prominently in the other two books too. This time, a little more of his background is explained. They will also encounter betrayal by an enemy they didn’t know existed, and they almost lost their lives. Throughout the book, warnings will come about the approaching darkness—warnings that some will heed and others won’t, dark predictions foretelling the terrible future that isn’t far away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796020465

Linda Pittillo

Linda Pittillo has been writing almost since she learned to read. Her inspiration was the many science fiction and horror books she read in the 1950s and 1960s. Also the Hammer Film Productions prevalent in the 1960s became her guide as to the character of vampires. The old black and white movies about werewolves shown on late night TV fascinated her too. Naturally, Star Trek was a big influence in her teenage years. And just a few years ago she met William Shatner. Linda has to confess she reads a lot of romance books too. All of her books have a romantic component. She has traveled all over the country with her husband because of his career. However, about 10 years ago she settled in Southeast Texas and loves it. She is a member of the American Association of University Women, the Orange County Friends, the Golden Kiwanis and the American Legion Auxiliary. Although Linda has written all of her life, she became discouraged a few years ago by the rejection of a mainstream publisher and wrote without trying to publish anything. Now however, she wants others to enjoy reading the books she has so enjoyed writing. She says that sometimes in her books the characters seem to have minds of their own and she has to change their actions to fit their characters. She has begun promoting her books in such venues as the Orange, Texas annual Art In The Park. She usually has a booth at the outlet for local vendors, Orange Trade Days, which is held one weekend a month also in Orange, Texas. Her previously published books are Toward the Unknown and Survivors of the Darkness. Her current book, Beyond the Darkness, is a sequel to Survivors of the Darkness.

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Copyright © 2019 by Linda Pittillo.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2019902860

ISBN:            Hardcover              978-1-7960-2048-9

                      Softcover                978-1-7960-2047-2

                      eBook                     978-1-7960-2046-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/11/2019

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

About the Author

Towards the Darkness is the prequel to

Linda Pittillo’s two other books

Survivors of the Darkness

Beyond the Darkness

This book is dedicated to my niece Carla who

helped me with the title and more importantly

keeps reminding me I live in the real world.

It is also dedicated to Anne Hardy Payne, a friend

and ally in the crazy world of book promotion.

Prologue

It was late May 1995. Portland, Oregon was enjoying its return to warm weather after a bitterly cold winter. It was around five o’clock and Patrolman Pete Jackson had just completed a traffic stop on the outskirts of the Pearl District when the call came in. A citizen walking his dog heard first a woman’s scream and then a child’s. He was riding alone. That was unusual as he was only 6 months out of the Academy and still a rookie. But the budget had been cut again and so only the high crime areas got a two-person patrol car. This wasn’t a high crime area.

Hell, it was too quiet for him. How was he going to make a good collar and get some respect from his fellow officers in this area?

There weren’t many domestics, sometimes on a Saturday night the parties got a little loud and he had to tell them to quiet down. Once in a while a neighborhood dispute arose about whose dog was shitting on whose manicured lawn but otherwise it was quiet.

The few trendy boutiques in the district had their own security for shoplifters, so the police got called in only if the shoplifter didn’t give back the merchandise and that was rare.

When he turned the corner and saw which house, he checked the address again. Surely there was some mistake. He checked with dispatch and they verified the address.

He stopped and an elderly man with some kind of rat terrier on a leash pointed it out to him.

The Arbine house was a large older house, built around the 1920’s. It had broad steps leading to a huge oak door. He didn’t hear any screaming but he could hear a child crying and calling for her Mama and Papa.

He approached the door quietly with his hand on his holster. Pete knocked loudly and announced himself but the only response was the child’s screaming.

He pushed the heavy door and it came open. At that point he motioned the old man to stay back but that damn mutt kept barking. Jack was tempted to shoot it.

Jack decided to use his two way clipped to his side and ask for backup. This was looking hinky.

As he entered the premises, the first thing he saw was a little blonde girl with a dirty blouse and pants on. Her face was streaked with tears and she kept pointing at a large door to his right.

Jack knelt by the little girl as he heard sirens in the distance.

Where’s your mama and daddy?

She pointed again and then wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand.

