Hardy Detective Agency

The Beginning of The End of The Beginning

He closed his eyes and once again, his mind took him to the dilapidated village of Suramaji in the pathetically forgotten country of Madi landlocked somewhere in the south-eastern part of Africa. Water was the scarcest resource for a place that was plagued by prolonged period of dry seasons leading to drought. Just like on television, the place was flies ridden and he wondered why he had even made the trip solely on the behest of a stranger who somehow knew all about the case of the false prophet.

The village was small scattered with frail huts made of termite infested wood and it was terribly hot being on the border of a brutally arid desert strip. The nearest well was all the way in the next village which was not much better than Suramaji. However, the villagers need not walked the harsh miles barefooted to reach precious water- it was brought to them. Food rations were brought to them as well. It had been this way for two years.

None in Suramaji could leave. Suramaji was being secretly quarantined and the corrupt government of Madi paid to cover up the crime. Elijah and his companion had stole into village, masquerading as helpers who were brought in not to soothe or heal but to ensure that no villager escape their impending death. They stood on a short distance away from the main cluster of huts in the village as his companion, a tall, lanky male of about forty with heavily-lidded eyes the color of crude oil, gestured out cursorily.

"This is no natural epidemic. You don’t have to worry too much- the strain they are infected with spread like AIDS."

"And how did a whole village managed to get infected?" Elijah asked, skeptical of what he was told.

"Tainted needles and blood. A mock relief team came to this village posing as welfare people giving routine vaccine to the whole village. Chicken pox was becoming a problem here. Little did the villagers know they were being infected."

"And to what ends?" Elijah shook his head. "You’ll have to do better than this."

"The group we are dealing with is heartless and will do countless of human experiments until they reach the conclusion they want. They have overt scientific capabilities that are not known to the world yet and vast resources to help them through. This tiny little village is but another one of their little failed experiment which traces had to be eradicated quietly and seamlessly. They had hoped that somehow the virus would mutate in a certain way when it entered into the human body and become dangerously airborne. This strain did not. But that was two years ago. Now, according to our sources, they have the strain they wanted- developed in laboratories. It can be spread in many ways, the most dangerous being airborne, and it won’t surface until approximately two years later. Human beings infected with the virus still carry on with their lives and no one would give a damn, spreading it on to one another until it’s too late." The man’s paper voice withered off and left the threat hanging in the air. Elijah’s sharp eyes caught a young girl crouching down in dire pain by the entrance of her ramshackle home with blood streaming out from her eyes and nose.

"And what do they hope to achieve? Hold the world ransom with the antidote?" Elijah countered softly. He could see the agony the girl was in and wondered how much of the blood streaming out were mixed with tears. Could she even cry?

"Yes, if they have the antidote. So far, they don’t and they cannot advance with their plans until they have it. Right now, they are performing little disturbances along the way- instigating civil wars, encouraging destructive cult activities to flourish and funding terrorists and criminal groups. The virus is the last catastrophe they would unleash on Earth. Clandestinely playing the villain, they would, in their engineered Armageddon, produce the savior as well. Some people just can’t wait for Jesus." The man’s lips crept up in a bemused smile. Elijah let out a low chuckle.

"Since you know all these, why not just report it to the relevant authorities? End it once and for all?"

"Report it? They are powerful people and I will only sound like a nutcase. Besides, we have no idea just who are they- only vague hunches and implications. They are spread all over the world, holding positions of power. That’s where I need you for we have determined the outfit which they have successfully infiltrated with its noble employees being none the wiser."

Elijah turned and met the man’s burning black eyes with his impassive deep blue orbs. "I’ve quit and I’m a nutcase myself. I don’t trust you. You should not trust me."

"Yes." The man smiled almost evilly. "You will help us, Elijah Raily. We have talent spotted you- your coldness will be an asset to us and your need- your ambition. You want to best the entity that had shown one of its faces to you and we’re giving you this chance. You’ll never forget the case of the false prophet. Not only will you satisfy your deep-rooted curiosity, you’ll save the world and in the meantime, gain yourself immense power and wealth. We’ll see to that. You’ll win and you’ll win in the best way- you will shape the world."

"And how will I know I’m actually on the right side? Perhaps you’re the supposed ‘good’ side of this surreptitious organization and I’m only helping you set the way for your engineered savior."

