Jude and the door.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” the entity sneered. “First, I’m going to have fun with your pretty little girlfriend, and then I’ll take care of you.”
Gallo opened the door in response to the commotion, but it slammed shut with a flick of the possessed man’s wrist and refused to open. Contri turned and began slowly walking toward Emily.
“Now, now my dear… It will hurt at first, but I guarantee you will enjoy it before you die.”
Through his stupor, Jude saw Contri reach to grab Emily. She defensively pushed her hands out in front of her. The lights strobed and blew out, and Contri’s body was thrown backward. The man stood back up, looking as shocked as Jude imagined his own face appeared. Emily’s now-levitating body slowly sank back to the ground. Jude swore he could see a faint glowing aura emanating from her. There was a moment of silence as she and Contri stared at each other.
Contri began talking in a language that sounded like a melody whistling through tree leaves accompanied by pops not unlike those from a burning log. Emily responded in the same strange language. Whatever they were discussing seemed to instill terror in Contri, because he started backing away from Emily toward the door. As he turned to run, Emily shot forward like a bolt of lightning and held both sides of his head with her hands. For a few seconds, the energy in the room was so great that every hair on Jude’s body stood up. He could feel the pressure building in the very fillings of his teeth. As abruptly as it manifested, though, it was gone. He saw something like a puff of black smoke escape from Contri’s mouth, before she released Contri. He sank to the ground, unconscious.
Father Gallo finally managed to burst through the door and stood gazing in mixed horror and confusion at the sight of the two incapacitated men. Jude’s own consciousness began to ebb, as the corners of his eyesight formed a black tunnel. Emily rushed to his side and held him.
“Are you an angel?” he said weakly.
“Something like that,” she whispered, as darkness enveloped him.
Chapter Eleven
Moonlight illuminated the squat glass and concrete building of the NSA headquarters in Fort Meade, Maryland. The primary traffic through its halls had long since faded away, as people left to go back home to their families. Mike Carpenter was one of the few who had no one waiting for him. He imagined this was the reason he was stuck pulling overnight shifts as often as he did. He did not mind as much as other people might have, though. He suffered from an acute social anxiety that made him more at home in a room alone with his computer monitors than mingling with his peers. Pulling an all-nighter just meant he was less likely to engage in awkward interaction with coworkers when getting up to use the bathroom or grabbing some more coffee. He was happier this way.
His job was to conduct electronic surveillance, as well as track down errors in the NSA’s global monitoring network. The NSA was incredibly defensive of its dedicated resources, especially since any type of glitch might mean the organization was missing out on a vital piece of information or that a data source might have been compromised.
His job had also been the source of his frustration for the past two years. The push to increase data monitoring around the world created an exponential increase in troubleshooting for him and his team. He was currently puzzling over a bug placed in the office of the French ambassador to the United States. It had been tested before it went into the field, but recordings were experiencing a strange spotty static, as if the transmissions were being jammed in some way. He continued monitoring the aberrant signals, thinking the interference may be some kind of counter-surveillance initiative. He kept this to himself, though. The last thing he wanted was to place unnecessary attention, possibly ridicule, upon himself for
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” the entity sneered. “First, I’m going to have fun with your pretty little girlfriend, and then I’ll take care of you.”
Gallo opened the door in response to the commotion, but it slammed shut with a flick of the possessed man’s wrist and refused to open. Contri turned and began slowly walking toward Emily.
“Now, now my dear… It will hurt at first, but I guarantee you will enjoy it before you die.”
Through his stupor, Jude saw Contri reach to grab Emily. She defensively pushed her hands out in front of her. The lights strobed and blew out, and Contri’s body was thrown backward. The man stood back up, looking as shocked as Jude imagined his own face appeared. Emily’s now-levitating body slowly sank back to the ground. Jude swore he could see a faint glowing aura emanating from her. There was a moment of silence as she and Contri stared at each other.
Contri began talking in a language that sounded like a melody whistling through tree leaves accompanied by pops not unlike those from a burning log. Emily responded in the same strange language. Whatever they were discussing seemed to instill terror in Contri, because he started backing away from Emily toward the door. As he turned to run, Emily shot forward like a bolt of lightning and held both sides of his head with her hands. For a few seconds, the energy in the room was so great that every hair on Jude’s body stood up. He could feel the pressure building in the very fillings of his teeth. As abruptly as it manifested, though, it was gone. He saw something like a puff of black smoke escape from Contri’s mouth, before she released Contri. He sank to the ground, unconscious.
Father Gallo finally managed to burst through the door and stood gazing in mixed horror and confusion at the sight of the two incapacitated men. Jude’s own consciousness began to ebb, as the corners of his eyesight formed a black tunnel. Emily rushed to his side and held him.
“Are you an angel?” he said weakly.
“Something like that,” she whispered, as darkness enveloped him.
Chapter Eleven
Moonlight illuminated the squat glass and concrete building of the NSA headquarters in Fort Meade, Maryland. The primary traffic through its halls had long since faded away, as people left to go back home to their families. Mike Carpenter was one of the few who had no one waiting for him. He imagined this was the reason he was stuck pulling overnight shifts as often as he did. He did not mind as much as other people might have, though. He suffered from an acute social anxiety that made him more at home in a room alone with his computer monitors than mingling with his peers. Pulling an all-nighter just meant he was less likely to engage in awkward interaction with coworkers when getting up to use the bathroom or grabbing some more coffee. He was happier this way.
His job was to conduct electronic surveillance, as well as track down errors in the NSA’s global monitoring network. The NSA was incredibly defensive of its dedicated resources, especially since any type of glitch might mean the organization was missing out on a vital piece of information or that a data source might have been compromised.
His job had also been the source of his frustration for the past two years. The push to increase data monitoring around the world created an exponential increase in troubleshooting for him and his team. He was currently puzzling over a bug placed in the office of the French ambassador to the United States. It had been tested before it went into the field, but recordings were experiencing a strange spotty static, as if the transmissions were being jammed in some way. He continued monitoring the aberrant signals, thinking the interference may be some kind of counter-surveillance initiative. He kept this to himself, though. The last thing he wanted was to place unnecessary attention, possibly ridicule, upon himself for
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