I Met a Drifter Who Walked out of the Darien Gap - [Part 8]

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7

I don’t know how long I stood there at the railing staring off into nothing.  

Eventually some footsteps drew close enough to distract me.  I turned to see Cassara lean against the railing next to me once more.

It was later in the evening, the sun setting someplace behind me.

“Everyone here wants to see my ID.  Junior says for cash he can get me a fake one,” Cassara informed, turning to me, “Thinking of getting off stateside and heading north from there, so it looks like you got me a little longer.”

“Well,” I reached into my pocket and found the two ten dollar bills Cassara had given me for the ‘Ticket Price’, “Here, I’ll spot you twenty bucks.”

Cassara scoffed, chuckling as she took it, “What, you don’t want me around anymore?”

I shook my head, “You’re the one who said you were leaving, I’m just trying to help out a friend.”

“Friend?” Cassara said as she shoved the money into her pocket, “This seems like a hell of a transactional friendship, then.” 

“Ah, so we are friends,” I chuckled.

Cassara rolled her eyes, “For a bit longer, sure.”

“I appreciate it, I could use some familiar faces considering…” I trailed off, a bit listless.

“You,” Cassara frowned, “Haven’t been sitting here all day have you?”

“Just since we docked,” I stated.

“That was this morning,” Cassara pointed out.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“David, it’s damn near eight o’clock,” Cassara said, genuine concern in her voice, for once.

I gave her a nod, “Yeah.  That makes sense,” cracked my neck, slowly getting to my feet.  I felt dizzy as I stood, and I heard Cassara shout something before everything went black, my ears ringing loudly in my head.

…

I woke up in my quarters, the uncomfortable cot creaking and groaning as I rolled over.  Or was the groaning from me?

My thoughts were still fuzzy and my vision just as hazy as I looked around, blindly groping for a light source.

My hand landed on my phone and I tapped the screen, blasting the room with bright white light.

My cabin had all the normal features it usually did.  The cot, the small crate which served as a nightstand, and the door, the second door standing in the center of the room.

I pushed myself out of the cot, looking to the center of the room.

There, standing exactly where it shouldn’t, were a pair of large double doors in the middle of the room.

And I mean in the middle of the room.

Standing there upright, held up by nothing, no hinges to speak of and no frame to hold them.

No doorway.

Doors without a doorway.

I jumped to my feet, rushing to the door of my cabin, the normal one, and ran out.

My heart hammered in my chest as I scrambled through the dark hallways of the ship, looking for someone, shouting something, anything.

I wasn’t sure what I was saying, my ears were ringing once more and my vision was starting to tunnel before Kendis blocked my path.

I slammed into the broadly built Belizean man like he was a wall as he grabbed a hold of me, he shouted something, but I couldn’t hear him.

He held me tightly for what seemed like minutes before my hearing finally returned, “Calm down, David!” Kendis shouted, “Calm down!”

I shook my head, placed a hand on my forehead, feeling the cold sweat dripping from my brow.  “There’s... A Door…” I gasped.

“Yeah, you were screaming about it,” Kendis frowned, “Come on, let's get you back to rest, okay?”

“N-No!  The door!  It’s in my room!” I protested as Kendis led me down the hall.

“I know you’re rattled,” Kendis said as he went down the hallway with a large flashlight, “There’s only one door in your cabin, I promise.”

I braced myself against the wall, trying to settle my still fluttering heart.

“David, come on.  I’ll make sure everything is fine once we get to your cabin, come on.  Or do you need me to carry you?” Kendis asked.

I shook my head as I reluctantly followed Kendis.

Maybe if Kendis could see it too, he’d believe me that I wasn’t going insane.

Kendis opened my door, and clicked the light on inside, turning to me, “See?”

I frowned, poking my head inside.

The cot, the crate, and the doorway I stood in.  That was all.  Well, that and the blanket and sheets that lay draped over the edge of the cot and on the floor, pointing in the same direction I had run away in.

Maybe I was going crazy.

