| The words that headlined the first page in the book I held seemed to rise out of the paper towards me. Fear the Day the Sun Rises in the West - | -☽\🕸/☾- | - . The pictographs following the phrase meant nothing to me but I did lean in to get a closer look at them. When I did, the smell of the ancient volume filled my nose and I rubbed my stinging nostrils as I closed the book down on the table in front of me. I didn’t think it was possible to smell the age of something. |
I straightened myself up and stood tall, placing my hands on the small of my back and stretching to the point where I could feel the satisfying crack in my spine. This book was far older than the library I found myself in tonight. This hidden room was assumed to be built sometime from 1975 to 1976, around the same time the structure above was created. However, this basement library wasn’t discovered until… well, now.
“Ingrid, come look at this,” a voice struck out, splitting the silence. Ingrid walked over from one side of the rectangular 10 foot by 50 foot space to the opposing edge where Perry seemed to be literally buried underneath some books.
Perry was my boss in the sense that he gave me money to do things. That’s where the similarities between him and an employer ends. But that’s not the reason for me being here. I don’t consider this a job, more of a… an outlet.
“You see that ‘dere? You think you could you translate that for me, please?” Perry asked politely with the faintest trace of a quiver hiding behind his Chicago accent. I shook my head and smiled slightly. It could be excitement from the place we were in or timidness from the proximity of Ingrid to him that produced that shake in his voice, but Perry as usual didn’t mind or seem to notice.
I looked back down at the book in front me and traced my fingers over the cover of the textbook. The title was carved into the leathery face of the book, an unrecognizable language I’ve never encountered. The contents of the pages were mainly illustrations, along with infrequent scribbles in the unknown language. The only English in the book was on the first page. Fear the Day the Sun Rises in the West… I skimmed the pages of the book again. A drawing of what looked like the sun with a grinning face stretched across it. Graves larger than cities dotting barren land and rolling dunes of sand. On the final page, a pitch-black circle in the center of the sky and an immensely large crowd of people and… things stood on the ground looking up at it. The picture was drawn so the reader can only see the back of the heads of the people looking up at the black orb in the sky. And yet, I could still tell that some of the figures drawn were humanoid, ghoulish, and some that couldn’t even be placed into that category.
I glanced back at Perry, who was flipping through pages of books with Ingrid translating every so often, a look of mild wonderstruck on his face, in his own little world. I’m here because of him, the bastard. Back before I met him, I remember walking down the street, and as an alley opening approached to my right I could hear the sound of voices. They were quiet due to my distance from them, but the intensity was unmistakable. I kept my head fixed straight ahead as I came level with the entrance to the alley and passed quickly by the sounds of blows landing and feet scuffling. Where I grew up you learned it’s smarter and healthier to mind your own business on the street. But then I heard one of the assaulters snarl,
“Who you trynna be a hero fer’? Gimme it!”
I might’ve been in a good mood that day cause now I was curious. Someone putting up a fight against the local muggers? Get the popcorn. I stopped in my tracks and turned to peek into the alley and saw two men standing over a third who was curled into a ball on the ground. The two aggressors were a few years older than me at the time so maybe around 21ish while the guy on the ground looked my age. I frowned when I realized I was falsely advertised to. Where did the hero run off to? All I see is the lanky wimp on the ground bleeding from his nose while two seriously uneducated dudes unloaded a barrage of kicks and punches onto him. But I did notice one thing. The black haired guy on the ground hadn’t made a single peep. He would shudder and jerk in response to the blows landed on him but he didn’t offer so much as eye contact to his assailants. At least he has some honor, I thought. By the time I was done processing the scene, the two men walked off frustrated, each landing one more kick out of spite before heading deeper into the alley and turning a corner out of sight, mumbling under their breath.
With a better view of the boy now I noticed two things. One, was that he was protecting something from his attackers, curled up on top of it and clasped in both shaking hands. The second, was his shoes. They were nice. Expensive. And at this point the poor guy didn’t look like he could do much about it as I walked into the alley towards him pulling out the switchblade I always kept on me. Right when I got close enough to tell him I was gonna be heading home with his shoes, his eyes shot open and pierced right through mine, flicked down to my blade, and then back up at me. We were what looked to be the same age, but his eyes lied. They seemed to tell whoever they looked at that there was still a child inside that body. That was enough to stop me but what he said in that quivering voice made me do a double take.
“Do whatcha want. I’m not giving you the gold.”
Huh?
I shook my head, confused.
“What?” I replied.
“My gold. It’s mine,” He murmured. He was still laying down in the fetal position, blood caked part of his face.
