Fly: A PORTAL Chronicles Novel (The PORTAL Chronicles) (36 page)

“I know. I was there,” she said cynically, the fear showing in her eyes. She proceeded in a quiet voice. “This past month was horrible. I have never felt so scared or alone before. I felt their presence, like they were constantly watching me, but when they appeared around my tub like that—” She trembled. “They tried to coerce me to take my life, Everett, and when I wouldn’t, they tried to take it themselves. But then I thought of Dio and asked him for help, and in the blink of an eye, the demons and the depression and the eerie feeling were gone.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah,” she said, settling against me again. “It was pretty amazing.”

“I’m so sorry you had to experience that,” I said, hugging her close.

“Well, it’s my own fault. You tried to warn me. After this last doozy of an experience, you can trust I’ve learned my lesson and will listen to you from now on. I never want to experience anything like that ever again. And now you need to talk about something else to get my mind off it.”

“Like what?” I asked, humoring her.

“Whatever you want.”

“Well… ” I instantly knew what would distract her. “I’ll tell you about Benson,” I offered.

She looked up. “No, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” I insisted. “Benson is a large part of my life, and I want to share who I am with you. You deserve that much.”

She nodded, silently waiting for me to begin.

I sardonically laughed to myself, probably as a buffer for the pain I was about to let myself feel. “It’s funny that I’m about to tell you this story because I’ve been kicking myself for bringing you here. Ironically, this train station is the last place I ever saw Benson.”

And with that, I commenced my first time voluntarily sharing my story of that doomed and fateful night. Sophie must have sensed my fragility for she was sensitive and gentle with the questions she asked.

It was in this manner that we talked into the wee hours of the night, sharing our hearts, our dreams, and our fears until our words became nonsense and our nonsense became dreams.

Chapter 42

Betrayal

I leaned against the railing of the train loading dock, staring at the portal door. I’d been doing the same thing for the past week, looking at it for hours on end, waiting for something to happen, but nothing ever did.

It never differed — the circular steel door that kept the portal sealed off from the rest of the world or the polished grey stones neatly framing it — leaving me long hours to daydream of the creatures on the other side of the portal wall. What might they look like: a one-eyed monster, something that looked normal and completely inconspicuous, or perhaps a huge, fanged beast? What were demons like? Were they as bad as Sal described: vicious and deceitful like Divaldo, their leader? Or was Benson right? Could Sal possibly not know what he was talking about and demons were simply creatures from another realm who suffered a bad rap and needed saving from Divaldo just like the rest of us?

“I made you coffee.”

I jumped at the interruption to my thoughts. Benson extended a steaming mug of inky liquid. I cringed. He made the worst coffee, but I was desperate. I couldn’t fall asleep.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a greedy gulp and scalding my tongue. “Whoa! This is hot!” I sputtered, feeling the liquid sear its way down my throat. “And strong! What’re you trying to do? Kill me?”

“Not exactly,” Benson said with his signature smirk. “Did I miss anything?”

“Yes! Tons.”

Benson rolled his eyes. “A simple no would suffice.” When I said nothing, he asked, “How long are you going to victimize me with your sarcasm?”

“Until I forget the atrocities floating around in your head,” I answered. “Thanks for the coffee. I was getting tired.” I forced myself to gulp down half of the cup.

“Maybe that’s because you’ve been up forty-eight hours straight.”

Protocol was for partnering agents to tag team guarding the portal for five days at a time. Whenever our turn to guard the portal came around, I’d made a habit of going the full five days without sleeping and had every intention of doing it again.

“Only seventy-two more hours to go,” I shrugged.

Benson scoffed. “Go take a nap, Rett. I’ve got this. I, unlike you, just got a good eight hours of sleep and am wide awake.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” he insisted. “I was merely making a point. No one we know has ever seen a demon, so maybe they’re not as bad as we’ve been told.”

“I’ve listened to all your theories, and I’m done entertaining them,” I said, rubbing my forehead. A headache was setting in at my temples, spreading down my neck.