“Want me to get Junior?” Kendis asked.

I shook my head, “I guess it was just a nightmare.  I’m fine now, thanks.  Sorry.”

Kendis gave me a nod, “I’m doing rounds, shout if you need anything.” Kendis said as he closed the door behind him.

I leaned my back against the door, taking deep breaths and heaving them out slowly as I ran my hands over my sweat drenched face.

While it was warm, I wasn’t sweating from the heat.  My mouth was dry and I turned to open the door, with the plan to get a drink of water.

But my cabin door was locked.

“Kendis?” I shouted.

No answer.

I tugged on the door, slamming my hand against it, “Kendis!” I screamed, “Damn it let me out!” I shouted, hoarsely.  My voice was breathy and weak when I tried to yell.  

I must have been screaming my head off when I ran down the hallway. 

Fuck. I thought to myself as I slammed my fist against the door.

He locked me in, probably thinking it was for my own good.  I had just run through the hallways raving like a lunatic.  

I turned around to face the center of the room, and what I saw caused me to slam my back hard against the door.

There they were, standing exactly where they shouldn’t.

A pair of large ornate double doors.

My eyes went wide as I scanned them, able to see them in more detail.

The doors themselves looked like they were carved out of oak, with delicate and elaborate motifs of trees, vines, and leaves running along their surface.  The brass handles looked aged, but not weathered, as if they were tarnished with a purposeful patina.  

The dark tones seemed strangely calming.

I thought back on what Baron Samdei told me.

He didn’t say not to go near doorless doorways.  Just to beware of them.

I moved towards them, “This isn’t real.  I’m not crazy, I’m going to reach out,” as I spoke a mantra out loud, “and when I touch the handle, my hand is going to pass through.  This is just a hallucination,” I announced to myself.

Growing closer to the doors I almost felt like they were nothing but an illusion.  A mirage that somehow formed in the middle of the cabin and I was convinced that if I placed my hand on the handle of the door that nothing would happen.

My hand reached out, and my eyes widened as they wrapped around the cool tarnished brass handle.  

Out of sheer instinct, I pulled the door, and it opened slowly.

Inside I saw a completely different floor, a different light-source, everything.  

I pulled my hand back from the brass handle, and looked around the door.

Nothing but the backside of the door could be seen, half opened, showing me the other side of my own room.  But when I moved back in front of the door, there was another room from nowhere.

As if the door were a portal to elsewhere.

I moved to the crate, picking it up, and placing it firmly between the doors, to prop them open.

I stepped over the crate, and past the threshold of the doors before me.

The room’s lighting was entirely different as I stepped inside.

Hovering over me were massive white lights from a towering ceiling.  Every square inch from the floor to the ceiling, from the pillars to the grandiose walls, were some kind of pristine, almost seamless marble.

Before me was a huge and empty foyer of some kind, at the far end were a towering pair of statues.

On the left, where an ascending staircase went up and wrapped somewhere behind it, was a huge angelic woman.  

She wore flowing robes, and held a huge staff in her right hand, her left was opened outwards, as if welcoming all who entered within.  Her wings were opened slightly, high behind her, melding into the marble wall.  

On the left was another angelic figure, though far different than the woman.  

This angelic figure wore robes, its face cloaked in a stone cowl hiding it a shroud of complete darkness.  A mighty sword held in its hands, the point driven down into the ground behind its feet.  To its left, a staircase spiraled downwards, wrapping around some place under it.  

This figure’s wings were also large, and melded into the wall.

Each statue appeared to have been carved out of the wall behind it.  Like they had cut back a single, massive piece of marble, and in doing so also created the figures and wall, as one huge and unbroken piece.  

A loud boom filled my ears as I realized I had walked far closer to the pair of angelic figures, far away from the doorway.

The doorway that had closed.

The crate had given way, and slid towards me.  

I knelt by the crate, my brow furrowed as I looked to it oddly, wondering how the doors had closed on the thing with enough force to send it halfway across the foyer.

