Kane: A walk through darkness

By Erik Coryell

Driven mad by a lifelong battle with depression and suffocating fear of failure, a devoted husband and father violently takes his own life and finds himself trapped in a dark, terrifying underworld ruled by a psychotic fallen angel, a place of hopelessness where lost souls face unimaginable horrors and endure endless torment to the amusement of the beautiful and twisted Ereshkigal. For Kane, however, death brings clarity and purpose. Drawing on an inner strength he has never known, Kane sets out across the twisted planes of purgatory with unrelenting determination to redeem himself and find a way home. Both amused and fascinated by Kane's tenacity, Ereshkigal's motives toward Kane begin to change and soon twist into a dark obsession. Instead of toying with this mortal, she now seeks to keep him for herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781642146189

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Kane

A walk through darkness

Erik Coryell

Copyright © 2019 Erik Coryell

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-64214-616-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64214-618-9 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

For my wife, Lori, for standing by me through it all and showing me a love like I have never known

and my son, Noah, for stepping up when I was weak and growing into a man I greatly respect and admire.

Special thanks to

Ambient Prime

for providing Loneliness, the incredible ambient mix that inspired my creativity throughout the completion of this project.

I was lost in the dark, and God would not listen.

So I went to the devil to sell my soul.

The devil just laughed and said to me,

Why would I buy what I already own?

I wept and begged him to send me back

to my wife and my child so I wouldn’t be alone.

Again, he just laughed and said to me,

Why send you back when you are already home?

—Kane

Chapter 1

The Text Message

This is it. Oh my god, this is it.

What have I done? Kane whispered as he stared at his phone. The message from his old associate hit him like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him stunned.

They know. Two simple words that seemed innocent enough at face value, but when directed at Kane, a man with secrets, they were terrifying. The implications of the ominous message left him reeling. For a moment, time stood still as he sat hunched forward in his chair, reading the terrible words over and over in disbelief. They know. They know.

The ceiling light in his office flickered and died, leaving him in total darkness. Consumed by fear, he hardly noticed. No, no, no, no, no, he muttered desperately, unable to believe that it had finally happened. The worst-case scenario that has haunted his dreams for nearly a year was now a reality, and the consequences were too much to bear. Oh god, what the fuck am I going to do? he muttered through numb lips, looking blankly around his office as if the solution was tacked to the wall somewhere. Only then did he realize he was sitting in darkness.

That’s weird, I just put in a new bulb in ye— His thoughts trailed off as he looked back at the glow of his phone. Oh god, we’re fucked. It suddenly occurred to him that he never planned for this. He never thought the body would be found or that it could be linked to him. At most, he worried that some hunter would stumble across it and the police might come asking questions, but he didn’t lose any sleep over it. They wouldn’t be able to prove he was a part of the organization because he torched all the records. He supposed they might find the invoices he sent in each month, but those would only prove he worked for Anatoli as an inspector, which is perfectly legal.

As far as he knew, there was no evidence anywhere that would make him a suspect. But they know, which means he knows, and that is worse, way worse. Marat Slokavich is psychotic, fiercely intelligent, and loyal to his family above all else. Kane knew that once Marat learned of his cousin’s death, he would stop at nothing to hunt down the killer. How they found the body he buried at the old mine, he didn’t know. An even bigger mystery was how Marat pinned him as the killer so quickly. He hid the body well, deep in a narrow gulch near an abandoned mine shaft. He spent hours shoveling dirt and ground cover over the body until it was a good three feet deep, turning the small gulch into a shallow trench. He even pulled two fallen trees across it for good measure. Nobody knew he was there that night, and nobody in his town even knew Anatoli existed. The only thing he could think of was deductive reasoning. He was the last person Anatoli met with, and Kane was the last remaining associate who wasn’t arrested during the raid that led up to their final meeting.

Kane sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling foolish for underestimating someone like Marat. Once Anatoli’s body was discovered, Marat probably put it together easily. How could I have been so stupid? Kane cursed himself, wishing he had taken the time to dispose of the body completely.

Not that he really knew how. Killing Anatoli was an unplanned act of self-defense. He never intended to get involved with Anatoli’s moneymaking schemes. All he wanted was to save his family from financial ruin and earn an honest living. The economy was shit, he was drowning in debt, and Anatoli was the only life ring within reach, so he grabbed hold and held on for dear life.

