Dominik has been to the Old Town Music Store many times, he’s practically a regular.  They have an eclectic collection of rare acoustic instruments but also carry the standard brands of electric gear.  It’s too early for there to be a crowd of regular customers but they’re open and Dominik figures that he and James can talk in private there.  Especially if the owner, Adam, is there.  Adam and Dominik’s parents were friends and Dominik got his first guitar at Old Town.  He’s comfortable around Adam and knows that Adam won’t be curious about James or their conversation.  When the cab arrives James pays and they go in.  As they walk in the front door Dominik is disappointed to see someone unfamiliar at the counter.  An imposing looking character you would never expect to see at music store that caters to Folk Music.  Tattoos, spiked hair, and piercings in places you wouldn’t think could be pierced.  Dominik walks up to the counter and asks for a booth.

“Hey.  Can we get a booth?  I want to try out some new effects and a practice amp.”

“Sure.  Who’s this?  Your dad?”  The imposing man says in a sarcastic tone of voice.

“No, just a friend visiting from Boston.”

They walk over to a booth and Dominik grabs a guitar on the way.

“Oh I see, sugar daddy?”  Says the imposing man with a flirting smile.

The guy’s attitude is really pissing Dominik off so he decides to say something.

“You got a problem with customers coming in to spend money?  I know Adam, the owner.  I buy stuff here all the time so don’t be a dick.”

“Fine.  You’re a little sensitive, I think.  Well here we are.  How long do you think you’ll be?”

“I don’t know, maybe half an hour.”

“Fine.  Just put shit back the way you found it.”

“Thanks.”

They close the door and lock it.

“Wow, what a dick.  I’m sorry Mr. Hannagan.”

“That’s no problem.  Are you sure these are really private.”

“Yeah totally, don’t worry.  I’ll play while we talk, just to keep him thinking I’m checking stuff out.”

Dominik plugs in and starts playing.  Testing out different effects on the foot pedal board.

James starts the conversation.  “Well you mentioned the Sullivan case.  There is a little bit of a story behind that.  The article I mean, not the actual case.  The case was a major story as I’m sure you gathered from reading the article.  Well, you see there was this book associated with the case, the murders.  It seemed to be related to black magic or the occult, or something.  I don’t know anything about that.  That’s why I went to see Professor Armistead at Harvard.  I’m the one that brought him into the fold and he thought it would be great if he could get some research out of it.  I took a class with him back when I was an undergrad so I thought of reaching out to him.  Anyway, I’m off topic.  So, the police had the book as evidence and the feds wanted it.  And somewhere along the way the thing disappeared.  Just like that, in thin air.  The really bizarre thing is that the feds had been granted permission to confiscate the book by a court order.  The paper work was all in order and the FBI comes to the local Salem police station to get the book.  A local officer signs it out, Donnelly I think was his name.  Yes, Donnelly, and he gets the signature of a federal agent for a receipt, Sanchez.  Boy I can’t believe I remember this.  The book is in an evidence bag on Sanchez and as they’re walking through the station Sanchez has a heart attack.  He goes down to the floor, BAM!, in front of all these witnesses.  Everyone rushes over and they start doing CPR on him.  They call an ambulance and continue working on him until the ambulance arrives.  Now mind you there are no civilians around, just cops and several federal agents.  But in all the commotion the book disappears into thin air.  Sanchez is clutching the evidence bag and it’s still sealed.  Most people think one of the paramedics must have lifted it as a souvenir but the thing is… the bag was sealed.  So the cops look crooked and the feds look stupid and everyone’s head in on the chopping block because this is a high profile case and the suspect, Sullivan, is still on the loose.  Everyone’s afraid of losing their job or worse.  So they make up this cockamamy story to cover their tracks.  They didn’t do a great job covering their tracks but it’s one of those things where everyone knows that everyone’s hands are a little dirty and they all help cover it up.  There was really no foul play in my opinion, just carelessness.  They all just sort of put their tails between their legs, shrugged it off and said “I dunno what happened.”  So over the years they’ve moved to get information related to the case brushed under the rug so it’s easier to pretend nothing happened.  It’s no major criminal conspiracy.  They’re all just embarrassed they did such a bad job.  So that’s the story.”

“Wow.  What about Sanchez?”

“He’s fine, he survived and recovered and he’s still with the bureau.  Donnelly too, still with Salem police.  But with this piece of evidence and the main suspect both missing it’s just too sensitive of an issue and they want to bury it.”

“But why couldn’t you say all that on the phone?”

“Look, you’re not naïve.  Big brother is always watching and listening.  And for a journalist like me who does pieces on government surveillance, civil rights and privacy, and being an outspoken advocate for the rights of citizens to protect their privacy, I’m a target.  I know they’re listening and I don’t want to give them anything on me.  If they found out I was talking about this little incident I probably wouldn’t get in trouble but they’d make things uncomfortable for me and the Gazette for a while.  I don’t need that.”

“That is a wild story.  Almost funny if it weren’t for the gruesome murders connected to it.”

“I agree.  Many folks find it humorous.”

“What about Armistead?  Is he still around?  I was looking him up too, just out of curiosity after seeing his name mentioned in your article.”

“He’s at Harvard.  He is close to 80 years old now I think, but still active.  They have him in one of those Emeritus positions.”

“I couldn’t find his profile.”

“He’s kind of a recluse.  He’s also a technophobe and since he doesn’t really teach anymore the department sees no reason to waste the resources with maintaining an online profile.  He won’t maintain it.”

“Well thanks for the story, it was helpful.  I guess we can go.”

“Hey you mentioned the microfilm at the library.  Which library again?”

“At the University of Chicago.  That’s where I’m a student now.”

“Great.  Are you majoring in journalism?”

“No Anthropology.  But I’m interested in journalism, I do a lot of writing.  Not just technical or research, I like to write essays and opinion pieces.  What I’m working on now sort of merges these two interests.”

“That’s great.  Well I hope that it’s successful.”

Dominik shuts everything down and they leave the booth.  He puts the guitar down and they walk out.  The clerk stops them.

“Hey.  You gonna buy anything?”

“Not today.  Thanks.”

“Pussy.”

They leave.  Dominik turns to James.  “Sorry about that guy, I don’t know what his problem is.  I wasn’t joking when I said I know the owner.  I’ll have to talk to him.”

“Whatever, you can’t control other people.  You can only control yourself.  Do you want to catch a cab back together or not?”

“No thanks.  I think I’m going to spend some time here.  But thanks again, this was a great help.”

“No problem.  When you get to Harvard be sure to look me up.  Perhaps you’ll take the online course next semester.”

“Definitely.”

They go their separate ways.  Dominik decides to go further north to Lincoln Park and finds his way to near Lincoln Park Zoo.  Now that he’s near the zoo, he starts to fixate on the dream.  It’s another unseasonably warm day and people are out in shorts and tee shirts.  Dominik, as usual, is dressed in black, but no jacket.  He strolls through the zoo, watching the people go in and out of the different houses.  He stops to look at the bears in the outdoor area.  There are people crowding around the railing, taking a few minutes each to look at them and take pictures.  Dominik walks up to an open space and watches silently.  After several seconds the bears seem agitated, and start walking in circles, growling intensely.  Everyone starts pointing and videoing them on their phones.  Suddenly one of the bears attacks another and they fight ferociously.  Blood sprays everywhere.  Some of the people cheer them on, others are in shock and those with little kids shield them from the carnage.  Dominik runs to the nearest zookeeper and frantically tells them what’s happening.  They run back and one of the bears is dead.  The keeper calls for help and in a few seconds a keeper comes with a tranquilizer gun and aims, but by this time the bears are calm.  They decide not to shoot the bear and instead move to lure them back into the indoor enclosure so they can clean the mess.  One of the keepers speaks to the crowd “Please move back and give us room to work.  We are very sorry that this happened.  Please move on to the other houses.”  Dominik walks away heading over to the big cat house.  This is why he came, because of his dream.  As he walks up the steps towards the doors a small group of people come out in a hurry.  A man passes Dominik bumping him on the shoulder as he passes.

The man turns to Dominik “Hey, fuck you!  You hit me.”

Dominik feels defensive but doesn’t want to fight, “Sorry.  It was an accident.”

“No it wasn’t.  You did it on purpose.  You wanna fight.  I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Now Dominik is scarred.  This guy is really psycho and very large “No.  I’m sorry.”

The group walks away and Dominik can hear them talking in the distance.  “I don’t know what came over me.  I just lost it…”

Dominik calms down and goes in.  He walks through the big cat house looking for the Bengal Tiger.  As he walks past each cage the cats within get up and start circling, growling.  People start looking at Dominik.  He feels very exposed but doesn’t understand what is happening.  What about his presence is causing this.  Now he feels guilty about the bear attack, could that have been his doing?  He walks right through to the other door and leaves.  Freaked out by this he decides to leave the zoo and walk around the neighborhood.  He wanders over to Clarke Street and walks north.  He’s trying to process all this.  Find a reason for it, a scientific reason.  He talks to himself as he walks.

“Could I be giving off a scent that’s making these animals act out?  That makes no sense.  Could it be the bite?  And that guy at the music store.  I get along with everyone.  Why was he so hostile?  Maybe I am being sensitive, but the bear and the cats.  That’s too strange.”

Dominik looks around and realizes he’s walked quite far north, and is quite far from his place so he decides to take the bus back.  He stands at the bus stop waiting, watching people as they walk by.  They look at him, as if they know something he doesn’t.  Almost like they were all witnesses to the bear attack or the incident in the music store.  Dominik feels paranoid then suddenly snaps back to objective reality.  “This is stupid”, he says to himself.  Eventually the southbound Clark Street bus comes, the doors open and Dominik gets on.  As he fishes around in his pocket for money the bus driver get visibly angry.

“Hey!  What’s your problem?!  Have the change ready!  Look at all these people, they got somewhere to go, you know!”

Dominik looks shocked.  He has a lump in his throat.  “I, I, I’m sorry.”

“Really, you’re sorry?  Get out!  Get off my bus you son of a bitch!”

The doors open and Dominik runs off.  He’s shaking, trembling.  “What just happened?” he thinks to himself.  He is truly scared.  It is as if we walked into an alternate reality.  He decides to just walk home.  It’s going to be a long walk from Lincoln Park to North and Ashland but he doesn’t feel like he has a choice and the walk will help him calm down.  It’s early and he’ll have plenty of time to get work done.

Dominik arrives at the loft, walks straight to the table and takes an oxy.  It’s 12:27 pm.  He sits down, thinking about everything that happened.  He’s excited at the memory of his discussion with Hannagan.  Then he remembers Armistead and that he’s missing a tooth.  “Ah!  That’s why everyone was staring”, Dominik says out loud to himself.  He decides to call the dentist, the physical therapist and the orthopedist and make appointments.  This makes him feel better, now he has things to do for the next several days, something to mark the time and keep him focused.  After all that he decides to try and find Armistead.  He opens his laptop and looks up the Harvard anthropology department site.  Rather than look him up he finds the department phone number and calls.

“Hello, Anthropology.”

“Hi, I’m looking for Professor Armistead.”

“Hm.  Does he know you?”

