The Plain Man’s Compass

The mildew stench in the bunker was thick enough to make a goat wretch. It closed the already tight space but Pietro’s concerns were elsewhere. More than escaping the claustrophobia he wanted the pesky interrogation light off and worse, he wanted a cigarette. He had come across an overturned truck in a wreckage just west of the Poconos. The cartons took up a lot of cargo space but they were high value in the only currencies on Earth that mattered now. Goods and gold were the only money in what was left of America. His two youngest daughters enjoyed the spoils of the cigarettes but hated the smell. His eldest smoked with him, they often bonded over the one per day he allotted her while her sisters slept. He’d spent 72 hours in agency custody and Pietro was growing irritable.

His least favorite of the government interrogators charged the cables clipped to various parts of his body. He called him Edison for the tactic he chose. The generator’s hum made it so both of them had to speak loudly. Pietro’s voice was hoarse from the screaming he’d done throughout the torture. The lack of water didn’t help either. This time Edison walked over gripped Pietro’s jaw with a firm jab and poured some down his throat. The feeling was heavenly. He coughed most of the water back up.

Edison let him catch his breath, which was unusually kind of him. With continued peculiarity he gave him the rest slowly, allowing him to savor each drop. His next questions came like honey rather than the pungent vinegar often hunted flies with.

“Pietro, we have the scanners, your body and the necklace reek of otherworldly material. We know you’ve made contact and we know you’re not telling us something. We also know that the scanners show no forehead marks so you’re not one of them. If you’re afraid of them we get it, we’ll protect you. Just tell us everything you know and we can turn this all around. You’re a tough guy, my superiors have given me the orders to work you over until you give us what we want, or expire. I don’t have interest in that. I know already that you’re willing to die and that the only way we’ll get the info is if you give it to us willingly. If you won’t tell us what we want to know, at least tell us why not?”

“Do you have my belongings with you? The bag where you found the locket?” Pietro asked. His voice barely creaked to an intelligible volume.

“Yes, well mostly.”

“Then bring it here, with the necklace. Give me a cigarette and I’ll explain.”

Edison was taken aback but snickered at the audacity of the only man he couldn’t break in less than a day. He was secretly enamored with him. Edison obliged and brought a hard, black protective case as well as a plastic bag carrying Pietro’s things. The other agents had already ravaged his belongings. There were only three smokes left in the partially crushed turquoise colored box that said “American Spirit” on the outside. Edison walked into another room briefly and came back with one lit for his captive. He took a drag himself then placed it on Pietro’s lips. Somehow the smoke made him able to speak louder and more clearly.

“You know I’ve never drawn a body that wasn’t a stick figure. I mean not once. Haven’t even tried it. I had art class in elementary, sure, but I opted out of the elegant electives from there. I prefer hard labor to anything fancy and I don’t have much skill in that. I lack in what they call “the extraordinary.” My sister Ellie used to tease me when we were kids. She’d call me Plain Piet. Plain Piet...Plain Piet... Plain Piet, she’d say rhythmically to bite at my nerves. It's funny the things that get under our skin as children. I’d give anything to hear that annoying little song now. We lost Ellie in the first wave of Atlantic tsunamis. In adulthood she was kind and I could tell she found comfort in my stoicism rather than seeing it for a weakness. She wasn’t the only one that liked it. As plain as I was I somehow managed to charm my wife Cara. She made up for all my boredom in spades. She was one of those “hyper-creatives.” Had a way with words, painted, sketched, played instruments and would sing in theater. Always the lead role. We lost her in the first wave too.”

He inhaled deeply, blew a puff of smoke out and continued. “Did anyone ever realize how insensitive some might find it to describe the initial strike of tsunamis as waves? Back when we still had televised news I always wondered why they called it that. Makes it feel like it's a joke.”

“Pietro, don’t mess with me on this. Know that this is your very last chance at helping yourself. I’m needed in many places right now. Humanity is at stake. The otherworld’s scum is destroying our home. It’s no time for play.”

“I’m getting to it. There’s a point. The tsunamis took two of the five ladies I love the most in this world. The three I was left with were my daughters. They're enough like their mother to make me feel like she’s never left. They’re beautiful, unique, artistic girls who are simultaneously full of love and fight. My wife raised them to embrace their spirituality and creative energies. You’re looking for our enemies and how they got here. For men like you and I...” He paused while he resettled the half done tobacco into the corner of his mouth. “There are only 6 directions. If we look for our enemies, or our allies we first search north, south, east and west. This is how we waged war in the past. Now that the new war has begun we looked to the skies, as the asteroids fell and the otherworldly material crashed to our surfaces. Then the hellish beings started to curse us and we saw what we believed to be demons walking the Earth, tearing apart flesh and making the impossible possible; so we looked below. Out of the depths of hell we thought. The aliens found our home and we had no way to find theirs. The necklace will show you. That necklace is indeed made from the otherworld. It landed and my daughters led me straight to it. Another thing they gained from their mother was intuition. I can take you to the remnant of the meteor if you’d like. It decimated the whole town around it and after the water’s washed over it, even you guys won’t find it.”

