Chapter 13

The tomb door opened, and surprisingly I marched out with more strength than I remember. No one in sight, not a soul. Nor the soulless monsters who put me in there. I found my way to the upper deck. Unusually bright sun rays in the sky, a sweep of golden light caressing my neck, clean ocean air invading my nose. I leaned over the gunwale and glanced down into the water. It was so bright I spotted a school of fish swimming in formation. But upon a closer look, the pack was following one fish, same size, same type, maybe he just knew the way. Zeus approached me calmly and placed his hand on my shoulder. He noticed the school of fish too.

"The forgotten pond, the water, it will always show you who you really are. There's nothing to be afraid of. Not even death, it's where we are all headed. Down in the dirt. If you live your life the right way, well, the end should feel like going home. A call back to the earth. We all get the same call. Some people just don't listen hard enough," Zeus said.

I agreed with him, but I stayed quiet and let the sounds of the sea reply for me. So peaceful, even a few gentle waves washed under us as the boat danced with the water. I kept peering into the seascape like I was solving the meaning of life, holding on to those concerned, calculating eyes. Taking in God's artistry.

I noticed a body floating by, fully clothed, face down. It resembled me, same size, hair, legs. But…it couldn't be right…I mean, I'm not dead. What's happening I looked over at Zeus, and not only saw him, but another version of myself smiling back, pointing to the dead body with a wedding band on his finger. Zeus then leaped over into the water and began walking on it. Treading towards my body with tentacles morphing over his feet.

"Now, how did you end up out here"

Wake up…

I awakened from my nightmare in a small cabin on the boat. All the walls an oak wood color. Aries' face loomed over me, staring at me like a newborn. There was a gentle aura about her face, and briefly, I couldn't tell if I was alive or dreaming. My eyelids carried a heavyweight, along with the blinding light, I struggled to see. Miraculously, the strength was summoned to keep them open, to keep looking at Aries. She's alive.

"Number 7! You're awake!"

Who's number 7 An onslaught of memories rushed to my brain. Memories of someone I don't remember being. I sprung up too quickly, and a sharp pain sprinted down my spine like it was dragging a blade across my vertebrae. On my way back down, I noticed Apollo, standing near the door, an AR-15 in his hands, and my teeth marks still on his fingers. He was clearly a watchdog. I liked him better when he served me food.

"Do not move quickly, you were punished for going against father," Aries said.

I reached behind my neck and fingered a scabbed wound that resembled an upside-down "L." I've been branded. Next, I brushed off the top of my head, now cleaned with a buzzer. I've been shaved. Alas, Aries' voice reeked of that familiar grunt, the way I remembered her before we slept together before her femininity overpowered me. I could tell in her tone she was happy, and that… hurt most of all.

"Ten minutes till Divine Evaluation, ten minutes till Divine Evaluation," Apollo shouted.

I didn't say a word, I just peered into Aries' light brown eyes, hoping I'd see fireworks, hoping she would come back to me. To my dismay, she just tilted her head like a confused dog, her brain was elsewhere. In Zeus' hands. Every fiber in me struggled sitting up again; clearly, I was ripping apart infinite roots that connected me to the mattress.

The back of Aries' head, palmed by my hand, a kiss forced on her lips. Come back, Aries. Her body responded faintly, I could feel something breaking through until Apollo forced us apart. The barrel of the AR-15 pointed at my face.

"None of that is allowed on the River of Styx! It is a punishable offense!"

It's an ocean, why does he call it a river He slammed the butt of the gun into my stomach. Great, more pain, like sitting up wasn't hard enough. Whatever abs I possessed under my baby beer gut didn't shield me. Plain sit-ups never work. I figured I'd get acquainted with agony. I'm not going to survive without enduring more of it.

Aries reached and grabbed his arm.

"That is not the way! Refrain from your cruelty, as father teaches. The ascetic lifestyle fuels the vehicle. The vehicle is our souls. But its power goes both ways. Self-discipline for both the weak…the angry, and the confused," she proclaimed.

Apollo and I were in awe of how eloquently Aries presented her case. He shot me a repressed look, with flared nostrils, holding back his urge to thrash me again. I looked at Aries confused and mustered a 'Thank you.' She slowly placed her palm over the place I'd been hit with the weapon. Her hand rested on my stomach and briefly made me think of what it must be like to be pregnant. Everyone extending their arms over the life within your life.

"I am one of the healers here. Father himself has declared me that. We all have roles, soon yours will be revealed to you. By the time Divine Evaluation begins, you will be able to stand."

Immediately after I left the room, I was shackled to the wrist with the others. The person closest to me in the chain resembled a crypt keeper, skin, and bones. At least Aries was alive, I will use her to free us both.

I noticed that the bathroom was empty and contemplated how bathing worked here. Who showers first Helen was at the center of the Divine Evaluation session, no surprise. I guess she's alive too.

The freak show I was being forced into presented itself as an intervention for the mundane. A congregation of zombies, every word a different inflection of "uhh." Zeus clearly had a program, thankfully I missed the strongest part. I still couldn't understand the absolute power he leveraged over everyone except me. My guess is that at some point, the drug-induced food and water will push Zeus' into a god-like entity, and I will believe. Is Zeus The Great Old One

We all sat in the meeting room in a circle, chained together. The other soldier and Apollo occupied the corners with trigger-happy stances. Helen was freed from the chain and placed in the center. Perfect, now I get to hear Helen's life story. Before the babble of 'woe-me' began, I noted the people in the room. The survivors of Byzantium, we were missing one. Patchy beard man was a ghost, if he's dead like I assumed, that's an ironic statement.

