CODE ELDRITCH

Chapter I

The Abduction

Call of the void is what they call it when you get the sudden, inexplicable urge to do something stupid that's definitely going to end badly. Stand on the edge of a high cliff? Jump. Hold a knife? Stab your sister, or yourself. Watch a train coming closer? Step out in front when it is far to close to brake.

Have someone knock on your door dab-smack in the middle of night? Go down the stairs and open it.

I feel like I should mention that I live alone and wasn't expecting anyone.

Maybe it's not the void calling, but your inner, unrepentant idiot — the one you're always trying to subdue?

That's what I thought, anyway, when I swung the door open at 03:15 to stare right down the barrel of a gun.

"Are you Monroe?"

"Uh." I said, "I mean, yes."

"Get dressed and come with us."

I made a face. "You think this is some kind of movie? You point at me with that shit and go all baritone, Come with me if you want to live, that it? I'm not going with you anywhere, not in the middle of the night."

The man with the gun — sunglasses, dark suit, the whole spiel — seemed less than bothered. "If we come back in the morning, will you comply?"

"What? Fuck, no."

"That's unfortunate. The way you phrased your refusal seemed to imply that daylight was imperative to your obsequiousness."

"My what?"

"You'll come with us now."

"I'm not going with you anywhere."

So yeah, like I said — call of the void might not be the best explanation. My inner idiot is always up and about.

"I'm not sure you understand the situation. I am pointing a gun to your face. Have you noticed how, in movies, the people with guns always make up euphemisms or imply their way to getting what they want? This isn't a movie. You can either come with us, now, or get shot in the face. What's more, we'll kill your neighbor's dog."

I must have visibly winced.

"I see we have your attention. Now, if you please...?"

No number of inner idiots could overlook the clarity in that message. Sunglasses had eight more people with him, but they were a more diverse bunch than he. Some of them had hoodies, some of them t-shirts. Only one had a suit like Sunglasses. What's more, they hadn't pulled up in a line of squeaky-clean SUVs but a ragtag band of second-hand Fords and a rusty Opel Corsa. Oh, and a sports car fresh off the presses.

I went inside to get dressed.

"I'm glad you decided to come with us."

I gave the guy slumped over the wheel my best withering stare. Between his incessant chewing and the way he swerved every which way down the empty street, we were becoming fast friends. I could already see myself punching him in the throat.

"Not like I was given much of a choice now, was I?"

"Living or dying is a choice we make every day."

"Uh-huh. Fuck you, too."

He didn't have anything to say to that.

Our circus-style convoy crept north along the highway, the fancy sports car at the fore and that wreck of an Opel at the flank. There weren't many people out on the roads this early, especially not with heavy rainfall, but I got the sense that the convoy's entire purpose was to seem inconspicuous by driving like a bratty bunch of teenagers who'd just gotten their first cars. I'm not police, nor psychologist, but a hunch told me they'd figured out that there's nothing in traffic that people want to avoid more than annoying, lackadaisical drivers.