The first thing Nolan noticed when he woke up was that he was not in his own bed. He was not someone who spent a lot of time sleeping in beds other than his own but when such events occurred he was invariably uncomfortable, even in a bed that most people would find comfortable. The bed he found himself lying on would have been considered comfortable by no one. A thin slab of slightly-less-than-rock-hard material, covered by coarse and badly stained fabric, resting on a configuration of worn springs that creaked loudly whenever he did anything more vigorous than lie still and breath. It was about as far from his own bed as a bed could be and still be called a “bed”. The second thing he noticed was that he was wearing the same clothes as the night before but they were not, as they should have been, covered in mud. He ultimately decided to leave that particular train of thought unexplored.
Nolan rose and took in his surroundings. He was in a small room furnished only with the bed he was now sitting on. He thought the walls might have once been white but age and grime had rendered them a dull grey. High up on the back wall was a small, thick window reinforced with wire mesh. Pale, grey daylight filtered weakly through the film of dirt that coated it. On the wall opposite the widow was a featureless slab of metal almost as wide as the room. There was no handle or knob on his side of it. Nolan had never, so far as he could remember, been to prison, but the word the immediately came to mind was “cell”. Looking up he found another curious feature, one which only served to make the room more unappealing, and that was the ceiling. It seemed to him that it was abnormally high for such a room and as he stared up the word “cell” was replaced by “grave”.
Being on the verge of panic Nolan practically leapt to his feet when a loud “THUNK” came from the other side of the door. The door opened and in stepped a large man that Nolan recognized immediately. The same bearded face beamed the same pleasant smile at him. He was larger than Nolan's initial impression from the night before had led him to believe, not just in height either, and the room instantly felt tiny. He wore a navy colored pea coat with shiny, gold button down the middle and the same short brimmed cap. On his feet were huge, black boots with think soles. He would have looked right at home standing at the helm of some fishing boat on a stormy sea.
“All up and about are we Mr. Savitch? Good, good. You've been asleep quite awhile, but I suppose that's to be expected, what with all the excitement.”
“Where am I?”
“Questions, questions, of course,” Issac replied, “I'll answer the ones I can while we walk. As for those I can't, if you'll follow me I'll be happy to take you the man who can.” Isaac gestured toward the open door and the shadowy hall beyond. In spite of the circumstances Nolan felt surprisingly unconcerned. The man before him, though imposing, was not the least bit threatening. Whatever danger might await him in the immediate future it would not come from his escort. Isaac turned on his heels and ducked back into the tunnel. Nolan followed.
The passage outside his room was more tunnel than anything; arched stone walls comprised of roughly hewn, damp stone slabs flanking a floor of uneven cobbles. Caged bulbs lined the ceiling following a line of unconcealed, and clearly post construction, wiring. Nolan could even make out holes in the walls that might have once accommodated torch sconces.
“I didn't catch your name,” said Isaac.
“Well I'll be sure to throw better next time,” replied Isaac and he let out a tremendous bray of laughter that reverberated up and down the tunnel. “Sorry, sorry, name's Isaac Scoggins.”
“I notice you already know mine.”
“Indeed I do,” said Isaac. He paused for a moment and shook his head slowly. “That sounded sort of ominous didn't it? Not meant to be scaring you am I? Forgive me. The boss gave me your name when he sent me to fetch you. As for how he came by it, I suppose you'll have to ask him.”
“I see,” said Nolan, not exactly sure if he really did or not, “so you brought me here after...”
“Your little adventure last night? That's right.”
“Thank you,” said Nolan, “by the way. For saving me I mean.”
“You're quite welcome, though I really shouldn't take too much credit, Bill did most of the work. I just hauled you out of the way.”
“Bill? He was the man with the...?”
“The big gun? That's him. You might meet him, might not. I suppose that depends.”
“On?”
“Sorry, sorry, I'm talking out of turn here. I really should leave the explanations to Mr. Sound.”
“Mr. Sound?”
“Yep. He's the boss. The man with the answers.”