“We have a mutual friend.  Mr. Hannagan from the journalism department.”  Dominik crosses his fingers.

“Ok, let me ring his office and see if he’s in.  He won’t take direct calls.  I’ll put you on hold.”

Yes!  Almost success.  Dominik waits.

“Hello, yes, Dr. Armistead said you should make an appointment to see him.”

“Ah, that’s a little difficult as I’m in Chicago.  Are you sure he won’t talk to me?”

“Wait again, let me ask.”

Dominik waits on hold for a few seconds.  Then a new voice come one the phone.  A man with a British accent.  The sound of his voice is old but he’s sharp witted and impatient.

“Yes hello, who exactly is this?”

“Hi, sir, professor.  I’m Dominik Franzese, I…”

“I don’t know anyone by that name.  You said you knew me.”

“No, no I didn’t.  I said we had a mutual friend.  Hannagan.”

“Oh, yes.  So you did.  Hm.  How exactly do you know James Hannagan?”

“Ah, I was planning to take his online journalism course nest semester and…”

“Online courses are…, as you Americans say, bullshit.  Don’t you think?  What kind of education is that?  Hm?  Well?”

“I don’t know.  That’s not why I called actually.”

“Well you don’t know.  My goodness!  How can you converse with people?  I’m so glad I don’t have to waste my time with your generation…”

Dominik interrupts.  “I just met Hannagan this morning in Chicago and…”

“Oh!  So you must be the young man who was asking about the Sullivan article.  Hm.”

“How did you know?”

“Are you mentally retarded?  Did you not listen to yourself when you said we had a mutual friend?  I know Mr. Hannagan, James, quite well.  He was quite excited after your call and informed me of your impending meeting.  I don’t have time for this.  I’m 83 and will probably die soon.  I certainly don’t want my final thoughts to be of this conversation.”

“Right, of course.  Sorry.  I wanted to discuss the book associated with the Sullivan case with you.  I’m an Archeology student and doing research on…”

“Yes, yes, on the occult, fine.  There isn’t much to discuss since I never had a chance to research the book…”

“Yes, but you’re considered a world expert on its contents and I’m very interested to learn more.”

“That’s amusing.  How does one become an expert in something one has never seen?  I’m not a string theorist you know.”

“Well, but you’ve written quite a bit about this text.”

“Those writings were speculative, mostly based on folk tales.  I’m not sure that you could benefit from a discussion based on these articles.”

Dominik really wants to get Armistead to talk more or agree to see him so he goes for broke.  “Dr. Armistead.  What if I could get access to a copy of the book?  Would you like to meet and analyze it?”

Armistead is silent for a few moments.  “How would you get access to a copy of this text?  Do I want to know?”

“I have a friend…”  Oh boy now Jack is my friend.  “A friend who deals in obscure antique books.  He called me a couple weeks ago describing a rare book that sort of matched the description of the one in the Sullivan case and it’s for sale.  I didn’t want it at first but after talking to Hannagan I thought this might be it.  This may be the missing book or another copy.  There were twelve original copies.  I read that in the Gazette article you…”

“Fine, I know what I said, I don’t have dementia.  I remember everything I say.  If you know as much as you claim then you know that if this … book you say your friend has is what you think it is then the FBI will want to get involved.  This could be more trouble than it’s worth.  Are you sure you want this … thing?”

“Well, I don’t know.  Maybe, if you’re interested in seeing it I can get it.”

“If I’m interested in seeing it I can get the copy myself.  There can’t be that many book dealers in Chicago that would deal in such things.  I’ve been to Chicago many times over many years.  Is it that pervert Jack Davenport?”

Dominik freezes.  What do you say to that?  “Ah, I don’t, I mean no, no it’s not Jack.  I know Jack.  No this is a dealer out in the suburbs.”

“Hm, must be Evanston.  A lot of weirdos over at Northwestern.”

“Right.”

Silence.  “Right?  What is that supposed to mean?  Your generation is by far the worst at communicating.  Look I’ll give James a call and see if he’s interested in scheduling a meeting.  You know, since you and he are such good friends.  You’ll have to come here as I am too old, too… fragile to travel.  But if there’s interest we can pay to bring you out here and even pay for the cost of the book.”

“Oh!  That’s great.  I mean, very generous to offer… ”

“We’re not putting you up at the Ritz so don’t get excited.  It’s a standard package deal for a visitor.  We have done this for others you know.”

“Right.  Well uh, can I give you my number so you can contact me?”

“Caller ID, they’ve had it for years you know.  How does the human race survive?”  The line disconnects.  Armistead hung up.

Dominik is too elated by the prospect of a meeting with Armistead to dwell on how bizarre that conversation was.  It’s like meeting a rock star.  Armistead is a big deal in his field.  He is worried about the possibility of Armistead calling Jack to verify he doesn’t have the book.  But right now he is so charged with excitement all he can think about is opening the book.

He sits and methodically opens the box, removes the stuffing and very, very gently removes the book from the box and sets it on the table on front of him.  He opens the cover and sees that first symbol again, the one he copied.  He catches the edge of the page with the skin of his thumb and turns the page.

Dominik sits, drinking tea after eating greasy Chinese takeout at one of only two tables in the place.  While he waits for the check he watches the TV mounted up near the ceiling opposite his table.

“That’s right Jean, it does feel like summer.  You’re not imagining it.  And the people of Chicago weren’t imagining it either as they enjoyed an historical high today of 82 degrees.  That’s right!  Could it be global warming?  I don’t know but it did cause a lot of confusion as people stripped down while walking home from work today.  So far the forecast is predicting this heat wave will last another two days then subside leaving in its wake the brutal winter we were preparing for.  Back to you Jean.”

“Wow, thanks Daniel.  Do you think people will be wearing their bathing suits for Halloween?”

Cheesy laughing…

Dominik feels for his wallet and gets it out but realizes in the moment that he doesn’t have his cell phone and this makes him anxious.  He’s still not himself, the OCD shouldn’t let him forget things like this.  The time is 6:32pm.  The check comes, he pays and leaves.  Back at the loft he wonders what to do with the rest of the day.  The dream is still freaking him out.  It’s too late to call doctors for appointments and he’s not in the mood to do research.  He finds his cell phone and sees a missed call with a Massachusetts area code.  He listens to his voice message with feelings of excitement.

“Hello, this message is for Dominik.  This is James Hannagan, you called earlier today about the online journalism course.  Unfortunately I am not inclined to admit students this late in the semester but would encourage you apply for next semester’s course.  If you’d like to discuss this further or receive materials early you can call back.  If I don’t answer my office you can reach me on my cell….  Goodbye.”

Dominik isn’t phased by the bad news as he doesn’t care about the course, but now he has a private cell number for Hannagan.  He’s getting further and further down the road to getting the information he’s after.  He calls Hannagan on his cell immediately.

“Hello, James Hannagan.”

“Yes, Mr. Hannagan, I’m sorry to call you late like this on your cell.  This is Dominik and I just got your message.”

“Oh hi.  No problem, I’m not busy.  Look I am sorry but I just can’t justify opening the course up this late.  I hope you understand.”

“Yes, no problem.  I really appreciate you contacting me.  Can I ask another question?  I won’t take up too much time.”

“Sure.”

“Well you see.  I’m kind of researching something and I’ve come across references to some of your articles.  I’ve been looking for copies of the articles and can’t seem to find them.”

“Well if can help I’ll try.  Which article are you looking for?”

“Please don’t hang up.  It’s the 1987 article on the Jimmy Sullivan case.”

“Oh yeah that one.  There’s a story behind that.  Where did you come across it?”

“Well I’m an undergraduate at University of Chicago, I’m supposed to go to Harvard next year… Anyway, I’m doing a research paper on Cults and Occultism and this case came up in an online search.  There’s just a snippet.  I found a microfilm copy at the university but can’t find anything online.  When I called the Salem Gazette I kind of got the run around.”

“You found a copy on microfilm.  That’s interesting.”

“Yeah, well anyway I could always go back to the library and print from the microfilm but when I couldn’t find it online I just thought that was strange.”

“I agree.  Look I can’t really talk about that on the phone but you’re in luck.  I’m at the airport now, on my way to Chicago for a journalism convention.  We could meet if you want and I’ll tell you all about it.  It’s not as mysterious as you might think but a lot of people could be embarrassed so I’d rather talk in person than over the phone.”

“Yeah, great!  That’s great.  You have my phone number, give me a call when you’re here and we’ll meet.”

“Very good.  Talk to you later.  Bye.”

“Thanks, bye.”

Dominik is elated and he hopes to get a complete firsthand account of what’s going on.  He decides to spend the night thinking of questions to ask Hannagan when he gets in tomorrow.  As he starts making a list the phone rings.  He looks, it’s Sanjay.

“Hey Sanjay.”

“Dom, man are you okay?  We’ve been worried about you since we didn’t hear from you.  We went back to the hospital yesterday and you were discharged.”

“I’m alright.  Not 100% but better.”

“What was it?  You said food poisoning?”

“No a spider bite, brown recluse.  They’re poisonous.”

“Shit man.  You could’ve died!”

“I don’t know about that but I’m okay now.”

“Well, we’re meeting to go out tonight.  If you’re up for it do you want to come with?”

“I don’t know.”  Dominik thinks about it.  He would like to hang out with friends.  I would make him feel better and take his mind off things.  “Where?”

“Just a local bar for drinks and food.  Hawkeye’s by University of Illinois campus.  Nothing crazy.”

“Okay, I’m in.  I’ll meet you there.”

Dominik drops everything and rushes for the door.  Suddenly he’s stopped in his tracks as if by a force field.  Without any will power he walks slowly back to the dining table and takes one oxycodone.  It’s as if he’s having an out of body experience, like he’s telling himself “Don’t do this!” yet he’s not listening.  After it’s over he rationalizes that it’s no big deal and leaves.

On his way to Hawkeye’s he thinks about what he just did.  It bothers him.  He also wonders how many oxy he’s had in the last few days.  But then he starts thinking about Hannagan and that he can’t wait to interrogate him over the book tomorrow.  It feels like no time has passed when he arrives at his destination, much like his trip to the doctor’s office he can’t even remember how he got there.  Dominik finds his friends and joins them.  Now he feels safe, almost as if being around other people will protect him from the strange things that have been happening.  But why should he need to feel safe, he’s rational, logical and doesn’t believe in superstition.  Feeling safe around his friends makes him feel ashamed.

They spend several hours there, drinking and talking.  Mostly about useless things, the weather in particular.  Chicago just had an 82 degree day in October.  That’s a real Indian summer.  They talk about music, food, where everyone is going after graduation.  Dominik is quiet, not really participating, just listening.  Then an idea strikes him.

Dominik get up and sits next to Katie.  “Hey Katie?  You’re a biology major right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, I have something that I want to have tested.”

“An STD.”  Sanjay says as he leans into the conversation.

Dominik laughs.  “No, but thanks.”

“I have an old book that looks leather bound but I’m curious about the leather.  What kind of animal it is.  I’m also interested in seeing if we can determine its age.

Katie replies.  “You have access to carbon dating equipment at the anthropology lab.”

“True.  But I’m not really a student this semester.  If I get a sample could you run tests on it?”