"You’ll have everything you ever wanted. Do you care?" The man did not mean it as a question- he meant it as a rhetoric statement. "I cannot convince you that I am not from the devious organization I’m talking about but I can only tell you that if you join with me, your past will never haunt you again. You’ll never have to grovel or suffer injustice. People will look up to you, honor you and revere you. You’ll get all these and more. And much, much more."

Elijah stared at the ebony girl who was now vomiting blood onto the soil. Someone else- her mother probably- ran over to her, badly affected by the virus as well. Even in her own agony, she cradled her child and sang her to eternal sleep.

"Remember what you promised. I am calculative and I will take all that are being promised to me."

The man draped a skeletal arm across Elijah’s shoulders. "Of course."

When his eyes opened, he was once again in the darkened apartment of the posh, Beverly Hills condominium Grace’s father almost forgotten he owned. Madi- everything he needed to do which Casper instructed him to was in his mind. For such serious matters, he never jot it down anywhere though he wondered if he should be gratified that his mind, upon regaining the memories, remembered Suramaji as well.

He was almost freed of this soul-trapping task. Almost freed of the image of the girl who died in her mother’s arms. Would he, on his dying day, be held by his mother like that? No, of course not. He was a fool. His mom died in his heart long before she died in reality.

Almost freed. When he spotted Natalie, his carefully controlled mind snapped. All bonds of restrains shattered and he became almost psychotic in his singular purpose of wanting her back. When he failed, he lamented the bitter world and bought the kerosene.

Then his mind took a holiday.

Knowing he had work to do, he picked up his cell phone and dialed the number he had been procrastinating to punch into the keypad for more than a week.

***

Elijah called your office phone, asking to meet you in Bayport today in the evening at the top of the hill overlooking your home. You have to rush. Good luck.

Or rather, for your sake, God Bless.

Gray.

"Lijah, Lijah…" Isaiah mumbled to himself as he drove, his spirits soaring as his Lexus sped down the highway. The sunlight dappled off the crisp green leaves and danced of his windscreen. A brief, sizzling summer rain earlier had left droplets of diamond on his car’s windows- yes. The sun was definitely welcomed. He pulled down his shades and powered up the air-conditioning in the vehicle as his car picked up enough speed after a momentary slow down owing to a driver he had impatiently overtook for him to switch into the highest gear.

He had given up all hopes of ever reconciling with his brother- every chance he had, he ruined. Returning back to work was probably the wisest thing he ever did for himself for the harrowing tasks and assignments coupled with tedious paperwork if he returned alive successfully halted depression from eating him inside out as he was much too busy keeping himself alive to return home to Lynn and saving the world.

But now, there seemed to be some chance. He did not know by what powers instigated Elijah to contact him but he did. Isaiah’s heart sang with renewed hope. No matter what Elijah said about severing the bonds between them, Isaiah knew he could never leave his brother alone.

My beloved brother. Misguided surely but I know in my heart he’s good.

He turned into the exit he was looking out for and minutes later, from memory, he found his way to a small, obscured lane that would lead him up a hill that Lijah and he used to run up to when they had the time and energy. The evening sun used to douse the mansion in molten blessings of gold and they would look at it in its lazy beauty and believe that everything was a nightmare- that they would wake up and life would be kind. The nightmares would only make them stronger for all the adversities that were to come their way.

At least Elijah, in his childlike innocence, thought so. He would be the rambling away about angels flying them away to a real home where the daddy was kind and the mommy’s eyes sparkled with life. Isaiah, too loving and doting an elder brother, would go along, hating to dispel his hopes with reminder of cruel reality.

Besides, he loved to listen to his little brother’s childish voice squealing happily about how angels looked like. But the louder and shriller Elijah’s laughter, the more Isaiah’s heart would cut. When he was small, he had no idea how to term the unnatural laughter that would keep his brother rolling on the ground with tears streaming from his eyes. Now, he knew. Sometimes, he would be guilty of that. Depression.

The long drive was definitely worth it. When he reached the hilltop, he saw a brand new Ferrari already parked there. Pulling his luxurious sedan which seemed so lackluster next to it, Elijah stepped out and found the lean figure expensively dressed down in a long-white sweatshirt too hot for summer and causally smart blue jeans sitting where Little Lijah used to sit, staring out at the direction of their old house.

It was burned down- the interior charred and blackened and the exterior not much better. Crumbling walls marked the destruction of a past which destroyed more than just childhoods. Ashes to ashes, never to return.

Isaiah strode over and sat down next to his brother. Elijah did not acknowledge, much less welcome him. In silence for a prolonged time, they simply sat where they were in almost the same position- with their knees huddled up their chest.

