Conduits

Ch. 5

I can't access Chapter 4 from last week so I don't remember all that happened so if I get some details mixed up don't think too much about it.

I followed the man only because he seemed to know so much about me. If he was making all of what he was saying up, then how would he know what I had done?

He walked us a few more blocks up to an old, grey house surrounded by dead trees. The grass in the lawn was at least a foot tall and the wrap around porch seemed about ready to fall through. It was the epitome of creepy. So of course I was a little hesitant when he continued through the rusty gated fence that surrounded the house.

"What are you waiting for? There are a lot of shadier houses I could've picked if I had planned on bringing you inside and killing you," he said nonchalantly, continuing on down the sidewalk and up to the front porch. The window on the house by the front door was too dirty to see the inside from so I couldn't tell what lay beyond the front door, but despite the variety of red flags that said very clearly DON'T GO INSIDE, I walked up to the front porch with him.

"I'm Dean, by the way. I always like to introduce myself to guests before I let them inside my house," he grinned, pulling out a small key to unlock the door. Not creepy at all.

He twisted the door knob and the door just fell open without much force. The inside looked much like I expected it too, with furniture that was covered with white sheets and dust collecting everywhere. And when I say everywhere, that includes the celing fan above the front entrance, which rained down on me as I stepped through the door. Of course none of it touched Dean. That's my life for you.

I could see a small kitchen with missing appliances to the left of the front room and a living room comprised of what seemed to be a loveseat angled towards the window covered in a sheet. Nothing else. Ahead was a hallway and, with it, the only light in the whole house it seemed, which came from a window that was up by the ceiling, bringing in white moonlight that casted down and gave everything a ghoulish shadowy shape. It wasn't the ideal living space, but I wasn't about to tell creepy old Dean this observation.

He went down the hallway ahead of me and opened a door to the left. I followed him in and saw that it was actually just stairs down into the basement. This was turning into one of the worst ideas I had ever had.

"Um, you know, Dean. I'm not really comfortable with this. I'm just going to, uh, go," I said, edging back down the hallway towards the front door. He came back up the stairs and looked at me, confused.

"Simon. I'm not like a rapist or something. God, that'd be a lot easier to explain," he said with exasperation.

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

Now I was angry. This Dean guy had dragged me all the way to this house and now I find out that he's a criminal.

He seemed to read my mind.

"I'm not a criminal. This isn't really my house. It's just the cover up. What I'm bringing you to is underneath the house. It's kind of what you might call a secret lair, but not quite as creepy. It just holds an entrance to everything we hold sacred. What our kind uses to hunt down the enemies. See, Simon, you and I, we're the same. We're Gifted."

"What? This is crazy, man. I'm out of here," I said angrily, turning towards the door.

"Simon," he said it so calmly. "You-you're not human anymore."