“Sure.  I don’t see why not.  It’ll be interesting.  What’s the book about?”

“I don’t know.  It’s just an old book.”

“Bring it over next week and I’ll do it.”

“Thanks.”

Katie goes back to the discussion at hand and Dominik retreats into his thoughts.

The night ends at 2:00 am and everyone goes their separate ways.  Dominik takes Halstead Street home and decides to walk.  He feels just fine in this neighborhood, it’s not as bad as it used to be.  He gets home and thinks about what to do next.  He’s still not back to his old self or he’d stay up all night doing research.  He’s afraid to sleep after the nightmare yet he’s too tired to do anything.  He sits up for a while surfing the web trying to look up Prof. Armistead.  Last time he searched the Harvard site only.  He figures the name Armistead has to be in an electronic archive somewhere, at least for old journal articles he’s published.  He does a generic google search Professor Edward Armistead.  Several hits come up.  He scrolls through them and finds one that looks interesting.

 

Jstor: Symbols, Language and Magic.  E. H. Armistead, Harvard.  Journal Computational Linguistics.  We review the symbols found in several medieval grimories and demonstrate that the information contained within has a pattern which identifies them as elements of a mathematical category commonly found in the study of modern mathematics.  …

 

“This is interesting.  Magic and mathematics.  This I can get into.  Maybe ancient man was not as dumb as we think, maybe he could do group theory and we’re idiots for thinking they believed in magic.”  Dominik downloads the article but is too tired to read it.  Satisfied with the find he walks over to the bed and sits up with his back against the wall.  For some reason he feels like if he sleeps sitting up we won’t have a nightmare.  He slowly drifts into unconsciousness.

Dominik awakes up to find himself siting in a park.  It’s a beautiful summer day.  He’s sitting on a bench with his shoes off and his feet in the grass sliding his feet back and forth, wriggling his toes.  It smells nice there too, smells like a summer from his childhood.  Off in the distance he sees a family playing in the park.  Mom, Dad and four or five year old girl.  They are having fun and seeing them reminds Dominik of his parents.  He sits quietly, watching for some time.  Then he notices something lurking in his peripheral vision.  He turns his head and sees a Bengal Tiger crouched in the tall grass, just meters away from the unsuspecting people.  Frozen in fear Dominik tries to yell, to warn them.  No sooner does the urge to yell come to his mind than his rational brain tells him “It’s hopeless.  What can they do if they know it’s coming?  If you don’t tell them they may die in peace.”  Then the tiger strikes with lightning speed attacking the little girl.  The parents try to stop the tiger yelling, screaming to let go.  The father picks up a rock and tries hitting the tiger but nothing works.  Dominik sits in shock, his fingers clenching the wood planks on the bench seat, then he finally screams “No!”  Everyone looks.  The tiger drops the dead girl’s body on the ground and slowly walks over to Dominik.  The parents pick up their daughter’s dead body holding it and crying.  Dominik can hear them sobbing and yelling “You killed her, you killed our daughter.  You monster.”  His heart races frantically as the tiger approaches.  Face to face, nose to nose the tiger sniffs Dominik’s face, blood dripping from its mouth.  Then it starts to lick Dominik on the face, playfully.  As it does it deposits copious amounts of the girl’s blood all over Dominik’s mouth.  The tiger walks away leaving Dominik to see the two parents standing over their daughter’s body, pointing at Dominik and shouting “You monster!  You killed our daughter!”  Dominik suddenly wakes up with a jolt.  Panting, he tastes blood.  Reaching for his face he realizes he has another bloody nose.  Without thinking he gets up, walks to the table and takes two oxy.  Then after a few moments he realizes what has happened.  The dream, the unconscious act of taking oxy.  He wakes up fully and looks at the clock.  7:45 am.

“Oh well, I’ve survived on less sleep.  May as well be up.”

He goes to the bath room and showers, trying to get the blood off his face.  He must have bled in his sleep and it dried.  This probably triggered the bizarre dream.  Still, it felt real.  This is the second dream in a few nights and they were both so real.  After a long shower he goes to the kitchen to make espresso.  He needs the strong stuff and the ritual will relax him.  As he drinks he starts thinking about the other dream and the trip to the ER, and how he started thinking that these events were related to the notes he made about the symbol.  But this was different, this dream wasn’t related to the symbol or his notes.  He thinks out loud.

“Lines, Rays, Sun… Hey, sun.  It’s been so hot after the…  Wow I’m getting really messed up mentally.  It’s gotta be the poison or the oxy.  I gotta stop taking oxy.  There is no way drawing a symbol made the weather change.”

Dominik continues drinking espresso, slowly, while looking for the Gorilla Munch.  “Ah, a handful of munch would be good right now.”

As he eats cereal and drinks espresso the phone rings.  He picks up.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Dominik.  This is James Hannagan.  I hope this isn’t too early.  I just arrived at my hotel and wanted to touch base, get your schedule.”

“No, this is great.  Yeah.  I’m up, when can you meet?”

“Well, I need to get settled in.  Maybe take a shower and change.  Then we could meet.”

“Ok.  Do you want to call or…”

“I’m at the Renaissance on Wacker Drive.  Let’s meet in the lobby in an hour.”

“Great, see you then.”

Dominik hangs up and rushes to get dressed.  He doesn’t care if he’s early but doesn’t want to be late.  He picks up his backpack, turns it over and shakes it out, looking carefully inside to be sure there’s nothing in there that shouldn’t be.  He packs his notes, sketch and laptop.  Then he picks up the box and wonders if he should bring it.  He decides not to and leaves it on the table, its new semi-permanent home.  He leaves and makes his way to the Renaissance, stopping for nothing, looking at nothing, he is fixated on Hannagan.  He arrives a little early and waits in the lobby.  After a while he sees a middle aged man in jeans and a sports jacket looking around.  He looks like a reporter.  Dominik gets up and says “Mr. Hannagan?”

“Yes.  Dominik.  So nice to meet you.”  He reaches out to shake Dominik’s hand.  Dominik reciprocates.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Oh, it’s really no problem.  Hey do you know any place kind of private where we could talk?”

“I don’t know.  Like a bar?  A library?”

“Well a bar or restaurant might do as long as we could be secluded from others.  It’s a little early for drinks though.”

“True.  I’m not sure.  Here’s a weird idea.  There’s a music store in old town, instruments and stuff.  They have sound proof rooms for people to test out equipment.  They’re open early today.”

“That is, ah, creative.  Ok, let’s go.”

“We’ll have to take a cab.”

“No problem.  I can pay, it’s business.  So do you play anything?”

“Yeah, guitar.  A little.  I’m not very good.  How about you?”

“Na, nothing.  I have no talent for music.  I’m all words.”

James and Dominik grab a cab and make their way to the Old Town Music Store.

 

Dominik wakes up in the hospital.  His vision is blurry, he’s disoriented, and his ears are ringing.  He turns his head slowly to look around and sees a nurse checking his vitals on the monitor.  She notices him looking at her.

“Well hello sleepy.  Are you okay?  Can you hear me?”

Dominik forces words out of his mouth.  “Yes.  I… Eh…”

“Don’t try to talk.  Relax and I’ll get the doctor.”

The nurse leaves and returns in a few seconds with the doctor.

“Hello mister…”  The doctor looks for the patent chart at the foot of the bed.  “Franzese.  Do you remember anything?”

“I puked then passed out.”

“Yes.  Well it seems you were bitten by a brown recluse spider.  Before you passed out last time you said spider, brown, and quarter.  The interesting thing is that they are not really indigenous to this area.  Were you traveling recently?”

“No, no.”  Dominik’s voice is strained.

“Okay.  Did you see any friends recently who may have traveled to southern Illinois?”

“No, I can’t really remember.”  Dominik thinks of Jack and wonders if the spider could have been in the box with the book but he doesn’t want to get Jack involved in this and doesn’t want anyone to know about the book.

“Well don’t worry.  You’re fine now.”

“Flesh eating bacteria!”  Dominik yells out in moment of panic.

“What’s that mister Franzese?”

“Jeff Hanneman died of a spider bite!

Dominik’s statements seem completely random and disconnected to the doctor.  “I’m not sure who that is but you’re okay right now, you’ll be fine.  It’s not dangerous but our best guess is that you were bitten today, is that correct?”

“Yes, just before going to the concert, maybe a couple hours before.  I kept the spider.”

“Well had you known it was a brown recluse the best thing to do is not move around and instead you went out… to a concert, right?  And I’m guessing that you were moving a lot, maybe jumping around.  That would have pushed the poison through your system pretty fast causing a severe reaction.  You’re pretty lucky.  And by the way you lost a tooth when you were punched in the face.”

“No, really?”

“I’m afraid so.  But you were lucky there too.  You could have had a broken nose or worse, your jaw.  Then we’d have to wire your mouth shut.”

“Wow.  What now.”

“We can discharge you but you need to follow up with a physician tomorrow.”

“Okay.  Thanks.”

“I’ll get your paper work together and someone will be in to discharge you, and get your insurance information.”

The doctor leaves and Dominik starts to fade back into sleep for a few moments.  He wakes to see what look like a giant octopus near his face a freaks out.

“Shit!  What is that!?”  Dominick sits up quickly and his eyes focus on a large muscular man dressed in scrubs leaning over him, pulling out his I.V.

“Chill out dude.  You all right?”

“Wow.  Sorry, I didn’t know where I was.  Hey what is that on your arm?”

“Yeah, you like it?  It’s Cthulhu, you know.”

“Yeah it’s cool but weird.  Why would you have Cthulhu on your arm?”

“Hey, Cthulhu for president.  Ha!  I think it’s cool, I’m a fan of Lovecraft you know.  It was either this or the Alien by Geiger.  I’m happy with it.”

“I was just surprised.  I didn’t mean anything by it.  My reaction.”

“Yeah, sure.  Well you’re all set, no more tube and wires.  You can check out at the front desk.  Do you need a wheel chair?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t think so.”  Dominik gets up and for a moment feels like he’s going to pass out.  Then he focuses, stands up and feels good.  “No, I’m okay.”

“Alright.  Don’t get into any trouble on the way home.  Relax, sleep tonight.  You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.”

Dominik checks out of the ER and gets a cab home, he’s not in the mood for the bus.  On the way home he starts to think about everything that happened and his mind is shocked into focus.  The pattern of the micro film files, the spider web, the octopus or Cthulhu.  These were all things that he thought he saw in his first impressions of the symbol.  Just as he starts to think he’s on to something he gets embarrassed by the premise.  This is superstition, pseudo-scientific thinking.  He relaxes and sinks into the seat of the cab and watches the street lights pass by.  After some time the cab arrives at the loft, Dominik pays the driver and goes upstairs.  He gets inside and makes sure the door is locked behind him, checking it three times.  It’s late, he’s only half awake and anything can happen.  As curious as he is about the book he just scoots across the floor without even picking up his feet all the way to his bed then falls on it, immediately passing out.

For an insomniac like Dominik this would be the deepest sleep of his life.

