"Stumble Into Darkness"
Aug. 27th, 2023 07:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Stumble Into Darkness"
9/3/2019
I.
Trudging up to the third floor landing with a paper bag of groceries in each hand, Foster Whitcomb felt hot and sweaty and grimy. It was after eleven at night, but the air was still so humid it felt like moving underwater. A cold shower and a glass of white wine might help. Timothy was supposed to call around midnight about coming up from Manhattan the next day, that was all which kept Foster from giving in to a severe grumpy attack.
Here on the top floor of the ancient brick building were two doors marked 3A and 3B. Living in 3A was an elderly woman who as far as he could tell never stepped outside her apartment. Not a day went by without some deliveryman knocking on her door or a home health care nurse stopping in to help out. You couldn't ask for a quieter neighbor and Foster had long ago decided he would run any errand that the old lady asked if she ever stuck her head out the door. He knew he was a friendly-looking big teddy bear of a man and that she would be comfortable talking to him.
Putting down the grocery bags on either side, Foster dug in his jeans pocket for his keys, then hesitated. That was odd. Was the door open just a crack? He knew he had locked it that morning, he was meticulous about details like that. Oh. Tim must have come up from the city early to surprise him. Great, they had been talking about going to see that movie THUNDERSTORM IN YOUR EYES and now they could catch the seven o'clock showing!
"Hey, you!" he called out, stepping into the cool dark apartment and then freezing where he was as if suddenly paralyzed. At his feet, next to an overturned chair, Timothy Limbo was stretched out face up and covered in bright crimson blood. Foster's heart missed a few beats, then he dropped to his knees and touched his partner's face gingerly. "Tim... Tim?"
The familiar dark blue eyes flickered open but seemed out of focus. Foster could see three deep parallel gouges going down the left cheek and that side of the neck was chewed up. Tim's leather motorcycle jacket was open. The plain white T-shirt was in red-soaked tatters.
"Oh God, Oh God," Foster breathed. He dug in his hip pocket for his phone and fumbled it out. "Hang on, bubba, hang on, I'll call 911...!" He tapped in the four-digit security code to unlock his screen.
But, surprisingly, Tim's hand shot up and closed around the phone to stop him. Foster tried to tug it free but couldn't. He had known almost from their first meeting that Timothy Limbo was much stronger than he would seem to be, but this grip was like an iron clamp.
From the swollen lips came a whisper. "Wait. Hold on, Foster..."
"I HAVE to call an ambulance, Tim! Look at you! You look like you were ripped up by a bear."
"Heh. Close enough," Timothy managed, not letting go a bit. "Give me a second. Here. Look at my chest..."
Foster did bend closer. "I can see white, is that a rib?"
In a stronger voice, Tim said, "Watch. Just watch."
After a few seconds, Foster caught his breath. He brought his face down until it was almost touching the raw wounds. "This is crazy. It's impossible."
"The edges are closing up, right?"
"I can SEE it. I can see the wound sealing, and it's sealing faster. Tim, what's going on?"
In a voice that sounded almost normal, Timothy said, "I'm going to be all right. Trust me, Foster. Put away your phone and close the door before anybody sees what a mess I am right now."
Bringing the groceries in and slamming the door shut, Foster dropped down again to his knees. "I never heard of such a thing. Tim, these gouges on your face look much better than they did a few minutes ago."
"Foster, I should have explained a lot of things before. I'm still bleeding? Yeah, I can see it seeping through what's left of my shirt. Listen. I told you I work for the Kenneth Dred Foundation, right? We're a non-profit research organization that investigates the paranormal."
"Yeah, that's how I met you. I came to your group about that ghost girl I was seeing. But, Tim, what's that got to do with anything? Oh, your poor face, did you get clawed by a lion or what?"
Grunting, Timothy Limbo tried to get up on one elbow but sank back down again. "Need a little bit longer. Foster, you've met a few of my teammates. Sable. Josef. Jocelyn. We all have enhanced healing. We never get sick, we can't be poisoned, we can walk naked through a blizzard and be fine. You see for yourself. My injuries are closing up faster than medical science could explain."
"I'm going to get some wet cloths and clean you up." Foster hurried over to the sink in one corner of the three-room apartment, ran some warm water and came back with wet washclothes that he dabbed gently at his partner's face and chest. "This is unbelievable. What causes this healing? How does it work?"
"I can't.. I can't tell you, Foster. It's like classified information. If I could share it with you, believe me I would." Trying again, Timothy propped himself up against the couch behind him. "I just thought of something. Did you see any blood on the stairs outside?"
"What? No. I didn't notice any."
"This is life and death important, go look. If you see any blood at all, you have to scrub it off. Hurry. Please!"
"All right. I don't...." Not finishing the thought, he stepped out of the apartment and started slowly down the stairs. Nothing. On the way back up, two small splotches caught his eye on one step and he rubbed vigorously with the wet dishcloth until they were gone. His mind was racing so much it was hard to concentrate. It reminded him of how he had reacted after being in a car crash as a teen. The same sense of time slowing down, of the scene feeling unreal, of being numb rather than upset. Back in their apartment, he found Timothy had managed to get up on the couch. "I still want to get you to the ER," he said. "You look so much better but come on! What about infection? What about blood loss?"
"We try not to go to regular doctors," Timothy said easily enough, trying to tear the tatters of his shirt off. "They would want to run tests and do experiments and we'd be locked up like white rats."
"'We?' Who do you mean by we?"
Timothy finally got the shreds of blood-soaked white cloth off him and wadded them up. "I knew I would have to tell you sometime. You know about Tel Shai. I've heard you mention it on your podcast. The ancient Order of mystic knowledge that has trained Midnight War heroes for thousands of years."
"That's just a legend!"
"No, Foster. Tel Shai is real. The KDF members are knights of Tel Shai and I'm one of them."
