Text of the Unforgiven

Text Of The Unforgiven

Part One

An Aquarius Imprint Novel

Justin Fulkerson

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Cover Artist: Jared Rackler

Editor: Raevyn McCann

Editor-in-Chief: Katherine Johnson

Text Of The Unforgiven © 2015 Justin Fulkerson

ISBN-13: 978-1516845750

ISBN-10: 1516845757

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in

part, without express written permission of the publisher. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material is a model.

PUBLISHER: The Rooster and The Pig Publishing, Inc.

Text Of The Unforgiven

Sixteen-year-old Kyle Davenport shuns the idea that he is mentally unbalanced, even though every foster-parent he has ever lived with has told him the boogeyman doesn't exist. Not until he is rescued from the brink of death and abducted into a different world, does he completely dismiss their accusations. Kyle confesses to his girlfriend April, that he is being stalked by a creature in his closet. Hours later, abducted by his boogeyman, he finds himself thrust into a dark realm called The Door. It is a wasteland shunned by all but the gypsies of existence, an endless landscape of doors leading to countless other worlds. Josan, the boogeyman, leads Kyle to a Shaman who holds the keys to both their fates. It turns out that Josan was once the king of a powerful land until he was banished by an evil wizard. Now, after years of degradation, he is only trying to make his way back home, and Kyle is a key to reclaiming his throne and his own salvation.

Aeons ago, when evil was unleashed upon our planet, the Shaman (Qaton) was the one who failed to protect us from it. Now, Qaton hopes to vindicate himself and believes that Kyle has the power to destroy evil once and for all. But Qaton’s beliefs aren’t always the reality. Qaton leads them to the Lair of The Lizard King, who turns out to be the Jim Morrison, lead-vocalist of the psychedelic rock group The Doors. Morrison reveals to the characters, through warped visions, that Kyle is the last of an ancient bloodline and has fathered the next true Messiah. But, he also reveals to Qaton that his mission may not turn out as well as he hopes it will. April is revealed to be pregnant with the child and has been abducted from Earth. While malefic forces lurk around every corner, they must go rescue April from the surrealistic land of Dali. If they do not succeed, evil will prevail and use the child for their own benefit.

Word Count: 109,000

Genre: Paranormal, Horror, Suspense, Thriller, Supernatural

Warnings: This books contains subject matter that may be distressing to most people including but not limited to: extreme violence. If you are triggered by these things, please be forewarned before reading this book. This book is intended for mature audiences only.

TRADEMARKS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following word marks and names mentioned in this work of fiction:

Trademark – Copyright Holder

Family Feud- FremantleMedia North America, Inc

Hustler- Larry Flynt Publications, Inc.

Academy Award- Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences

Milton Bradley- Hasbro, Inc.

She-Hulk- Marvel Comics. Marvel Worldwide Inc.

This novel is dedicated to the poetic memory of James Douglas Morrison

Break on thru to the other side, baby

PROLOGUE

THE CROSSROADS:

PART 1

PROLOGUE

THE CROSSROADS:

PART 1

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper

-T. S. Eliot, The Hollow Men

Throughout Mankind’s tumultuous history, many tales have begun at a crossroads. Not this one; this crossroads ends an arduous journey.

The Crossroads Motel, the only building visible for miles in this stretch of harsh desert, stands looming in the dark like an ancient archaeological structure waiting for discovery. The blistering sun has battered the neglected motel until its flaking green paint has faded to a dull shade that almost blends with the grey wood surface beneath.

The sun set hours ago, but heat still lingers heavily on the desert surrounding the motel. Across the abandoned parking lot, NO VACANCY flashes on the vintage neon sign beside the east-west highway.

Two flat buildings, one behind the other, with rooms on either side, make up the entirety of the motel. There is a light on in the small office but no movement within. To the west is a dirt road that runs north and south across the four-lane highway. This is The Crossroads.

No traffic passes on this highway, no signs of life. The wind picks up for a moment, and two figures materialize across the road. One is a young man in his late teens, the other much older, bordering on elderly.

They stand and surmise their situation for a moment before crossing the road. No words pass between them. As they get closer, their resemblance is apparent, perhaps grandfather and grandson. The younger of the two wears torn jeans and a filthy T-shirt. The elder walks in a faded robe, such as a sorcerer might wear.