Dominik slowly becomes conscience of the sensation that he is surrounded by water.  He feels awake but not fully awake.  He starts to wonder if his bed is wet, and if he wet it, or if there’s a leak in the loft ceiling windows again.  He doesn’t have the energy to move and find out, just to lay there and think.  As he contemplates the feeling of being wet he suddenly realizes that he feels like he’s floating, weightless.  This comes as a shock and he bolts up, fully awake, to find himself completely underwater, in an infinite ocean with no sense of up, no sense of a surface in any direction.  Dominik panics, frantically trying to swim but getting nowhere.  Strangely enough he doesn’t feel like he can’t breathe, in fact he’s panting, hyperventilating as he tries to swim.  He feels a series of forceful undulations in the water, pushing him back and forth.  He turns over due to the rolling motion of the waves and sees before him and massive beast, a giant squid that goes on forever, engulfing the water.  Cthulhu.  The tentacles of the beast completely surround Dominik squeezing him tightly, compressing every cell of his body.  He tries to scream but he can’t breathe, can’t inhale.  He feels the tentacles slipping across his skin as if they are feeling his body.  Then he feels a massive tentacle engulf his face, eyes and mouth.  One tentacle enters his rectum and another his throat, rapidly filling his digestive tract.  He feels his insides burn as the massive arms grind his organs to liquid.  Then, just suddenly as he found himself underwater he feels an explosion and heat, a burning dry heat, and a bright blinding light.  As his eyes focus he sees the sun in the sky above him and he feels his body lying on its back in sand.  As he goes to get up, bracing himself with his elbows on the ground, his eyes focus and he sees his body torn in half in front him.  His head, chest and arms are intact and several meters away are his legs and lower abdomen.  Both parts connected by intestines completely covered by a swarm of spiders devouring his organs.  The spiders swarm past his entrails and start moving up his arms towards his face.  His heart races, he panics and screams then, he’s awake.  In his bed, in his loft.  Nothing happened, but it feels real.  Dominik actually feels pain in his throat and rectum and a burning in is stomach.  Without thinking about it he gets up, goes to dining room table and takes two oxy.  He stands there, rationalizing what has happened.  It has to be the spider poison or something.  He starts to fade back to sleep when suddenly he feels water in his nose and panics, feeling like he’s drowning again.  He reaches up and feels something wet coming from his nose and runs into the bathroom, turns on the light and sees that he has a bloody nose.

After a few minutes of applying pressure and holding his head back the bleeding stops.  Dominik has no idea what time it is, or even what day it is.  He looks over at the bed and sees some papers stapled together.  The ER discharge forms and instructions for home care.  Dominik feels like it would be a good idea to go to the doctor for a follow up.

The next morning Dominik goes to the university clinic.  His student insurance is still active so he knows can get a walk in appointment.  He’s in a daze still not sure what to make of what’s going on.  He doesn’t really even remember going to the clinic and is suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that he forgot to lock the door to the loft.  Now he’s fully awake and anxious to get home.  A nurse comes out and calls Dominik to come back to an examination room.  He takes Dominik’s vitals and tells him to wait for the doctor.

In a few minutes a man walks in holding a chart.  “Hello, I’m Doctor Chen, and you are…  Don’t tell me…” as he riffles through the folder, “Ah, Dominik.  Well what brings you in today?”

Dominik hands Dr. Chen the ER papers.  “A follow up, I was in the ER last night for a spider bite.”

“It says here two nights ago.”

“Wow, really?  Then I’ve been asleep for more than a day.”

“It says here that it was a brown recluse bite.  Right hand.  You’re taking oxy.  Are you still on oxy?”

“Ah, that’s just for pain management for a knee injury.”

Dr. Chen flips through the folder some more.  “Right.  Oh I see.  You were on the track team here and this injury was a while back, at the end of the spring semester of the last school year.  Wow, sorry to hear that.  Have you been in PT?”

“Yeah I go four times a week but if what you say is true then I missed one.  I was out for a while.  I slept when I got home from the ER and had a weird nightmare.”

“Are you experiencing any other symptoms?”

Dominik doesn’t know what to say.  He wants to tell the doctor that his throat and rectum hurt but what will he think.  Dominik starts to think people were messing with him at the concert after he passed out.  But then again it could be the poison affecting his digestive system.  He decides to tell the doctor about the pain but not about everything that happened last night, or two nights ago.

“Okay, let’s do a complete examination and we’ll see what’s going on.”

Dominik sits there, detached, as Dr. Chen goes through the complete round of tests.  Heart rate, blood pressure, checking the eyes, nose, etc.  While pressing on Dominik’s abdomen he starts to talk, “You know everything seems fine.  I think the pain you’re describing is an auto immune response or flare up from the trauma you experienced.  You’ve been through a lot in just a couple days.  Did you go to the ER immediately after being bitten?”

“No.  Actually I didn’t realize anything was wrong and I was on my way to a concert.  I got sick and passed out there.”

“Wow.  I bet all that activity pushed the poison through your system amplifying the effect and that’s what you’re feeling now.  I wouldn’t worry, there’s no sign that anything is wrong.  I think you just need to veg out for another day or two and you’ll be back to normal.  In the meantime I’ll give you a prescription for the wound on your hand.  Did they give you anything at the ER?”

“I don’t know.  I can’t remember.  What about the nightmares.  I had one that seemed very real.  It was pretty scary.”

“Well I don’t know.  You are taking oxy and that could cause it.”

“But I’ve been taking them on and off for a while and never had any.”

“I think you should refrain from taking oxy for a while.  Who’s your orthopedist?”  Dr. Chen Looks at the chart.  “Dr. Levinson?  Yes, I would go see him, if you don’t already have a follow up for the knee, and discuss some alternatives to pain management.  You seem to walk just fine and oxy is pretty addictive.  I’m going to want to see you in a week for a follow up.  Okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”  Dominik is still out of it, feeling like he’s not in full control of himself.

Dominik gets dressed and meets Dr. Chen by the front desk.  “Thanks doctor.  I’ll see you next week.”

After making the follow up appointment Dominik heads on home.  As he steps outside he becomes aware how hot it is.

“Fuck, is it summer?”  Dominik says to himself as he looks around.  People are walking around carrying their coats over their shoulders.  It’s mid October and they were predicting an early brutal winter.  Just a few days ago he was contemplating buying a winter coat and now it’s in the upper 70s and it feels balmy.  The sun beats down making Dominik feel like he has a fever.  He gets the bus and goes back to the loft.

Still in a bit of a daze he walks up to the door to open it and walks right into it, bumping his head on the door.  Then he remembers that he thought he forgot to lock it and feels relieved.  Unlocking and opening the door, he feels a sense of relief that he’s home and that everything looks normal.  He suddenly remembers that he’s missing a tooth and slides his tongue across the space where his tooth used to be.  He wonders why the doctor didn’t say anything.  Maybe he did and Dominik forgot.

Dominik decides to make espresso and he also knows he needs food, to get his strength back and heal.  He makes three double shots, one after another drinking the first two in the kitchen and taking the third back to the table.  Now he feels better, more alert.  He starts to remember Hannagan and the online course.  A sense of purpose returns.  Talking to himself he begins to work.

“Hannagan, online journalism course.  I have to get into that now, or somehow get in touch with him.”

He opens his laptop and goes online.

“Here it is.  Closed.  Well it is a little late this semester.  Maybe I can get in late.”

He searches for more info and finds a phone number for the Journalism department at Harvard.  He calls.

“Hello, this is Cedrick, you’ve reached the Department of Journalism how can I assist you?”

“Yes.  I have a question about your online courses.  Actually I wanted to take the course offered by Hannagan this semester but it says it’s closed.”

“Well it is pretty late to start a course.  Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take it next semester?”

“I really want to try and get in now.  I can make up the work.  I was accepted to Harvard graduate school next year and just wanted to accumulate some credit early.”

“Great initiative.  Well we cannot let people in to courses this late without the instructor’s approval.  I can get you Mr. Hannagan’s office number and email and you can contact him directly.”

“That would be great.  Thank you, Cedrick.  By the way my name is Dominik.”  Jackpot!

Dominik gets the contact information for Hannagan and wastes no time calling him.  Hannagan doesn’t answer the phone but Dominik leaves a message.  Then he sends a follow up email.  In both he simply states that he really wants to get into the on line course and urges Hannagan to contact him as soon as possible.  Even if he can’t get in he wants to contact Hannagan immediately.  Now there’s really nothing he can do but wait.  His hunger reminds him that he has to eat.  There’s a cheap Chinese restaurant down the street.  He pops an oxy, without even thinking about it, and goes out.

As he walks down the street he obsesses over what he just did.  “Did I really just take an oxy?  I know I did but it’s like it wasn’t even me.  It was automatic.”

He shakes it off and enters the restaurant, sits down and orders food.  Dominik hates waiting.

Dominik returns home and immediately goes online to get tickets for tonight’s concert.  Nothing else exists.  He wouldn’t notice a Golem in his doorway, a giant Scorpion in the middle of the loft or a harem of naked women engaged in an orgy.  He gets fixated on things and nothing breaks his concentration.

 

Door opens.

Door closes.

He sits on the floor right where he stands.

Takes out laptop and logs in.

Connect to internet…  Too long!!!!!

Google Aragon.

Search Decapitated.

Ah…

 

Dominik sees that there are tickets left and proceeds to get the best seat he can.  His credit card is saved in the online customer profile.  Two clicks and he’s got ‘em.  He feels good now, like a weight has been lifted off his body.  It’s still early, only 1:20 pm, and he has all day to track people down.  He begins to obsess over the book and looks at the table, it’s still there and intact.  He gets up, walks over to the table, and puts his backpack and laptop down in front of him.  While reaching into his backpack to get his note book he feels a sharp stabbing sensation on the back of his hand.

“Ow, fuck!”  Dominik yells as he pulls his hand out.  Inspecting his hand he notices a pair of needle marks on the back, right on a vein, blood running down his hand towards his fingers.  He wipes it off then begins looking through his backpack.  He pulls the zipper back all the way and once the pack is completely opened sees what looks like a spider web at the bottom.  He removes items slowly one after another then suddenly a brown spider about the size of a quarter runs out.  Dominik smashes it with the palm of his hand.  “Son of a bitch.  What are you?”  He knows nothing about spiders but the bite is very painful.  For the moment he thinks nothing of it but decides to keep the dead spider in a paper cup, just in case he decides to go to the doctor.

For the time being he forgets about it and starts looking up Hannagan and Armistead.  His first attempt to locate Hannagan is easy.  He Googles ‘James Hannagan Salem Gazette’ and the first hit is a Linkedin profile.