Not knowing how to react to that, Foster finally said, "Tim, your color is so much better. When I saw you on the floor, your face was white."
Getting shakily to his feet, Timothy Limbo dropped back down again. "Ugh. Not yet. I need a little more time to heal. Foster, do me a favor. Get me another shirt and my pair of black jeans, okay?"
"If you insist." Remembering the groceries, he picked up both bags and put them on the counter by the sink. Their apartment didn't have a gas stove or oven, they made do with a microwave, hot plate and an electric rice cooker for the moment. Foster went into their bedroom and came out in a minute with a dark red T-shirt and some jeans.
"Thanks. Ow. Everything hurts." Timothy started changing clothes, checking his leather jacket and finding the blood had only gotten on one cuff. As he scrubbed it off, he said, "I'm going to have to ask you for a big favor."
"Like there is anything I wouldn't do for you."
"You're going to have to drive me to the city. To KDF base in Manhattan. I can't use my motorcycle, I'd be too exposed, so we have to take your car. Okay?"
"Not a problem, buddy. You still haven't told me what attacked you. I'm guessing a black bear, the way you were torn up."
Getting to his feet, seeming steady at last, Timothy Limbo zipped up his jacket half way. "I wish they were only bears."
II.
Ten minutes later, Timothy was moving around the apartment without difficulty. He tossed the bloody cloths and shreds into the hamper, then poured a good amount of vinegar in on top of them. "Vandages hunt mostly by scent."
Foster folded his arms in his stubborn pose. "That's the last straw. On the way down to the city, you are going to tell me EVERYthing."
"I will, I will, I promise," Timothy said. "I've been putting it off and putting it off."
"You know I never insisted that we not have any secrets from each other. I don't think relationships work that way. But all this is crossing any reasonable line that could be drawn."
"Well, I'm ready to go, how about you?"
"Let me turn off the light. Let's go."
Opening the door a crack, Timothy held up his open hand. Over its palm, a barely visible tornado of force swirled and swayed, then shot away into the hall and down the stairs. Before Foster could speak, Timothy shushed him and seemed to be staring off into space. A minute later, the tiny apparition whipped back to pop out of existence like a soap bubble bursting.
"I can see and hear what my caspers do," Tim said, trotting quickly down the stairs.
"That makes everything clear, I'm so sure," grumbled Foster right behind him.
The apartments were relatively inexpensive because the building sat at the bottom of a steep hill that no one wanted to drive in the wintertime. Down the street was a scrap metal place and a used furniture outlet. Across the street, a strip of undeveloped land ended at the banks of the Esopus Creek. This was a rundown area of town that was often mentioned as being ready for gentrification but so far nothing concrete had been done.
Parked at the curb was Foster's three year old Mazda CX-3. He chirped open the locks as they ran up. Timothy hopped into the front passenger seat and urged him, "Peel out, Foster!"
"Who'll pay my speeding ticket?" the blogger asked as he started up the bronze SUV.
"Be glad if we see some cops, the Vandages will drop back if there are witnesses."
Still reluctant, Foster Whitcomb glanced in the rear view mirror and made a gargling noise. He saw five long lanky figures in the reflection, racing toward them faster than people should be able to run. They were naked and covered in short brown fur. They had wolf heads.
Without realizing it, Foster slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and his SUV took off as if shot from a catapult. They flashed past the STOP sign on the corner without even seeing it.
Twisting around to stare out his window, Timothy yelled, "They're getting in a white van. A Human must be driving it!"
"Gack," said Foster, which was as close as he could get to a coherent statement.
"Don't panic," Timothy told him, holding up both hands. "I'll distract the driver."
Although Foster was too busy heading down Fisher Street at seventy miles per hour to notice, two of the tiny caspers materialized and whirled away back toward their pursuers. A second later, the van swerved sharply and went off the road into the bushes.
"That did it!" Timothy said with relief clear in his voice. "Nobody can drive well with my caspers in front of their eyes. Turn left, Foster, quick. We'll head south. I don't want to take the Thruway, we'll use smaller back roads down to the city."
"Can I slow down? Please say I can slow down!"
"Yeah, but stay above the speed limit. Take another left and then go straight, we'll use the bridge to Port Ewen." Timothy leaned back in his seat. "How're you doing?"
"How do you think?! I find you chewed up and covered in blood, then you heal like a magic trick and now we just got chased by actual real-life werewolves..!"
"Not exactly werewolves, buddy. They're called Vandages. Okay, now we're on 32 heading south. Hopefully those things will have lost our trail. I can do some explaining...."
III.
"Now, you've been doing THE WIND BETWEEN THE GRAVESTONES for six years now?" aaskd
Timothy.
"Almost seven. I started as an online blog and went to a YouTube channel in November 2012. I picked up a lot of new subscribers with the alien hybrid children story, you remember that."
Tim kept checking behind them, watching every vehicle approaching until he was sure it was not the white van. "Sure. But the first time we met, when you came to the KDF building, you said the ghost child that you saw was the first time you couldn't explain away a phenomena. Is that right?"
"Absolutely. I come right out and tell my followers that I'm a skeptic to the bone and they like that because I don't try to pad the stories with a lot of filler. That ghost girl, though, it turned out she WAS real."
"Oh, Foster. This is something I have put off telling you. This is going to be hard. I've been in the Midnight War since 2015 and I have seen everything supernatural you can think of. Vampires. Ghouls. Zombies, sorcerers, Trolls. Men with rattlesnake fangs, men with skulls for faces. It's all too real! And tonight some of the Midnight War intruded into the mundane everyday world where you live."
Foster whistled. "Buddy, that's a lot to take in. You mean all the horror movies are true?"