My resolve grew as I recalled Benson’s curiosity upon hearing banging on the opposite side of the portal door a few months ago. Someone or some
thing
had teleported to the portal. It couldn’t get through the door, nor was it supposed to. What had gotten into him to even think of opening the portal door? Was he insane? I hadn’t left him alone near the door since.

“You don’t trust me,” Benson stated.

“You’re right. For the first time in my life, I don’t. Sal gave us strict orders to guard the door and make sure no one gets through it, yet you want to do the exact opposite.”

“Come on, Rett! You can’t tell me you’re not curious about what’s on the other side. It’s the only explanation for why you haven’t reported me to Sal by now. What if the portal leads to Rah? We’d have direct access to Divaldo’s realm.”

“Yes, the adventurous side of me wants to know, but that’s what self-control is for. Sal has never lied to us, meaning whatever is behind that door is locked there for good reason. Do you honestly think Sal doesn’t want you to open the portal because there’s something wonderful on the other side that he doesn’t want you to know about? He’s always treated us like sons, yet you suddenly don’t trust him.”

“We don’t need him,” Benson said under his breath.

“Will you listen to yourself!?!”

“Chill out. You and I both know we could take whatever is behind that door together, without anyone else’s help. We could take down Rah and no one else would be worse for wear.”

“No, I don’t know that,” I said. “I also don’t know if this is a trap. Did you ever think that maybe Divaldo planted your idea to open the door?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That whole Divaldo-planting-temptation thing is just another one of Sal’s ploys to control us. I’m not being used by Divaldo.”

“You know better than to underestimate him,” I said, finishing my coffee.

“Well, whatever was behind that door hasn’t made a peep in months, meaning it’s probably gone.”

“Or lying in wait. And if demons are anything like Sal has described, they’ll probably kill us without a second thought. The risk outweighs the reward a thousand times over.” My vision blurred. I blinked profusely.

“You and your stupid risk-reward ratios!” Benson scoffed. “You are so textbook, Rett. Lighten up. Break the rules once in a while. Live a little.”

“I can’t ‘live a little’ if I’m dead, Benson, and neither can you. Rules are in place for a reason. Dio has set guidelines that keep us safe and support PORTAL’s mission, and Sal’s job is to ensure our safety by enforcing them.” I shook my head. The room spun. I supported myself on the railing behind me.

“Are you okay?” Benson asked. Behind the anger was honest concern in his eyes. “You look like crap.”

“I feel like crap,” I admitted. I handed my coffee cup to Benson and lowered myself to the floor.

“Rett! You drank the entire cup of coffee?”

“Yeah. What was I supposed to do with it?” I asked. He looked worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh… nothing. Why don’t you lie down?” he suggested.

This was different from exhaustion. Something was definitely wrong. My head pounded like a ceaseless drum, making me feel like I was going to be sick. I obliged, reclining on the cold brick floor. The room reeled. My head ached and my chest felt heavy. It was hard to breathe or to even think straight. There was a high-pitched ringing in my ears and my blurred vision faded to black.

“Benson?” I called, frantically feeling around for him. “I can’t breathe.” I panicked. “And I can’t see.”

I felt his hand on my forehead. “I gave you too much, but don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You just need to sleep it off.”

“What? Sleep
what
off?” I was growing increasingly drowsy. “Benson?”

Silence. “Answer me. What did you give me?” I tried to remain lucid.

“I’m sorry, Rett,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “Take care of yourself.”

I waded through my pain and drowsiness, focusing all my energy on listening. Benson’s steps receded away from me.

“Benson?” I yelled. “What did you do to me? Please. Don’t leave me like this. Benson! Help me. Please!”

I struggled for breathe, the darkness causing me to feel hot and claustrophobic. The advancing rush of drowsiness grew heavier. My tongue felt like a swollen sponge in my mouth, gagging me, preventing me from catching my breath. Consciousness evaded me.

Something stirred me: a loud noise, a banging, or a clamoring. What was it?

My body felt heavy. I couldn’t move. I was so tired, desperate for sleep. Slumber beckoned me back into the black fog of its comforting arms. Longing to linger in its warm embrace, I ignored the ruckus.

“Everett!” a voice echoed. Whose voice was it? I couldn’t tell and didn’t care. I was drifting off when the call came again. “Rett! Help me!”