At the end of the tunnel was another heavy, iron door. Isaac turned the handle pushed hard against it. Nolan could only imagine how heavy a door would have to be to require deliberate effort from a man like Isaac. The door opened onto a narrow shaft with a wrought iron spiral staircase that went up several floors. Isaac started up the stairs, which he couldn't climb without turning himself slightly sideways.
“What is this place?” said Nolan, staring up through the helix of steps.
“Headquarters. I believe it was originally an insane asylum, back in the old days, when that meant dumping the crazy people in locked rooms and waiting to see which infection would kill them first.”
“I guess that explains the cheery décor.”
Isaac let out another booming peal of laughter so loud that Nolan imagined he could feel the staircase vibrate.
“Nice, nice. I like you Nolan. Not many people could keep their sense of humor in a situation like this.”
At the top of the stars Isaac opened another door, this one wooden but no less solid for it, and led Nolan into a long hallway lined with wood panels and tall windows. Outside there were only trees and the same dull sky he'd seen from his room. At the end of the hall was another wooden door with a brass knob so well polished that it practically glowed, even in the gloomy light from the windows. Isaac grasped the knob, his fist engulfing it completely, and opened the door.
Everything in the antechamber was well polished wood. The walls, the few chairs that lined the wall, the desk behind which the receptionist sat, and it gave the room a soft effulgence as if the wood were lit from within. Isaac crossed the room, doffing his hat briefly at the receptionist and smiling.
“Elise,” Isaac said politely.
Elise was a dream of red hair and green eyes. She smiled back at Isaac and nodded slightly. Nolan, who was trying his best (and failing) not to stare, noticed her eyes dart briefly in his direction, transforming in that moment to bitter chips of malachite ice, before returning to Isaac.
Isaac stood before the door on the far side of the room with his hands behind his back like a man deep in thought, saying nothing. After several moments of this, as Nolan was about to suggest that maybe Isaac ought to try this new thing called “knocking”, Isaac stepped aside and motioned to the door.
“Off you go then,” he said and walked back out of the room.
Nolan grasped the gleaming brass handle and opened the door.
The office behind the door was shadowy and sparse. The only source of light were two small table lamps on small tables at either side of the room. On the far side of the office sat a wide, wooden desk with a single chair in front of it. The only other features were two sets of shelves on either side of the room, running from one end to the other, floor to ceiling. Each was filled, to the last inch, with books. Behind the desk sat a man leaning on his elbows, his fingers steepled in front of him. It was difficult to make out his features in the deep shadows but Nolan could tell, even in the dim light, that he was exceptionally thin.
“Mr. Savitch. Do come in and have a seat.”
Nolan shut the door and walked to the chair in front of the desk. It seemed to take a long time to get there, much longer than his mind told him it should have, as if the room contained some optical illusion that masked its true size. Mr. Sound watched him the entire time, his eyes locked on Nolan’s, with an expression of detached curiosity, like a scientist observing an experiment. Nolan sat and laid his hands uneasily in his lap for want of anything else to do with them. Silence spun out between them as Mr. Sound continued to watch him. Nolan found his gaze unnerving, like staring into dark waters where hidden things with sharp teeth circled, ever watching the surface for movement.
“I'm sure you have a multitude of questions,” Mr. Sound said suddenly, making Nolan start, “I will endeavor to answer them as best I can. I also have a few questions for you, if you would be so kind, but we'll get to that. By the way, I should probably return this to you.”
Mr. Sound slid something across the top of desk. It was Nolan's wallet. Nolan picked it up and stuffed it back in his pocket without checking the contents. He felt kind of foolish for not noticing sooner that it was missing, but at least that explained how they knew his name.
“Who are you people?” asked Nolan.
“That,” replied Mr. Sound with a smile,” is an excellent question.”
Mr. Sound leaned back in his chair. “The short answer is this: there are other worlds than this, Nolan. Dimensions, for want of a better word. From time to time things from those other worlds find their way into ours. Some are benign, harmless, and some are not. We handle the ones that are not.”
“Like that thing I ran into last night.”
“Precisely,” Mr. Sound replied, sounding genuinely please, “speaking of which, would you mind telling me exactly where you 'ran into' that creature?”
