Empha's Children

The Divide

“Some of it is great. But this,” Bill Cromby tapped the list in front of him, “this rule against parents? Ludicrous. What are they hiding? If they’re so proud of themselves, why make everything such a secret?”

“I think it’s exciting.” Margaret said, with a wink to her son. “They allow trips home for the holidays and a parents’ day during graduations.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Randall Conway will be here any minute, and you’re lollygagging.” David’s mother took the paper from the table, “David wants to go. You will be excited for him. Executive decision.”

The doorbell rang as if on cue and David found himself very nervous, very quickly.

“You’re sure?” Bill said to both him and his mother. “No turning back after this.” But David nodded quickly.

“Get your coat, dear.” His mother said.

“But it’s not cold.”

“It might be cold. Get your coat.”

“It won’t be cold,” David said to himself as he ran up the stairs to his room.

“Randall,” Bill said as David closed his bedroom door for the last time, “Thank you for coming by on short notice.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Bill. I’m extremely pleased that your son decided to join us. We were beginning to worry.”

“We?”

“Allow me to introduce David’s official escort.” Mr. Conway moved aside as David reached the door, bringing a massive man into the front porch lights. “This is Makrin, one of the stewards of the Fellowship of Empha, and a dear friend of mine.”

“Ma-,” David’s mother attempted to repeat the name, “Mr. Makrin, then? Where is that name from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The man cleared his throat and spoke, “Simply Makrin, ma’am. From here; I was raised in a unique environment.” His voice had the texture of gravel and a wiseness of age.

“Hippies.” Bill whispered under his breath.

“David?” Mr. Conway said, “Are you ready, my boy?”

“Yeah,” He replied, and gave his mother and Bill each a hug, then looked for Sassy, who was hiding under the kitchen table. When he got back, his mother gave him another hug and a kiss and told him to write as many letters as he could and he walked out the door.

They took him in a small van to Kindred Hospital, which served the greater Sacramento area. It was built to help patients that needed long-term care, so David had never had a reason to be there. The building was squat and attractive, but unremarkable.

Mr. Conway said, “This is our stop.” And opened the passenger door, where a homeless man was waiting.

“Gatekeeper.” Makrin said with a nod.

“Guardian.” The man replied. “This way.”

They were led to a dusty staff entrance with alarm warnings written in bright red on the door and next to the handle. “Main Nexus door is one mile north and a few degrees east, but you knew that. Safe travels.”

“A hospital?” David said.

“This is the main entrance for northern California, actually. You’re lucky to live so close.” Mr. Conway replied, “We acquired this building in 1992 to keep the door a secret.”

The homeless man twisted a key in the lock and the door creaked open. The lights inside were off and the halls were pitch black. Mr. Conway was the first to enter, and the darkness swallowed him completely.