Even though the sign says NO VACANCY, the parking lot is empty, devoid of cars. The two vagrants stop, looking into the empty office before moving on. The elder one’s expression gives the impression that this entire situation is spinning out of his control. He looks over his shoulder, appearing paranoid, as though he feels someone is watching him.

They round both of the buildings and reach the desert side of the furthest building. Room 32 is the only room with a light in the window, cast with the flickering of a television. Carried upon the desert wind, Richard Karn delivers the convoluted clues of Family Feud.

The young man is first to reach the room. Before he grasps the doorknob, he stands with his head down for a moment. The old man places a hand on his shoulder and waits. Every life consists of numerous crossroads. Most people want to make the right decision about which way to go, but some are lead to the wrong path.

The sounds of the desert prevail for several moments. Coyotes and various animals of the night speak their own languages over the distances. The unobstructed wind howls across the desert floor, sending dust devils in all directions. Loose boards clunk together, filling the night with mystery, and the buzz of the neon sign by the road beckons unseen travelers.

The young man finally raises his head and turns the knob.

They both enter the room; the television turns off, and a dim lamp comes on.

Voices resonate from the motel room, from both of the travelers and one other, a female voice, beginning to tell a tale.

An argument breaks out. Cries of sorrow followed by cries of desperate anguish.

There are shouts of hostility and anger.

Then, a moment of serene quiet falls again.

A single gunshot erupts from Room 32, followed by a bloodcurdling shout of intense horror.

Then, there is nothing.

Through the sun-bleached curtain, a lifeless form lies on the bed, its body contorted. One hand rests on the nightstand with a pistol held limply. A blossom of blood paints the lampshade. Of the three that were inside, only one lifeless woman remains.

The desert night pauses. All sounds cease. The wind stops dead, dropping whirlwinds in their tracks. The neon sign goes out as silence shrouds The Crossroads.

Time stops. Existence seems to balance on the outcome of this moment. Reality itself seems to wait, as if these happenings will determine the continuation of life, the very existence of existence itself.

BOOK I

BELIEFS

CHAPTER 1

KYLE

Fear has many eyes and can see things underground.

-Cervantes, Don Quixote

The majority of Kyle Davenport’s life was a living nightmare. Not that he had lived a long life; he was only seventeen years old. He went through each day anticipating the horror awaiting him each night after he went to bed.

Things hadn’t changed much as he was again startled from his sleep by a faint noise. After years of being haunted by fear, even the faintest noise was enough to awaken him. Saturated in sweat, he sat up and surveyed the darkness once again. The air in the room was volcanic, causing him to force each blistering breath into his lungs. He felt the noise again in his teeth, making them grind.

Squeak.

His eyes instantly shot toward the closet. They always did, out of instinct. It was the most logical place in his mind for the sound to be coming from. The brass knob turned back and forth in the subtle moonlight cascading through his bedroom window. His eyes widened as a red glow emanated from beneath the door.

The glow spread slowly across the floor like a vermilion plague. The hinge popped as the door crept open, making him jump. Then he heard the familiar breathing from within. The same pale fingers with lengthy claws reached out and grasped the doorframe.

Kyle was glaciated. He went from scalding hot to freezing cold in a single moment. The scream struggling to escape his constricted throat died a quick death. He was never able to scream until it was all over, every time. He never could. Each time he became more anxious to see what waited on the other side. This anxiety mixed with wonder, a familiar feeling for him. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and he could smell the familiar old musty odor drifting from the closet.

It was the smell of his grandmother’s basement. Over the years, he had associated this smell with that one. The smell had stuck with him because it reminded him of his life shortly before it had been ripped apart, before his parents had died.

Hollow. That was it. But, could a smell be hollow? Kyle didn’t know and couldn’t think about it now. He actually prayed this was only another one of his numerous nightmares.

The door’s outward arc halted. The head of the creature peered around the door, its evil features blanketed by the red glow from within. A demonic grin slithered across its face as it knelt upon the floor of the closet.

Not again, Kyle thought, trying to stay calm. Not him again.

