Author's Note:
Now this is where I may lose some of you, as here begins the violence. I'm not going to lie, there will be more in future chapters. This is a story of heroes and villains, terror and triumph, and into such a dangerous tale a little violence must intrude. Sometimes more than a little.
In the beginning, I do believe I mentioned there would be monsters...
o
THE BEAST
Lena piloted her jet black Hummer recklessly up the narrow mountain road. It was almost nine o'clock. The sun had fallen behind the hilly horizon a half-hour ago, and twilight was quickly turning to dusk as she raced up the old forest road. His retreat wasn't far, it couldn't be. Yet she'd been telling herself that since the sun vanished from the sky. If she didn't reach it soon...
At long last she recognized a bend in the road, followed by—yes, there it is—the turn she had been searching for: the overgrown driveway of Harlan Wolfe's secluded log cabin. And seclusion was certainly the theme here; she had been driving for almost four hours, more than half that on unpaved roads, the last fifty klicks of which were unmapped, out-of-service logging routes. No phone lines, no cell service. She was deep in the middle of a forested nowhere. She hadn't seen another vehicle for what felt like ages.
She slowed, took the turn, and followed the driveway as it wound steeply up the hillside. The drive was rutted and chewed, with standing water pooled into brown puddles in the lower, muddier areas. No one was getting up here without a decent four-wheel-drive. Lena geared down and gave her beast some gas, and the Hummer tore up the choppy road, bouncing and shaking its way up the mountainside. No wonder she'd been up here more times than the rest of A.I. put together, except Harlan, of course. Let's see Jack drive his precious Porsche up this nasty path!
Exultant in her vehicle's prowess over those of her co-workers, Lena found her way up to the cabin in little time at all. When she at last pulled up to the front of the rustic log home, she found herself in a much better mood than she had been in most of the day; since this morning, when Jack had sent her out here in the first place. Before that she'd felt pretty damn good...
She parked her truck beside Harlan's—a Range Rover of indeterminate colour. It was the filthiest vehicle on the planet, she was sure: covered in mud, filth, and grime from bumper to bumper, roof lights to mud tires. She seemed to remember it being a dark blue—or green—at one point, but she couldn't be sure. She had never seen it clean.
Exiting her vehicle, Lena immediately began searching for the man called Wolfe. That wasn't his real name, however. Nor was Harlan. Like Jack Action, his was a name he gave himself when the two of them started Action Investigations. They were the first, Lena and Cy had come into the picture not long after, but who these two men had been before the inception of A.I. was a mystery even to their employees. Rumours flew, of course, but no one knew for sure. Not even Kiki, although she would never admit it. She claimed to guard the secret for personal reasons. Yeah, right.
"Harlan!" Lena called as she approached the simple, but sizeable log house.
It was a two-story structure, with the entire second floor under one massive gabled roof. Crafted by Harlan himself, built of the mighty oaks that had once lived on this spot, the home had stood the test of years with remarkable ease. A large porch extended out from the north side, upon which stood the entrance.
Lena approached the door, looking up nervously at the darkening sky.
"Wolfe!" she called, more insistently. There were lights on inside and his truck was here. Surely he was within.
As she raised her hand to knock, the door lurched inward, startling her while at the same time answering her question. Lena took a step back as her hand flew to her chest.
"Jesus, Harlan! You almost gave me a heart attack."
Silhouetted by soft yellow lamp light, in the doorway stood Harlan Wolfe. His voice rumbled from a face wreathed in shadow.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Lena took a breath before she answered, warily eyeing the shape in the doorway. "Jack sent me. It won't take long."
"Do you know what fucking day it is?"
"Listen, Harlan. We just need to go over a few things, okay?" Lena spoke quickly, feeling the pull of time as it ebbed away from her. "We've got a new client. The job's going down this weekend, and Jack wants you informed in case something cooks. You know, so you understand what's what if you come back Tuesday to find A.I. burnt to the ground and we're all dead."
She smiled, but after what she'd heard on her last call from Jack—over two hours ago, before she'd lost all service to her cell—she was no longer sure how far-fetched that scenario was. It had only been a name, something Kiki had come across in her research, but it was a name that made her skin crawl: Spinoza.
Harlan leaned out of the doorway and looked up at the dark sky, his features coming into the dim light of the night. His hair hung bedraggled and black to his shoulders, matching the thick, scraggly beard that covered his entire lower face. His eyes were emerald green orbs that shone piercingly out from beneath thick brows in a weathered, leathery-skinned face. He looked to be in his late forties, perhaps, but Lena didn't know his exact age. None of them did.
When he turned his eyes back to her, they were filled with concern.
"You took a risk coming here."
"Yeah! And I'd like to lower that risk by leaving!"
