Adermoor Cove: Sanctuary - 1. Chapter 1

He had many names: Dennis Lowager. Alan Finn, Donald Collins, multiple passports, multiple social security numbers. But none of these people truly existed. He was a ghost. His real name was Bill Vickers. These days he had to say it out loud just to remind himself what his actual name was.

Bill took shelter beneath an umbrella. Rain pattered rapidly against the waterproof fabric. It was the kind of night where Bill would rather be inside, but he had to meet the boss. A stream of rain rolled down the street, careening off into the sewer drains, beneath the belly of the city. He watched the dancing light across the street, a sign advertising late night dancers. A strip club. A group of middle-aged men walked into the building, talking excitedly. Bill wished he was going in with them. It would be better than getting pissed on by the earth.

A black Sedan with tinted windows turned the corner, heading towards him. The glow from the lights bathed Bill in white. He squinted his eyes and waited patiently as the car sidled up to the curve. The driver’s door opened. The drive, a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in an expensive three piece suit, came around to the back of the car and opened the door; he seemed impervious to the rain. He gestured silently for Bill to get in. Bill climbed in, glad for a chance to get out of the rain.

The driver got back into the driver’s seat, pulled away from the curb, and turned left onto another street. They wouldn’t be going anywhere in particular, just driving around in circles while the boss and he did business.

After a decade and a half of working for the boss, Bill still didn’t know his name. Like Bill, he probably had many names, a hundred IDs and passports hidden somewhere. A spectre who could appear and disappear as anyone. Bill sometimes wondered if the boss had to whisper his real name out loud just to be able to remember it.

Of course Bill never asked. It was better not to ask questions. It was better, smarter to just say what the boss wanted to hear and follow the boss’s orders, for the boss was a far smarter man than he.

The boss was an older man, in his mid to late fifties. Average height. Almost completely bald except for a crown of hair that circled around his skull. Bushy, dark eyebrows, sprinkled with salt that became steadily more noticeable every time they met. He had a big gut. Even now, Bill could see the gut hanging over the black waistband of his trousers. The buttons of his white shirt were straining to contain the massive flap of flab. Bill imagined the boss sitting at some fancy restaurant, stuffing his jowls with steak everyday.

“How did it go in Michigan?” the boss asked.

“Good,” said Bill. “We went to the cabin, exhumed the body. It’s being sent to Washington for tests now.”

“And the anomaly? Did you get to take a look at it?”

“Yes. I took samples. I sent them along with the body. We sanitized the area afterwards.”

The boss nodded, clearly pleased. “Good. Very good. For now Lane Hardy has slipped from us again, but he will pop up eventually I’m sure of it. Until then why don’t you take some time off, go visit your daughter. Here - ” the boss pulled out his wallet, and handed Bill a large wad of bills folded neatly together with a rubber band. “Get her something nice. I know today was her birthday. I feel bad I had to take her father away from the party.”

“No, I couldn’t-”

“Take it,” the boss said. There was a gleam in those dark eyes. Do not refuse me, those dark eyes said. You will do as I ask and you will take what I give you.

“Thank you, sir.” Bill took the wad of money, tucked it in his pocket, and wondered what this was going to cost him later. In this business, no kindness ever comes for free, he thought. “I’ll make sure she gets something nice.” The guilt churned his gut. Another birthday missed. Another time he disappointed his daughter. He didn’t know which he dreaded more, facing her, or facing his wife Sheila. Correction: Ex-wife.

The car had stopped at the spot where Bill had got in, across the street from the strip club. Bill thanked the boss once more, got out of the car, back into the dripping rain. He watched the Sedan disappear around the corner again. He could still feel the weight of the money in his pocket. With it, Savannah could get something nice. But he knew no amount of money in the world could buy forgiveness.

                        …

Fortunately he was only three blocks away from the flat Sheila had bought, so he walked through the rain. He climbed up the steps, lined with rose bushes on both sides - Sheila had always loved rose bushes - and knocked on the door.

She didn't answer right away. It was nine o' clock, hopefully she was still up. He saw one of the curtains move and a face peer out. Even with her face framed in shadow, Bill could memorize every feature. He didn't think he could ever forget her face, no matter how much he wished he could sometimes. Already he could feel the toasty warmth beyond the door, the sense of safety and domestic bliss. Or rather, he imagined he could.

Fuck, it's colder than a witch’s tit out here! What is she waiting for?

Finally the door opened, and Sheila appeared, standing in a bathrobe and slippers. She was framed in the light and warmth within the flat; however, her eyes possessed no warmth, not for Bill Vickers.

For almost fifteen years - the same amount of time he’d been working for the boss - Sheila Gainsbourg had been Sheila Vickers. Now she was Sheila Gainsbourg again. They had divorced two years ago. You’re never around, Sheila had told him the same day she’d told him she wanted a divorce. Savannah needs a father and I need a husband, not a ghost.

