Infringement (10 page)

“Can I come with you tonight?”

“I don’t know, Megan. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why? We’re just going to be sitting in a car listening.”

“What if he moves again tonight? What if he goes back to that girl’s apartment? What am I supposed to do with you then? I don’t think it’s safe.”

“If something like that does happen, then we’ll deal with it. I won’t get in your way. Besides, I do have a higher security clearance than you.”

“You’re a lawyer, not an agent.”

“Haven’t you heard the things people say about lawyers? We’re nothing but ruthless mercenaries. Trust me, I’ll be fine, Special Agent Parker,” she responded with a smile Declan was unable to refuse. “Besides, if it looks like we’re too conspicuous or if somebody comes by the car, I can kiss you and we can pretend we’re just two love-crazy kids making out.”

“That really only happens in the movies.”

“But it always works in the movies, doesn’t it? Not to mention the other obvious benefit.”

“What’s the other obvious benefit?”

“It’s fun.”

“Of course. Alright, fine, you’ve worn me down, counselor.”

“And I didn’t even break a sweat.”

December 23
^rd

Declan and Megan parked amid other cars in a dark corner of the parking lot outside David Stanton’s apartment building shortly after 10:00 p.m. Based on his previous stakeouts, Declan knew Stanton to be a night owl, and figured the later evening hours to be his best chance to observe Stanton moving again or pick up some insightful audio. He set up the audio surveillance equipment and aimed the device directly at the darkened apartment, sixty or so feet away.

“Alright, I think we’re up and running,” he said to Megan. “Here’s an earpiece for this one.”

“What does this one do?”

“This one should pick up sounds from inside his apartment. The other will latch onto any cellular signals in the immediate area and allow us to listen in. It shows a little red light right here when it picks up a call.”

Megan slid the tiny earpiece into her left ear, and was immediately surprised by the clarity and power of the transmission. “He’s listening to music,” she said.

Declan inserted his earpiece as well and immediately heard what sounded like symphony music.

“It’s classical,” Megan stated. “Actually, it’s…”

“It’s what?”

“Hold on. I’ve heard this before. It’s an opera. Just wait, in just a second you should hear a woman’s voice, a soprano.” They both sat silently for a few more seconds, then, just as Megan had predicted, came the pleasant sound of a female soprano.

“I know this opera, I’ve seen it before,” Megan said. “The girl, her name is… her name is Marguerite. That’s it, this is
Faust
. He’s listening to
Faust
.”

“I thought that was a book.”

“Well, it is, but there’s also an opera adapted from the original story by Goethe. There are a couple actually. I saw it performed at the Metropolitan Opera a few seasons ago with my parents. I can’t be totally certain yet, but I think that’s what he’s listening to.”

“It’s got something to do with selling your soul to Satan, right?”

“Essentially. Faust makes a deal with the devil to regain his lost youth, which the devil grants him, but, as one would expect, it doesn’t go well. Faust meets and finally seduces Marguerite, that’s the girl singing now. After seducing her, he leaves, not knowing she’s pregnant with his child. The devil torments her and she eventually kills the baby and winds up in an asylum. Faust is wracked with guilt and pity when he finds out what became of her, and gets the devil to take him to try and save her, but she’s even more terrorized by the sight of the devil and ultimately dies. He damns her, but is seemingly overridden by angelic voices proclaiming she’s actually saved. It’s really a very sad and dark opera.”

_______________________

David Stanton lay naked on his living-room floor, facing the ceiling with his body spread out in the shape of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. His body was surrounded by a circle of burning black candles. At the tip of each hand and each foot, and just above his head, a red candle burned. He was perfectly still, eyes closed, breathing gently and rhythmically in time with the music as it washed over him like surf on the beach. The instruments and voices filled his entire being, Marguerite’s lamenting tone accounted for the whole of his world, blocking out all distraction and every ounce of the various white noise typically filling one’s ears.