“What?” I said again. “What gold?”
“Oh, you’re not… you scared them off?” he asked almost to himself, finally moving from his position and looking up. “Thanks… thank you. Sorry gimme a sec.”
He sat up groaning, clutching his side and extended his hand out to me.
“Name’s Perry. Pleasure. Thanks again by the way.”
I realized I was still holding my switchblade in my hand and shoved it back into my pocket and clasped his hand. It was that moment, when I decided to put my blade away instead of point it at him, I still can’t explain why. Perry then held up his ‘gold’.
“Fool’s gold,” he said with a grin. He was holding up what was quite literally just a yellow rock no larger than a fingernail.
“Thats what they wanted?” I asked, incredulous. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Must’ve thought it was worth something. I did call it my gold. But it ain’t, I jus’ needed it for a project I’m working on.”
“Then why?” Now I was starting to think this guy was either stupid or crazy. Maybe both. “Why take the beating?”
“Cause it’s not worthless,” Perry stated matter-of-factly.
“But–,” I began but he cut me off.
“I meant it’s not worthless to me. To them, it absolutely is. To me, this is the last piece of a project I’ve been working tirelessly to complete, and today is the day that this piece gives me rest. To me it is gold. Now why would I give a thing like this to people who can’t even understand its value? People like that.”
He said this last line with a nod towards where the two older men had exited the alley and spat on the ground. His eyes were glued to the back of the alley but mine were on him. Studying him, looking for the truth and the lies. But I stopped after a few seconds. I’d never met anyone who spoke like that, certainly not my parents. I couldn’t help but like him. And the way he talked about the guys who tried to rob him made me feel ashamed that I was a few seconds away from doing the same thing.
“Can I see the project?” I asked reaching out my hand offering to pull him up from the ground.
And ever since then I’ve been stuck with Perry. Voluntarily of course. His project ended up being a visually pleasing structure made of colored stones. Normally I would’ve thought this as lame, but Perry has the ability to find excitement and enjoyment in ordinary things. And I’ve found it to be contagious. Perry decided to travel the world and explore. My attempts to explain to him that the world was already fully explored landed on deaf ears and off he went, dragging me along the first time, and soon after, I was the one suggesting places to go. He came from a somewhat wealthy family and sold items he found on his trips, so even without a job this allowed him to travel to most places and pay me enough to afford accompanying him. Then 2 weeks ago he approaches me and revealed our next destination.
“Guyana. Where and why the fuck–” I started but the next word out of his mouth answered my question… twisting my gut into a knot and sending a shiver down my spine.
“Jonestown”
I shivered. If you haven’t heard of Jonestown look it up. Basic rundown; it was the settlement of a cult known as The People’s Temple. This was their sanctuary in South America where they could live in their own society. This changed after members of the cult murdered a Senator who attempted to expose the group for what they were. That same day the leader, James Jones, gathered everyone in the commune together. And then he gave the order. In 1978, on the evening of November 17th, the people of the temple drank cyanide laced juice. Soon after 918 bodies were found scattered throughout Jonestown. The incident resulted in the largest loss of American lives until the September 11th attacks.
“Jonestown,” I repeated.“Yea, it’s in Guyana near the border of Venezuela,” Perry chirped happily, seemingly unbothered.
The closest we’ve gotten to a trip like this was the time we ‘accidently’ stumbled into the catacombs. That’s what we told the cops.
I think Perry noticed the look on my face though.
“You’re not afraid are you?” He asked, pouting and looking at me with sky-blue eyes. “It was like 40 years ago. You’re supposed to be the tough guy ain’tcha.”
The entire plane ride there I had an uneasy feeling in my gut. The catacombs were one thing. I always thought of it as a really big cemetery, plus you’re in Paris. I think I even remember getting lucky on that trip and bringing a girl back to the hotel room we were renting. Or I think she took me back to her place cause Perry was in the room. I felt bad kicking him out.
But Guyana? My mom was Colombian, and I learned a little bit about South America in school, but I still didn’t know the country even existed until Perry informed me where the tragedy took place. And what happened there… it’s unspeakable. I don’t know why the story of Jonestown affected me that way, but it shook me to my core. I did more research on it the night Perry told me we were going. There were children. 276 children. Their parents brainwashed into poisoning them.
Simply, evil.
