Originem

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Biblically Dark

Chapter 12 (v.1) - Chapter Twelve

Submitted: August 26, 2018

Reads: 83

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Submitted: August 26, 2018

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Medio Terrarum 

He stepped out of his car, adjusting his gray tie as he went. After grabbing his phone from its mount on the windshield, he slammed the car door closed, locked it, and headed toward the cement building in front of him. Large lettering on its side declared the building New Orleans Police Department. 

Through the glass, automatic doors of the department, an officer behind the front desk waved him in saying, "Morning, Jack." 

"Good morning, Scott," Jack responded, raising a friendly hand in hello. He made his way toward the elevator. 

"Oh, wait, Jack," the officer called before he could get too far. "There's a Mrs. Harper waiting for you upstairs in your office. She requested to speak to you specifically." 

Jack nodded his acknowledgement, pressing the button for the elevator. It gave a silent ding before  opening its doors to receive the man. Jack stepped in, pressing the button for the second floor. The doors closed behind him. Using the mirrored walls of the elevator, he smoothed out his short black hair. His light green eyes scanned his figure before deciding he was presentable enough, and when the doors reopened to the desired floor, he stepped out confidently. 

He turned left after exiting the elevator in the direction of his office. He exchanged several brief greetings with other memebers of the department before sliding through a wooden door with the name M.J. Jack engraved on it. 

His office was exceptionally clean and well organized. A black wooden desk stood in the middle of the room. Several books and yellow folders were piled neatly on one side. A plaque with the same name - M.J. Jack - stood proudly next to the pile. On the other side, a black landline sat alone. 

Two chairs were set up in front of the desk. The one on the left was occupied by a woman looking to be about ten years older than Jack with graying blonde hair and a slightly wrinkled face. This woman stood up upon his arrival. 

"Detective Jack?" her voice was hopeful, as if she had been waiting for a while. 

"Yes, and you must be Mrs. Harper." Jack extended a hand toward the woman who took it limply. "What can I do for you, ma'am?" He gestured for her to sit back down as he made his way to his own chair on the opposite side of the desk. 

"It's my daughter, Detective - Cara. She didn't come home last night and I don't know where she is." There was a subtle strain in her voice, as if she were trying not to cry. 

"How old is your daughter, Mrs. Harper?" 

"She just turned eighteen." The strain was more audible now, accompanied by slightly watery eyes. 

Jack studied the woman. She seemd like one of those kind-hearted, unapologetically over protective mothers. As a parent himself, he felt for her. "Mrs. Harper, I have a son the same age as Cara. Sometimes they're just looking for a little freedom, and that can get scary; especially when they decided to disappear-" 

"No offense, Detective, but my daughter is not your son. She wouldn't do something like this. Not on purpose." 

"If you really feel that way, I can refer you to another officer and they can start a file for you." He began to reach for the landline, but Mrs. Harper intervened again. "I don't want some rookie looking for my daugher. You have the best success record this department has seen in years and I won't have anything less." 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Harper, but I'm a homicide detective. I don't work missing persons cases." 

"For all you know she could be dead, and that's right up your alley." She was getting desperate. Jack fell silent, staring at her pitifully. A knock at the door saved him from having to furhter argue the subject. 

"Come in," he called, keeping his face straight and the grateful tone out of his voice. 

A man with spiky blonde hair and brown eyes poked his head in. "Sorry, James. Can I talk to you for a second?"

Mrs. Harper stood up sharply and grabbed her purse off the floor. She exited the room, bumping the new arrival roughly on her way out. The blonde raised his eyebrows, questioning. Jack waved a dismissive hand. "What's up, Pete?" 

Peter entered the room, closing the door behind him. "We just got a call. Possible homicide. A woman came home to find her son dead on the couch and, from what I can tell, the circumstances sound, well... interesting." 

Jack stood up, taking off his black jacket. "Do they want us heading over there now?" 

"Well they don't want us sitting on our hands if that's what you mean." 

Jack sighed, opening a desk drawer and pulling out his shoulder holster. "And here I thought it was going to be a quiet Friday morning." 

Peter chuckled. "I hear you, man. I haven't even made a cup of coffee yet." 

Jack shook his head, shrugging his jacket back on once his holster was in place. He grabbed his gun - a black 9mm Glock - before closing the drawer once again. "Let's go," he said, shoving the piece into its leather holster. Peter lead him out the door. 

 

Coelum

Gabriel walked confidently down the familiar white halls that he had once been dragged down and once been lead down. Now he was unaccompanied and was allowed to walk at his own pace. His new white trench coat had replaced his burnt one, and it fluttered behind him. 

At the end of the long hall, he pushed open a pair of double doors and entered the large ballroom sized space. The clouded-over face of God stood out among several other men and women dressed similarly to Gabriel. Everyone turned around to face him as he made his way toward the small cluster of people. God waved a hand and the group dispersed. By the time they had left the room, Gabriel had reached his commander. 

"What news do you bring, Gabriel?" 

"Nothing good, unfortunately. All attempts to put out the fire in Infernum have failed. On top of that, Amare is nowhere to be found." 

If his face was visible, God would have been seen scowling. "She couldn't have just disappeared. Gabriel, it is imperative that we find her." 

"I understand, sir, but so far our searches have brought up nothing. Everyone is hiding down there. They're suffering, and I'm afraid if we don't put an evacuation plan into action, the people down there are going to start popping up in the Infirmary, dead. And I know Raphael is powerful but there are a lot of souls in Infernum."

God nodded silently and began to pace. "There are bad people down there, Gabriel. People who were exiled for a reason." 

"I know, sir; but not all of them. Most are still seeking their Redemption." 

God paced some more before answering. "And where do you suppose we put all these souls?" He gestured around him. "This room won't hold them all. How am I supposed to keep the non-sinners of the world safe?" 

"The people down there aren't all dangerous, and by keeping them trapped in Infernum you're allowing them to burn. You can't do that." 

"You're wrong there, Gabriel. I can." 

"But you wouldn't." Gabriel waited expectantly for an agreement, but God stayed silent. When he didn't answer, Gabriel continued. "Besides, if we don't bring them to Coelum, they're going to burn alive and appear in the Infirmary anyway." 

"The passage between Coelum and Infernum can be sealed." 

"You can't mean that!" 

God stopped pacing and leaned close to Gabriel until their noses were inches apart. "Don't tell me what I can't do, Gabriel. I have existed a lot longer that you and I have kept order. This situation is minor compared to what I have seen. So, you will follow my orders and you won't question them. Do I make myself clear?" 

Gabriel answered stiffly with a, "Yes, sir." 

"Good. Now leave. I will consider your proposition, but I make no promises." 

Gabriel gave a slight bow before turning around and heading towards the double doors of the hallway as a brisk pace. He left God alone in the large room without uttering another sound. 


© Copyright 2019 P.J. Bomre. All rights reserved.

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