He had begged her not to divorce him, he would try to be better.

You’ve said that before, she said. I told you long ago I want you to leave that job.

She’d never understood he’d given his soul to the job; the boss was the reaper of souls. The only way of getting out of the job was in a body bag.

The divorce had been hard. Emotionally difficult more than financially. He still resented her, still loved her. He loved her more now that she was no longer his.

“Do you know what time it is?” she said.

“Sorry I missed the party,” Bill said.

“Of course you are.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. It stung him like acid, to know she hated him. “I just put her to bed. She’s got school in the morning.”

“Can I see her? Just for a few minutes?” He was begging, he knew. He sounded like a peasant. Pathetic. Sheila and Savannah were the only two people on Earth who had such power over him. Well, other than the boss.

She considered him cooly. She looked good for a woman her age. Her dark red hair still had a healthy gleam. Barely any grey. A great body for a woman of thirty-nine. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “But only for a few minutes.” She stepped back to let him inside.

The inside of the flat was toasty. Bill yearned to stand before the fire and warm his hands but he knew his time was limited. Sheila had always been a woman of her word. She followed him up the stairs to the second floor. Savannah’s door was cracked open slightly to let the light in; she was still at the age when she needed to have the light on.

Bill peered inside the door. He could see her, a small figure with her back facing him, head pillowed on the crooks of her arms. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped inside. He’d worked for the government for as long as he’d been married and the thought of his daughter hating him was scarier than anything. Fucking ridiculous.

“Savannah,” he whispered, approaching the bed.

She wasn’t really asleep. Perhaps she’d been waiting for him to show up, to ask for mercy. She rolled over and looked at him, a six-year-old version of Sheila. “Hey, Daddy. You missed the party.” There was no anger in her voice, only disappointment, which was worse. It pulled at his heart.

I’m failing her. Bill sat on the edge of the bed. “I know, I’m sorry. I broke my promise again.”

"Where were you?"

"In Michigan."

"Why?"

"For my job."

"I hate your job," she said angrily.

Bill chuckled before he could stop himself. "I hate it too, believe me. I really am sorry, kiddo. How about I make it up to you after school? We could go to the zoo for a little bit, see the monkeys and tigers."

"Really?" Her eyes widened into domes of excitement. It made him feel better to know he could still make Savannah smile, still make her light up. He would make up for missing the party by giving her a little party of her own.

"Yeah, it can just be you and me."

He talked to her for a few more minutes, then kissed her on the cheek and wished her a good night.

Sheila turned her back as soon as he came out of Savannah's room. Bill knew her far too well; he knew she'd been standing by the door, eavesdropping.

"I told her I'd take her to the zoo tomorrow," said Bill. "After school. Would you be okay with that?"

"Don't make any promises you can't keep," she said, her voice pitched quietly in case Savannah might hear her.

“Maybe you could keep her from school tomorrow.”

“What for?”

“So she can spend the day with me.”

Sheila scoffed. “I’m not keeping her from school just so she can go to the zoo with you.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday. One day of missed school isn’t going to make much of a difference. I didn’t mean to miss the party. I thought I would be back by now, but there was a lot I had to do in Michigan.” Bill was straining to keep his voice patient. He already felt bad enough about missing the birthday party, he didn’t need Sheila busting his balls for it. Things weren’t always like this between us...were they?

Sheila’s eyes widened. “You were all the way out in Michigan? What for?” Then she shook her head, wincing. “I don’t want to know. And it’s not like you’d be able to tell me even if I did want to know. For all I know you could be flying out to Area 51 every week, having Starbucks coffee with aliens.”

She turned away from him, bathrobe swishing like a drape caught in the wind.

“You hate me, don’t you?” he asked before he could stop himself. The voice coming out of his mouth was that of a self-pitying boy.

Sheila’s shoulders jerked as if she’d been slapped. She had such beautiful graceful shoulders. Slowly she turned to face him. Her eyes were filled with sadness, maybe even longing, but not hate. “I don’t hate you, Bill,” she said softly. “Sometimes I wish I did. It would make things a lot easier. But I don’t.”

Her words were like a knife to the heart, more painful than anything she might’ve said while angry. In that moment he found himself hating his job, the division he worked for, the boss, and more than anything, himself. “You know how unpredictable my job is,” Bill pleaded. “I don’t know when I’m going to have to leave again. I just want to make things right.”

Sheila looked at him for a long time, as if trying to remember whether or not they'd met before. She sighed after a moment. "Okay. I'll call the school and tell them she won't be able to make it for class tomorrow. But if you don't show up tomorrow, God help you."

