Adventure Team 3: The Devil's Triangle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a bit I cut off of chapter 3 of my Adventure Team 3: The Devil's Triangle book. I wanted to leave Mr. Pitch's introduction to another character in a later chapter... but I liked this piece so much (and it's so dark)... I wanted to share it.

Submitted: September 23, 2016

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Submitted: September 23, 2016



"Go on."

"NO," Jake climbed to his feet. "I'm done with this! I want to know why you keep doing this to me. How you're doing it. You're tearing me up inside, and I'm sick of it."

Jake's rage boiled within him, fueling him, replenishing his strength and replacing his hopelessness with red hate. "You keep asking if I would kill for this, or kill for that. I'll tell you what, buddy... show yourself to me now, and I'll kill you!" Jake looked around wildly, teeth clenched, his hands fists at his side.

"Well, now you're talking my language," The Voice replied, as a man stepped from the dark. He was tall, black curly hair framing a young face. He had an olive-complexion and wore an immaculate black business suit, with black shoes polished to a shine.

"Hello!" The man called, as he put his hands in his front pockets and smiled. "I'm Mr. Pitch. And now... now we have something to talk about."

Jake took two steps towards the man, but then one leg crossed the other, and he stumbled. He shook his head as he regained his balance, his anger losing preference to an onslaught of questions. "How are you doing this? How are you sending me back? The detail... things that I'd forgotten... it's so real..." Jake's anger was fading as quickly as it came. "Even Betty; the texture of her saddle, the warmth of her flanks under my legs, her smell..." Jake looked up with eyes bloodshot with pain, "... you even got her smell right. How?"

"Was that it?" Pitch asked, disappointed. "That was the extent of your righteous anger? 'Show yourself and I'll kill you!'" Pitch sniffed, "Please. As if you stood a chance. But it would have been entertaining to see you try. Entertaining to see you fail."

"Who are you?" Now that Jake finally had a person to attach to the disembodied Voice, he was anxious to put things together.

Mr. Pitch grew a grin that stretched across his entire face. His teeth were perfect little white tombstones, but there were too many of them; it seemed impossible that many teeth could fit in one mouth. He tilted his head, "You know who I am."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. I see it in your mind. You know where your little aircraft was travelling when I took you. You know who's domain you were violating." Pitch took one step closer, but one step only. His voice became low, almost a whisper, the soft tone of a lover, "You have known me your entire life: You felt me strike you, as that minié ball tore into your chest while defending your right to human bondage. I blew Yellow Cross into your lungs, as you cowered in the trenches of Ypres. You experienced my potency as I twisted the hull of the Seaserpent, trapping you to drown in the dark." Pitch took another, single, step closer, "And my voice... oh, my voice has sang in your ears for a century; the cry of every man you maimed, the panicked sobs of young soldiers calling for their mothers, the last gasps before succumbing to the death you delivered to them... I am that death rattle you hear in your dreams every night." Pitch sighed. "Tell me again you don't know who I am."

Jake stared at the man with a gaze of stone. Finally, he said, "You're not him."

"I am."

"The Bermuda Triangle... The Devil's Triangle... it's a load of crap," Jake stated, but without the certainty he intended.

Mr. Pitch wore a bland expression as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. "With the plethora of years your past has to offer up to me, I had been saving this as the desert. The delicious treat after a full meal. But you have changed my mind." He clasped his hands together in front of him, and looked at Jake with hooded eyes. "Betty."

"Yeah?" Jake answered warily.

"Merely a horse, a beast of burden, yet you assigned a near-human intelligence to it. Treated it as a person. As a friend." The words seemed to leave a bitter aftertaste.

"You've seen her, making me relive all those memories, seen the things she could do..."

"All I saw was a singularly lonely man, attributing prowess and personality to an animal that had neither."

"She was..." Jake took a deep breath, "You're not going to do it; make me angry. It's not going to work. I know what Betty was, and what you think about her means nothing."

"All these years after, you christen every mode of transportation with the beast's name; automobiles, jeeps, even a motorcycle, all named Betty." Pitch raised his head a fraction of an inch. "But never another horse. You never bothered to get another horse and name it Betty. Curious."

"We're done," Jake said flatly, and turned to walk away.

"How did Betty die?"

Jake stopped, and closed his eyes. "Please."

"Granted, no other human, let alone a mere animal, has had your lifespan, so I am not surprised the thing no longer exists." Pitch smiled. "So tell me true. How did Betty die?"

Jake's eyes were still closed. "Please," he said softly, "Please. Please. No."

Mr. Pitch looked towards the perfect black above. His eyes were slits of white, and his voice trembled in rising passion. "Let's go watch Betty die," he sighed. His body shuddered from pleasure. The sky became fire.


© Copyright 2018 Wes Ferguson. All rights reserved.

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