Kyle hitched another dry breath as he watched its mouth open to reveal the horrific teeth. Two sets of them, one behind the other.

Like a shark. That’s it. A damned shark.

One set of incisors appeared razor sharp, the other normal. That was, if you could call anything about this thing normal. The eyes always terrified him the most. Their pupils resembled plus signs and appeared to pulsate in the red glow. Kyle’s stomach did flip-flops as he cowered in his bed.

When the time comes, you must be ready, Kyle, the boogeyman whispered.

Kyle remained motionless, afraid if he answered the thing, it would mean he really was going crazy. Silence was the best response. Silence meant sanity.

There are countless things to fear, but I am not one of them, the soft voice assured him.

The scream knotted in his throat finally unraveled itself, and Kyle pulled the covers over his head. He heard the closet door close, then his bedroom door open. Bright light cascaded through the sheets thrown over his head. He lowered them and saw his foster parents, June and Arthur, standing in the doorway.

Are you okay, honey? June asked. Her golden hair fell in her face as she sat on the bed beside him. She pushed it back over one ear as she studied his face. She was flushed and out of breath. Kyle noted a glaze of perspiration across her chest. She hugged her robe more tightly around her breasts when she caught his stare.

It was the boogeyman again, he said. He frantically searched her face for any glimpse of belief and found none. He found me again! He did!

It was a dream, boy, June’s husband said gruffly. His name was Arthur, but he preferred to be called Art, although there was nothing of an artistic quality about him. Kyle would rather call him asshole. He couldn’t even think of him as a foster father. He was just Art. His beer gut hung over his dirty boxer shorts as he stood by the bed. Kyle could tell he had interrupted something by the diminishing bulge beneath those shorts. I’ve told you before; there are no monsters in your closet.

As if to prove something, he crossed the room and opened the closet. There was nothing there.

Kyle had seen this done dozens of times, by nearly as many foster parents. An action supposed to reassure him, give him a warm fuzzy feeling to realize it was all a dream, and there was nothing wrong with him. Always the same crap on a different day. Yeah, nothing would be there after the boogeyman left. There never was. Why would there be?

I’ll be glad when you start acting your age. Man up, boy! Art growled.

Sure, Kyle said. The last thing he wanted right now was another argument with either of these people. He wasn’t crazy.

But, if someone were to be crazy, would they really think they were crazy? Kyle thought. Probably not. Unless craziness isn’t a state of mind, like Dr. Phil might say, but a situational barrier thrown up by a mind that can no longer accept the reality they are living as feasible.

Go back to sleep, June said, tucking him in. She tried to smile as she kissed him on the forehead. Art shook his head and muttered some insult under his breath. There’s nothing to worry about.

Easy enough for you to say, Kyle thought. You’re not the one losing your marbles.

Art flicked off the light as they both left the room, leaving the door cracked. Kyle lay in bed listening to them as they walked down the hall.

I knew we shouldn’t have agreed to take that little bastard, Art muttered before their bedroom door closed behind them.

Screw you, too, Art! Kyle thought. Trying again, as he had so many times before, to sleep.

****

Kyle’s eyes felt like sandpaper as he wandered to school the next morning. The middle of October wind gusts chilled him to the bone, even though he wore a jacket. As the leaves whirled around him, he turned over different ideas as to how to barricade the closet door before bed. He had done this many times before and had come up with a million different schemes from nailing it shut to removing the doorknob.

Boo! Kyle heard a familiar voice say from behind him.

He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t see April Arronsen step out from behind a tree. She must have been waiting for me to pass, the thought.

Kyle turned and smiled. He saw April frown and wondered if she could see how forced his smile was.

Hi, April, Kyle said, glumly. Did you finish that book yet?

Not yet, April smiled. Two more chapters and it’s yours. You’re gonna love it.

They continued to walk side by side toward the school in silence.

What’s wrong? April asked. She stopped at a park bench across from the school and sat, adjusting the flannel skirt she wore. Kyle also sat and took off his backpack.

What do you mean? Kyle shrugged.

I’ve known you for two years, Kyle. I know when you’ve got something on your mind, April said.

It’s starting again, Kyle said, rubbing his forehead.

What? she asked. What’s starting?