 

Linkedin Profile for James Hannagan

Journalist/Editor in Chief at Salem Gazette

To view full profile login or sign up…

 

He clicks on the link and finds that the profile is public.  Dominik talks to himself as he searches.  “Even better, now I can snoop around without opening an account.”  He looks through the profile and discovers that Hannagan is a Harvard grad and originally from the area, a homeboy.  “Cool, it’s great when you can move up in the world without moving.”  It looks like his entire career has been at the Gazette, starting with a summer internship there in college.  “Bookmark this and search Armistead.”  The next search is a little harder.  He Googles ‘Professor Armistead Harvard’ and nothing.  This is strange since at the library a snippet of Hannagan’s article came up and that should have mentioned Armistead.  Dominik tries Harvard’s faculty directory next.  Search Armistead…  Nothing pops up.  Dominik assumes that Armistead was older back in 1987 and probably retired before the social media age.  His profile was probably never created.  He goes back to the same search he did at the library and the article snippet comes up.  He clicks on it and registers for an account with the Salem Gazette.  It takes a while, a few minutes, and Dominik is already annoyed but driven by purpose.  Now the credit card… now the verification email… “Great!  I’m in.”  As soon as his account is activated he goes back to the article snippet, clicks on “read more”, signs in and…

 

This article has been removed from the Gazette electronic archives.  We are sorry for the inconvenience.  For more information please contact us by mail at…

 

“Argh, what the fuck.  They not only removed it but they want a written request for it?”  Dominik searches the sight for a minute and finds a phone number for the Gazette.  He takes out his cell phone and dials it.  After a couple rings a person answers.

“Good afternoon, Salem Gazette.  This is Susan how may I direct your call?”

“Yes, hello.  May I speak to Mr. Hannagan, the editor in chief?”

“I’m sorry but Mr. Hannagan doesn’t take unsolicited direct calls as he’s very busy.  But I could route you to someone who can help if you let me know what you’re calling about.”

“Sure.  Ah, I wanted to read an old article online but it’s been removed.  I have a subscription but it doesn’t seem to let me access the article.”

“Well I’m sorry for the inconvenience.  I can have you speak to someone in our online archives department, just a moment.”

“Thanks.”

 

Waiting…

Waiting…

Dominik whispers to himself, “At least there’s no elevator music.”

Waiting…

 

“Hello this is Steve.”

“Hi, Steve this is Dominik.  I’m calling because I was trying to access an article online and it isn’t there.  Susan forwarded the call to you for help.”

“Alright, sorry about that.  What article are you looking for, do you have any information that could help locate it?”

“Yes, there is actually a snippet on your site but the link is broken I guess.  It’s a 1987 article written by Mr. Hannagan about the Jimmy Sullivan case, the book store.”

Before Dominik can finish the line disconnects.  “Fucker, did he just hang up on me?”  Not sure what to do next Dominik calls again and gets Susan.

“Good afternoon, Salem Gazette.  This is Susan how may I direct your call?”

“Steve, in the online archive department.”

“Sure, just a minute while I connect you.”

 

Waiting…

 

“Hello, Steve.”

“Yeah, hey this is Dominik.  I think we got …”

Before he can finish the line disconnects.  “I guess Steve doesn’t like his job.  Must be the east coast attitude I keep hearing about.”  Dominik is a little put out by that experience but figures he can get to Hannagan if he keeps trying.  He looks at the Linkedin profile again and looks at his interests and work experience.  It says under “Causes you care about:”, Journalism, Education Outreach, Abuse Victim Recovery, Cancer Research…

“Okay, Journalism and Education Outreach.  I’m trying to get an education and I like writing stuff soooo…, how can I get him to talk to me?”  Dominik searches the Harvard site again and finds a list of colloquia and lectures open to the public.  Under the Journalism department site Hannagan is listed as a regular speaker.

“Alright so all I have to do is go to Boston to see one of his talks.  I don’t want to go to Boston.  I don’t like Boston, though I’ve never been.  I wonder if Princeton is any good.  People in New Jersey can’t be as bad as those dicks in Boston Mass.”

He searches a little more and, “Jackpot!  An online course taught by Adjunct Lecturer J. R. Hannagan of the Salem Gazette.  J. R. like Ewing from Dallas, Larry Hagman, I dream of Jeannie, Barbara Eden is so hot.”  Dominik sometimes has a wild burst of not so free association like this, a sign of ADHD.  “Who’d ‘ev thunk, Harvard following the Phoenix learning model.  Love technology.”

Dominik feels a sense of accomplishment and decides to take a break.  He goes to make espresso but notices that the wound on his hand is starting to itch and burn.  He can’t help but scratch it a little.  One scratch turns into an obsessive tendency to rub it against his jeans.  “Wow that really burns.”  He puts ice on it and goes to the bathroom to look for some ointment.  He’s looking for anything, Calamine lotion, anything for insect bites, when he comes across the oxy for his knee.  Suddenly he feels his knee ache.  Interesting how he had no real recollection that his knee was injured until he saw the oxy.  He doesn’t even question it, the fact that the oxy made his knee hurt rather than an aching knee making him look for the oxy.  He starts rationalizing to himself.  “If I went to the ER for this they’d give me a pain killer so I’m just doing what the doctor would tell me to do.”  He grabs the oxy and goes back to the kitchen.  There he makes his espresso and looks for food in the fridge.  He just realized that it’s been more than a day, almost two, since he’s eaten.  Dominik doesn’t eat or sleep on a regular schedule, he never has.  There’s nothing edible in the fridge but then he finds a box of Gorilla Munch cereal on a high shelf.  With his feast he goes back to the table and sits down.  “Cereal, espresso and oxy, ah the breakfast of champions.”

First the espresso, then a hand full of cereal.  Now for the main course, two oxy.  He pops them in the back of his throat and swallows.  They go down without a problem.  It’s almost 5:00pm and Dominik starts to think about Decapitated.  They’ll be an opening act at 7:00pm, it’s about a half hour to get there, give or take, and he wants to meet up with everyone a little early to hang out.  So he takes a quick shower, gets dressed and heads out, calling his friends on the way.

“Hey, Sanjay.  It’s Dominik.  You guys heading over to the Aragon?”

“Yeah, but it’s a little early.  We’ll probably get there a little after 6:00.  What are you gonna’ do until then?”

“Don’t know.  Maybe get some food.  I haven’t decided.”

“Cool, we’ll meet you there.  I’ll call.”

Dominik hangs up and catches the bus.  It’s about the end of a typical Yuppie day, when all the suits rush home to eat dinner, watch TV and think about tomorrow.  Dominik puts on his head phones and listens to Death Metal as the bus moves along.  The oxy has kicked in but he can still fell the hand burn like hell and there’s a small rash forming around the bite.  He gets to the neighborhood near the Aragon, and looks around.  He’s not in the mood to deal with yuppies and hipsters.  After some searching he finds a dive and goes in, walks up to the bar and removes his headphones.  The sounds of death metal can be heard from several feet away.

Dominik talks to the bartender.  “Can I get a Guinness?  And do you have food?”

The bartender tosses a handwritten one sheet menu down the bar then pours a Guinness from the tap.  The bar is not a popular hangout, mostly working class folks and a few old guys who look like they’ve been coming there since the 70s.

“Here you go, Guinness.  You want anything?”

“Yeah a basket of fries.  Thanks.”

Dominik puts his earbuds back in, leans on the bar, and starts sucking down the Guinness.  He likes Guinness and espresso and if he could, he’d live off them.  After a while his fries arrive and Dominik removes the buds.

“Thanks.  Hey can I get another?”  Holding up his empty pint glass.

“Yep.”  The bartender pours another while Dominik taps his hands on the bar to the rhythm of music coming from his buds.  The bartender approaches Dominik with the Guinness and an annoyed look on his face.

Dominik senses this and stops tapping, “Sorry.  Thanks for the Guinness.  I’m just waiting to go to the Aragon and few.”

“Don’t thank me.  It ain’t free.”  The bartender says as he sets the pint down.

Dominik smiles and nods.  “Right.  I know.”  He puts the buds back in and eats his fries at record pace, sucking back Guinness in large gulps.  He checks his phone to see if Sanjay called, nothing.  Then he removes the buds again and calls to the bartender.

“Hey, I gotta’ go, what do I owe you?”

“Two Guinness and fries, twelve bucks.”

“Awesome.  Great fries man.  What’s in the fryer?”  Dominik gets his wallet out and gives the bartender fifteen.  “No change.”

“Thanks.  And you don’t wanna know.”

Dominik leaves and heads on down to the Aragon.  He can see a line starting to form outside.  It’s about time to let people in so he gets in line and waits for a while.  It’s noticeably warmer today compared to yesterday night, clear too with no sign of freezing rain.  It’s actually warmer than this morning which Dominik finds strange.  Just yesterday he was thinking of getting a winter coat and now he feels overdressed.  After a few minutes his friends recognize him.

“Hey!  Dom!  Over here.”

“Sanjay!”  They are a little ways back in line so Dom decides to leave his place and join them.

“Hey you got a ticket?”

“Yeah no problem.  Like you said, probably not sold out.”

“We probably won’t be in the same place but we can meet up between sets and after, go hang out.  Hey, uh, do you have any oxy.”

“Nope.  I said I wouldn’t do that man.”

“Fine.  I can get something.”

Dominik starts shivering a little.

“You cold?  It’s crazy hot out for October.”

“No.  I don’t know, I had a few beers just now and I’m a little buzzed.”

“Cool.  Where at?”

“Down the street there’s a little hole in the wall.  Guinness and fries.  Great fries man.  Only twelve bucks.  That would be like twenty and some trendy place.”

The line starts to move and people in the crowd start going wild as they move faster and faster towards the door.  Dominik takes out his phone and pulls his ticket up from his email.  He goes up next right after Sanjay and gets his phone scanned.  “Technology.  Gotta’ love it.”  And he’s in.

“You know Sanjay, I miss paper tickets.  I like the stubs, you know.  My dad used to show me all these ticket stubs from when he used to go see Rush, U2, you know.”

“Who listens to that crap?”  Sanjay and Dominik laugh.

The room is packed and charged with energy.  Dominik finds his seat and as it turns out Sanjay and the rest of his friends are not too far away.  They can see each other through the crowd.  The excitement grows in Dominik and he doesn’t think of his hand.  The lights go out and the crowd roars.  A man walks up to the mic and begins to speak.

“Hey Chicago!!!!!”  Everyone cheers.  “Are you ready for fucking awesome death metal all the way from Poland!!!!!?”  The crowd roars so loud the walls shake.  “We have, for you tonight one the great death metal bands, but you know that, you bought the tickets.  Decapitated!!!!!!”  Again roaring like you’ve never heard.  “But first welcome our neighbors from Baltimore Maryland, Ladies and Gentlemen!  DYING FETUS!!!!!”

The lights blast on and the stage screams with music as the band starts to play Dominik’s favorite song, Second Skin.  Dominik stands quietly in the crown smiling, he doesn’t express emotion like most people.  When he’s happy he stands still and just smiles.  While everyone else bounces around like they’re on fire Dominik is like a statue.  This is a special treat, the opening band was not advertised and Dying Fetus is one of Dominik’s favorite bands.  The blast of lights dim slowly and once again it’s midnight inside.

The music goes on, everyone’s adrenaline is pumping.  The band is on their third song when Dominik is suddenly hit with a wave of nausea.  His body wretches.  He doubles over in pain and starts to think “what could this be?”  Not oxy, he’s never had a reaction.  Oxy and Guinness?  No.  His left brain is running wild trying to think of scenarios that could have caused this.  He feels people bumping into him, into his head, and this makes him more disoriented and nauseous.  “Food poisoning, the fries?”  Just as he thinks this he is thrown back by the crowd and vomits profusely everywhere.  He’s already half unconscious when a large, bald, tattooed man turns to face him and punches him straight in the face.  “You fucking shit head!  You puked on me!”  Dominik falls backwards.