"Horror movies aren't half of it. Foster, it's incredibly dangerous to step into the Midnight War." Timothy hid his face in his hands for a moment before continuing, "I normally wear very thin armor under my regular clothes and I normally carry a dozen little weapons and gadgets on me. I've been going without them when I visit you. Ever since we became intimate. And today, going unarmed and unarmored nearly got me ripped to shreds."
"Give it a second to sink in," Foster said. "Wow. I thought your Kenneth Dred Foundation was more of a research and historical organization. I've seen some of the books your KDF has published, they're very well documented and footnoted. Now I find it's a lot more than that. I find out you're a sort of army fighting a secret war."
"That's about it. We're knights of Tel Shai, defending Humans against the creatures of the night. The closer I got to you, the more we cared, the more I hesitated telling you any of this."
By this time, they were past the town and out on Route 32 where houses and businesses were spread thin. Foster had slowed down until he was doing no more than 60 in a 45 mile per hour zone and so far they hadn't seen any cops. "Tim? Did you think I would freak out and not want to know you any more?"
"I wouldn't have blamed you..." Timothy said quietly.
"Have a little faith. Show a little trust. Tim, I have never felt this way before. I will stand by you no matter what. I've got your back."
Timothy Limbo reached over and squeezed his partner's shoulder. "That means a lot, Foster. I'm so glad we met. Right now, I need to report to my captain." He unclipped a thin flat device from his belt and thumbed its side. "Hello, base? Sable, are you on duty?"
A calm, steady woman's voice instantly answered, "Right here, Tim. What's up?"
"Bit of a situation. Okay, I came down to visit Foster. Tomorrow is my normal day off and I took a monthly personal leave day after that. I parked my Harley behind the apartment building when I was jumped by two Vandages. I drove them off but took some damage and it was a while before I healed."
As he paused, Sable said, "Go on."
"Right now, we're in his car heading down Route 32. We'll be coming up on Poughkeepsie in a minute. There may be a van with four or five Vandages following us and I assume a Human with them. Those things can't drive."
"You're in luck, Jin is up in White Plains right now. She was picking up some reports from a few of our observers. She's using the Toyota Matrix. I'll send her to meet you, keep going."
Timothy sighed with relief. "Having Jin on hand is reassuring. I'll keep my Link active so she can home in on its signal. Thanks, captain."
"Unfortunately, most of our team is in Danarak right now. The Night Gorillas have been active lately. Timothy, I'm not happy about involving a civilian in our cases. We try to keep people out of the Midnight War."
"I know, I know. There wasn't much choice, captain."
The voice from the Link had a stern edge to it. "We'll discuss it after things are settled. I'm calling Jin now. Keep heading south and I'll have her meet you en route."
"Understood." As the connection broke off, Timothy shook his head. "Well, I'm in the doghouse now. But I was going to tell you about the Midnight War anyway. You deserve to know everything."
Slowing at a crossroads, Foster glanced over. "Who's this Jin?"
"One of my teammates. You couldn't ask for someone better to be on hand in a fight. Think of her as a female Samurai. She carries a bone-bladed long knife she carved herself."
That made Foster chuckle. "You know the most interesting people!"
IV.
The signs said they were nearing Newburgh. At one in the morning, traffic was sparse and no more than one car was seen at a time going in the opposite direction. Foster stopped for a red light next to a strip mall and saw one of the tiny whirlwinds materialize over Timothy's upraised hand and whiz out through the partly open window.
"What ARE those things? I can barely see them," he said.
"My caspers," Timothy answered. "You know, friendly ghosts. I can see and hear whatever they see and hear. I'm sending this one back to find out if we're being followed."
"Okay, but what are they? You didn't say."
"No one really knows. My Teachers at Tel Shai think they might be manifestations of my subconscious mind. But I'm sure they're living independent creatures of gralic force. My little buddies. I'm very fond of them."
Foster made an uneasy scoffing noise. "How long have they been showing up?"
"Oh, since I was a teenager, maybe sixteen. I mentioned them a few times to my family and everyone acted like I was high on drugs about it, so I just kept them to myself after that. They're what qualifies me to be a knight of Tel Shai."
"Amazing. That's so wild. Can you teach me how to make them?"
"I doubt it, sorry to say," he replied. "I've tried lots of times to get my teammates to summon caspers but it seems to be my own special trick. I guess you could call it a gift. No one really understands it. Anyway, they couldn't find that white van anywhere on this highway but that doesn't mean we're totally safe. The Vandages could be on a parallel road and coming to intercept us."
Foster tapped a dashboard dial with a finger. "Down to a quarter of a tank, buddy."
"Oh. All right, next gas station we see."
"I still have a million questions. How are we being chased by freaking werewolves in the first place?"
Timothy tsked-tsked. "Not werewolves, my friend. Vandages. They don't change shape, that's their natural form. They're basically humanoids covered with short fur but they have heads like wolves. Oh, and sharp claws more feline than lupine. I'm guessing the driver is their master. He's most likely a sorcerer of some kind."
Five minutes of heavy silence weighed them down. Timothy finally ventured, "What's on your mind, buddy?"
"Huh? I was just thinking. I saw fatal wounds close up on you and fifteen minutes later, you were acting like nothing happened. But what if those monsters get a hold of me? I don't have your magic healing powers. I'd be killed. Ripped apart..."
Timothy reached over and squeezed his partner's hand. "That's not going to happen. I promise. You're going to be safe." But even as he spoke, two headlights on bright rushed up close behind them.
V.
"Oh Christ! It's the monsters after us!" Foster yelled, slamming down the gas pedal. The car almost jumped off the road as it accelerated sharply.
"This will cause a crash," Timothy said with remarkable calmness. "Pull into that place right ahead."
Behind a wide paved parking lot sat a darkened two-story building with a sign on its roof CALLAHAN'S DANCE CLUB. Before the front door was a banner RE-OPENING SOON.