In there, but Mama is hurt and Papa is crying. I want my Mama.

Jack didn’t know quite what to do. He should get the little girl out of there but her mama might be hurt badly and need help immediately. It sounded to him like a domestic gone wrong.

So he made the decision that put him on foot patrol in the hospital zone for months. He let the little girl stay as he opened the huge double doors into the parent’s bedroom with his gun drawn. He didn’t know that was their bedroom until he saw the bed and heavy oak dresser.

He always said he didn’t know why he noticed the dresser because it was the bed and the middle-aged man standing beside it that he should have been noticing. He always supposed that it was a human’s reaction to the awful scene he was seeing.

First he saw the man. It seemed almost surreal. He knew who he was. He had seen his picture in the paper and the man had been in his yard a couple of times when Jack cruised by.

But this was an image he would never forget. The man had an electric knife in his hand and he was splattered head to foot in blood.

Put the knife down!

Dr. Arbine seemed almost in a trance but he put the knife to his side. By this time backup had arrived.

However, no one paid any attention to the little girl in the corner of the hallway. She was no longer crying but was standing in frozen shock. Her Papa was covered in blood.

Then Jack saw what lay on the bed. The woman’s body was also covered in blood with some kind of wooden object sticking out of her chest.

But the most horrifying thing and what Jack would have nightmares about for the rest of his life, is that the woman’s blonde head lay above her body. It had been severed, and Jack’s horrible thought was that the man had done it with the electric knife.

The man he recognized as Dr. Arbine was muttering almost incoherently, I had to. She was going to hurt Rachel. She wasn’t really alive; she was already dead.

Then at the sound of her papa’s voice the little girl started screaming again. A female police officer grabbed the little girl up and tried to keep her from seeing but she had already seen too much.

Jack again told Dr. Arbine to drop the knife. At this point the man seemed to come out of his daze and let go of the knife and it dropped silently onto the carpeted floor. He stood docilely while Jack handcuffed him.

The female police officer, a black woman in her mid-thirties looked at the young, slightly overweight patrolman with the longer than regulation brown hair and was so angry she thought if she hadn’t been holding the girl she would have called him a few choice names, but the little girl didn’t need to hear that. She did yell over her shoulder as she carried the little girl out.

You frigging rookie. She’s just a baby. You let her see this. I’m reporting your conduct to the captain.

Jack knew she was right. But who could have foreseen this kind of horror?

Then the little girl was put in a police car while her papa was taken out in handcuffs. She was quiet. Her face was white and she had peed her pants.

By this time the news had arrived and the murder was a sensation for a while until something even more gruesome took its place on the front page.

Dr. Arbine was called the Stake Killer by the media. He kept insisting that his wife was already dead but she would rise and hurt Rachel.

His defense team tried their best and instead of life in prison he was found not guilty by reason of insanity and placed in a hospital for the criminally insane. Psychiatrists testified that they doubted he would ever regain his sanity.

No one wondered at the time why the defense hadn’t called the little girl to testify. They assumed she was too traumatized.

At trial it was brought out that his wife was frequently unfaithful and that he knew about it. The psychiatrists theorized that this last infidelity had been the final straw and he had killed her in a fit of rage.

But his mind snapped and made up the delusion that she was already dead but she would rise and kill his daughter so he had to mutilate her body.

They surmised that if he ever let go of the delusion that his wife was already dead, he would probably commit suicide because he wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt.

His wife’s parents didn’t believe that. They were interviewed several times, exclaiming that Dr. Arbine was evil and they had warned Evelyn not to marry him.

They also made it clear that their granddaughter would be watched closely to make sure she wasn’t evil like her father.

CPS had to be called and this was duly reported in the media in one of their where are they now spots. The grandparents’ priest had been the one to call CPS when they had requested an exorcism of seven-year-old Rachel.

Rachel’s grandparents were warned not to attempt that again, one reporter said. The state also insisted that Rachel receive counseling by a child psychologist.

Of course, the counselor’s findings were confidential but one reporter got a receptionist to admit over drinks that the little girl was a handful, willful and uncooperative.

Then some other story became more important and the Stake Killer and his daughter were forgotten.

