Into the Light

Chapter 36

Chapter: 36

Now, Faustus, must thou needs be damned, and canst thou not be saved. What bootsit, then, to think of God or Heaven? Away with such vain fancies, and despair. Despair in God and trust in Belzebub. Now go not backwards, no be resolute! Faustus.

Doctor Faustus. Act 2 scene 1

Two of the three emails were deleted in spam folders, but one remains lingering in cyber limbo as the months pass. Blake awaits the speedy trial and the news coverage has been ever vigilant. Camera crews and interviews, book rights and television movies have all indulged in the speculative. No one can get to Blake besides his family. In Maximum Security he is fettered ankle to ankle, wrist to wrist, wrist to ankle when he is allowed to see his parents. Mostly there are lawyers. He sees more lawyers than guards. In his gray and white cell, he has a small television where he can see all of the hype he generated. Three meals a day, no visions, cable TV, all the books he can read and the only thought that consumes him is where Stiggy is buried?

The pleas of insanity are reinforced with interviews of Blake's peers, parents and friends, psychological tests, professionals vary on opinions, but the case is strong for Temporal Lobe Epilepsy and Geschwind syndrome.

Even though Blake admits guilt to killing, he insists there are no laws against killing non-human evil entities throughout the trial process. Against the advice of his counsel, he takes the stand in a closed courtroom. The jury, moved by the absurdity of it all, sentences the "Crotchet Killer".

In her office, Sarah Demeter pulls a file with photocopies of Blake's notepad and scans a few pages.

"Demons and the destruction of religions my ass. He thought all this is about some secret society oppressing people. Oldest excuse of the victim mentality. We create evil. Just another nut from the city trying to distinguish himself from the crowd. Alone amongst many, too bad, he has a flare for imagery."

"What was that Agent Demeter?" Agent Cummings says from the door, a tall thin man with an authority that only comes with years of regret.

"Nothing sir, just mumbling and skimming these papers."

"Fine, you should go home and take some leave. You seem, sorry to say, exhausted. Take a few days to recover. The bad guys will be here when you get back. They never leave only their faces change. Take off so the janitorial staff can take care of your office. This place is quarantined. Go."

"Yes sir."

She gathers her things and looks at the clock. It is two hours after when she should have left. She places the file on the pile of in-papers on the side of her desk and struts out. The door closes with a heavy pull. The vibrations cause the file to fall into the waste paper basket below her desk.

A few minutes later, the janitor comes in and empties the garbage can and before he decides to clean this room, he wants to go have a smoke, so he tosses the garbage down the shoot in the hall. It scatters in the hopper of the last garbage truck about to leave. The papers mix with orange peels and discarded pens as the hopper compacts the load with a mechanical crunch.

Sarah decides to go out and have fun at night for the first time in two years so she stops to go to the bathroom, fixes her face, and straightens out her gray skirt. Through security she saunters with a quick lift of her ID badge and gets into her old blue Mazda Miata. The car radio does not work so she put in her ear buds and blasts the Deftones from her Ipod.

The Mazda screeches its tires as she jams on the pedal and hauls through the parking garage. At the security gate, she waves and nods. After a slow roll through the exit, she presses the gas pedal and jets off with the car's engine about to go above the red line. A light spring rain had fallen but the land is still chilled from winter's embrace. The road is coated with a thin layer of ice and she skids to a stop at a stop sign. The music fills her with a second wave of energy and she taps the steering wheel as she looks both ways but she cannot hear the horn behind her. The garbage truck wrinkles her car like linen paper. Medals are placed on her grave.