The thought came in an instant:
Benson! He needs my help!

I fought the intense drowsiness, repeatedly failing to travail through the layers of darkness to the surface of consciousness. My brain worked sluggishly. My body was paralyzed. I laid there, helplessly listening to the slow swish of my shallow breathing.

After what seemed like an eternity, I focused on moving my arm. It flopped into the air, landing limply above my head. It was a start. I then focused on rolling over. Throwing all my weight one way, I fell off the couch. The hard thud of my body against the floor seemed to jolt it awake. Struggling to move my arms into position, it took all of my strength to push up from the floor. My body felt like a lead weight. I stood, but lightheaded, quickly sat on the couch, sweating and gasping for air.

Wait. Where am I?
I looked around our small apartment above the Main Waiting Room. Memories of blacking out on the train loading dock came back to me.
How did I get here?

“Everett! Please! Help me!”

The terrifying scream got my heart pumping. My alertness heightened as adrenaline surged through my veins. I carefully stood and groaned. I felt like my brain was going to explode through my eye sockets. I vomited.

Wiping my mouth, I staggered to the door, down the stairs and through the Main Waiting Room. I was making my way down the first set of stairs leading to the loading dock when the smell hit me.

Something awful wreaked — a mix of burning flesh, trash, and sulfur. It was all I could do not to vomit again. The scent grew increasingly potent as I made my way down each flight of stairs. At the bottom of the last flight, the smell hit me like a brick to the face. I fell to the ground, retching before weakly lying down, the cold brick soothing against my cheek.

“No!” Benson screamed. “Get away from me.”

My eyes darted to the origin of his voice. Straight in front of me stood three hulking men, each wearing a black suit, black shoes, a dress shirt and tie. My mind was slow, taking me a moment to realize they were beating Benson. Gathering my strength, I army crawled toward Benson and the suited men. I had to help him — to stop his pain — but I couldn’t move quickly enough.

Benson spotted me. Meeting my gaze, his agony was apparent. His right cheek and eye were so swollen he was hardly recognizable. Blood flowed from his mouth and an open wound on his cheek. “Rett,” he whispered, feebly reaching for me. “Help me,” he wheezed, writhing in pain as the men took turns mercilessly kicking him.

All three men then abruptly stopped and looked my way. I thought they’d lunge for me next, but instead, effortlessly lifted Benson’s broken body high above their heads, carrying him away.

“No! Stop! Put me down,” Benson quietly insisted, barely struggling.

It was strange to see such a muscular, physically fit guy carried away so easily, but the small pools on the floor explained why. Benson had lost too much blood.

My brain sluggishly processed what I saw then, stunned I didn’t notice before: the portal door was wide open!

Benson opened the door! How could he? The men are taking him to the mouth of the portal. No! I can’t let this happen. I won’t.

“Dio, help me,” I pleaded, slowly rising to my feet. “Stop,” I commanded the men. “He is a follower of the Creator. You have no authority to take him!”

The men paused. Looking over their shoulders, they spoke as one in a deep, distorted voice. “He has made his choice. He is now in the debt of Lord Divaldo.”

I crossed to them, acting like I had my wits about me, but the closer I got to the portal opening, the more the gut-wrenching smell assaulted me. Trying to control my lurching stomach, I peered through the yellow haze to the open portal door, never before seeing anything more horrifying.

Steam rose from a long, circular tunnel lined with stones and human bones, its hot vapors burning my eyes and throat. The smell of sulfur and rot almost knocked me over. Through watering eyes, I saw something move. I rubbed my eyes and looked again, gasping in terror as I made sense of the scene before me.

Far off down the tunnel, a mass of creatures bumbled over each other towards the mouth of the portal door. As they grew closer, I saw most of them were little, but of varying sizes, their faces distorted and skeletal, and their bodies covered in a thin, slimy, transparent skin. Many were missing limbs or legs, and all were badly scarred. I shuddered seeing that some half-crawled, half-ran towards the opening, making the most of their remaining appendages, while others rode humans forced to crawl down the jagged tunnel on bloodied hands and knees.