The music slowed then gradually built up again, string over string, word over word, effortlessly working to a crescendo, to the complete expression of grief on its path to madness. The sounds caressed and tortured Stanton’s senses, taking him back to places he’d tried so many ways to forget and leave forever in the tucked-away black corners of his mind. Initially, he tried to resist, to fight hard and mercilessly against the memories which had so twisted his world into the unrecognizable, yet inescapable, mass of suffering he’d known.

He fought to push back the humility, shame and sadness which had arrived with the scent of alcohol in the dark of each night, but, as was so often the case, his fight, fierce as it was, proved fruitless. David Stanton’s sense of himself, forever defined in the darkest hours of nights too numerous to count, couldn’t be denied. His pale naked body shuddered on the floor, aching for something that couldn’t ever be recaptured though human effort.

“FILL ME,” he screamed suddenly. “FILL ME WITH YOUR SPIRIT!”

Stanton’s words shot out, piercing through the music. They burned quick vicious holes through the photos of his past which played through his mind. His words, he knew were powerful.

“I give myself over to you. TAKE ME! USE ME TO BREATHE LIFE INTO YOUR RAGE!”

_______________________

Megan shuddered at the sudden unexpected sound of Stanton’s shout.

“Do you hear that?”

“He’s shouting,” Megan answered. “But I can’t make out exactly what he’s saying.”

“It sounds like he’s yelling cage or rage or something like that.”

“Is there any way to filter what he’s saying from the music?”

“Not really. It will pick up whatever’s audible in the apartment, but I can’t filter live. I’d need to record it and then run the digital audio through one of our filtering programs to focus only on what he’s saying.”

“Are you recording this?”

“No. Technically I’m not even supposed to be here, much less conducting audio surveillance. Wait… there he goes again.”

“I got that one,” replied Megan. “He yelled ‘fill me’”.

“I got that too… there it is again.”

“That’s really creepy.”

_______________________

Stanton’s shouts continued until his rage overcame his pain and he finally felt worthy of taking the final necessary step before the culmination of his mission: the death of his old powerless self. He focused his thoughts on one name, and slowly and repeatedly chanted that name, “Abaddon…, Abaddon…, Abaddon…, Abaddon…” His chant began simply as a thought. It slowly and meticulously evolved into a whisper, then into a statement, and finally into a summons. The chant grew louder and more authoritative with each utterance, “Abaddon…, Abaddon…, Abaddon…”

An almost imperceptible chill began to filter through the apartment and it grew slightly more palatable with each chant. “Abaddon…, Abaddon…, Abaddon…”

The chill slowly enveloped David Stanton, reaching into every part of his naked body, touching every extremity like frost on grass, but he didn’t shiver. He continued to chant the name of Abaddon, his thoughts focused solely on that name. “Abaddon…, Abaddon…” His breath soon became visible through the cold with each word. The candles flickered ever so slightly, wavering back and forth as if in a gentle breeze. “Abaddon…, Abaddon…”

Suddenly, a flash of light, like lightning, and a powerful surge of energy filled the room. A violent icy wind rushed through the apartment, blowing the candles out as if in a rage and shaking the entire room like an earthquake. It descended furiously upon David Stanton from every direction. When it hit him, Stanton’s body started and convulsed uncontrollably, and then, fell back down again into silence and stillness on the floor. It was done.

_______________________

Listening outside, Megan and Declan each felt the chill and it sent shivers down their respective spines. Declan pulled the earpiece out and asked, “What the hell just happened?”

“I’m not sure, but whatever just happened was freaky,” Megan answered, her hands trembling. “It sounded like a hurricane blew through his apartment or something.”

“It literally looked like a lightning strike, but inside.”

“I saw that. What do you think he’s doing in there?”

“I have no idea, but whatever just happened, whatever we just heard and felt, I don’t think it’s good.”

“No,” Megan replied. “I’d even say evil.”

“I think it’s time to get going.”

“Declan, look.”

Declan looked up from the car to see the man he recognized as David Stanton standing, completely naked, on his balcony in the frigid December night air.

“Is that him?”

Despite the fact that there was something very different about him, almost like looking at a different man than he’d watched a few nights prior, Declan whispered, “That’s him.”