I thought I was safe this time, don’t you understand? He felt his lip quiver as the desperation rose once again in his throat. He felt close to tears.

I’m not sure what— April stared at him.

This is the longest it’s ever been. I actually thought I might have been imagining it all along. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

"What is it?"

I’m afraid to say anything. If I hear it out loud, I’m afraid I will realize how crazy the whole thing is. Kyle shook his head.

You can tell me, Kyle.

He took a deep breath and watched the other kids crossing the street and entering the school, innocents going to slaughter.

****

April watched him. She could almost feel him struggling for the right words to say. She liked Kyle and enjoyed his company. Even though he associated with many of the boys at school, she considered herself his only real friend. She knew he liked her, too, and didn’t mind a bit that her friends giggled when they walked by together in the hallway.

He’s found me again.

Who? April asked. She was getting frightened.

The Boogeyman. That’s the only name I have for it.

You’re scaring me, she said. Goose bumps crawled up her arms.

You don’t know what scary is, April, Kyle said.

If you’re trying to play some sort of joke on me, Kyle, I’m gonna tell your parents, she said, feeling ridiculous as she said it. She saw a flash of anger in his eyes. It was the first and last time she would ever see that side of him come out.

They’re not my parents! he growled.

You know what I mean, April said, feeling embarrassed. I’m sorry.

I’m not trying to scare you or joke with you. The boogeyman is real, and he’s in my closet. Kyle stood up and looked down at her. She saw him judging her reaction to this statement.

April looked at him for a moment. The trees rustled as leaves flew in all direction around them. Kids streamed past toward the school as time for the first bell approached.

She took his hand. She could tell he was startled but did not draw away from her touch. She surprised herself with the gesture. I want you to tell me everything. April said sternly.

I will, Kyle said, squeezing her hand. At the park. After school.

Okay, April said, standing up. She released his hand. We better hurry before the bell rings.

They dashed across the street, neither knowing this would be their last day of school, and that the first day they held hands on Earth would be the last.

****

After school, Kyle met her at the same bench across the street from the school.

They walked to the nearby park, and Kyle tried to figure out where to start his story. April remained silent beside him. As they walked through that fateful autumn afternoon, Kyle felt much older than his years. He thought of April and the times they had spent together. Although they never mentioned the fact to one another, he wondered if she had a feeling of emptiness inside her too.

Kyle had been with his current foster parents, June and Art, for about nine months, and they lived just four blocks from April. Before that, for a little over a year, he had been cared for by May and Earl Sminski. Earl owned his own plumbing company. They had lived just across from April, and that is how Kyle got to know her. Then, Earl had the accident, and Kyle had been taken in by June. Art really had nothing to do with June’s decision, that’s probably why Kyle caught most of his flack.

Everyone knew about the accident, but no one ever talked about it or why it had happened. The only accident Earl ever had was a premature ejaculation all over Spring Mulford’s dry-clean only, beige skirt. Spring was the local librarian, and the library mirrored her own existence. In between her periodicals every month, Spring enjoyed having her stacks alphabetized and categorized. She loved her library and was very concerned when her pipes needed attention. Since Earl worked in plumbing, he was the perfect man for the job.

During the last six months before the accident, the pipes in the library had to be cleaned twenty-seven times. On one of these occasions, after Earl unsuccessfully performed the service required, Spring was seen leaving the library in a huff. That day, she took her dry-clean only, beige skirt to Autumn Weaver’s cleaners on Main Street to have the accident removed. Word got around quickly about the accident and the stain caused by it. Earl’s truck was the only one seen at the library that day and several people made the connection.

May’s fury was unleashed from two barrels of the sawed off shotgun Earl kept in the basement. While Kyle was at school, Earl was rushed to the emergency room, his crotch completely obliterated by the blast. It took hours for the doctors to stabilize him. He survived, but his days of cleaning needy pipes were over. May was taken into custody, and Kyle never saw her again. A few months later, Earl died of an overdose of painkillers. Spring Mulford disappeared shortly after the accident. Kyle never heard what happened to her. Her fate didn’t really matter.