I looked up, eyes wide to see a figure standing over me.

Normally, I would have been taller than the slight woman who stood before me.  Her clothing from her feet to her shoulders seemed almost normal.

A pair of tanned boots, military cargo pants and a nondescript belt, followed by a tanned shirt which led to a pair of dog tags around her olive skinned neck.

What was not usual was everything from her neck up and behind her shoulders.

Over her eyes was a white blindfold, but despite this blindfold she was staring down at me with an intense gaze on her face, as if the blindfold did nothing to hide me from her.

Behind her was something even more disturbing.

Six wings rose and fell gently with her breath.  The topmost wings were white and feathery.  The bottom were a pair of brilliant red feathered wings.  Nestled between the top and bottom set were a thinner pair of wings.  Though thin, they were longer than the other two pair, and dark black, with feathers that looked like blades.  

The six-winged angel tilted her head slightly as she appraised me, her voice slipping out of her lips with a tone that reminded me of my mother when I had stolen from her purse as a  young boy.

“Mortal,” the six-winged angel snapped, “What are you doing inside the hallowed halls of The Guardian Temple?”

I stared up at the six-winged angel dumbly, “The Guardian Temple?” I stammered. 

I knew about the Temple Mount, sure, but never heard of something called the “Guardian Temple.”

“Yes,” She said simply, her face indicating she was looking me up and down.  How she seemed to peer deep into me from behind her blindfold was growing increasingly unnerving, “That’s where you are.  You stand on the most holy of holy ground.

“Uh, s-should I take off my shoes?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t,” The angel explained, “The floors were only recently cleaned of centuries old blood.”

“Blood?  What?”  I paused, “Blood from who?”

“No no,” The angel chastised, “I am not answering your questions.  You stand in my house, Mortal.  Now, answer me! How did you come to this place?”

I frowned, “I don’t know.  I hardly want to be here,” I shot back.

“Do not lie to me, mortal,” The angel growled, “Answer me.”

“Y-You answer me!” I shouted, glancing to the now closed doors as I stood up from the crate.  I realized I was a good half foot taller than this angel, and I felt my courage rise as I stood.  “Why did you trap me in here?  I propped the door open just to have a peek! Trust me, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here!”

“This Temple only has one set of doors, Mortal,” the angel informed sternly, “I summoned the doors upon the completion of my Earthly duties to merely return here, to my home.  Your little door-stop would not stop me from entering my domain.”

“Your domain?” I asked.

“Yes, I control the Guardian Temple, I am its overseer,” The Angel informed, "Among other things..."

I glanced behind me at the massive angelic statues.  Each was several meters tall, and the woman before me was half a head shorter than I was.  “Aren’t you short for an angel?” I asked, smiling down to her.

Her face didn’t appear amused, nor disarmed as she took a step towards me, “My physical form is nothing compared to my spirit, Mortal.  Now answer my question, now!” She demanded, the floor shaking as she raised her voice to me.

I took a step back.  Shorter than me or not, even frailer looking, I got the sense that I shouldn’t be fucking around with a being I didn’t fully understand.  “Listen, I don’t know how I got here either, okay!  These doors showed up in my room and-”

“Doors?” She cut me off, advancing on me once more, her face staring into me.  Even through the white cloth of the blindfold, I could see her brow lower as she narrowed her covered eyes at me, “You are not worthy to stand in these hallowed halls, mortal.”

“Worthy?  I’m a missionary, you know!  I am worthy to stand in holy places!” I argued.

The angel scoffed, “And that alone is why you are not worthy.  It usually takes a great sacrifice or show of righteous faith for the doors of the Guardian Temple to show themselves to someone,” she turned from me, a sly grin on her face, “Oh, but will Tasha be furious when she finds out the doors just showed themselves to an unworthy mortal.” 

“Who?” I asked, taking another step back to place distance between me and the strange angel before me.

“Never you mind Tasha,” she turned to me, pointing her finger firmly into my chest, “You.  I want to know about you.  How are you here?  If the doors showed themselves to you, then there must be a good reason.” 