                        …

He went home, took a shower, and sat down on the futon with a beer. His eyes burned with exhaustion. It had been a long day, a long couple of days. The scene in Michigan was still on his mind: The cabin in Denver, the spot where Lane Hardy's dead ex-boyfriend had been exhumed, the strange black shit he'd found in the garage.

There was an odd little blemish on the pad of his thumb. He hadn't noticed it before, not until now. He remembered touching the wall when no one was around him, but couldn't remember what had driven him to do it. I shouldn't have touched it. Someone could have seen.

And what would have happened then? Would the boss he had spent the last decade and a half working for make him disappear? Lock him away in a white-padded cell? Pack his body in a trash bag and throw his body into the sea? A shiver ran up his spine; goosebumps appeared across his collarbone. What if he was infected with whatever it was?

He shook the thoughts from his head. He had to get to bed and be up early to take Savannah to the zoo. He was determined not to fuck up again. Yet even as he went to sleep, the haunting scene in Michigan followed him.

He woke up sometime in the middle of the night, weighted down by a heavy sense of disorientation. For a moment he couldn't remember where exactly where he was. After so long of sleeping in hotels, this feeling of disorientation was quite common but no less terrifying.

Once Bill gained his presence of mind and reality slid into place, he fumbled for the lamp. He turned it on with shaky fingers. The light detonated like an explosion, stung his eyes. He rubbed at them, waited for them to adjust.

Then he looked at the wall in front of him and screamed. The sound came out as a croak, raspy and strangled.

There was a black stain on the wall. Just like the one he'd seen at Lane Hardy's cabin in Michigan. Just like the one he touched. It covered the wall from floor to ceiling, a black mossy like substance. A thick, putrid fluid was seeping out of the wall like oil. The hole inhaled and exhaled as if the hole itself was alive - over there was something alive inside the wall.

"Adermoor Cove."

A voice had spoken from inside the wall. A wet, gurgly voice. Indistinct. Bits of the black shit splattered out onto the cheap carpet with a sickening squelching sound.

Jesus Christ. Someone's in there.

Bill stood up on legs made of rubber. His mind screamed at him to stay away from the stain but something else was drawing him towards it, like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet. His heart thundered in his chest; his throat was unbearably dry. He held his finger up to his face, to the light and looked down at it. His eyes widened in a mixture of disgust and terror.

Something was moving beneath the skin, long, like a worm. He could see its shape slithering around. He was infected after all. He felt the urge to run into the kitchen, to find a sharp object and cut the thing out of him. He had always been unreasonably afraid of bugs and worms, even a simple earthworm. The thought of them touching him, sliding over him with their cold little bodies; blind and mindless, animated only by a twitching sort of instinct.

Though his brain was sending signals to head into the kitchen, something else was drawing him ever closer to the wall. He couldn’t look away from it.

“Adermoor Cove,” said the thing inside the wall. “You must go to Adermoor Cove.”

Adermoor Cove? Where the hell was that? Bill had never heard of such a place.

There was something in the wall alright, looking at him with a single black eye. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human he knew.

“I am the darkness,” the monster within the wall said. Somehow it had read his mind.

Like a puppet being controlled by the puppeteer, Bill reached out and dug his fingers into the wall. The rotting plaster crumbled in his hands, slimy and wet. He threw handfuls of the shit carelessly on the floor and continued to dig into the wall until he was elbows deep in it. He had to get the dark man out of the wall.

“Adermoor Cove,” he said. “Adermoor Cove. Lane Hardy is going to Adermoor Cove. I have to go to Adermoor Cove.”

And he continued to dig, and dig and dig.

                                      …

Savannah stood with her hands and face pressed up against the glass. Her breath fogged the glass. On the other side, the tiger paced back and forth. "Look Daddy, look!" she said. "I wish I could pet him!"

"Yeah," said Bill. He could all too easily imagine the bloodbath that would happen when she tried to pat the tiger. The thought made him queasy.

"Come on, honey," he said. "Let's go check out the monkeys.

Savannah kissed the glass, said goodbye to the tiger, and took Bill's hand. In his other hand, Bill held her Dora the Explorer bag, which had an extra change of clothes in it (Sheila had insisted Savannah bring an extra pair of clothes even though Bill assured her it wasn't needed), and several snacks for the day. Bill thought Savannah was getting a little big to still be carrying around a Dora the Explorer bag, but she seemed reluctant to part with it despite his offer to buy her a new one.

The zoo was crowded. It was the middle of September and Autumn would be here shortly; soon it would be too wet and cold to go to the zoo. Most of the children at the zoo were younger than Savannah, strapped into strollers or being piggybacked down the paths leading to different exhibits. Too young to be in school. Bill spotted a teacher and several chaperones herding a cluster of kids together. A class field trip, probably.

Bill's belly began to rumble. It was a quarter past noon. But he didn't just want cereal bars and fruit snacks. I want some real food.