Kyle realized he was holding hands with April as they approached a huge oak tree. He liked the feeling of her hand in his and looked forward to holding it more frequently. April smiled up at him, a look in her eyes he had never seen before. He wasn’t sure what the look meant, but he liked it.

They sat facing each other beneath the tree upon scattered leaves. The wind had died down during the day, and the temperature had risen slightly. They were far enough from the street to not be bothered by passersby. The park was deserted; their only company the brittle leaves.

I’m not crazy, April. Kyle sighed. Really.

No one says you are, April said. She took both of his hands and looked into his eyes. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, okay?

I don’t have anyone else— Kyle said, tears in his eyes. April looked down at their hands. She squeezed his hands again and took a deep breath.

Talk to me, then. I’m ready when you are.

For several moments, they sat looking at each other. This moment would last forever in Kyle’s mind, the time when their innocence was intact. He didn’t know if what he felt was love, but something important was happening and he hoped she felt it too.

Kyle took a deep breath and began his story.

****

It began on Christmas Eve when he was eight years old. He hadn’t seen his older sister, Natasha, in four years. He thought of her every holiday and prayed she was with a loving family and thinking of him as well. Also, it had been four years since his parents had died and they had become wards of the state. But all that was another story.

After being tucked in by Jan Winterhaven, foster mother number one, Kyle laid in bed contemplating Santa Claus’s yearly journey. You could say visions of sugarplums danced in his head. Kyle knew for sure he had been good that year and would have lots of presents. Moments after dozing off, he heard a quick scratching noise from the closet. He sat up, disoriented.

Santa? he thought dreamily. Hiding in the closet because he knows I wasn’t all the way asleep.

He got out of bed and tiptoed to the closet.

Santa? he whispered. Is that you?

He slowly twisted the doorknob. Suddenly, a freezing cold hand seized his wrist, shoving the thin door open. A red glow filled the room.

Threats and memories flooded his young mind. Over the years, when he was bad, Jan had scolded him and told him, You had better be a good boy, or the boogeyman is gonna get you. You better believe it. I used to have a sister that back talked my mama all the time, and one night after a big argument with my daddy, he got her. Yes, sir, he did. Never saw her again and never asked no questions. Mama and Daddy never spoke her name again, but we all knew she got what she deserved. The boogeyman had her for supper.

All these thoughts shot through his brain quicker than lightning. He had always thought she was teasing him. He thought it all had been a joke. Those thoughts were quickly disintegrated.

The thing in the closet grunted and tugged roughly on his arm. Kyle only caught a glimpse of its face hidden beneath a mop of filthy black hair. The smell of the thing made his stomach turn. He saw a flash of sharp teeth. Kyle hitched a breath to scream, but the sound got stuck in his throat. He grabbed the door and slammed it repeatedly on the thing’s wrist. The ragged nails of the long fingers dug into his flesh. The thing grunted louder and threw itself at the door. Kyle held his ground and shoved the door again.

Kyle saw his baseball bat just inches away and grabbed for it with his free had. He swung the bat harder and with more accuracy than he ever would again. He heard a faint crunch as brittle bones shattered inside its arm. A shriek penetrated the room as the closet door slammed closed. Kyle screamed.

Jan rushed into the room and turned on the light.

I’ve been a good boy! Kyle’s screams continued for quite a while. Tears streamed down his face. Why did he come after me? I’m a good boy!

When he calmed down enough, he told her what had happened. At first, she tried to tell him it was just a dream, spewing forth the usual line of comforting crap adults fed to frightened children.

Until she saw his wrist. A deep-purple bruise had formed around his arm. Tiny trails of blood were scabbed over where the creature’s fingernails had pierced his skin.

Children look to adults for rational problem solving, for answers to life’s complex questions, and for comfort when things get ugly. But Kyle realized everything when he looked into Jan’s eyes. There really were things adults didn’t know, things they lied about, even to themselves, things they couldn’t protect you from, no matter how hard they tried, or how convinced you were they could, or how much they tried to convince you. He saw a genuine fear in Jan’s eyes.

Horror.

She automatically grabbed the phone and called 9-1-1. She began screaming about an intruder assaulting her son and how he could still be in the house.

Kyle watched the woman who had first mentioned the word boogeyman to him. Now, she was the first one to try to dismiss the truth as completely insane.