“Listen lady, I don’t even know where I am!” I shouted, my frustration mounting.

“Where you are?” the angel sighed, “You stand in the grand foyer of The Guardian Temple.  The place upon which God once gave his Angels on Earth their orders to perform His wonders.”

“Wonders?” I frowned, “Like…?”

“Like sending Avatars to prophets to inform them of the future, or their place.  To give direction, or nudge mortals along the right path,” the Angel stated.  

“So where have you been lately?  Not sure if you have noticed but humanity could use some Angelic intervention right about now,” I asked with a scoff.

She paused, her head slowly tilting to one side before she remained still for a moment that seemed intentionally too long for my taste.  “I’m afraid they have been rather… Dead.”

“I’m… Sorry?” I asked, confused as I took yet another step away from the petite, yet foreboding entity before me.

“Slain, Slaughtered, Eviscerated,” The Angel emphasized, “Thus the blood I mentioned.”

“What could kill angels?” I asked, not wanting the answer.

“Not a what, but rather a who.  More specifically, the spawn of a Fallen Angel,” the demure Angel informed, “Now, again, before I truly lose my patience: Who are you, why are you here?”

“My name is David Cross, I’m a Missionary, like I said before… and…” I trailed off, “To be honest I’m here because I was curious why a pair of doors lacking a doorway appeared out of nowhere in my room,” I sighed, “I should have listened to Baron Samedi.”

“You’ve spoken to a Reaper?” The Angel said, advancing upon me once more, taking a deep inhale once she got too close to me, looking up into my eyes.  I swear I could see some sort of flickering of light behind the thick white canvas blindfold.  “No… No you have not seen the other side.  If you had, I could tell.  You’re wholly unremarkable…” She paused, “Yet you seem adjacent to such people.”

“Listen,” I said, clearing my throat, “This is your domain, like you said.  I should get going.  I’ll leave, and no one would believe me anyway.  I just went through a pretty traumatic experience so they’ll all just think I’m crazy.  So,let me get back to my cabin and I’ll not bother you again.”

I tried to push past her but as I did she grabbed my wrist with surprising strength, “Always running.  Yet not having anything to run from, yes?”

“I…” I stammered.

“A Missionary without a mission.  Why do you do what you do, David?” The angel asked.

I was staring ahead at the door, not wanting to stay here any longer, but unable to escape, “I want to help people.  I like helping people.”

“How altruistic,” The Angel said softly, “Is this your way of guaranteeing your entry into Heaven?”

I frowned, unsure of the question.

“A simple ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ is the answer,” the angel said with a grin.

“I answered all your questions,” I turned to her, narrowing my eyes on her face, “Answer me now, who are you?”

“How forward,” The Angel said, taken aback, “My name is Sofia Vaquez, Avatar of Samael, and current Overseer of The Guardian Temple,” she introduced.

“Samael?” I whispered, my brow furrowed, “Where have I heard that name…?”

“Now I’ve answered your question, Mortal,” Sofia said before I could complete my thought, “Now tell me: How is it you find yourself alongside such intense events and goings on?  If you’ve come in contact with a Reaper, I assume your travels have grown far more macabre than you’re used to.”

I narrowed my eyes on her, unsure of how I could, or should, mention Cassara.  “...Do you know about a place called Penthesil?”

Sofia let go of my hand and let out a bemused laugh, “Of course.  I’m on their most wanted list, as of now,” she said with a rather proud grin.

“Most wanted?  Like… As in you’re a fugitive?” I asked, wondering if she was like Cassara.

“A fugitive?  No, no, no,” Sofia said between soft chuckles, “I almost murdered their queen.  As a result, their new Empress has placed a hefty price on my head.”

“Is that concerning for you?” I asked.

“Hardly,” Sofia scoffed, “The Empress is the only one who would have the potential to take me on, and despite all of Penthesil wishing for it, I have no intention of facing her in battle.  Besides, she has other goals on her mind.” 

