Under the cover of night, a group of unknown individuals made their way to the local river. The darkness made it difficult to see, yet they all knew where they were going; they had practiced this countless times, both awake and asleep. There was little room for error, and anything short of perfection was an insult to the weeks they had spent planning. Failure meant death.
One of the cultists, whose name had long been forgotten, stepped onto the bridge with the balance of a trapeze artist. A few others fell in behind them, ready to help if necessary.
“And with this final sacrifice, I move my soul to your hands in service to your cause,” they muttered, looking almost proud of what they were about to do. “It is in only the highest faith that I give my body, my soul, to the ever-powerful forces of your making.”
“To the death,” the remaining cultists said in unison.
“And now I take your hand, and I swallow your essence, to purge this world of the non-believers, those who wish to uproot the very basis of their lives.” A vial is cracked open, its contents slowly dropped into their awaiting mouth. “The essence of Midnight, the Eternal Rot, now feeds on my flesh. I am no longer myself; now, I am one with you.”
“To the death.”
A body falling, a great splash. The movement of feet as the deed was completed.
And so it was done.
…
It was an especially cold morning, even for winter in Stockholm. Last week’s snow dusted the streets like powdered snow, whipping around in staggered gusts as the occasional pedestrian attempted to maneuver the heavy wind. It would’ve been the perfect landscape to sketch, if only she had the time, but Linnea had somewhere she needed to be.
In her time at the Stockholm Sentinel, Linnea had never faced a story as captivating as the one her boss presented to her now. Long had she worked as a field reporter, and there wasn’t much she hadn’t seen. This opportunity, however, presented something entirely new, and it was refreshing.
“It’s an active position, and you’ll be in potentially dangerous situations regularly. Nothing you can’t handle, though, and that’s why I’ve asked you first. Are you interested?”
The editor of the Sentinel always had a look on his face like he knew something you didn’t. Quite likely, he did. He also had the face of someone destined for the talk show industry, were it not for his love of the newspaper. But there was something woven deep into his being that made you want to spill even your deepest secrets, if only to get a couple of laughs before moving on. Perhaps that’s what drew her to the job, perhaps not. It was intriguing, nonetheless.
“Linnea, are you with me? I asked if you were interested.”
Her gaze snapped into focus. “Sorry, yes. Where exactly is it?”
He reached for a map, spreading it across the table like the sailors of old. He pointed at a large building on the outskirts of the city, about a half hour’s drive from the Sentinel. “Something called the JCB. They’re based out of the EARANICO building, and supposedly, they’re dealing with the pandemic right now. Their director called my landline yesterday and asked for a dedicated correspondent, and I figured, ‘Hey, I’m sure Linnea would jump at the opportunity to investigate this,’ so here we are.”
“They asked for a correspondent?”
“Something about ‘reaching the people’. Whatever it means, someone’s getting paid to do it, so it might as well be you.”
“Hmm… A position at a mysterious organization born from a pandemic ravaging the nation, the details of which are few and far between. How could I refuse?”
He sighs, a slight smile ghosting his lips. “I know it’s not much to go on, but someone needs to do it. Plus, I hear things can get pretty active trying to quarantine some of the more remote areas.”
Linnea takes a long swig from her side thermos, the smooth coffee gliding down her throat like a sled through the icy slopes of the mountains north of them. “You already had me at danger. When am I supposed to be there?”
“Tonight, actually. It was on short notice, since the JCB was established fairly recently, but I trust that you won’t find the trek too difficult.”
Putting the thermos away and throwing her bag over her shoulder, Linnea nods as she grabs the map and rolls it up. “Nah, I was up there a bit when EARANICO ran the place. I’ll be off, then. You know how to reach me.”
He waves before turning to the mess of files on his desk. “I’ll check in on you tomorrow over the telephone. I’ve got some paperwork to fill out, but I wish you well.”
…
The JCB regional headquarters was an interesting place, to say the least. Located in the crest of a river valley, it was relatively unguarded. A long chainlink fence surrounded the perimeter of the property, dotted with a few signs that read things like Active Containment Zone and Enter at Your Own Risk in several languages. She was only stopped once by a pair of security personnel in white uniforms who asked for her ID and her reason for being there. One of them smiled and directed her to a nearby parking lot before letting her pass, the well-used road providing a bumpy ride to the main building. The main facility itself looked more like a high-security containment area than its surroundings (although most of its guards were scattered around the walls to check for breaches rather than unauthorized visitors), with bright white paneling and shock-resistant glass making up the bulk of the building.
A dark-suited man walks up to Linnea, pushing out his hand with a smile that looks half rehearsed and half genuine.
“Ms. Sjoberg, I take it?”
“Yes, that would be me.” Taking his hand, she looks up at his face, his grey eyes almost piercing her soul. He’s hiding something, certainly, but to guess what would be impossible. His grip certainly suggested something traumatic from long ago, but beyond that, she had nothing.
“Lucius Baine. I’m the current director of this organization, so you won’t be seeing much of me beyond this, but it’s nice to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise.”
They stare at each other for a moment, both waiting for the other to break the awkward silence that follows.
“I’ll show you to your workspace, then,” he says, turning to the main entrance.