“Sorry.”  Dominik whispers to himself in his mind.  He drifts in and out of consciousness.  He feels feet trampling his body.  He sees Sanjay over him, trying to get his attention.  After being out for a while he wakes to see paramedics working over him, he feels the bumps in the road as the ambulance drives.  Then, he’s in the ER.  He sees someone over him trying to talk to him but he can’t answer.  Slowly, he starts to regain the ability to talk, to move.  He hears a question, “What have you taken?  Any drugs?”

“Two oxy for my knee, two beers later.”

“That wouldn’t do it.  Do you know if he had anything else?”  The doctor asks someone.  Dominik turns and sees Sanjay and Tom standing by the bed.

“No, nothing I swear.”

Dominik hits the doctor with his hand, lifts his hand to expose the rash and says “Spider.  Brown.  Quarter.”  Then passes out.

 

The sun begins to stream in through the East windows of the loft.  Dominik has been awake all night in deep thought about the symbol, trying to correlate the information with something familiar.  A dim patch of light just above his head moves slowly across the wall, the room getting brighter by the second.  The time is 6:57am.  Dominik gets up and makes coffee, drip coffee as there’s no time for espresso.  He removes his clothes as he walks to the shower.  It takes just under three minutes to shower, another activity Dominik detests.  He likes being clean but doesn’t like having the time taken away from him.  This is a particular issue with Dominik, the passing of time.  He’s obsessed with time, that is passes, how it’s used, and that he use his efficiently.  He grabs a fresh pair of underwear and a shirt, walks back to the kitchen picking up his clothes along the way.  He puts on yesterday’s pants and hoodie, and fills a large thermos with coffee.  He’s rushing as fast as he can without spilling or forgetting anything, as if he knows he’s late for something even though he really has nowhere to go and no schedule to keep.  He packs his sketch and notes in his backpack and heads out the door.  Just before closing the door he turns and looks at the box on the dining room table.

He thinks about hiding it, putting it somewhere “safe”.  But for what?  His apartment is safe, it’s not like anyone knows he has this thing.  No one except Jack.  He wonders if Jack would try to steal it back to make a little extra money, but Jack doesn’t know where Dominik lives.  Dominik begins to think that Jack could have had someone follow him yesterday, to find out where he lives.  Dominik methodically runs through several scenarios in his head then decided it’s not worth changing things.  There’s no real risk in leaving this thing out while he’s gone.  He closes the door, engages the lock and heads out to catch the #6 Jackson Express to get to the University.  He catches the El to the Loop and along the way does some people watching.  Seeing all the professionals in suits rushing to get Starbucks then to work makes him think about his life.  Could that be him?  It fills him with guilt since he is always grateful that he doesn’t have to work but the only reason that’s true is due to the death of his parents.

Even though he has ten cups worth of coffee in the thermos in his backpack he waits in line at Starbucks for a drink with everyone else.  Dominik is an introvert but ironically not antisocial.  He likes being around people, being part of a crowd.  But for him there’s a slight sense of detachment almost like he’s “playing grown up” as he does what others do.  He stands in line thinking to himself “I wonder what everyone else is thinking while they stand in line, waiting for coffee, checking their phones and watches.  Do they look forward to getting coffee here every morning or just come here because that’s what people do?”  He wonders what they might think of him, do they know what he has sitting at home on his dining room table.  He also likes the barista at this particular Starbucks and looks forward to seeing and talking to her.  The line moves, Dominik getting closer and closer to the counter.  Yuppie after yuppie peeling away in the same direction like snacks dropping out of a vending machine, looking at their phone in one hand and balancing a coffee, a small bag of food and a purse or briefcase in the other hand.  This makes Dominik think about the irony of evolution.  “Look at what we can do with one hand and an opposable thumb.  It’s truly amazing.  Yet all that mechanics, and control, and a brain the size of a melon and everyone is unaware of how amazing their thumb is.  They don’t deserve their thumbs since they don’t even appreciate them.”  And now his thoughts are interrupted.

“Hey, Dominik, how are you?”

“Good, thanks.  I’ll have a venti black eye with an extra shot and one point five inches of room.”

Jenifer, the barista laughs.  “You’re weird, and the inch and half will have to be an approximation, we can’t put a ruler in the cup.  It’s unsanitary.”

Dominik smiles and blushes a little.  He doesn’t mind being teased about his strange tendencies.  He likes the attention from Jenifer.  “I know, that’s okay.  It’s the perfect combination of coffee and espresso.  You know, from a flavor perspective.”

“Well you’re usually not here during the rush hour.  It’s really busy.”

“I know.  I have to get to the library today so I’m out early.  I’ve never seen so many suits.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy for like two hours straight then all of the sudden dead.  Well I wish we could talk but there’s a line.  You can get your drink over there.”  Jenifer points to the other side of the espresso bar where a long line of people are waiting for special drinks and a variety of breakfast sandwiches.  Because Dominik ordered a black eye he won’t have to wait his turn.  They usually sneak a few leftover shots from other espresso drink orders being made and fill the rest with coffee.  This amuses Dominik as he knows all the suits will get angry that this punk will get out before them.

Another barista yells.  “Drink for Dominik, black eye with engineering specs attached.”

Dominik gets his drink to a variety of giggles and groans from the rest of the crowd.  He raises his cup to Jenifer as he leaves.

Now to catch the 6.  The express won’t be that crowded at this time.  Dominik finds a seat and quietly drinks his black eye as the bus takes him to campus.

It’s early October and students at U of C are already neurotic about midterms.  Leaves have fallen and Halloween is close enough for everyone to be excited about planning parties and outings to the local haunted houses.  It’s another beautiful day, not as cold as yesterday.  Too warm to be inside but too cold to hang out outside all day.  Yet large groups of students are outside on the quad, trying to enjoy the last few moments of outdoor weather before winter really sets in.  Pretending it’s warm enough to hang out, but shivering in their grey college sweatshirts wiping drips of mucus from their noses.  With any luck there might be an Indian summer, but they’ve predicating an early brutal winter this year.  Dominik walks straight across the quad to the library, trying not to be noticed.  There are several professors in the Anthropology and Divinity departments whose expertise is the Occult so Dominik knows there are a lot of resources there for research.  Right now he’s not too concerned about the deficits in his occult library but he wants to read through a few of the old and obscure news reports related to the book and some of its owners.  This is the mythos surrounding the book.  Folk tales that Dominik hates but could yield some useful facts if the reporter did their job.  He enters the main library and immediately the clerk at the desk recognizes him.  This recognition Dominik doesn’t mind.  Berta is a stereotypical librarian and she reminds Dominik of his mother.

“Oh!  Dominik, what a surprise.  I thought you would be out all year.”

“Yeah, I am but I wanted to come and study.  You know so I don’t forget everything for next year.”

“Don’t be silly, you’re so smart.  You won’t forget what you know, it’s like riding a bike.”

Dominik smiles and muses to himself how ironic it is that he never learned to ride a bike.

“I know but you can’t be too prepared.”

“What are you studying?  Can I help you find anything?”

“I’m looking for old newspaper articles on unexplained phenomena.  Murders, disappearances, anything related to unsolved crimes or mysteries related to cults or ritual abuse.”

“Oh, creepy.  Most things are on line now.  You could probably do that from home.  But I’m so glad to see you.  People don’t come to the library as much these days.”  Berta comes out from behind the desk as she talks, walking over to the computers at the center of the library.  She logs on and shows Dominik the web browser for searching newspaper articles.

“You see here we have an interface that will gather all journal or news articles with related search words, so you don’t have to look through all the junk that comes with it.”

“Cool, thanks Berta.  But could you also show me where the micro film archives are?  I have a feeling that I may need to look there too.”

“Oh sure.  The microfilm archives are in the basement.  Do you need help with the machines?”

“I’ve used one before but I’ll come up and get you if I need help.”

“Oh, okay.  Well you be good.  I hope your knee feels better.  Everyone missed you at the first track meet this fall.”

Dominik goes downstairs.  The archives are massive and he likes paper and older media.  He’s not a technophobe at all, but he’s so high energy internally that the act of flipping through a book is relaxing.  It forces his mind to slow down and relax, to think more deeply about one topic.  As he looks around for a place to set up his things a cold wave passes over his body as he notices that the file cabinets are laid out in a familiar pattern, like rays emanating from a common point.  Like the black and red stripes in Jack’s book store and more like the pattern in the first symbol in the book he’s researching.  He smiles and dismisses the sensation.  This is clearly a coincidence, and the fact that his mind went there is just a sign that his subconscious is working on the problem.  He finds a desk with a microfilm reader and removes his laptop, notepad and sketch from his backpack.  He’s not allowed to drink coffee down here but sneaks a cup full while no one is around.  He knows of one story surrounding this book, an incident that was in the news a few years ago as part of a special report on cold cases.  Hearing about that incident is what made him interested in acquiring a copy of it.  After connecting to the university internet through his laptop he Googles the following.

 

Occult, Massachusetts, Mass Murder, Sullivan

 

The first hit is an article from the Salem Gazette circa 1987.

 

Bodies Found in Basement of Salem Bookstore

On September 27th 1987 Salem police, responding to complaints from local parents, raided the Black Arts book store on Essex Street.

Login to continue reading…

 

He’s found it and now locates the microfilm for the 1987 Salam Gazette.  Dominik returns to his desk and sets up the microfilm cartridge.  He positions his notebook right in front of him, between his body and the microfilm machine.  He scrolls through and finds the complete article.

 

Bodies Found in Basement of Salem Bookstore

On September 27th 1987 Salem police, responding to complaints from local parents, raided the Black Arts book store on Essex Street.  Based on reports of lascivious behavior directed at local high school and middle school students by proprietor Jimmy Sullivan police obtained a search warrant for the premises expecting to find evidence implicating Mr. Sullivan in the acts of luring minors, child abuse, and sexual misconduct involving minors.  Police entered the book store at 7:30am after a failed attempt to locate Mr. Sullivan at his residence.  Upon entering police quickly began confiscating evidence.  Among the items were…

 

Impatient, Dominik begins to scroll and look for key words.

 

…basement.  There police expected to find evidence of child pornography but were unprepared for the horror in the basement.  The main room appeared to be a ritual chamber, almost resembling the layout of a church with archaic symbols painted on the floor.  While searching this room police discovered a false wall which covered a mass grave.  Forty seven bodies were exhumed from the book store…

 

As fascinating as this is Dominik scrolls faster and faster.  This seems like junk journalism, designed to appeal to the base perverted instincts of the readers.  Dominik thinks to himself “why is it that everyone loves reading about serial killers and rapists?  Ah, here is a key paragraph.”