At the time, he thought he was going to work as an inspector for an honest Russian immigrant living the American dream. By the time he realized it was all smoke and mirrors, it was too late to run. Anatoli was so impressed by Kane’s work ethic and acute attention to detail that when the man on top came to pay a visit, Anatoli brought Kane along and introduced him as his American partner. Anatoli enjoyed having Kane at his side for appearances. Kane was a charismatic and intimidating man. He cut an imposing figure and carried himself with authority and confidence, which Anatoli liked. At six feet one, 220 pounds, he was bigger and stronger than most due to years spent working construction. He kept his light-brown hair short, was clean-shaven, and had a faint webbing of large scars that ran down the right side of his face and neck from a scaffold collapse a few years back. People noticed when he walked into a room and either cleared out of his way or sought to introduce themselves.

Kane liked it this way, not because he was mean, but because people made him nervous. They always have. Marat, however, was not impressed or intimidated by his presence in the slightest. Ignoring Kane’s outstretched hand, he simply eyed him with the kind of disdainful scowl only a born and bred Russian can muster. Realizing it was a mistake bringing Kane, Anatoli flashed him a look that clearly read, Yeah, on second thought, why don’t you wait in the car? Kane didn’t like the way Marat looked at him but forced himself to avert his eyes and get in the car. Once inside, he watched Marat through the dark-tinted glass and tried to remember everything he’s heard about him. Marat was unimpressive to behold. He was short, was in his mid to late sixties, and had the sickly build of one who never exerts oneself physically. His oily black hair was carelessly slicked back, and his long, pockmarked face looked as if it had been caught in a taffy puller. He was nothing short of hideous, but it didn’t matter. All one had to do was look into his beady, deep-set eyes and they would know they are in the presence of a madman. Kane knew little about him, but what he heard was enough. Marat was a powerful man whose operations spanned the globe. He was a brutal, intelligent leader who ran the organization with a prowess John Rockefeller would envy. His soldiers loved and feared him like a god, and his inner circle included foreign military generals, directors of international trade, and powerful politicians. In a way, he was a walking superpower and was not one to be crossed, which is exactly what Kane had done.

Using the light of his phone to see, Kane reached down with a shaking hand and opened a small file drawer in his desk. This is happening. Oh fuck me! God, I can’t believe this is happening. He thought as he felt beneath the files and loose papers in the back. Fuck! Where is it, goddamn it! Kane bellowed in frustration. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a small gray cell phone. It was the cheap prepay kind you could find at any corner store, what some called a burner phone. Feeling caught in some terrible nightmare, he powered up the phone, dialed the number of his friend, and lifted it to his ear. He held his breath as the phone rang, twice, three times, four times. Come on, Victor, answer the fucking phone! Kane mumbled anxiously.

On the fifth ring, his friend answered with a thick Russian accent. Who is this?

The guy you sent the message to. There was a small pause; Kane could hear what sounded like an air compressor in the background and other people talking in Russian. It’s me—

I know who this is. Why do you call me?

You said they know. What have you heard?

"What’s to say? They know? Yes, they know, and they are very angry. He is very angry. You need to go on vacation, my friend. Take your beautiful wife and pretty girl and go on a long vacation and far away!"

Are they coming? Kane knew the answer before he even asked; of course, they were coming.

His friend was silent for a moment before responding. There was a reluctance to his voice that made Kane uneasy. You know how we do things.

Yes, he knows how they do things, though hearing it out loud stamped out the little hope he had left, leaving nothing but the horrible, unavoidable truth. The full force of the situation suddenly crystalized in his mind and, with it, a grim understanding. There was no getting out of this, no hiding, no running to the police. Marat was coming, not only for him, but for his entire family. In retribution for killing Anatoli, Marat’s primary goal would be to make Kane watch as his soldiers rape and execute his wife and daughter. Then they would let him die, but not until Marat felt satisfied that he had extracted as much pain and grief as possible.

Unless . . .

Somewhere deep in the back of Kane’s mind, something clicked, and a decision was made. It was terrible and gut-wrenching, but it was the only thing that might spare his family the wrath of Marat Slokavich. Every part of him rebelled against the thought, and his initial reaction was to bury it under a mountain of denial, but it was no use. It was the only solution, and he knew it. Deny it all he wants, it was the only way, and his decision was absolute.

With a plan in place, he forced himself to turn back to the man on the phone.

When . . . when did they find out?

I cannot help you anymore, I cannot talk to you anymore.

Goddamn it, when did the . . .

A strange, tingling feeling suddenly crept up his spine, making him shiver. It was like the feeling you get when being watched, only much stronger. A new and powerful spike of fear pierced his gut, pushing its way up into his chest and into his heart, making him gasp. This was not the ominous fear of impending doom he felt regarding Marat; this was something different, something new. This was the primal fear of immediate danger. For a moment, he forgot about Marat completely. Too frightened to move, Kane sat frozen, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, not daring to breathe. Oh god, something is here, he thought as the feeling grew stronger.

Hello? Hello, are you there? chimed an irritated voice over the phone.