"After we get done seeing the monkeys what do you say we stop and get some lunch? Are you getting hungry?"

"Yeah," Savannah said. They were approaching the orangutan enclosure.

A half an hour later Bill and Savannah sat at a red table, beneath the shade of an umbrella. Bill bit into the deluxe bacon cheeseburger he'd ordered. Savannah giggled, watching him.

"You got ketchup and mustard all over your face," she said through her giggles. She held a ceramic bowl of mac-and-cheese.

Bill took a napkin and wiped at his mouth. The restaurant, jungle-themed with cartoon lions and monkeys and hippopotamuses everywhere, was crowded and noisy. A pleasant place, a pleasant change after the blood curdling scene in Denver. The zoo was a place where people went to be happy. And nothing made him happier than being with Savannah.

I'm not that bad of a father am I? he asked himself, wiping the ketchup from his face. And I wasn't that bad of a husband. I never beat on Sheila, never cheated on her. I've always done my best.

The only thing that had ever gotten in the way of his duties as a husband and father was his job. Sheila didn't know exactly what he did, and she was smart enough not to ask questions. He thought of all the nights he came home late, having just gotten off a flight from halfway around the world, to find Sheila and Savannah in bed. After a while he began to feel like he was coming to a home full of strangers, people who had their own lives separate from his own. He began to resent Sheila for resenting him because she had no idea the things he did to provide the life they had, how they kept him up at night.

My sins.

After they finished eating it was time to go to the aquarium.

The aquarium had always been Bill's favorite part of the zoo, even when he was a kid. It was like stepping into another world, where everything was strange and beautiful and dangerous. He remembered his mother would take him every summer. They would always go to the aquarium last. Always save the best for last, had been Meredith Vickers's philosophy.

Bill felt a pleasing moment of nostalgia as Savannah pressed her face against the glass and made fish faces at the jellyfish gliding lazily through the water. The inside of the aquarium was cool, dimly lit.

"Adermoor Cove."

Bill looked away from the group of stingrays he'd been examining. Savannah was standing over by a basin with sand crabs inside. Her back was turned so he couldn't see her face.

"What did you say?" Surely he hadn't heard her right. He remembered the dream from last night - it was coming back to him in bits and pieces. It was just a dream, right? he thought.

Savannah's face was still turned away from him. When she spoke it was not with the voice of the sweet wondrous curiosity of the child he loved with all his heart, but of a stranger; he couldn't quite say why, but hearing it made fingers of ice crawl up his spine.

"Adermoor Cove. That's where Lane Hardy's going. And that's where you need to go."

Now she turned to look at him, no longer Savannah, no longer human, but something else. Her eyes were black marbles in her skull, deprived with emotion, everything save destructive intent. Whatever that black shit at the cabin had been, it was in his daughter now, had infected her.

"Oh God, Savannah," he said. He could barely speak; her name came out sounding strangled, with a half sob.

"What's the matter, Daddy?"

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, Savannah was her usual sunny self. She hadn't been infected by whatever insidious force Bill had encountered back at the cabin in Michigan.

She was looking at him with concern. She had taken his hand, her hand so small and dainty in his own, but also comforting and real.

He looked around the aquarium, embarrassed and relieved. Things were okay. Nothing was wrong. Except for the fact that I didn't get enough sleep last night, Bill thought. This job is going to drive me fucking insane.

                                       …

After Bill and Savannah left the zoo, they went to McDonald's for dinner before Bill dropped Savannah back off at her mother's. Savannah was exhausted from the long day - as was Bill - but happy nonetheless.

Bill chalked the incident at the aquarium to be caused by a mixture of stress and lack of sleep, which he would spend the next couple of days making up for. The scene in Michigan had apparently bothered him more than he thought.

Not that it was the first time this had happened. There was the time he had gone to track down a man in Africa. An Ebola epidemic was in flux at the time. He remembered the crowds of men, women, and children that clogged the streets, too poor to get proper health-care. It was all too easy to remember the lifeless bodies he'd found in the alleys, the paranoia and fear of infection.

Even worse was what he had done to the man the boss had sent him to look for; in the end he'd gotten the information he needed but not before taking off a few of the man's fingers with a pair of pliers.

Bill stopped at a Big Red Liquor long enough to grab a case of beer, then went back to his apartment. He drank enough to get a buzz and drifted off to sleep. He woke up sometime later in the evening. His cell phone was ringing - it was the Boss.

"We think we've found Lane Hardy," said the boss.

Bill perked up at this bit of news. "Where?"

"There was a fire at a bar called The Rainbow Beret and the hotel next to it. Lane Hardy used one of his aliases to check out and was employed under the same name shortly before the fire. Two bodies were found, both of them showing signs of being infected. I have people already on the scene. I need you to check out the scene and make sure there are no loose ends."

"I'm on it," said Bill.