Of course, she wouldn’t admit there was a boogeyman. That would mean there really was something out there preying on children in their own beds. That would mean she was insane if she believed it or even considered the possibility for one second.

She grasped Kyle by the shoulders, harder than the thing in the closet had, and looked straight in his eyes. She told him if he said one word to the police about a monster or a boogeyman, he would pay for it after they left. She asked if he understood. He shook his head in confusion.

He screamed it was the truth, she had said so herself. Her sister! She shook him hard enough for his neck to pop and threw him to the floor.

It wasn’t true! she screamed at him. It wasn’t! I made it all up! There was a burglar or a pervert hidden in your room. That’s all, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me do the talking.

Kyle realized the lies she had told him were also lies to her. What else had she lied to him about? Would he ever know?

But, the boogeyman...

She raised a hand to him and stopped herself.

Kyle, she said. As long as you are in my house, I don’t want to hear another word about a boogeyman, get it? I never want another word spoken of this in my house.

****

Kyle’s stomach tied itself in knots as he told April his story. Kyle hung his head, wary of her eyes.

Looking back, I think she thought I bruised and bloodied my own wrist in some sick attempt for attention. Kyle sighed.

It’s okay, she said. I believe you.

Why would you? he asked softly. Why would anybody?

You’ve never lied to me, April said. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. What happened?

The police came, found no signs of forced entry, and left, he said. But not before asking me a few questions, pointing the finger at Jan.

What did you tell them?

That she wasn’t the one who hurt me, Kyle said, twirling a dead leaf between his fingers. Shortly after that, Jan gave up her rights, and I was moved on.

"What about the boogeyman?" April asked softly. As if the mere mention of the word were going to incite an appearance.

Kyle looked into her eyes for a moment. He saw her for what she really was. Not only a beautiful girl, but one with her whole life ahead of her, an innocent girl. She had never been terrorized a day in her life and slept all night with no fears of monsters under her bed. Why was he telling her all of this? He realized he was hurting her. Not physically. No, not ever. But mentally, she would never be the same because of the words that had touched her ears this afternoon. He had taken her innocence. Kyle suddenly felt sick. He stood up.

Never mind, April, Kyle said bitterly. I’m not your friend, and I lied about the whole thing. All of it. Ha, ha! You fell for it. Now, go home and tell your mom what a bad boy I’ve been.

April sat back, looking shocked. She looked at him and probably noticed his shoulders were slumped in defeat.

Stop it, Kyle, April said.

Get out of here, April, Kyle said. I mean it. It was fun pulling your leg, but it’s over.

He began to turn away. April leaped to her feet and ran after him. She grabbed him by the elbow. He stopped, looking straight. A cold grin most likely etched his face, a liar’s grin. He could see the pain beneath it. She did something he never would have expected before that moment. She slapped him, hard.

Kyle’s face went slack. All the strength ran out of his legs, and he fell to his knees. April went down beside him.

I’m sorry, I can’t do this to you, he sobbed. I just can’t. I’ve always been alone. I’ve always dealt with it by myself.

She wrapped her arms around him as he cried. Sobs from deep within his soul filled the afternoon. April’s own tears rolled down her cheeks. He embraced her as hard as he could.

You have to finish, Kyle. You have to. There’s no turning back. It’s started.

I know.

Kyle’s heart poured out to April.

There they sat for moments captured in the sands of time for eternity, two teenagers, on the brink of adulthood, embracing on a patch of yellowing grass as dead leaves rustled all around them, whose lives were nothing but grains of sand in the whole desert of existence. But, one of these grains had caught the eye of something out there. And that thing made his life a living hell.

****

Art was finishing another beer at Augustine’s, the local sports bar. He had been off work for about an hour and had already had four mugs. Octavia, the bartender, brought him another one and dropped him a flirtatious wink in the process. He was still fuming about the interruption to the marathon sex he and June were having when Kyle began screaming the night before. There would be no sex tonight, because on the weekends, June worked the night shift at the local plastic molding factory, Jackson Molding. On second thought, he was sure with very little persuasion, he could get Octavia in the sack tonight. But, he didn’t really want to. Not tonight. He wanted to be alone with