 

The book, held as evidence in the case, is being sequestered by the FBI to support a national case in ritual abuse and cult activity.  Harvard professor Edward H. Armistead commented on the book for the Gazette.  “This appears to be one of several original handmade copies of an early medieval text on pagan magic.  Based on historical accounts of this text there were twelve original copies made in Vasconia circa 600 AD.  We have never been able to obtain a copy for research so very little is known about it except through writings that mention it in passing, many of which are fictional writings.  We are very excited at the prospect of providing assistance to local and federal authorities towards a complete forensic analysis of the text.”  When asked to comment on the contents of the book Professor Armistead had this to say.  “Well anything I could say would be speculative.  But it is believed that each page contains a talisman that, when replicated, will evoke a particular spiritual force.  Each talisman has a particular purpose but since there is no text accompanying the pictures no one could possibly know just what these forces are intended to do.  Perhaps only the initiated are able to use the text to their advantage.”  Access to the text is held up while a court decides whether to leave it in the hands of local police or have it given to the FBI.

Book store owner, Jimmy Sullivan, is still at large and authorities are urging anyone with information to contact local police immediately.  Mr. Sullivan is to be considered armed and dangerous.

James R. Hannagan

 

Dominik writes down everything of interest.  He has the name of the author of the article, the name of the professor interviewed, an ethnic region, Vasconia, a small country between Spain and France right on the Western coast, and an approximate era, 600 AD.  This is a lot to start with.  Still nothing about the symbols themselves.  But if he can locate someone who knows about this case he might be able to get somewhere.

Satisfied with the work of the day Dominik packs up and prepares to go back home.  From there he can start to track down sources of information.  1987 is a while ago and there is a chance that Hannagan and Armistead are retired or even deceased.  He rushes upstairs to say goodbye to Berta but she isn’t there, probably busy helping a student.  On his way back across the quad Dominik is recognized by a couple friends.  One of them, Sanjay, calls out to Dominik.

“Hey!  Dom.  Wow, are you back at school now?”

“No, I just stopped by to use the library.  I’m still recovering from this knee injury.”

“Man that sucks.  Is it better at least.”

“Well, good enough to walk and get around but no, not really.  I have physical therapy like three or four times a week so that keeps me out of school.”

“But you probably have really good pain meds?”

“No, nothing like that.  Just ibuprofen and a little oxy.  I don’t like taking that stuff, it makes my mind cloudy.”

“Give it to us, man.  We’ll take it.”

“No, come on, I can’t do that.”

“Fine, fine, whatever man.  Hey some of us are getting together tonight to see Decapitated at the Aragon.  You coming.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know they were playing.  Do you have tickets?”

“Yeah we picked ‘em up last week.  I’m sure they’re not sold out.  Try to get some and give me a call if you can’t, I’m sure we can find some somewhere.”

“Cool, will do.  I’d love to see them.  Who all’s going?”

“Me and Dave here, Tom, Katie and Amy.”

“Well I gotta’ get going but thanks.  This is cool, it will take my mind off my knee and being behind a year.”

“Hey bring the oxy with.”

Dominik smiles, smirks and says “we’ll see you later, but don’t count on it, get your own.”

Dominik leaves and heads for the bus.  He’s excited about Decapitated and thoughts of his research have leapt right out of his mind.

 

Dominik returns home, his movements very quick and rushed.  He’s cold and realizes he needs a real winter coat, four layers aren’t going to do it this year.  His apartment is a loft, a very large loft in an old warehouse on North Avenue just west of downtown.  It’s not a great neighborhood but he likes living there.  It’s just close enough to everything fun that he can walk or take a bus but far enough from the action that he doesn’t have to listen to yuppie douche bags outside his window at three in the morning.

As soon as he enters he runs to the dining table in the center of the loft, pulls the box out from under his coat and sets in on the table.  It’s been bitter cold all day but on the way home it became overcast and started to rain.  Freezing rain.  Dominik can hear it hit the glass ceiling of the loft.  It’s hypnotic and very pleasant.  Now that the box is home safe Dominik removes his coat and shoes, turns up the heat and begins to relax.  He’s away from Jack, he has what he wanted and he’s home safe.  It’s still early, only 6:30pm but it looks like midnight.  The smell of cold coffee from this morning makes Dominik crave more.  He decides to make espresso.  It’s a long process and Dominik loves the process.  This will give him time to think about what to do next with the book.  He starts to prime the machine, an authentic Astoria espresso machine from Italy.  He grinds the beans.  As he listens to the sound of the rain and the grinder together he begins to think about his parents.  They died in a plane crash two years earlier and he misses them.  They were good parents and he had a good childhood.  They weren’t rich but professionals and upper middle class.  He was an only child and inherited everything after their death.  He has been able to live off the inheritance for the last two years and figures he can continue in this manner for another four to six years if he’s careful.  Then he’ll need to earn a living like everyone else.  This cushion has been a godsend since the knee injury and gives Dominik the freedom to take his time healing.

Now that the machine is primed and the beans ground he makes a perfect double shot of expresso.  Pitch black with that caramel colored foam on top.  He smells it, inhaling as deeply as he can, then walks over and sits at the table sipping espresso as he looks at the box.  After a couple sips he sets the espresso down on the far end of the table, opens the box, and carefully removes the cotton stuffing.  He sits quietly and looks at the book sitting in the box on the table before him.  He leans over close to it and sniffs it.  He can smell the leather, the paper, the musty smell of an old book.  All the scents are stimulating his mind, his imagination runs wild thinking about who could have owned this book, who has touched it and who has tried to use it.

Dominik has a massive library with books of every kind in his collection.  Most are not antiques but no subject is off limits, he reads everything.  As a student of archeology books are a type of archeological dig for him.  A way to peer into history, to see the ideas of others, to witness arguments and debates and history in action.  When he reads Marx for example he is not thinking about communist philosophy but rather what Marx was doing as he wrote it, his demeanor and frame of mind.  Dominik is very scientific, very left brain, when it comes to archeology.  He is as enamored with Indiana Jones as the next person but is really only interested in what scientific analysis can prove true about an artifact.  For him that’s where archeology ends.  The story telling and speculation doesn’t interest him, in fact it annoys him.

One of the largest parts of his collection is the section of Occultism, Mysticism and Magick.  Dominik is fascinated with people’s fascination with the Occult.  He doesn’t believe in any of this himself.  He’s an atheist and doesn’t have a superstitious bone in his body.  Never the less he is an expert on all things Occult.  He’s familiar with everything from the Key of Solomon to the most recent new age books on candles and crystals and all that bullshit.  What interests him is the history and evolution of Occult sciences and when and how these ideas intersected with the physical sciences.  When Alchemy became Chemistry, etc.  He is also fascinated with the modern trend to inject “science” into modern Occultism, Like Aleister Crowley’s Magick in Theory and Practice, where the author attempts to espouse a set of hard scientific principles equivalent to Newton’s Laws of motion in physics.

But now he has in his possession one of the actual manuscripts he’s only heard talked about in theory.  At least one of the original copies.  The book itself was believed by those who made it to have magical powers, to be a talisman or vehicle for the transmission of divine forces.  It’s not written in any language humans can read or speak.  It’s entirely symbols, hieroglyphs in a sense but not any that are translatable into modern spoken language.  This makes it particularly interesting to Dominik as his other area of expertise is linguistics.  He was never very good a math, at calculating the volume of a solid or anything practical but discovered early in Freshman year that he had a penchant for symbolic logic, for meta mathematics and eventually for linguistics.  He’s been fantasizing about translating this text for years, ever since he read about it in a textbook on medieval history.  For centuries scholars have speculated about what it said based on the mysteries surrounding its owners and their actions, but no one actually knows what it says.  Dominik wants to put an end to the mystery and get to the facts.  He was hoping this would be his thesis at Harvard but he isn’t waiting for permission or approval to work on it.  He has the resources and time so he’s working.

Not sure what to do next Dominik gets up, picks up his espresso and begins to pace in front of the book while he drinks.  He thinks about Necronomicon, that bullshit fiction novel turned into a fake history.  The key of Solomon and Sepher Raziel.  Sepher Raziel is an amazing piece of work but calling it a manual of science doesn’t make it scientific.  He thinks about the Grimorium Verum and the numerous case studies of teenagers decapitating corpses in the hopes that they may grow magic invisibility beans.  As he runs through this history in his head he feels both excitement and anger.  How could people be so fucking stupid?  He stops cold in his tracks, drinks the last sip of espresso and decides that the next step should be to copy the first symbol and cross reference it to the rest of his library.

He sits at the table with a sketch pad and pencils.  He touches the soft cover and rubs his finger back and forth on the leather.  He feels an electric buzzing sensation that he writes off as a haptic hallucination or neuropathy.  He carefully opens the cover to expose the first page and begins to draw a replica of the first symbol.  He’s excited but all business, carefully replicating every detail and taking notes on the appearance of the paper, stains and all.  The picture is drawn to scale with every dimension painstakingly measured out.  The final sketch looks like a blue print, very technical.  Confident in the product of his labor Dominik carefully repacks the book and closes up the box.

It’s now 9:30pm and the freezing rain storm has subsided but there’s still a drizzle.   Dominik puts on some mood music for a dark stormy night of studying, Anthrax’s Persistence of Time, and walks across the loft to his library.  The library is the entire North wall of the loft, 50 feet long and two stories high.  In rhythm with the ticking clocks on the first track of the album Dominik begins pulling down volumes of text from his Occult collection placing them on the rug just in front of the bookcase.  One after another;

• Key of Solomon
• Lesser Key of Solomon
• Sepher Raziel
• Grimoreum Verum
• Grimorie of Armadel
• Enochian Magick
• Book of Black Magic and Demonic Pacts
• Occult System of Natural Philosophy

 

Dominik sits on the rug in front of the stack of books with his detailed sketch and a large note pad.  He feels happy and calm.  This feels like studying for finals and he desperately misses school right now.  He takes a few minutes to analyze his sketch, to memorize every detail.  Dominik has a photographic memory and this has been both a help and a hindrance in his life.  Obviously a big help in school but he can’t un-remember things he’d rather forget.  Before looking through the books he makes a few notes based on first impressions.

• Glyph 1, Page 1
• This is a very intricate symbol.  Doubt it will translate into a single word or idea.  Most likely a collection of interconnected ideas all in one symbol.  Maybe a whole paragraph or chapter worth of information.  Ideas based on looking at the symbol…
• Linear
• Radiative
• Sun
• Zodiac
• Penetrating
• Web
• Tentacles

 

With these ideas in mind Dominik begins to look through the stack of books for similar symbols and ideas.  Since the symbol reminds him of the sun he begins there, sun gods and occult symbols for the sun.  After several hours nothing seems to fit.  Anthrax finished long ago and Dominik is completely unaware.  He gets up to stretch his legs, the clock reads 1:24 am.  He’s undeterred by the failure to get anywhere and completely awake.  In the mood for more music he puts on Slayer’s Reign in Blood and stairs out the windows on the East side of his loft at the city as Angel of Death begins to play.  He thinks about the symbol and what images it invokes.  He’s tempted to open the box again but doesn’t want to over expose the book to the elements.  His plan is to tackle one page at a time but now wonders if that was a poor plan, too simplistic.  Perhaps several symbols are interrelated.  His plan is partly motivated by the stories, the myth, surrounding the book’s previous owners.  If true, they suggest that each page stands alone.  That each page and its symbol are a complete piece of Magick, a spell or evocation, a mechanism for causing a particular change.  But now Dominik realizes that he contradicted himself in some sense by relying on rumors, other people’s superstition, and folk tales to motivate a scientific process.  Despite those considerations the approach still makes sense to Dominik.