Chapter One

Twenty-Five Years Later

Rachel was in the shower when her cell phone rang. She yelled at her husband Eric to grab it.

She turned the shower off and grabbed her robe. Eric yelled through the door, It’s some doctor, a Nickolas something.

She muttered under her breath. Wouldn’t the man ever stop calling? She had let her phone go to voicemail every time she saw his name on the caller I.D. but now she would have to take the call or Eric would wonder why. No correction, he would know why and scold her.

Ok, just a minute.

She opened the bathroom door, drying her blonde hair as she walked into the living room/office of their small condo. Eric had wanted something bigger but she had insisted that they didn’t need anything larger, after all it was just the two of them.

He handed her the phone and she greeted the caller politely, Yes, Doctor?

Dr. Mann answered patiently, her attitude was to be expected. After all, not only was he a psychiatrist which he had gathered was her least favorite profession but he needed to talk to her about something she didn’t want to talk about.

Mrs. Simmons, I’m so glad we finally managed to connect. I hate phone tag, don’t you?

Doesn’t everyone? Now what can I do for you?

He sighed. She already knew what he wanted but he would have to persuade her it needed to be done.

I need to set up an appointment to speak to you in person. As you know I’m your father’s new doctor and I like speaking to the relatives as an aid to his treatment.

Eric looked at his wife. Her chin had that stubborn look that made him almost feel sorry for this Dr. Mann but not quite.

He didn’t have the same reasons for not liking shrinks but he didn’t like them. Just a bunch of B.S. about toilet training and being in love with your mother.

I don’t see why. Everything you need to know is in all his records. After all I was a little girl at the time. I doubt I can contribute anything.

Nickolas decided he could be stubborn too, Mrs. Simmons, I really must see you. Is next Tuesday ok?

She checked her mental calendar. Eric had go to Portland for a series of meeting that day. Yes, that would be perfect.

She answered firmly, Fine, 10 am.

His voice had a trace of humor in it, And if 10 am isn’t okay with me, you can’t come at all.

Yes, I’m afraid that is the only vacancy in my schedule for at least a couple of weeks maybe more.

As it so happens, that works for me. See you then. I’m in that new office building on 11th. I’ll text you the address and directions.

He wasn’t going to give her the option of saying she got lost.

Very well. Now if you will excuse me, my husband and I are going out to dinner and we’re going to be late.

After she hung up, Eric commented, Boy, I’m surprised he didn’t get frostbite.

Her eyes snapped, Eric we’ve talked about this. I had enough of damn shrinks when I was a little girl because of my father. I have my life now. I have you and a good career. I’m happy, I don’t want some shrink telling me I’m really not.

He came and put his arms around her and she sunk her head into his chest.

Baby, I know. But you want your father to have the best care, don’t you?

Her reply was partially muffled, Yes, of course.

Then she pushed against his chest and looked up at him, We could forget dinner?

He grinned and kissed her forehead, Yes, we could, but we’re not going to. This big old Texas boy is hungry and I bet you haven’t eaten all day.

She giggled and headed towards the bedroom to dress, Well, I know my big Texas boy is hungry for other things too.

They teased and laughed as they dressed. Eric doing his best to keep Rachel from dwelling on her upcoming meeting with the shrink.

After dinner they came home, Eric had one beer and she had a glass of wine. Then they watched a little TV and turned in.

Sure enough her big Texas boy had other appetites too and they made sweet love. She cuddled in his arms afterwards and fell asleep.

But then she had the dream. The shrinks told her it was her memories of the past but she didn’t totally believe them.

In it she was a little girl. It was almost supper time. In her dream, she watched the sunset. Then suddenly the room she was in grew dark and a big mean man came in.

Her mama was with him but she was different. Then it was blackness and she heard her mama screaming, and screaming and screaming and then her Papa came out dripping blood and he was chasing her, then it was the man. At that point she always woke up and tonight was no different.

She was tossing and turning and her screams weren’t very loud but Eric immediately took her back in his arms and comforted her. As far as he knew she had that dream or a variation of it for most of her life.

However, the frequency had lessened since they had been married and this was the first time in a year. He knew why. Deep down she was afraid of what the doctor might tell her not about her father but herself.