Kane hardly noticed.

Somehow, he knew he was not alone, though he didn’t know how that was possible. His small office only had one door and no window. No way something made its way in without him noticing. When the ceiling light burned out, it left him blind with only the dim glow of his phone screen to see with. Now that his eyes had a chance to adjust, he could see a little. He could see the water cooler, mini fridge, and file cabinet that made up the other side of his office. Everything else was drowned in shadow. Yet something was there, watching him. He could almost sense the displacement of air in the room, the presence of something that did not belong. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re just being paranoid. Get a grip on— His thoughts crumbled as something in the darkness caught his eye.

It was the far-right corner of his office that drew his attention. It was empty when the light burned out, but now there was something there. A darkness within the darkness. The longer he looked, the more he could make it out, and the more frightened he became. A black terror began to surface within him, one that reduced his situation with Marat to a trivial afterthought.

No, Kane whispered, not realizing he was speaking.

No? What you mean no? Are you there? the voice on the phone inquired.

Kane didn’t notice; his eyes were fixed on the thing in the corner. Oh god, what is that? he cried breathlessly as a powerful and confusing sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him, suffocating him with a fear unlike any he had ever known. Or had he? Something about this was familiar, though he didn’t know why. He was staring at a silhouette of some kind of humanoid. Only this was no person. While it looked to be a normal height of around five six, its arms were way too thin, its head was a little too big, and it stood at a strange, unnatural angle, leaning to one side slightly. Kane’s mind rebelled against the apparition, wanting to unsee it and deny it was there. It’s just a hallucination. You snapped from the stress, and now you’re seeing sh— As if sensing his doubts, Kane’s ears picked up something, a faint, rhythmic rasping sound over the constant whir of his computer. It sounded like someone trying to breathe through a crushed windpipe. The ceiling light suddenly flickered and flared into life, once again illuminating Kane’s small office with its hundred-watt brilliance.

The corner was empty.

Nothing, there was nothing there. Holy shit, I’m losing my mind. Exhaling slowly, Kane waited for his heart to stop pounding and lifted the phone to his ear. Then, eager to forget that strange experience (and the terrifying feelings it unearthed), he forced his mind to pick up where it left off so he could focus on his problem.

This morning.

What? He found out this morning?

That is what I said.

How long do I have? Kane asked numbly.

Not long. I got to go. If you call me again, I tell them where you are. My debt to you is paid. Good luck, my friend.

Kane stared at the phone in shocked silence as the call end icon flashed on the screen. What the fuck am I going to do? he muttered as he pulled the battery out of the phone and tossed it all in the trash.

You know. A small voice crooned in the back of his mind. Leaning over his desk, he pressed his palms firmly against his eyes until starbursts twinkled in his vision. Slowly he inhaled then exhaled, counting his breaths and trying to still the screaming panic that threatened to consume him. Two days ago, everything seemed fine. His wife, Wendy, had called to tell him about all the fun she had at her friend’s wedding recycle and that she missed him. She was absolutely bubbling with excitement as she gave him a full rundown on the day’s events.

Kane loved his wife dearly. She was a beautiful, delightful, animated person who could light up a room with her laugh. Even over the phone, her voice made him smile. Often when she called, he would stifle a laugh as he imagined all the facial expressions and hand gestures she was most certainly making. Sometimes she would catch him and ask with feigned astonishment, Are you laughing at me? You are! You’re laughing at me! And he would always respond the same way, No, babe, I just absolutely adore you. You’re perfect. He knew it sounded corny but didn’t give a shit. This is how they are with each other, and after being married for over ten years, their relationship was stronger than ever. While most couples grow tired of each other and often need time apart, they only grew closer. Eventually, their desire to be together drove Kane to start his own business so he could work from home and be with her during the day.

Some people considered their codependent relationship unhealthy. During a family Christmas party, one in-law (Wendy’s sister) made the mistake of saying as much, prompting Kane to cheerfully chime in, Really? Did you learn that from husband number 3 or husband number 4? Needless to say, that went over like a turd in a punch bowl. This wasn’t the only time their relationship drew undeserved criticism. It seemed to Kane that such people felt threatened by their close relationship and needed to attack it, to tear it down to their level to justify their own failings. He found it pathetic and highly irritating. They went home early that night, white elephant gifts forgotten, a crying Stacy in tow.

Their last conversation ended with her telling Kane how much she missed him. It was the first time in ten years they had spent more than a few days apart, and she couldn’t wait to come home. He too was excited, though she was only gone for a week. Then he got the text message, and everything stopped.

They can’t come home. It’s not safe here, Kane muttered as he selected Wendy in his contact list and clicked Send.