Foster swerved into the lot, almost doing a 180 and jolted to a stop with his engine revving. Immediately after them came the white van.
Timothy undid his seat belt and patted Foster on the shoulder. "Listen. Right now, get back on the road and don't look back. Drive to KDF headquarters on 28 East 38th Street, do whatever they tell you."
"What?! No, wait...!" But Foster was talking to an empty seat as Timothy dove out of the car and sprinted straight at the van which was coming to a halt fifty feet away. One of the rear doors opened and a wolf head emerged just as Tim seized it and slammed it murderously down on the edge of the door. There was a hideous crunch as its skull cracked. Whirling, Timothy rushed around the rear of the van and caught another Vandage hopping out from the opposite side.
The wolf-headed creature straightened up, growling. Timothy closed in quick as any fencer and thrust a high side kick to the Vandage's chest that broke ribs and caved in the sternum. Barely gasping as it died, the monster sagged down to the asphalt and stretched out face down.
Watching all this, the breathless Foster saw only a confused blur and two thumps of impact. The action was too fast for him to process. He did not know that Timothy Limbo had studied Kumundu under Teacher Chael of Tel Shai for four years, learning secrets that unlocked reserves of strengh and speed not otherwise available. Not even the best of his team, Tim was nevertheless fighting at a level few black belts could match.
Thinking he had won a split-second, Timothy snapped his head around and saw to his dismay that Foster had not driven away. He swung an imperative arm and yelled, "Get out of here!" That was his mistake. As his back was exposed and he stood still for that instant, two of the Vandages loped from the van and pounced squarely upon him.
Foster's mind was working faster than it ever had before. There was nothing in the car to use as a weapon. He didn't own a gun. There was a tire iron in the trunk but no time to fetch it. He made his decision without realizing it. It meant getting killed instantly but he was going to try to help Tim anyway. He grabbed the door handle and began to swing it open...
And a huge furry mass crashed against the door from outside, slamming it shut again. The wolf's-head glared at him from inches away, those amber-colored eyes filled with eagerness and the fangs gleaming in the open muzzle. Foster did not know that he screamed like a little girl at that moment in primal fear. The beast was pounding on the window with open paws. The glass began to crack.
VI.
Somehow that terrifying wolf's-head was gone. The body remained pressed up against the window, slowly sliding down as blood spurted from the cleanly edged stump of the neck. The monster was dead. Foster realized he wasn't going to be killed in the next few seconds. He couldn't even begin to wonder why. His breath was coming in such short rapid pants that his eyesight blurred. He felt dizzy and slumped back in his car seat without understanding what had happened.
A second later, he managed to turn his head and look out. The window to his left had cracks and bright red blood obscuring it but he still saw Timothy was up on his feet, apparently unharmed. There was only one Vandage on its feet, and it was lunging at a small thin blonde woman in some sort of grey outfit. Pivotting like a matador evading a bull, the woman swept a long white knife in an arc that gutted the Vandage open from chest to hips. The monster dropped into a gory mess of its own innards and twitched once.
Still watching, Foster pressed a palm to his own chest. His heart was pounding so hard he felt his hand tremble from the beat. Was the danger over. He could see Vandages lying on the dark asphalt of the parking lot. Three. No, there was the one lying next to his car and he could see one crumpled up next to the van. That made five.
Timothy and the blonde with the knife had yanked open the driver's door and pulled out an old man in a loose white shirt that reached down to his knees. There was some yelling but he couldn't make it out. The woman raised her weapon and crashed the round pommel on the top of the man's head exactly as if she intended to crack it open and the old man slumped down to the ground.
Whirling around and seeing no further immediate threat, Timothy rushed over to the XX and pulled the driver's door open. Foster was visibly trembling with his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. He stared at Timothy with recognition and his mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Tim dropped to one knee and touched the side of his partner's face. "Hey.. are you okay? It's all over now. You're safe."
"Tim..." came a recognizable whisper.
"Buddy, it's all over," Timothy repeated. "We're all safe now. Take it easy."
After wiping her bone-bladed knife thoroughly on the sorcererer's shirt, Demrak Jin strode over to stand beside Tim. In the backflood of her own car's headlights, she was a dramatic figure, small and taut in a tunic and pants of grey sharkhide with the rough denticles on the outside. "He is in shock, Timothy."
Taking Foster's pulse, Tim said, "His skin is warm and dry. I think if it's shock, it's very mild. Foster, can you hear me? What's my real last name?"
"Huh? What? Oh, Lambert. Not Limbo."
"You're safe now, buddy, just try to relax."
From behind him, Jin said, "Sable has asked Department 21 Black to send a clean-up squad to this area. They should be here shortly. I hate them, with their bland faces and identical suits and their silence. But they are useful."
Timothy slowly stood up, still pressing a comforting hand to Foster's shoulder. "Are you okay waiting here for them, Jin?"
"Of course. I am not without feelings, Tim. Take your friend down to our headquarters. Sable is a very reassuring presence and her enhanced senses will tell how he is doing. I think after he gets some sleep and sees morning light, all this will seem far behind him."
"Come on, buddy, stand up for me. That's right." As Timothy helped the dazed man up onto his feet and then walked him around to the passenger side, Foster mumbled, "Tim... did you see that? What happened? It was crazy."
"We'll talk about it. It's all over now." Getting Foster buckled in and the door closed, Timothy went back over to the driver's side.
Demrak Jin's odd charismatic face under the shock of white bristly hair was frowning as usual. "Try not to worry, Tim. Your Human minds are quite resilient."
"I hope he's not going to be traumatized, Jin. I was hoping to keep him away from the Midnight War if I could."
The Gelydra woman clapped a small hand across Timothy's back, a very rare gesture for her. Normally she disliking touching anyone. "He has stumbled into darkness for the first time in his life. And hopefully, it will be his last time."