With Slayer playing in the background he walks back to the pile of books, sits on the carpet and continues his research.  He knows that regardless of whether or not he finds and answer tonight that his subconscious will correlate all this data while he sleeps so he just keeps paging through the texts, slow and methodically.  Several things do pop out and leave an impression.  He keeps fixating on the Theurgia Goetia and the seal of the 31 princes.  This has a similar structure as the symbol on the first page but it’s not a great match.  Also, based on what he’s seen and read about the book he doesn’t think it’s Jewish, he doesn’t really think it is part of or derived from the Key of Solomon.  It’s clearly Medieval European and a Kabbalistic influence would not be a surprise but this doesn’t really feel like a fit.  Dominik suspects that it’s based on European pagan magic rather than Kabbalah or ceremonial magic.  He has many books on Norse magic and some other European pagan traditions but this part of his collection is not as complete as others.  He really thinks it’s a merging of several smaller symbols and is starting to think a trip to the university library is good move.  The time is 4:18 am and Dominik is not interested in sleeping.  He is too obsessed with figuring out this symbol and almost feels imprisoned by time, like he’s waiting for the sun to rise and places to open just so can get started.  As he sits on his rug, back against the book cases, staring at the other side of his loft, he feels like he’s waiting in line to check out at the DMV, like his time is being wasted.  Why can’t everyone be up all the time like him, he wonders to himself.  Maybe NYC would be a better place for him to live.

He sits quietly waiting for morning.

 

Dominik walks briskly, purposefully, down Clark Street in Chicago’s north side, singing softly to himself in a mock operatic voice.

“Burning candles incantations human sacrifice….”  Mimicking guitar riffs with his voice.

It’s a very sunny but cold autumn day, a beautiful day.  The kind of day that makes you feel young.  The kind of day when anything can happen.  Dominik has been waiting for weeks to get his hands on a book from a local antique book seller.  Weeks!  How can anyone wait that long for anything?  Dominik can’t remember the last time he waited longer than a few seconds for anything.  But this book hasn’t made it into Google books, Wikipedia, or any type of online media.  It’s never been scanned or typed up in e-format, it’s an anachronism.  It’s also the kind of book no one wants to touch or look at, much less read.  The very thought of it makes Dominik’s skin tingle and his hair stand erect all over his body.

Dominik is very tall and thin.  Some people think he has an eating disorder but his friends know him much better.  He used to run long distance with his university track team and was recently developing a taste for ultra-marathons when a knee injury sidelined him.  He still walks fast, so fast you can feel the wind bellow around him as he passes by if you’re standing close enough, but with a mild limp.  The injury was pretty bad.  The prospect of being laid up for six months during the school year not only affected his position on the track team but also forced him to take the year off school.  It was his last year too and he’d been accepted to Harvard for graduate school in archeology.  All of this has been derailed for now while he recovers from his injury and his newfound dependence on pain killers.  He’s dressed in black from head to toe.  Black denim pants and jacket, though slightly faded, all black Converse Chuck Taylor Classics, even a black hoodie under the denim jacket.  Dominik has a tendency to dress in layers even when it’s obviously too cold, and today he thinks he might have underestimated the weather.

He arrives at the book store, not a chain store, a local mom and pop store.  Actually just pop, a dirty old pervert everyone knows to stay away from, and Dominik can’t figure out how he manages to keep the business open when no one ever goes there to buy anything.  But not today.  Today pops is going to make and easy $1,350 plus tax, cash.  The store is a maze, amazing, but literally a maze.  Not only horizontally but vertically.  There is a labyrinth of book cases on several staggered levels.  Some are actually up in crawl spaces, you have to get up there on a ladder and crawl on your hands and knees to get to the books.  That’s when old pervo drops everything and starts fixating on whoever’s up there, with their ass in the air.  Doesn’t matter if it’s a guy or girl, fat or thin, old or under aged, barely legal he’d like to think.  He just likes seeing people on their hands and knees.  He’s got a fetish.  The floors are painted with a pattern of thick black and red stripes that appear to be radiating from a point but the book cases make it impossible to figure out where the focal point is.  It’s slightly disorienting but welcoming, perfect for a pervo like him.

Dominik opens the door and the little bell at the top rings a few times as he enters.  Directly opposite the door, just a few feet away, is a long glass case filled with bizarre and obscure antiques that can only be described as “things”.  Some of them are so weird they must be illegal but he keeps them out in the open almost to taunt the local police.  The case blocks the only entrance/exit to the bookstore.  It’s so obvious that it’s a pervo trap, a way to get people cornered in the back while they look for books and he looks at them.  The entire place reeks of incense.  Not that any is burning.  No, it reeks of 30 years of burnt incense caked into the walls, ceiling, drapes and everything else in the place, including pops who probably hasn’t showered in 30 years.  The display case is clean, spotless in fact, but everything else is covered in a layer of dust.  The dust is actually interesting because you can see a logical pattern to its thickness.  You can actually tell about how many years something has been sitting in a particular place by how thick the dust layer is.  Almost like how an archeologist determines when a particular item was buried by investigating the layers of earth around the artifact.  Despite being disgusting there’s something almost homey about this place.  And there’s that analogy coming back, like a hug from a creepy pervo.  This whole store is one big extension of the owner’s creepy personality.

Dominik waits for someone to come out from the back.  He’s impatient by nature but there’s so much cool stuff in the display case it distracts him from it.  He starts to look closely at what appears to be a parchment made of skin.  He hopes it’s animal but wouldn’t be at all surprised if it were human.  The patch of skin is about three inches by three inches, stretched out and mounted like a giant insect on a mounting board.  It has faded writing on it but Dominick can’t quite make out if it’s an old tattoo or something painted on after the skin was cured.  The writing looks old, like hieroglyphs or ruins, maybe ancient Aramaic.  The more Dominik looks at it the more aware he is that he’s bending over.  This makes him think of pops the pervo and now his impatience has overwhelmed his curiosity.

“Hey!  Jack!  Get out here!”  Dominik yells in sharp staccato bursts, like a drill sergeant.

Dominik isn’t like this with anyone else.  He’s calm, quiet and very polite.  But there’s something about this guy that makes everyone want to shout at him.  He brings out the worst in people.  And now Dominick is starting to think he should just leave since he doesn’t want to find out who might be in the back with Jack.  He doesn’t want to be an accomplice to anything.

Jack slowly emerges from behind a beaded curtain strung up between two book cases just behind the counter.  He shimmies his way through an opening he can’t really fit through, trying not to tip the book cases over.  A stench hit’s Dominik from a few feet away.  It’s a sharp odor like the powdered chemicals they used to dump on puke back in grade school when someone would get sick in the hallway.  The long strings of beads caress his large malformed body falling away to reveal clothing covered in old food stains.  Jack loves to wear light colored clothes but they look like they’ve been used for finger painting or a food fight.  Both of which remind Dominik of kids.  The sight of Jack sickens him.

“Jesus Jack, what the fuck.  You smell like shit, you look like shit.  Are you sure you’re not made of shit?”

Jack just smiles looking down at Dominik from behind his glasses as he scoots closer to the counter.  “Do you have the money?”

“Yes of course.  But I want to see this thing first and look it over.  I want to be sure it’s authentic.”

“Oh, yes of course.  It’s authentic.  You won’t be disappointed.  Come in the back?  Eh?  We can look at it in my office where we won’t be disturbed.”

“First, no.  Bring it out here.  Next, no one ever comes here so who’s going to disturb us?  And last, fuck you pervo, you’ll always be disturbed.”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll bring it out then, right?”

Dominick always feels guilty when he talks to Jack like that but can’t help himself.  Nothing ever happened between them.  In fact no one has ever filed a complaint against Jack.  Dominick almost feels like a bully.  Everyone talks to Jack like that and no one really knows why.  He’s never done anything to anyone, except stare at their asses when they enter the crawl space.  He’s just odd and has poor hygiene.  And no matter how abusive you are to him he just smiles and chuckles a little and doesn’t say anything back.  For all anyone knows he could have aspergers or some other developmental disability.  Dominik reruns what he just said in his mind and feels awful.  He never talks like that anywhere else except here, except to Jack.  Just as his conscience was about to get the best of him Jack returns with a small wooden box.

“You know Dom, the other day two girls were in here.  I’d say they were in seventh or eighth grade and one of them had her period.  I could smell her period.  And…”

Dominick leans into Jack’s face and shouts “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!  Fuck you!”

Jack cowers a little, clutching the box, but smiles looking intensely at Dominick.

“Well, here you are.  This is it.  Now I don’t mind you looking at it but I’ll have to insist on handling it until you pay.”

Jack puts the box on the counter and opens it.  The inside is packed with cotton.  Dominik winces and shakes his head at the sight of it.  Jack then slowly removes the cotton to reveal a small book.  The book is about two and a half by three inches and very thin.  Almost like a pamphlet.  The cover appears to be leather but is so old it looks like it might turn to dust just sitting there.  Jack pulls out a set of thin metal spatulas that look almost like surgical equipment.  He gently inserts one beneath the cover and uses the other to help guide while he opens the book.  The cover is very flexible and fragile.  Both Jack and Dominik hold their breath as Jack opens the front cover and gently lays it down.  The inside of the box is large enough to hold the opened book.  The front page, now exposed, has the appearance of old parchment with only a symbol written in center of the page.

“That looks like it Jack.  That really looks authentic.”

Dominik leans forward to get a close look and immediately notices Jack lean sideways to look at his reflection in the window.

“Really Jack?  You want me to break your fucking face?”

Jack turns away to give Dominik a moment of privacy.

“Ok, I want it but I have a problem with paying if I can’t at least test a sample of the leather or the paper.  I need something, even a dust particle.”

“Look I understand.  But this is business.  And you know I took a lot of risks getting this.  I can’t just let you do what you want and possibly say no.”

“Ok, what if I buy it right now and you give me a return window.”

“Eh, I don’t know.  I usually do take returns on merchandise but this is risky.”  Jack thinks for several second rubbing his hand over his chin and mouth.  “Ok, you know as long as I get to look it over when you bring it back and to my satisfaction it isn’t damaged or anything like that.  You got a deal.”

“Awesome.  Pack it up.”

Jack carefully closes the book, stuffs the cotton back in and closes the box.  Dominik takes out his wallet and counts out fifteen hundred dollars.

“So, with tax that will be $1,444.50.”

“Here you go.”

“Ok, let me get change.”

Jack walks back to his office leaving Dominik alone for a few moments.  Dominik can feel the excitement grow inside him.  He wishes he could teleport home immediately and get right to looking through it.  Jack returns.

“Here you are $55.50.  Heh, ah, you know people can’t even make change in their head anymore.  I’m not impressed with all this technology.  And…”

Dominik interrupts.  “Don’t care.  Shut up, pervo.”

Dominik turns and leaves as fast as he can.  All the way home he can feel Jack’s eyes on him.  He imagines that the effect of being near Jack will diminish, like an inverse square law in electrostatics or acoustics.  But it doesn’t.  Just being in his presence is like being molested.  It just lingers on you all day.  But this was worth it.  Now all Dominik can think of is what’s in that box and what it means if it’s really authentic.