"I burned it down." Elijah droned, breaking the silence. "I had the intention of burning myself along with it. My being here means another blotched suicide. I heard you calling me and all I can think of was to run. Run away from the burning wreck. Run as fast as I can. Run away from him and straight to you and mom…" There was a pause before Elijah let out a low, mechanical chuckle- the closest thing to emotion Isaiah heard in his speech.

"I ran and tripped over something. A stone? I don’t care to find out. Hit my head. After that, it’s a holiday from hell. Memories- they make every second of your life a living hell unless you learn to be unaffected by them, of course."

"I’m sorry. You’re right… I shouldn’t have pried…" Isaiah barely began his apology when Elijah raised a hand to halt him. Not daring to face his brother yet, Isaiah trembling hands pulled out a slim metallic case from his pants’ pocket, flipped the lid open and drew out a cigarette. He lit it up, taking in a deep puff to calm himself down.

"It doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s better that you know- in a way, nothing is hidden. You know me as others’ perceive me to be. Could be some truth in whatever they say, or maybe, all the truth."

"I believe they misrepresented you." Isaiah finally turned around and was heartbroken yet again to see the mien carved out of marble not returning his look. "I… I didn’t…"

Elijah stared straight ahead. When he spoke next, his voice came out soft, measured. "Would it matter if they misrepresented me? Even if you heard it from the horses’ mouth, know that I will, as any man would, sanitize what I will say unconsciously and maybe not. If your brotherly love for me is indeed unconditional, you wouldn’t care if I was forced to make those choices or not. Maybe if I was all along the victim, it will be a more palatable perception for you." He turned finally and apathetic deep blue eyes pierced right into Isaiah’s heart.

"Know this, Saiah. Look at you and look at me. You had been abused as well and you turned out fine, more than fine even. Noble. Married happily with love as your guiding force. There is no excuse for me to turn out this way- I choose to willingly, albeit not always happily. If I was ever the victim, I am the abuser of myself as well…" his voice withered off and he averted his gaze again back to the mansion. Isaiah could guess what Elijah’s mind was seeing- the mansion with its walls long cooled ablaze once again.

"The difference between you and me is this- You grew. I changed. You took the courageous step to do the right thing. I didn’t. You’re the mystery- the man who could still see goodness and love despite what he’s been through and what he was burdened with. I’m the person that everybody could read like an open book- my past had to be traumatic of course and maybe even served as a romantic notion for people to try save me. And I admit, I used to be jealous of you- that you could still genuinely smile. Now, I’m not. I don’t care for anything now."

Isaiah heard his brother clearly- Elijah was neither in denial nor was he looking for absolution. He was merely stating the truth that he decided Isaiah needed to hear perhaps as a last charge of favor to a brother who was obsessed with wanting to know why he turned out the way he did. But Isaiah acute senses told him much more- his brother, sitting there as stoic as a block of ice that refused to thaw under the hot summer sun in defiance, was wrong. There were always chances, always the opportunity to start healing and forgiving.

Elijah did not have to damn himself.

Nonetheless, before Isaiah could scramble for the right words to melt the frosted heart which was bitingly cold to no other souls for its own, Elijah spoke again.

"Ever had someone died on a knife you were holding? Maybe I should have been the one to die that night. Fate is blind- it mistaken my father for me."

The speech retained the android charm but emotions like regret, bitterness and maybe even hatred began to creep into the cracked stone. Isaiah heard the emphases though he could not ascertained if Elijah had purposely wanted his speech to come out that way. He made no comments, however, not that he did not want to or that he agreed with what Elijah was implying. In a way, Elijah was justified to think that way, perverse as it may be. After all, Elijah was the son who had to live with Daniel Raily.

But Isaiah resolved to do something- he could show Elijah that he was in this with him- that Elijah was not the only legacy that Daniel left behind. He would walk with Elijah- they were, after all, walking the same treacherous path. They both made terrible mistakes- Isaiah was not a saint even though he had the better deal out of a hellish situation. However, never once was he divorced from Elijah’s sufferings. Elijah’s torment, in a way, was his too. The bonds between them were too strong that he could never be isolated from whatever Elijah was going through. The visions he had of Elijah when Elijah was in trouble told him much- that he could glimpse into Elijah’s past told him much.

With some awkwardness, he draped an arm across his brother’s shoulder. Elijah shuddered slightly- either out of need for compassion or out of a sense of repulse, Isaiah wasn’t sure but neither was he going to let go.