I nodded.

“But I must compliment you!  Considering how you keep dodging my question. You’d make a wonderful politician, David!” Sofia said, her smile fading, “Tell me how you have come so close to those who reside on the other side of the veil, without actually traveling there yourself?” 

I frowned, deciding that telling the truth was better than a lie.  Besides, if this Angel Sofia was an enemy of Penthesil, then I doubt she’d care if Cassara was a fugitive. “I was at a hospital in Panama, doing missionary work when I happened to meet someone who came out of the Darien Gap.”

Sofia nodded, “And who might that be?”

“She calls herself Cassara,” I waited to see if Sofia had any reaction to the name.

“And…?” Sofia asked after a few moments of silence. 

I sighed, “and since then we’ve been chased by insane soldiers, stumbled across some haunted hallways and I met the Haitian God of Death.”

“He’s a reaper,” Sofia growled, “I’ll have to remind him of his station if he’s calling himself a God.”

I cleared my throat, “H-He never said that he was a God.”

“Good,” Sofia paused, “So it’s her all of these events are after, not you.  And yet…” She smiled, “The doors appeared to you and not her?”

“To be fair,” I began, “I don’t think Cassara would have opened strange doors in her room.” 

“You’re her guide to her faith,” Sofia said to me, her hand moving to her chin, “So you must be the conduit that the Temple knew to reach out to.  The way to get to her.  She likely has been chosen by an Angel.”

“She’s not even religious,” I countered, furrowing my brow, “I’m a Missionary, why not reach out to me?”

“Why send a Drunk to build an Ark, or call out to an exiled Prince who betrayed his people to lead them out of bondage?” Sofia snapped, “God does not ask the faithful to do faithful things.  They would do so without question and thought.  He demands those who would question Him, those who are fallen or otherwise broken to make themselves whole through His works.”  

I paused, wondering what she meant.

“Sampson was faithful, and fell.  Only in his final moments were his blessings returned.  Abraham was asked to slay his own son at God’s request, and yet he was stopped, as God demanded him to ask ‘why’.  The faithful are often too blind.”

“Coming from you that’s rich,” I chuckled.

Sofia paused, a rather vicious grin on her face, “Oh, poor fool… One does not need eyes to see.”

As she spoke I swear I could hear her words echoing throughout the halls around me.  

My stomach dropped, “S-Sorry.  Just… you’re… blind…” I trailed off.

Sofia’s grin grew all the more demonic as my voice seemed to disappear into the vast emptiness of the foyer, “Blind?  Me?  No.  I see more than you could ever imagine…” She said as she slowly moved her hands behind her head to undo the blindfold.  “What do you think you can see, with your mortal eyes?  A mortal spirit who has not yet even seen past the physical plane?  Who’s mind has not traveled into the ether nor past your own thoughts?”

I took a few steps back, unsure of what was going on.  Each word she spoke seemed to grow louder, echoing back and forth.  Her words came from the sides, behind, and even above me.  

“You think I am blind?” Sofia’s soft laugh filled the room, she let the blindfold fall.

My eyes traced the heavy canvas as it crumbled to the ground.  As it slowly fluttered downwards, my breath caught in my throat, and my heart started to race.

The cloth.  It looked the same as the one which Sigrid had held so tightly over my face.

I looked away from it quickly. Turning to see Sofia’s eyes.  I was unsure what I was expecting to see behind the blindfold.

My mind raced a bit, expecting nothing behind the blindfold at all.  Merely empty or grotesquely scarred sockets and flesh.  

Instead what gazed at me were normal eyes, or so I thought at first.  Her eyes were milky, yes, indicating some kind of heavy cataracts or scarring.

But as I looked into her eyes, something was wrong.

It was the color.  I tried to spot what color her eyes were, but every time I thought I knew, they seemed to change.

Brown?  No… Blue suddenly.  Now green, and then honey colored, then black and red and almost yellow.  A prismatic, almost iridescent color shifting along her irises behind the milky lenses of her eyes.