“It was an alley, Tenth and Madison. It had killed someone I think.”
“Ah, I see. Just a moment then,” Mr. Sound pressed the button on his intercom, “Elise?”
“Yes sir?”
“Have a team sent downtown, Tenth and Madison, there's a body in an alley that needs to be collected.”
“Right away, sir.”
“So,” said Mr. Sound turning back to Nolan, “you encountered the creature in the city but it didn't attack you there.”
Nolan had begun to notice something peculiar about Mr. Sound's manner of speaking. Most of his statements felt incomplete, like a missing note at the end of a melody. It wasn't in the way he spoke, there was no lilt to the pitch of his speech indicating an unfinished idea, and Nolan would've been hard pressed to explain what gave him the idea, yet whenever Mr. Sound stopped talking the impression was of something left unsaid. It made him difficult to talk to and Nolan kept finding himself waiting for him to finish when already had.
“That's right. It chased me out of the city, out to the woods.”
“Unsurprising, considering what it intended for you.”
“Which was what exactly?”
Mr. Sound lost his pleasant demeanor and suddenly became very serious. The transformation was startling and Nolan had a hard time believing he was still talking to the same person. “Oh, Mr. Savitch I think we both know the answer to that question. Just as we both know that the answer is better left unspoken. All the better for you to put it out of your mind and move on. It's best not to hold on to such things, don't you agree?”
“You're saying,” continued Nolan, deciding that Mr. Sound was in fact correct, “that you, what... fight monsters?”
Mr. Sound smiled, “if you like, though it's obviously a bit more complicated than that.”
Nolan sat, processing what he'd just been told. Under normal circumstances it all would have been completely ridiculous, but these were not normal circumstances. He had seen what he had seen, there was no denying that, and everything that followed had to be, at the very least, given due consideration. Nolan sat, expecting Mr. Sound to say something more, perhaps offer him some sort of comforting assurances, but he only sat in his chair, regarding Nolan with his grey, predator's eyes.
“So, what now?” Nolan said finally, if only to break the deafening silence.
“Now you have a choice. We can erase your memories of these events and return you to your life as if nothing happened or...”
“Wait a minute,” Nolan interrupted, “'erase my memories'? How would you do that? And what if I don't want my memories my erased?”
“My apologies. I didn't mean to imply that you had to lose your memories of all this. The process is safe and painless but you don't have to submit to it, though I would recommend that you do.”
“Why?”
“The world you knew is gone, replaced by a world peopled with dark and terrible things, things you can't even imagine. They've always been there of course but you, like most people, refused to see what your mind could not accept. Now that your eyes are open to the truth you won't be able to deny it any longer. Some try to go on with that knowledge. They don't last very long I'm afraid. Without a guiding hand the transition can be... taxing on one's mind.”
Nolan considered this. Having already lost so much of himself to vanished memories he was loathe to lose any more, but what if Mr. Sound was right? What if you couldn't go on having glimpsed what lurked beneath the bright veneer of the world?
“What's the other option?” asked Nolan.
“Join us. Help us 'fight the monsters' as you eloquently put it. With us you can learn to accept your new world. You might even find it preferable.”
“Do you make this offer to everyone who comes here?”
“No, not everyone, but I believe you have potential. It isn't easy, and it can be dangerous, but is it really any less dangerous than walking the world in ignorance of what walks beside you?”
Nolan had no answer. Mr. Sound opened a draw, removed something small and thin from it, and slid it across the desk. Nolan picked it up. It was a business card. On one side was a black box with a white circle in the center and a small, black dot at the center of that. He turned it over and found a phone number printed on the back.
“You don't have to decide right now,” continued Mr. Sound, “take as much time as you need. We'll take you home and you can ponder these question at your leisure. Sleep on it, as they say. When you're ready you can call that number. Or not. It's entirely your decision.”
Mr. Sound stood and walked around towards the door. Nolan stood, taking the cue, and followed him.
“Elise will direct you to the exit, there's a car waiting for you,” said Mr. Sound as he opened the door, “I do hope we will meet again Mr. Savitch.”
Nolan muttered a dazed “thank you” and left.
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