"We’ll talk when we reach home, Lijah. I’ll never let you walk this path alone. You’re my brother, no matter how you changed, no matter what you did, no matter what…" His voice thinned out when he realized just how cliché he must have sounded to Elijah’s ears. Though the words were crafted from the blood of his beating heart, Elijah, whose trust in people were repeatedly shattered and then perverted, would never find it possible to believe.

"Let’s start all over. I promise I won’t mess with your mind again." Isaiah sincerely asked and closed his emerald orbs for the cold, mocking rebuke.

"No. I’m too tired to start over."

I guessed as much. This is why we’re here, right? One final time to make things clear? You may as well sue me; get a restraining order or something.

Will you only find peace when I’m out of your life?

"Let’s pick up the pieces instead. I can deal with picking up the pieces for now, can you?" Elijah offered blandly but the atypical answer caused Isaiah to choke on his happiness. He opened his eyes and turned to his brother. Elijah met his gaze and a slow smile crept out the side of his lips though there was no mirth in the expression. Isaiah did not care- he would take his chances as they came.

Thank you, brother. Thank you.

"Of course…" Isaiah let out a soft laughter, relieved as unshed tears of joy misted his vision. "Of course we can."

What should I do now? Hug my estranged brother? Punch him playfully?

In the end, Isaiah settled for squeezing his brother’s shoulder. Elijah stretched his lips into a semblance of a proper smile.

"Good. That settles it then. I hope you can attend my wedding as my best man."

"Wedding?" Isaiah was baffled- it was a piece of news that he never would have expected or his senses picked up beforehand.

That settles it? It’s all so casual to him?

No…Lijah would never use me like that… yes. It’s his habit to be so emotionless…

Just a habit. Nothing more.

Elijah smirked at his perplexity. "Yes. Wedding. And I’ll be seeing you soon, partner- brother. Take your time to think about it." He shrugged away Isaiah’s touch and stood up, leaving Isaiah to grapple with whatever had just transpired- the meeting that was branded on Isaiah’s heart and yet, almost carelessly dismissed by Elijah.

"Are you getting married to the restaurant owner? Annabelle Palor?" Isaiah’s question came across soft and heavy. Elijah let out a sharp, mocking laughter.

"Annabelle? If you haven’t mentioned her, I would have erased her from my memories totally. Annabelle, yes. We have gotten what we wanted from each other. The transaction was closed so long ago. Dear brother, do you honestly think I’ll offer so much to a lowly restaurant owner? You still don’t understand me. Or maybe, you don’t want to understand me. It’s so much easier to live, believing the lie which was me when I had amnesia. Frankly speaking, if we are going to be honest, the Lijah who had no past made me sick." Elijah gestured out to the remains of the mansion- the tomb that would soon collapse on whatever was left of their childhood.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. How fitting for our tattered lives." Elijah spoke almost grandiosely before the derisive smile cursed his lips.

"I’ll be contacting you again soon once my fiancée decide on the details." He paused before adding the next line as an obvious afterthought- almost like something he memorized from television’s soppy dialogues rather than from his own heart.

"It’ll mean a lot to me if you could attend and be by my side."

"Lijah…" Isaiah struggled up and gazed at his brother with puzzlement. "I don’t get it… I…"

"Think about it, Saiah. I’ll have no one by my side but you." With those final words, Elijah brushed past Isaiah and the air currents stirred up by his movements chilled Isaiah to the bones. He watched his brother climb inside the Ferrari and dreaded to think of the real motives behind Elijah’s marriage to whichever girl she was- his intuition told him that Elijah had no love for the bride, probably seeing her as another stepping stone to further his ambition.

He hated having senses that were becoming increasingly acute by the day, as if visions were not enough.

The Ferrari rolled down the hill as Isaiah slumped down onto the ground. The mansion which bore the brunt of Elijah’s latent anger stuck out like a sore thumb and last he checked, Elijah had not sold the land away. He still owned the estate- if he remembered.

We are still chained to our pasts, aren’t we?

He accepted what he always feared to and fought that the familiar heartache which was made worse he had glimpsed the man his brother was supposed to be but a flitting dream was all it was. A mirage, which, at his touch, rippled then disappeared, revealing the stark, barren desert once again.

I’ll have to be a brother to Elijah.

To a stranger and yet, someone as close to me as my own shadow.

To be continued in

And so the Monsters Came.