9/11/2023
9/3/2019
I.
Trudging up to the third floor landing with a paper bag of groceries in each hand, Foster Whitcomb felt hot and sweaty and grimy. It was after eleven at night, but the air was still so humid it felt like moving underwater. A cold shower and a glass of white wine might help. Timothy was supposed to call around midnight about coming up from Manhattan the next day, that was all which kept Foster from giving in to a severe grumpy attack.
Here on the top floor of the ancient brick building were two doors marked 3A and 3B. Living in 3A was an elderly woman who as far as he could tell never stepped outside her apartment. Not a day went by without some deliveryman knocking on her door or a home health care nurse stopping in to help out. You couldn't ask for a quieter neighbor and Foster had long ago decided he would run any errand that the old lady asked if she ever stuck her head out the door. He knew he was a friendly-looking big teddy bear of a man and that she would be comfortable talking to him.
Putting down the grocery bags on either side, Foster dug in his jeans pocket for his keys, then hesitated. That was odd. Was the door open just a crack? He knew he had locked it that morning, he was meticulous about details like that. Oh. Tim must have come up from the city early to surprise him. Great, they had been talking about going to see that movie THUNDERSTORM IN YOUR EYES and now they could catch the seven o'clock showing!
"Hey, you!" he called out, stepping into the cool dark apartment and then freezing where he was as if suddenly paralyzed. At his feet, next to an overturned chair, Timothy Limbo was stretched out face up and covered in bright crimson blood. Foster's heart missed a few beats, then he dropped to his knees and touched his partner's face gingerly. "Tim... Tim?"
The familiar dark blue eyes flickered open but seemed out of focus. Foster could see three deep parallel gouges going down the left cheek and that side of the neck was chewed up. Tim's leather motorcycle jacket was open. The plain white T-shirt was in red-soaked tatters.
"Oh God, Oh God," Foster breathed. He dug in his hip pocket for his phone and fumbled it out. "Hang on, bubba, hang on, I'll call 911...!" He tapped in the four-digit security code to unlock his screen.
But, surprisingly, Tim's hand shot up and closed around the phone to stop him. Foster tried to tug it free but couldn't. He had known almost from their first meeting that Timothy Limbo was much stronger than he would seem to be, but this grip was like an iron clamp.
From the swollen lips came a whisper. "Wait. Hold on, Foster..."
"I HAVE to call an ambulance, Tim! Look at you! You look like you were ripped up by a bear."
"Heh. Close enough," Timothy managed, not letting go a bit. "Give me a second. Here. Look at my chest..."
Foster did bend closer. "I can see white, is that a rib?"
In a stronger voice, Tim said, "Watch. Just watch."
After a few seconds, Foster caught his breath. He brought his face down until it was almost touching the raw wounds. "This is crazy. It's impossible."
"The edges are closing up, right?"
"I can SEE it. I can see the wound sealing, and it's sealing faster. Tim, what's going on?"
In a voice that sounded almost normal, Timothy said, "I'm going to be all right. Trust me, Foster. Put away your phone and close the door before anybody sees what a mess I am right now."
Bringing the groceries in and slamming the door shut, Foster dropped down again to his knees. "I never heard of such a thing. Tim, these gouges on your face look much better than they did a few minutes ago."
"Foster, I should have explained a lot of things before. I'm still bleeding? Yeah, I can see it seeping through what's left of my shirt. Listen. I told you I work for the Kenneth Dred Foundation, right? We're a non-profit research organization that investigates the paranormal."
"Yeah, that's how I met you. I came to your group about that ghost girl I was seeing. But, Tim, what's that got to do with anything? Oh, your poor face, did you get clawed by a lion or what?"
Grunting, Timothy Limbo tried to get up on one elbow but sank back down again. "Need a little bit longer. Foster, you've met a few of my teammates. Sable. Josef. Jocelyn. We all have enhanced healing. We never get sick, we can't be poisoned, we can walk naked through a blizzard and be fine. You see for yourself. My injuries are closing up faster than medical science could explain."
"I'm going to get some wet cloths and clean you up." Foster hurried over to the sink in one corner of the three-room apartment, ran some warm water and came back with wet washclothes that he dabbed gently at his partner's face and chest. "This is unbelievable. What causes this healing? How does it work?"
"I can't.. I can't tell you, Foster. It's like classified information. If I could share it with you, believe me I would." Trying again, Timothy propped himself up against the couch behind him. "I just thought of something. Did you see any blood on the stairs outside?"
"What? No. I didn't notice any."
"This is life and death important, go look. If you see any blood at all, you have to scrub it off. Hurry. Please!"
"All right. I don't...." Not finishing the thought, he stepped out of the apartment and started slowly down the stairs. Nothing. On the way back up, two small splotches caught his eye on one step and he rubbed vigorously with the wet dishcloth until they were gone. His mind was racing so much it was hard to concentrate. It reminded him of how he had reacted after being in a car crash as a teen. The same sense of time slowing down, of the scene feeling unreal, of being numb rather than upset. Back in their apartment, he found Timothy had managed to get up on the couch. "I still want to get you to the ER," he said. "You look so much better but come on! What about infection? What about blood loss?"
"We try not to go to regular doctors," Timothy said easily enough, trying to tear the tatters of his shirt off. "They would want to run tests and do experiments and we'd be locked up like white rats."
"'We?' Who do you mean by we?"
Timothy finally got the shreds of blood-soaked white cloth off him and wadded them up. "I knew I would have to tell you sometime. You know about Tel Shai. I've heard you mention it on your podcast. The ancient Order of mystic knowledge that has trained Midnight War heroes for thousands of years."
"That's just a legend!"
"No, Foster. Tel Shai is real. The KDF members are knights of Tel Shai and I'm one of them."