Her pupils constricted, and her eyes widened as I gasped, my breath catching in my throat.

Horrifically loud screams filled my ears, and I grabbed my head, falling to the ground as the ringing in my ears returned with vengeance.

I heard hundreds of voices crying out in suffering.  Some screaming for torture to stop, others gasping for air, some voices in the midst of drowning.  

I opened my eyes wide, focusing on the blindfold now sitting at Sofia’s feet.

“David…” Sofia’s voice called, “Ah, now you see…”

I looked up from her feet, and now saw something far different.

Standing there was Sofia, once more, but much, much larger.

She towered over me, her wings filling the entire space of the Guardian Temple, melting into the walls and ceiling behind her.

Her eyes shimmered in a glorious iridescent light, causing light to bounce and reflect through the room in beautiful facials all around the foyer.  Slowly rotating over her long and floating hair, however, was a huge red halo.

The Halo was not a simple ring, or simple metal.  But floating runes and markings.  Runes which shifted, shook, and vibrated.  As if they were held against their will within the many concentric rings of the slowly rotating halo which sat over her head.

“Samael…” 

I could hear voices whispering to me.

“Samael, the Venom of God*.”*

I slowly got to my feet, “Samael… He’s not a normal angel…” I whispered.

“No,” Sofia said with a grin.

“H-He was cast out, wasn’t he?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” Sofia said with a wicked grin as she took a few steps towards me, her form towering over mine twice over, “He was.  But now He has returned, called back, in God’s time of need.  As always,” Sofia’s eyes scanned me.

“P-Please let me go,” I begged, falling to my knees.

Sofia’s smile faded for a moment before an even more devilish grin came upon her, “Very well, Mortal.  I will let you leave. If you pass my test, that is.”

“T-Test?” I asked, unsure of what this terrible angel was going to ask of me.  I slowly got to my feet, backing away before I bumped into someone.

I turned, shocked to see myself!

There I stood, a look of shock and horror frozen on my face.  I turned to see what I was looking at, only to see that Sofia was standing in front of me.

Not the Sofia talking, but the still blindfolded six-winged angel form that I had seen before.

“W-What is this?!” I asked.

“This is what you could not see before,” the terrifying vision of Sofia explained, “This is the ethereal realm.  I have pulled your spirit from you, to show you the truth,” She grinned proudly.

I steeled myself as best I could, “F-Fine… Okay.  So you’re going to test my spirit, then?” I asked.

“Yes,” Sofia said with a wide grin, “That I am.  As Samael himself tested my spirit when I was but a mere mortal, so too I shall test you.”

I sighed, “Okay, fine.  And if I pass your little test, I can leave this place?”

Sofia gave a nod, the large red halo bobbing along with her head as she did so.  

“Fine then,” I sighed, “Test me.”

Sofia was now just a breath away from me as she grabbed both of my wrists with an iron grip.  I tried to get away, but she didn’t move a single inch.  

I grunted, struggled, but nothing I did was able to pry my hands free.

“Now, the test,” Sofia whispered to me, grinning as her eyes shimmered especially bright, “Free yourself from my grasp, and you can be free.”

“A-And if I don’t?” I asked.

“Then your body will perish,” Sofia said, looking behind me.

I turned and watched as my body slowly fell to the ground in slow motion.

“W-What?” I gasped.

“Without food or water, your body will fade away,” Sofia informed me, “So act quickly, Mortal.  You’ve only a few days.”

“And what about you?” I narrowed my eyes, “We’re locked in this together, it seems.”

As if to thwart me, I watched as Sofia’s body began to slowly move, walking towards the stairs to the left-most statue.  I blinked, confused.

“Unlike you, Mortal, my spirit can exist in more than one place here,” Sofia said with a wicked grin, “I can do this for eternity…” Sofia’s shimmering eyes widened as maddened glee overtook her face, “Now.  Mortal: To earn your freedom, you must break from the grip of the Sword of Samael!”