That Thursday they pulled into the parking lot of the one story medical building and parked their bright red Ford Fusion in the parking space marked visitor. Rachel was driving as it was her car. Eric had left his red Titan pickup at home because hers was easier to park.

However, they were having a discussion about where she had parked.

Rachel, shouldn’t you have parked in the patient parking?

The petite blonde shook her shoulder length hair negatively at the handsome blonde man unbuckling his seat belt, trying not to crumple his suit.

No, Eric, I’m not going to be here that long. Dr. Mann just wants to meet me and give me his opinion on my father’s progress. It won’t take long.

I just wish it had been a different day. I can only stay a minute. I told Jeff and Todd to pick me up at the coffee shop across the street.

They got out of the car, Rachel not waiting for Eric to open the door for her. They walked briskly in the bright sunshine of late spring in Eugene, Oregon. They held hands as if they were still newlyweds even though they had been married almost five years.

Eric was six years older than her almost thirty-two. People seeing them together thought about what a nice couple they made.

I know but this was the only time that worked for both me and the doctor. This week is hectic for me. All my late income tax filers are calling me desperate for me to work a miracle and get them an extension.

They paused at the double glass doors of the building and he opened the door for her. Anyone could tell it was a new building even if they hadn’t seen it built. It had that new paint odor and was immaculately clean. It hadn’t seen the wear and tear of hundreds of people marching through yet.

I know. I just wish I wasn’t riding with Jeff and Todd to the meeting in Portland, 3 hours with those two, I’ll be ordering a double at the hotel bar.

She laughed. Eric wasn’t a drinker so when he ordered a double it was a very bad day.

There was a reception booth in the middle of the mostly empty lobby but no one was behind it, so they looked at the directory.

How long will you be gone?

He sighed, Too long. You know with interest rates going up and down like yo-yos the bank is trying to come up with new strategies to ride it out. The bank booked us rooms for all week and this is just Tuesday.

She looked up at her handsome husband. His blonde hair was short enough to be a respectable banker but long enough not to look like a geek. He had snapping blue eyes. His broad shoulders proclaimed his minor claim to fame in high school football.

Right now he was dressed in a conservative light blue striped suit that matched his eyes. His grey tie completed the effect. She grinned as they rode the elevator up to the third floor.

He looked down at her, What’s so funny?

I was just remembering the first time I met you. I think you ought to dress like that for your meetings.

His laugh was full-throated and he went into his Texas twang, Yes, Ma’am. My Tony Lama cowboy boots with the Texas star on them and my white Stetson.

Just then the elevator doors opened and a young female voice yelled, Hold the elevator.

They just had time to step out when a girl of about eighteen with a bright purple streak in her dyed black hair almost knocked them over getting in the elevator. They saw nothing but skin tight jeans and lots of tattoos before the elevator closed.

Eric raised an eyebrow, A patient?

Rachel shook her head, That was probably Dr. Mann.

He cautioned her, Your dislike of psychiatrists is showing Mrs. Simmons.

She stuck her tongue out at him and he was just about to kiss her as he always did when she did that when a door down the hall opened.

They could hear a deep male voice, Damn it, Melissa, where the hell are you? Where’s my damn appointment book? Shit!

Rachel sighed, With my luck that’s Dr. Mann.

Eric laughed, I thought shrinks didn’t get frustrated?

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, Ever heard of Freud. If ever a man was frustrated it was him. His mother for God’s sake.

Unfortunately, because the other offices were still empty, the hallway echoed and when the man came out to look for the vanishing Melissa he heard her comment.

She looked at the man who was obviously Dr. Mann because according to the directory his was the only occupied office on that floor.

She was surprised. He didn’t fit her mental picture of him at all. She knew by his bio that he had just turned forty but didn’t have the paunch or the receding hairline she was used to in psychiatrists of his age. It seemed to her it was almost a uniform with most of them.

Instead, he was tall and very slim. His hair was black with just a hint of grey. He wore it mid length instead of the posturing some men his age did with it down to his shoulders. His eyes were a dark brown bordering on black. He didn’t have that cultivated I understand you look most psychiatrists had.

She hoped he hadn’t heard her remark but he obviously had.

She smiled. Right now he didn’t look understanding he looked murderous. Then he realized his posture and apologized.