Not knowing how to react to that, Foster finally said, "Tim, your color is so much better. When I saw you on the floor, your face was white."
Getting shakily to his feet, Timothy Limbo dropped back down again. "Ugh. Not yet. I need a little more time to heal. Foster, do me a favor. Get me another shirt and my pair of black jeans, okay?"
"If you insist." Remembering the groceries, he picked up both bags and put them on the counter by the sink. Their apartment didn't have a gas stove or oven, they made do with a microwave, hot plate and an electric rice cooker for the moment. Foster went into their bedroom and came out in a minute with a dark red T-shirt and some jeans.
"Thanks. Ow. Everything hurts." Timothy started changing clothes, checking his leather jacket and finding the blood had only gotten on one cuff. As he scrubbed it off, he said, "I'm going to have to ask you for a big favor."
"Like there is anything I wouldn't do for you."
"You're going to have to drive me to the city. To KDF base in Manhattan. I can't use my motorcycle, I'd be too exposed, so we have to take your car. Okay?"
"Not a problem, buddy. You still haven't told me what attacked you. I'm guessing a black bear, the way you were torn up."
Getting to his feet, seeming steady at last, Timothy Limbo zipped up his jacket half way. "I wish they were only bears."
II.
Ten minutes later, Timothy was moving around the apartment without difficulty. He tossed the bloody cloths and shreds into the hamper, then poured a good amount of vinegar in on top of them. "Vandages hunt mostly by scent."
Foster folded his arms in his stubborn pose. "That's the last straw. On the way down to the city, you are going to tell me EVERYthing."
"I will, I will, I promise," Timothy said. "I've been putting it off and putting it off."
"You know I never insisted that we not have any secrets from each other. I don't think relationships work that way. But all this is crossing any reasonable line that could be drawn."
"Well, I'm ready to go, how about you?"
"Let me turn off the light. Let's go."
Opening the door a crack, Timothy held up his open hand. Over its palm, a barely visible tornado of force swirled and swayed, then shot away into the hall and down the stairs. Before Foster could speak, Timothy shushed him and seemed to be staring off into space. A minute later, the tiny apparition whipped back to pop out of existence like a soap bubble bursting.
"I can see and hear what my caspers do," Tim said, trotting quickly down the stairs.
"That makes everything clear, I'm so sure," grumbled Foster right behind him.
The apartments were relatively inexpensive because the building sat at the bottom of a steep hill that no one wanted to drive in the wintertime. Down the street was a scrap metal place and a used furniture outlet. Across the street, a strip of undeveloped land ended at the banks of the Esopus Creek. This was a rundown area of town that was often mentioned as being ready for gentrification but so far nothing concrete had been done.
Parked at the curb was Foster's three year old Mazda CX-3. He chirped open the locks as they ran up. Timothy hopped into the front passenger seat and urged him, "Peel out, Foster!"
"Who'll pay my speeding ticket?" the blogger asked as he started up the bronze SUV.
"Be glad if we see some cops, the Vandages will drop back if there are witnesses."
Still reluctant, Foster Whitcomb glanced in the rear view mirror and made a gargling noise. He saw five long lanky figures in the reflection, racing toward them faster than people should be able to run. They were naked and covered in short brown fur. They had wolf heads.
Without realizing it, Foster slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and his SUV took off as if shot from a catapult. They flashed past the STOP sign on the corner without even seeing it.
Twisting around to stare out his window, Timothy yelled, "They're getting in a white van. A Human must be driving it!"
"Gack," said Foster, which was as close as he could get to a coherent statement.
"Don't panic," Timothy told him, holding up both hands. "I'll distract the driver."
Although Foster was too busy heading down Fisher Street at seventy miles per hour to notice, two of the tiny caspers materialized and whirled away back toward their pursuers. A second later, the van swerved sharply and went off the road into the bushes.
"That did it!" Timothy said with relief clear in his voice. "Nobody can drive well with my caspers in front of their eyes. Turn left, Foster, quick. We'll head south. I don't want to take the Thruway, we'll use smaller back roads down to the city."
"Can I slow down? Please say I can slow down!"
"Yeah, but stay above the speed limit. Take another left and then go straight, we'll use the bridge to Port Ewen." Timothy leaned back in his seat. "How're you doing?"
"How do you think?! I find you chewed up and covered in blood, then you heal like a magic trick and now we just got chased by actual real-life werewolves..!"
"Not exactly werewolves, buddy. They're called Vandages. Okay, now we're on 32 heading south. Hopefully those things will have lost our trail. I can do some explaining...."
III.
"Now, you've been doing THE WIND BETWEEN THE GRAVESTONES for six years now?" aaskd
Timothy.
"Almost seven. I started as an online blog and went to a YouTube channel in November 2012. I picked up a lot of new subscribers with the alien hybrid children story, you remember that."
Tim kept checking behind them, watching every vehicle approaching until he was sure it was not the white van. "Sure. But the first time we met, when you came to the KDF building, you said the ghost child that you saw was the first time you couldn't explain away a phenomena. Is that right?"
"Absolutely. I come right out and tell my followers that I'm a skeptic to the bone and they like that because I don't try to pad the stories with a lot of filler. That ghost girl, though, it turned out she WAS real."
"Oh, Foster. This is something I have put off telling you. This is going to be hard. I've been in the Midnight War since 2015 and I have seen everything supernatural you can think of. Vampires. Ghouls. Zombies, sorcerers, Trolls. Men with rattlesnake fangs, men with skulls for faces. It's all too real! And tonight some of the Midnight War intruded into the mundane everyday world where you live."
Foster whistled. "Buddy, that's a lot to take in. You mean all the horror movies are true?"