The telltale sign of most crazy people, aside from the now missing patchy beard man, is their movement; Odd, small actions. Sitting up, standing, sitting down, over and over. Grabbing receipts off the ground that didn't belong to them. They have a system, an arrangement of glitches, and, unfortunately for them, it's easy to spot. Number 2, also known in the real world as Hoover, was that crazy person. I knew I'd need to keep an eye on him.

My concentration broke when Helen opened her big brainwashed mouth, speaking like she was in rehab, apologizing for her existence.

"Everyone in this world has a shadow. The darkest part of you that battles the light, the enforcer of shame towards yourself. I imploded like a dead star at the young age of twelve, and my body dysmorphic disorder shoved me into a corner of loneliness. Every night, I muttered to myself, 'When are you ready to be happy' I never had talent, never had passion, barely even experienced sex. I only made love to myself. In all my fifty-one years of life, I never treasured myself once. Never expected to be treasured. Until father entered my life. He was like the sun, and I, and I, and I…" Helen stuttered.

We all looked in shock, and Zeus stood up. He quietly chanted a word. It rolled it off his lips like sand in a squall. It sounded like 'Satellite,' and the ritual ended with a snap of his fingers. Helen's mind rebooted. She briefly malfunctioned like a faulty automaton. Zeus, holding all the configurations.

"…and I knew we were meant to be together forever, forever."

The lab rats clapped, Apollo's side-eye made my ribs hurt, and reluctantly I joined in the applause. A walrus cheer, when the ringmaster cracks his whip.

"Excellent work Number 1, by tomorrow, you will forget your old pain, and be reborn anew. Please sit and eat. Now, Ramses, if you'd be so kind as to remove the conscious flow and grant Number 2 the room," Zeus commanded.

The 'conscious flow' was the name given to the chain around our wrist, binding us together. A conscious slave reference. In actuality, it might as well have been placed around our necks, wouldn't make a difference. Ramses, the soldier who resembled Zeus, the soldier who I believed still had half a brain, unlocked Hoover and pushed him forward. Ramses' posture was perfect, a straight back, but he had a tight face as if the skin was being pulled underneath his chin. He reminded me of a hunting dog, a Doberman pinscher.

Hoover looked like a different type of animal altogether. Like a mix of a Chihuahua and a squirrel. Reserves of nervous energy stored within, escaping out his face. His eyes darted across the room constantly, and when he stood, his body swayed forward and backward. We all waited for two minutes, and Hoover didn't say a word. He just kept fidgeting.

Zeus reintroduced his cobra-hypnotic black magic. The word was different, this one sounded like 'Advent.' The repaired Hoover spoke in broken sentences, a possible hardware failure. Luckily for me, the mind control hadn't taken such a stronghold yet, aside from the dream. He's manipulating my dreams now I could still see both sides of the coin. George Washington's face on every flip. The reason Zeus held such power, it's not just the hallucinogens. He's using hypnotism.

"A voyage is always an amazing experience until you drown."

JOURNAL ENTRY #016 OF JOHN VINSON

I hit the bottle, or rather the bottle hit me straight in the brain. My body numbed by alcoholism. But I'm no idiot, depending on who I'm talking to, I would tell them I'm bibulous.

No one knew when I was drunk, because I was always drunk. My wife didn't notice it until she left me. My kids still can't tell. The pain is masked by the cheap whiskey, but I'm sure by now, my liver is corroded, lungs blackened, but it's ok. I know how to separate myself, how to compartmentalize. Honestly, I just don't care about myself, I needed my fix. I'm well aware that I'm a blemish on the beauty of earth.

Jasmine said that the age your addiction starts is the age you remain mentally. I guess by that theory, I'm permanently twenty-seven, the year I joined the force. Hell, even rehab didn't teach me that one, my little sister did. Rehab just taught me how to relapse. She was the smartest person I'd ever known. She was the writer in the family, perhaps that trait laid dormant in me. Life had to force it out.

The paper finally broke the story. "Byzantium burned down. Two found dead inside. Bodies charred, identified by dental records." There was a debit card left in the bar below, it belonged to a 'Dimitri Davenport.' First clue, I did some snooping on him. Most records show up normal to untrained civilians, but the timing is too perfect, everything dates back to four years ago. I'll dig deeper into who this Davenport person really is.

I knew this was Zeus' work, or Ken Williams, whatever his name is. But how did he pull it off How did he escape the building The two victims were found with bullet wounds, led the media to think it was a botched mass murder. With so many of those popping up across the country, it became a straightforward narrative, and the world ran with it.

I suspect he's got people on the inside, connections within the law. Could be another reason why I was taken off the case. It wouldn't be too farfetched to believe that he knew my connection to Jasmine before he fucked her brain up. I'll solve this case then die afterward like all old drunks do. Jasmine deserves that. I've got nothing else to live for.

The bottle keeps calling me back. Sometimes I feel my hands shaky, unable to write. That's usually when sobriety creeps back into me. When I realize what I've done to myself, my kids. Their father, a shell of a man trapped in a bottle, surfing on a sea of yesterdays and Kentucky bourbon.

Most people think drunks aren't paranoid. They look down on us as crazy people who see things. Well, we are paranoid; it's just that we're more scared of our shadow than anything else. We can see the darkness in you a mile away. It's probably the only advantage of having a tainted soul. You attract what you are.