You’re absolutely right, Freud was a classic example of frustration. And right now so am I. Sorry, did you see my receptionist by any chance?

Eric answered, amusement in his voice, Skinny jeans, purple hair and tattoos everywhere?

Yep.

Rachel continued, She almost knocked us down and got into the elevator. She was definitely in a hurry.

He nodded and held out his hand, I’m sorry. I hired her as a favor to a college friend of mine until my regular receptionist could get here. He now owes me big time. Please come into my office. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Simmons.

Eric shook Dr. Mann’s hand. He liked the man instantly but then as Rachel told him he liked everyone instantly. That wasn’t true but he didn’t have the natural distrust of people that Rachel did.

He understood why but it was hard sometimes for her to not trust his judgement. He thought he was right this time, though.

Rachel also shook the Doctor’s hand. She had to admit he had a firm handshake not wimpy like some of the doctors she had met.

He opened his office door and she saw why he was frustrated. There were files left open on the receptionist’s desk. The computer on the desk wasn’t on and when he pushed the power button it came on but nothing happened. The phone had three lines blinking and there were cartons on the waiting area chairs.

Excuse me while I try to find out who is calling and whether I just missed winning the lottery.

He answered the three calls and then put it straight to voicemail. He ushered them into his inner office. His office was much neater. Everything in its place and his notebook readily accessible as well as her father’s file. She could see the name on it.

Please sit. As you see I haven’t transferred my files to my new computer yet and by the looks of it, I won’t be for a while.

Eric answered, I understand. I’m a banker and my worst nightmare is that my bank will decide to go to a new computer system.

Dr. Mann smiled, Yes, the computer both the blessing and the bane of the 21st century.

Eric didn’t take the invitation to sit but pulled out a chair for Rachel, I’m sorry Dr. Mann but I have to go. I have a meeting to go to in Portland that I can’t put off. I just wanted to meet you.

Nick Mann liked Eric Simmons for making sure his wife was in safe hands. A lot of men didn’t feel that way towards their wives anymore, it was refreshing to see.

As for Rachel she was a lot more attractive in person than in her pictures. All the pictures she wasn’t smiling and looked annoyed.

Her smile lit up her whole face and he thought it was a wonder that with all she had been through she could still smile like that. His report on her said she was happily married and for once the other doctors had been right.

Rachel interrupted, Honey, you had better get going. If Jeff is driving and he’s at the coffee shop, imagine him on that much caffeine.

Eric groaned, God, honey, you’re right. Love you. I’ll call you when I get checked in.

They kissed and he went sprinting down the hallway towards the elevators. She sat down.

She explained with obvious pride in her voice, Eric is the senior mortgage loan officer for the Eugene Second National Bank. He loves the work but hates the politics.

Doctor Mann leaned back in his chair, You know we could have arranged an appointment for some other time when your husband could stay?

She said sarcastically, Gee all those years of schooling are paying off aren’t they? Yes, I didn’t want my husband here. You get a gold star.

He wasn’t surprised at her attitude. If he had gone through what she had he would probably have felt the same. However, he would have to tread carefully if he was going to get any cooperation.

He sat for a moment not speaking. He wondered whether to handle her with kid gloves or be blunt enough to piss her off.

Her grey eyes met his black ones, Sizing me up Doctor?

A little. I want you to cooperate with me for your father’s good but I doubt you see it that way.

No gold star this time. I understand that in order to help my father you need me on your side. The problem is I’m not. I’m not even on my father’s side. The only way I can survive is by being on my own side.

He sat up straight, Very perceptive of you. I imagine you learned how to survive early. Of course you’re right. Your father is my patient but I can only do so much for him. And I gather you don’t want my help for any of your problems?

She smiled, No, thanks. I think I’m a basically sane person. I’ve been analyzed enough.

He nodded sympathetically, I can well understand your feelings. In your shoes I wouldn’t care much for psychiatrists either. Now, how much does Eric know? I don’t want to tell him anything you don’t want him to know.

Before she answered him she asked, May I have a tissue? Not because I’m going to cry but because shredding them helps.

He grinned, Sure.

He handed her a box of tissues and she grabbed a few of them