"Horror movies aren't half of it. Foster, it's incredibly dangerous to step into the Midnight War." Timothy hid his face in his hands for a moment before continuing, "I normally wear very thin armor under my regular clothes and I normally carry a dozen little weapons and gadgets on me. I've been going without them when I visit you. Ever since we became intimate. And today, going unarmed and unarmored nearly got me ripped to shreds."
"Give it a second to sink in," Foster said. "Wow. I thought your Kenneth Dred Foundation was more of a research and historical organization. I've seen some of the books your KDF has published, they're very well documented and footnoted. Now I find it's a lot more than that. I find out you're a sort of army fighting a secret war."
"That's about it. We're knights of Tel Shai, defending Humans against the creatures of the night. The closer I got to you, the more we cared, the more I hesitated telling you any of this."
By this time, they were past the town and out on Route 32 where houses and businesses were spread thin. Foster had slowed down until he was doing no more than 60 in a 45 mile per hour zone and so far they hadn't seen any cops. "Tim? Did you think I would freak out and not want to know you any more?"
"I wouldn't have blamed you..." Timothy said quietly.
"Have a little faith. Show a little trust. Tim, I have never felt this way before. I will stand by you no matter what. I've got your back."
Timothy Limbo reached over and squeezed his partner's shoulder. "That means a lot, Foster. I'm so glad we met. Right now, I need to report to my captain." He unclipped a thin flat device from his belt and thumbed its side. "Hello, base? Sable, are you on duty?"
A calm, steady woman's voice instantly answered, "Right here, Tim. What's up?"
"Bit of a situation. Okay, I came down to visit Foster. Tomorrow is my normal day off and I took a monthly personal leave day after that. I parked my Harley behind the apartment building when I was jumped by two Vandages. I drove them off but took some damage and it was a while before I healed."
As he paused, Sable said, "Go on."
"Right now, we're in his car heading down Route 32. We'll be coming up on Poughkeepsie in a minute. There may be a van with four or five Vandages following us and I assume a Human with them. Those things can't drive."
"You're in luck, Jin is up in White Plains right now. She was picking up some reports from a few of our observers. She's using the Toyota Matrix. I'll send her to meet you, keep going."
Timothy sighed with relief. "Having Jin on hand is reassuring. I'll keep my Link active so she can home in on its signal. Thanks, captain."
"Unfortunately, most of our team is in Danarak right now. The Night Gorillas have been active lately. Timothy, I'm not happy about involving a civilian in our cases. We try to keep people out of the Midnight War."
"I know, I know. There wasn't much choice, captain."
The voice from the Link had a stern edge to it. "We'll discuss it after things are settled. I'm calling Jin now. Keep heading south and I'll have her meet you en route."
"Understood." As the connection broke off, Timothy shook his head. "Well, I'm in the doghouse now. But I was going to tell you about the Midnight War anyway. You deserve to know everything."
Slowing at a crossroads, Foster glanced over. "Who's this Jin?"
"One of my teammates. You couldn't ask for someone better to be on hand in a fight. Think of her as a female Samurai. She carries a bone-bladed long knife she carved herself."
That made Foster chuckle. "You know the most interesting people!"
IV.
The signs said they were nearing Newburgh. At one in the morning, traffic was sparse and no more than one car was seen at a time going in the opposite direction. Foster stopped for a red light next to a strip mall and saw one of the tiny whirlwinds materialize over Timothy's upraised hand and whiz out through the partly open window.
"What ARE those things? I can barely see them," he said.
"My caspers," Timothy answered. "You know, friendly ghosts. I can see and hear whatever they see and hear. I'm sending this one back to find out if we're being followed."
"Okay, but what are they? You didn't say."
"No one really knows. My Teachers at Tel Shai think they might be manifestations of my subconscious mind. But I'm sure they're living independent creatures of gralic force. My little buddies. I'm very fond of them."
Foster made an uneasy scoffing noise. "How long have they been showing up?"
"Oh, since I was a teenager, maybe sixteen. I mentioned them a few times to my family and everyone acted like I was high on drugs about it, so I just kept them to myself after that. They're what qualifies me to be a knight of Tel Shai."
"Amazing. That's so wild. Can you teach me how to make them?"
"I doubt it, sorry to say," he replied. "I've tried lots of times to get my teammates to summon caspers but it seems to be my own special trick. I guess you could call it a gift. No one really understands it. Anyway, they couldn't find that white van anywhere on this highway but that doesn't mean we're totally safe. The Vandages could be on a parallel road and coming to intercept us."
Foster tapped a dashboard dial with a finger. "Down to a quarter of a tank, buddy."
"Oh. All right, next gas station we see."
"I still have a million questions. How are we being chased by freaking werewolves in the first place?"
Timothy tsked-tsked. "Not werewolves, my friend. Vandages. They don't change shape, that's their natural form. They're basically humanoids covered with short fur but they have heads like wolves. Oh, and sharp claws more feline than lupine. I'm guessing the driver is their master. He's most likely a sorcerer of some kind."
Five minutes of heavy silence weighed them down. Timothy finally ventured, "What's on your mind, buddy?"
"Huh? I was just thinking. I saw fatal wounds close up on you and fifteen minutes later, you were acting like nothing happened. But what if those monsters get a hold of me? I don't have your magic healing powers. I'd be killed. Ripped apart..."
Timothy reached over and squeezed his partner's hand. "That's not going to happen. I promise. You're going to be safe." But even as he spoke, two headlights on bright rushed up close behind them.
V.
"Oh Christ! It's the monsters after us!" Foster yelled, slamming down the gas pedal. The car almost jumped off the road as it accelerated sharply.
"This will cause a crash," Timothy said with remarkable calmness. "Pull into that place right ahead."
Behind a wide paved parking lot sat a darkened two-story building with a sign on its roof CALLAHAN'S DANCE CLUB. Before the front door was a banner RE-OPENING SOON.
