The Book of Dema

CHAPTER EIGHT + Violence in the Trees

His music rumbled from the studio speakers in the engineering room. It jammed, but Tyler still did not have the mix right. Too much bass guitar, not enough vocals. Madison must have agreed; his sister had just stomped hard on the floor above to protest the volume. One of these days I will insulate the basement ceiling, and they won't have to hear it any more, he thought. He then laughed at himself. One of these days I will have my own house with my own basement studio, and there will be no sister to complain about the volume.

He had promised Josh that he would finish engineering their first real album this week. Today was Wednesday, and there were still a number of issues he hadn't been able to smooth out. As a musician, engineering was turning into an adversary. He could hear the music in his head, but producing the right pitches and levels in the software required a set of skills he lacked. He'd move the vocal tracks up and then lose clarity on the keyboards. He'd adjust the keyboards and the loops would get lost. The bass guitar kept getting muddy. For some reason, though, the drums, alone split between four channels, remained clear and punctuated. He would have to find out what Josh was doing in his own recording room to get his drums balanced perfectly.

He had just clicked the lead vocal track for the third time to get it set, when his phone dinged. And then it dinged again. Then it dinged a third time and then started to vibrate. He tried to ignore it as he moved a slider up again on the vocal track, but the phone was relentless. He finally picked the device up. Carter's photograph smiled up at him. Tyler paused the music, and accepted the call. He didn't have a chance to say hello.

"Tyler! Tyler! What are you doing? Why didn't you answer? I've got some news. There's a kid over in Newport. Michael called me about last night. I didn't want to bother you then, and Michael and I needed to talk about it. The kid's story was posted on one of our private subReddits. Says he's seeing the doors. I guess he's a friend of one of Michael' friends. We haven't had a new one in a couple of weeks. Tyler, are you there?" Tyler was there, and he had been waiting for Carter to take a breath. Michael was one of the three teenage boys Carter had brought to the show in Riverview. Tyler could picture his dark complexion and excited smile.

"I'm listening. Just waiting for you to take a breath or something. So, what do you and Michael want to do?" he asked.

"We want to send a message."

"What do you mean? What kind of message?" Tyler asked.

"Michael and I were kinda hoping we could go out there with the kid and see if we could see the doors again. Think Spray Paint would send a message? We thought we'd spray 'Door Crew' on them." Sean had come a long way from the roof. It had been four months, and he now had twenty boys and girls monitoring the message boards. Tyler had insisted that everyone who helped must be at least seventeen and never come into proximity of a door.

"Sounds too close to me. Too dangerous."

"Let's be dangerous for once. Everybody here has had an encounter. It scared us all to death. And the dreams. We had to deal with them there too. Come on, Tyler. Be the message man."

The Message Man, Tyler thought. That was catchy. Ruach said I can confront the doors. It doesn't seem like spray painting them would have the desired effect. That's petty and childish. You can still go through a door that's been vandalized. We need to do some damage.

"Do you have an axe?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah. Dad has a couple in the garage," Carter said.

"Are you up for something a little more aggressive than paint?"

"Really? You mean bash them in?"

'That's what I'm thinking."

"What if that opens up the way to Dema?" That's a good question. Tyler had no idea what would happen. He thought about it for a moment.