“Do you know what town?” Edison asked, scribbling in a notepad with heightened inquisition.

“Sure, I can give you coordinates but what I’m trying to tell you is I have the key that will let you know everything. See to me what’s happening and why you don’t realize what’s happening are equally important. I’m you, if not for my daughters. I didn’t see the obvious. Remember when the first instances of supernatural activity started? It was actually before the meteors hit. The public execution and the DC riots? Do you remember how that Cult of the Awakened grew to such unfathomable popularity?”

“Vaguely, the leaders were claiming that they were chosen by gods. They were psychotic zealots though. I remember that”

“They were that because men like us ruled the world. Too many of the blind in charge of the blinder. The chaos on Earth that started amongst us is a part of the chaos that came from beyond. They came from the only place men of war never look. The place we’re afraid to look, despite how fearless we act. The Cult of the Awakened were artists. We thought they were run by the famous for influence but it was their essence. The aliens that you seek aren’t coming from the skies or hell below. They come from within.” Pietro was growing manic.

“What do you mean?”

“The creatives, the spiritually awakened, the people who have that place of meditation that they tap into. They’re conduits for the otherworldly. They’re not breaking into the atmosphere, they’re breaking into spirits. They’re coming from within us, and I can show you one of the doors. I can show you the only door that men like you and I will ever see. We can’t get there alone, not with our minds, we’re too earthly, too simple, but we can use the locket. Do you want me to show you?”

Edison would never say but he was terrified. They might have pushed Pietro too far. Torture has a fickle formula. One sprinkle too much of the wrong stuff and BOOM! “Are you saying that the otherworldly are getting here spiritually? Are they the ones giving people their abilities?”

“Mmmhmm and only the most spiritual and creative can see them and talk with them and learn from them. There are many kinds fighting for many things. That's what my youngest Lana says. Hand me the necklace.”

Edison hesitated. In contemplation the smoke made the room harder to breathe in. The wonder in Pietro’s words really suffocated him. He left the room.

He decided with his men to give the locket to Pietro only under close supervision of armed guards. The guards entered the room first, unenthusiastic with all likelihood being that they were summoned over a crazy man’s rantings in an attempt to save himself. Edison came in last and angrily grabbed the black box. He opened it to reveal a jagged orb on a thin rope chain that was clearly made of a different material.

“Okay Pietro, here’s your necklace. What about this will give me any insight about the otherworld?”

“Do you see its shape?”

“There is no shape.”

“There is, but you’re not looking right and you need to see the shape to do the next part.

Do you see a heart? Not a Valentine's Day heart but a heart like a human heart.” “Oh... yea I do see it.”

“The top valve, do you see how it has a hole in it like mine or yours might?”

“Yes.”

“This locket is actually a whistle. Blow on it and you’ll see where they come from. Edison laughed at how creeped out he was. He’d seen sanity lost in interrogations before. He’d also seen things he couldn’t explain. The anomalies weren’t common. He’d only seen one of the otherworldly in real life. Footage and files couldn’t be trusted by a skeptic like himself. He gathered his senses and mockingly blew on the valve of the heart shaped pendant. A sweet song resonated in the room. The light fluttered and Pietro’s arms shot back breaking his handcuffs and exposing his chest in one swift motion. The guards were too mesmerized to move. A portal opened from just under Pietro’s neck all the way to his belly button and from inside three beings came out. Pietros daughters appeared in a fiery, spectral form. Edison could only glance down at his scanners slightly to see the markings on their heads and bright reactions to the energy. Pietro leaned forward as his ghostly daughters floated above him encased in fire. He scooted the plastic bag with his belongings back over the table and pulled the pack of cigarettes out. He held the last two out. The oldest ghoul shifted into her human self, lit both with her sister's body and handed one back to her father. The other two daughters laughed evilly.

Pietro glared at Edison while sucking down his favorite fumes. “I told you Eddy, there’s up, there’s down, North, East, South and West. This war comes from within.”

Shock lulled the men. The girls back in their spiritual form engulfed the room in flames.