Foster swerved into the lot, almost doing a 180 and jolted to a stop with his engine revving. Immediately after them came the white van.
Timothy undid his seat belt and patted Foster on the shoulder. "Listen. Right now, get back on the road and don't look back. Drive to KDF headquarters on 28 East 38th Street, do whatever they tell you."
"What?! No, wait...!" But Foster was talking to an empty seat as Timothy dove out of the car and sprinted straight at the van which was coming to a halt fifty feet away. One of the rear doors opened and a wolf head emerged just as Tim seized it and slammed it murderously down on the edge of the door. There was a hideous crunch as its skull cracked. Whirling, Timothy rushed around the rear of the van and caught another Vandage hopping out from the opposite side.
The wolf-headed creature straightened up, growling. Timothy closed in quick as any fencer and thrust a high side kick to the Vandage's chest that broke ribs and caved in the sternum. Barely gasping as it died, the monster sagged down to the asphalt and stretched out face down.
Watching all this, the breathless Foster saw only a confused blur and two thumps of impact. The action was too fast for him to process. He did not know that Timothy Limbo had studied Kumundu under Teacher Chael of Tel Shai for four years, learning secrets that unlocked reserves of strengh and speed not otherwise available. Not even the best of his team, Tim was nevertheless fighting at a level few black belts could match.
Thinking he had won a split-second, Timothy snapped his head around and saw to his dismay that Foster had not driven away. He swung an imperative arm and yelled, "Get out of here!" That was his mistake. As his back was exposed and he stood still for that instant, two of the Vandages loped from the van and pounced squarely upon him.
Foster's mind was working faster than it ever had before. There was nothing in the car to use as a weapon. He didn't own a gun. There was a tire iron in the trunk but no time to fetch it. He made his decision without realizing it. It meant getting killed instantly but he was going to try to help Tim anyway. He grabbed the door handle and began to swing it open...
And a huge furry mass crashed against the door from outside, slamming it shut again. The wolf's-head glared at him from inches away, those amber-colored eyes filled with eagerness and the fangs gleaming in the open muzzle. Foster did not know that he screamed like a little girl at that moment in primal fear. The beast was pounding on the window with open paws. The glass began to crack.
VI.
Somehow that terrifying wolf's-head was gone. The body remained pressed up against the window, slowly sliding down as blood spurted from the cleanly edged stump of the neck. The monster was dead. Foster realized he wasn't going to be killed in the next few seconds. He couldn't even begin to wonder why. His breath was coming in such short rapid pants that his eyesight blurred. He felt dizzy and slumped back in his car seat without understanding what had happened.
A second later, he managed to turn his head and look out. The window to his left had cracks and bright red blood obscuring it but he still saw Timothy was up on his feet, apparently unharmed. There was only one Vandage on its feet, and it was lunging at a small thin blonde woman in some sort of grey outfit. Pivotting like a matador evading a bull, the woman swept a long white knife in an arc that gutted the Vandage open from chest to hips. The monster dropped into a gory mess of its own innards and twitched once.
Still watching, Foster pressed a palm to his own chest. His heart was pounding so hard he felt his hand tremble from the beat. Was the danger over. He could see Vandages lying on the dark asphalt of the parking lot. Three. No, there was the one lying next to his car and he could see one crumpled up next to the van. That made five.
Timothy and the blonde with the knife had yanked open the driver's door and pulled out an old man in a loose white shirt that reached down to his knees. There was some yelling but he couldn't make it out. The woman raised her weapon and crashed the round pommel on the top of the man's head exactly as if she intended to crack it open and the old man slumped down to the ground.
Whirling around and seeing no further immediate threat, Timothy rushed over to the XX and pulled the driver's door open. Foster was visibly trembling with his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. He stared at Timothy with recognition and his mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Tim dropped to one knee and touched the side of his partner's face. "Hey.. are you okay? It's all over now. You're safe."
"Tim..." came a recognizable whisper.
"Buddy, it's all over," Timothy repeated. "We're all safe now. Take it easy."
After wiping her bone-bladed knife thoroughly on the sorcererer's shirt, Demrak Jin strode over to stand beside Tim. In the backflood of her own car's headlights, she was a dramatic figure, small and taut in a tunic and pants of grey sharkhide with the rough denticles on the outside. "He is in shock, Timothy."
Taking Foster's pulse, Tim said, "His skin is warm and dry. I think if it's shock, it's very mild. Foster, can you hear me? What's my real last name?"
"Huh? What? Oh, Lambert. Not Limbo."
"You're safe now, buddy, just try to relax."
From behind him, Jin said, "Sable has asked Department 21 Black to send a clean-up squad to this area. They should be here shortly. I hate them, with their bland faces and identical suits and their silence. But they are useful."
Timothy slowly stood up, still pressing a comforting hand to Foster's shoulder. "Are you okay waiting here for them, Jin?"
"Of course. I am not without feelings, Tim. Take your friend down to our headquarters. Sable is a very reassuring presence and her enhanced senses will tell how he is doing. I think after he gets some sleep and sees morning light, all this will seem far behind him."
"Come on, buddy, stand up for me. That's right." As Timothy helped the dazed man up onto his feet and then walked him around to the passenger side, Foster mumbled, "Tim... did you see that? What happened? It was crazy."
"We'll talk about it. It's all over now." Getting Foster buckled in and the door closed, Timothy went back over to the driver's side.
Demrak Jin's odd charismatic face under the shock of white bristly hair was frowning as usual. "Try not to worry, Tim. Your Human minds are quite resilient."
"I hope he's not going to be traumatized, Jin. I was hoping to keep him away from the Midnight War if I could."
The Gelydra woman clapped a small hand across Timothy's back, a very rare gesture for her. Normally she disliking touching anyone. "He has stumbled into darkness for the first time in his life. And hopefully, it will be his last time."
9/11/2023