When we landed, Perry introduced me to Ingrid who was waiting for us at the small airport. Perry hired her as a guide/translator and after introductions were made and a quick briefing on the coming journey we set off. Ingrid didn’t talk too much unless Perry and I initiated conversation, usually to ask stupid questions with obvious answers which she seemed happy to answer. Perry as usual was upbeat, almost bouncing in his seat as Ingrid drove. He talked the whole way, sometimes to me, sometimes to Ingrid, and sometimes to himself. When we had to get out of the car to hike the rest of the way though, Perry lost some of his gung-ho. And when we neared the long-abandoned settlement, Perry seemed to have left behind some of his energy. Or maybe it was this place that stole it away. I even noticed a shift from Ingrid whose answers to our questions began to limit themselves to one or two words.
We all kept quiet until we entered a sort of clearing. Not a true clearing but a circle of jungle, with a diameter of about a mile, that was less densely populated with vegetation and trees than what we had just trekked through. Dilapidated buildings with vines slithering in and out of the holes and crevices in the walls rose out of the plants covering the ground. Plants and small trees had begun to lean on the buildings for support. We entered the clearing nearest the living quarters, where out of a couple hundred small identical buildings, most were not intact. The majority had half a wall or ceiling missing while a few had more devastating characteristics like a broken foundation which caused the whole structure to sag and lean completely lopsidedly. Examination of the inside of these buildings showed that the place had been cleaned out nearly completely. The only remaining items in the rooms were bed frames, occasionally a chair and miscellaneous items not taken by the authorities or looters: lighters, a bible, an empty pack of cigarettes, ripped pillowcases, toothbrush, and more disturbing a child’s stuffed animal of a monkey, a man’s chain, a lone shoe, and an earring that Ingrid found and placed in her pocket. I shot a strange look at Perry when this happened, but he was too in awe of the ruins of this place.
Everything was fine until we passed the building in the center of the clearing, used for meals and large meetings, and we began walking amongst the empty houses and buildings used exclusively by the heads of the town and cult.
Soon after Perry had pointed out the faint blood droplets in the grass that led around the corner of one of the buildings. They were so faint and infrequent it was hard to tell if it was fresh or not. I had started following it with Perry and Ingrid in tow when I heard Perry call out in surprise. I turned and he was belly down in the grass, pushed up onto elbows with a frown presented on his face.
“Ow. I tripped.” Perry stated.
Ingrid actually giggled and I couldn’t help but allow a smile to creep onto my face. The silence that surrounded this place was deafening and I did not enjoy it. Something seemed off. This little blunder was effective at breaking the tension.
“On what?” I asked, looking behind him as he sat up in the grass and began feeling around. The foliage was so thick near the ground you couldn’t see the floor you were walking on. Perry’s hands disappeared past the wrist as he plunged them deep into the green underneath him.
“It felt like metal, I don’t know…”
“Listen,” I told him. My attention had returned to the blood trail we had been following, disappearing around a corner only a few meters from where we stood. “You do your thing, I’m gonna peek around this building real quick, see if I can find where the trail goes.”
Ingrid nodded and I didn’t wait for a reply from Perry, who I knew was too engrossed in his search to provide one. I strode over to the edge of the wall where the trail turned left past the corner of the building. There weren’t any doors or windows on the side of the building we were on. It was rectangular and we were outside of one of the shorter faces of it.
I leaned over and peeked down along the longer wall where the blood trail paralleled. I narrowed and focused my eyes to follow the blood trail with them from where I was standing. The volume of blood was increasing the farther along the wall it went turning the vegetation it rested on from a natural green, to a dark, thick scarlet. Now it was noticeable, and all the negative emotions I had felt about this place began to swirl inside my chest. The blood was fresh. When my eyes reached halfway down the length of the building, the blood had begun to appear on the wall of the building as well… before it stopped.
I blinked and raised my gaze to look at the only window on this side of the wall. It was situated perfectly above the exact spot where the blood trail ended. It was open. Blood trickled, leaking and dripping down the side pooling onto the leaves covering the jungle floor.
“Guys.” I called out both urgently and quietly.
Safety in numbers. What made that blood? Why is it fresh? What’s inside that window? Animal or human?
All these thoughts jumped into my head as I leaned back and turned my head towards Perry and Ingrid.
“Gu-”
They were gone. As if they had never even been there in the first place. There wasn’t anything to hide behind that was close enough for them to reach so quickly. I whipped my head back and forth frantically searching, panic and mania beginning to creep into my actions and thoughts.
“what the fuck. oh fuck.” I whispered to myself. I’m a level-headed, no bullshit type of guy, but seriously, “What in the fu-”
SNAP
I actually jumped, lost balance, and fell onto my ass. My mouth was agape and my eyes locked in place.
Someone had slammed the bloody window shut from the inside.
Part (1 of 3)