At that moment, despite the cold darkness, Declan caught Abaddon’s cold glare staring directly at him, eye to eye, through the black night. His lifeless gaze impaled Declan, as if he knew exactly who he was and why he was there. An instinctual chill shot up Declan’s spine and he shivered suddenly, unnerved and visibly shaken. Abaddon simply smiled wryly and looked back up to the glowing stars, as though Declan no longer existed.

December 23
^rd
– December 24
^th

The dim light from a blood moon hung amid the otherwise total blackness enveloping Declan. He raised his hands toward his face, trying desperately to see something, anything, in the darkness, but could only make them out when they were practically touching his eyes. Screams pierced the night, so many that it was impossible for Declan to determine whether they came from a particular direction.

He walked blindly, not knowing where or why, but looking up to the blood moon for perspective and to try and keep his bearings. The screams grew louder and more desperate, but no closer. There were so many voices, so many different pitches and moans that they overwhelmed Declan until he finally stopped in his tracks, unable to maintain any sense of place or direction. There must have been thousands of them, each crying out in the dark for help. They formed an air of hopelessness that filled Declan’s entire being, forcing him down, first onto his knees, then into a total collapse on the cold, hard, damp ground hidden in the blackness surrounding him.

Tears poured from his eyes and he finally called out into the night for help, for mercy from the deafening screams that filled his ears. His own howl joined the horrid harmony of the other sad suffering souls whom he could hear, but could not see, and, like their cries in the night, his own cry went unanswered.

He writhed on the ground for what seemed like days, until he sensed a hint of distinction among the voices, an understandable call from a recognized voice which had somehow managed to distinguish itself from the others. This hint of the familiar prompted Declan to sit up and focus all his energy and senses on that single voice in the black night. The voice became ever so slightly louder, and he could just make out her calling his name, “Declan… Declan…”, then “Declan, help me, please, Declan, save me.”

He focused more intently, pulling himself up from the ground. Soon her voice rose above all the others, until finally, Declan heard only her cries, “Declan, help, please”, then she screamed, “No, no, leave me alone!”

“Megan, I’m coming,” he called out. “I’m coming!” But, where was she? He tried to follow her voice, still unable to see anything except the foreboding blood moon hanging in the darkness above him. He moved left, then right, then turned in a complete circle, trying to determine the source of her voice.

“Declan, Declan,” she called again, the fear in her voice rising. “Declan, please, I’m scared. Please, help me!”

“Megan, where are you? Where are you?”

“Declan, please, he’s coming for me. No, no!”

He ran desperately in every direction, gasping for breath and unable to determine in the dark whether he’d actually gone anywhere.

“No! No! Leave me alone,” she screamed, her voice filled with fear. “Declan!”

Declan raced toward her, determined to find her in the darkness, to save her from whatever monster was tormenting her. He ran as fast as he could, yelling, “I’m coming, Megan, I’m coming,” until he suddenly tumbled over something in the darkness, falling hard and painfully, face first, onto the ground again.

The voice had gone silent. Declan struggled to shake off the pain radiating from his head and chest and regain his senses. “Megan, where are you? Where are you?”

His calls went unanswered. A cold bitter stillness fell over the night and permeated the darkness around him. Declan rose to his knees and groped along the ground trying to find whatever he’d fallen over. His blind hands moved along the hard ground, slowly probing for the object, when he finally felt the softness of her hair beneath his fingers.

“Megan,” he screamed. “Megan!” Declan’s fingers quickly found her breathless body and followed the contour of her beautiful face.

“No! No! Megan, Megan, come back! No!” Declan’s own cries were the only thing breaking the insufferable stillness of the night.

He sat holding her lifeless body, sobbing into the darkness, pleading with God to bring her back. He gently caressed her face and kissed her forehead, but she didn’t stir. Finally, Declan slunk down beside Megan’s lifeless body, exhausted and defeated. He’d failed her.

The black night hung all around him, quiet and still. Declan laid next to her, listening to the rhythm of his breathes, when, as with her screams amid the thousands of others, he slowly picked up on the rhythm of another breath. He shot up, and felt her chest. It was perfectly lifelessly still, yet the breathing of another person became even clearer. He was not alone.