Hi, you’ve reached Wendy and—

Come on, babe, answer the damn phone! he muttered desperately as he ended the call and clicked Send.

Voice mail.

Fuck! Kane roared, slamming his phone down on the desk. He wasn’t one to cry easily, if at all. But this was different.

How could I have let this happen? he wondered miserably, thinking back on his life before meeting Wendy. As a bachelor, he felt completely lost and without purpose. He drifted from one place to another, working odd jobs and pulling up stakes on a whim. Having grown up an only child in an abusive and dysfunctional home, Kane never developed the sense of self-worth that drove most people to build a life for themselves.

These early years were the darkest for Kane—a collage of temporary jobs, bus stations, endless gray freeways, and hotel rooms. He wondered aimlessly up and down the West Coast for nearly two years as if in search of something. At first, he enjoyed the thrill of traveling and took comfort in the anonymity it afforded, but it quickly wore off. Over time, he realized what he was looking for: purpose. He was looking for something, anything to live for. The longer he went without finding it, the more he believed it wasn’t out there.

He soon realized it didn’t matter where he went. Every place was the same when seen through the filthy window of a bus. The comfort he once found in anonymity had become oppressive. Now it made him feel invisible, which he hated. He grew up feeling invisible, only garnering attention by way of an abusive hand. Depression set in and began to grow. Before long, he found himself wondering curiously about the afterlife. Why stay here when something better might be out there? he’d ask himself as he counted mile markers through the filthy bus window. He didn’t really believe in heaven or hell, but he knew something existed after death. In fact, he knew something was out there. He didn’t know what exactly, and he couldn’t explain how he knew, but he did.

To Kane, thinking about the afterlife felt more like trying to recall a distant memory. As these thoughts began to consume him, he started to believe that this afterlife was where he belonged. In the weeks leading up to his life-changing encounter with Wendy, he had fully accepted his decision to die. Sure, he was depressed, but not in the way most suicidal people are depressed; he was just tired of feeling lost. He saw his existence as pointless and was curious to see what was behind door number 2. His moment came when he found himself looking up at a large train trestle. The tracks had been closed long ago and turned into a walking path for tourists. He eyeballed the distance from the trestle down to the concrete and figured that it would be enough to kill him. I could swan-dive so I land headfirst, just to be sure, he thought, wanting to be thorough.

Then, without skipping a beat, he muttered All right, why not? Let’s do this and started walking up the path. It was raining slightly, and it looked like he was alone, which was good; he didn’t want to traumatize anyone. Though, to be perfectly honest, he didn’t really care much. He was done with his pointless existence and ready to check out. I’m going home, he whispered as he approached the steps that led up to the platform. Then a small black umbrella with a happy cartoon owl printed on the top tumbled across his path, caught up in the brisk wind. Behind him, he heard a beautiful, cheerful laugh and turned to see a pretty tall brunette giving chase. She ran, hunched forward with her hands out, like she was trying to catch a wayward chicken. He remembered gasping at her beauty. She had long wavy brown hair, large greenish-gold eyes, and fair porcelain skin that looked almost angelic.

There was a joyfulness and light in her that captivated him. It was so different from the defeated, weathered faces that surrounded him day after day. Stepping forward, he grabbed the umbrella, held it up for her, and everything changed. Instead of falling to his death, he fell in love. They fell for each other hard, and before long, Kane proposed. Her love for him added color to his life and the sense of purpose he so desperately needed. He finally had someone, someone who loved him, someone who wanted to be with him. He swore from that day forward that he would do anything to give her a good life.

Before long, Kane found a job building tract homes, and they moved into a small apartment in Corvallis, Oregon.

His sense of purpose grew when Wendy revealed she was pregnant. At first, he was scared. He knew nothing about raising children, only that he was determined to give his family a better life than he had. As he watched his wife’s belly grow, he dedicated himself to working hard and saving money. He wanted his daughter to have a home and picked up a second job to save for a down payment on a small house. Two weeks before Wendy’s due date, his hard work finally paid off, and they closed the deal on a foreclosed home in Applegate, Oregon. It was a modest two-bedroom house on an acre of land (mostly covered by old-growth pines and blackberry bushes) situated at the edge of the Cascade National Forest. The small house needed work but was livable and suited their simplistic needs perfectly. They knew right away they wanted to spend the rest of their lives there.

The chime of an incoming call penetrated his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. Reaching down, he picked up the phone and turned it faceup. Wendy glowed on the front screen. Anxiously, he lifted the pone to his ear and answered, trying to sound calm and failing miserably.

Hi, love.

Hi, honey! Sorry I didn’t answer, we had the music up in the car.

He could hear laughter in her voice, happiness.

"No worries, I just wanted to check in and see how you and Stacy are doing.