Chapter V: Spiritual Guidance

Marcos sits awkwardly in an empty visiting room, with both his wrists handcuffed to the seat. The table in front of him is a pale blank white that reflects the emptiness of the room itself. A lone guard stands near the door, a stoic expression on his face.

"So is there a reason I'm sitting here staring at an empty table?" remarks Marcos.

"This visit was specifically ordered by Dr. Lundy." replies the guard with an emotionless tone.

"Visit from whom, might I ask." asks Marcos, getting a bit testy.

"I don't ask questions. I was told to guard you and that's what I'm gonna do."

"...and they say the art of conversation is dead." Marcos says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The guard rolls his eyes but stays quiet. A few seconds later, a short, somewhat pudgy man walks in. This is Father Johnathan Emmett, a portly and unassuming Caucasian man in his early sixties, dressed in the traditional garb of a Catholic priest. Emmett casually nods to the guard and sits across from Marcos.

"If you need anything Father, I'll be right outside the door." says the guard.

"Most appreciative." says Emmett as the guard steps out.

Not knowing quite what to make of this visitor, Marcos smirks with a combination of disgust and amusement "So what did the doctor think I needed last rites or somethin? Maybe you didn't get the memo Father, but my plea deal took the death penalty off the table. At least as far I'm aware."

"No my boy, that's not why I'm here." says Emmett, with a chuckle.

"Then I guess the six million dollar question is…" asks Marcos, gesturing with his eyes.

Emmett smiles as he steeples his hands on the table "Dr. Lundy informed me of your little skirmish in the prison yard."

"So she thought to call you in because an inmate fight warranted me to seek some kind of fucked up spiritual guidance, is that it?"

"Not quite, Marcos."

"Then allow me to ask again. Who are you, what am I doing here and why the fuck would I talk to you?" asks Marcos, his voice taking on more aggression.

"Just call me Father Emmett for right now, and the reason I'm here is because of these so called dreams you say you've been having." says Emmett, that fake looking grin still plastered across his face.

"Well I'm glad to see that doctor, patient confidentiality is enforced to the fullest extent in this place. Look, I don't know what Lundy told you and furthermore I really don't care. Just know that I haven't the slightest interest in confessing my sins or finding God, or repenting to save my soul or any of that other happy horse shit."

"You might be surprised, they say confession is good for the soul."

"You know that old expression, go fuck yourself, they say that's good for the soul as well."

This is met by another round of soft chuckles by Emmett as he leans forward "My, you are a fiery one aren't you my boy? However I think you'll be relieved to know that I represent a very different type of Church than my attire would lead you to believe."

"Well why didn't you say something sooner Father, I mean that changes everything. I think I'll change my answer from, go fuck yourself, to go suck a dick."

"Yes very amusing, now if you don't mind skipping over your sexual preferences and tell me of these dreams you've been experiencing."

"…and why in the front flipping fuck would I do that?"

Emmett lets out another chuckle, this one a bit louder than before "You know for a man who possesses an I.Q. that approaches that of genius level, I was expecting a somewhat more diverse vocabulary."

"Oh I'm terribly sorry Father, try this. Go fuck yourself whilst sucking a dick. Perhaps that works better for you." says Marcos with a defiant smugness.

"Ok, how about this?" says Emmett, as he stares at Marcos with a prolonged and unflinching gaze "In these dreams you often find yourself in open water, sometimes on a boat, other times your just floating above the surface. In some of the dreams your a diver and discover a mass grave of aquatic carcasses, decaying and putrid. Other times they float to the surface, completely engulfing the water around you. Tell me if I'm getting warmer."

"Is that supposed to impress me? I described all that to Lundy."

"But what you probably didn't describe was the extent of the visions." He says as The Father motions with his finger "The visions involve , friends, family or sometimes a random stranger who morphs or mutates into a hideous and demonic creature, usually involving black liquid and tentacles of some kind, usually protruding from an orifice, mouth, eyes, something like that. But the one constant is the word Ryleh." Emmett says as he sits back in his chair, a black silhouette covering his face "How'd I do?"

A more serious expression grips Marcos' face "I didn't tell anyone amount those goddamned tentacles. Shit I didn't even really remember them until just now." He says as his eyes dart back towards the priest "Who the hell are you?"

"How long has all this been happening?" asks Emmett.

"How did you know about the visions?!" asks Marcos as he bangs his wrists on the table.

"I asked you how long have the dreams been occurring!" Emmett fires back.

Marcos upturns one corner of his mouth in another defiant smirk and sits back, remaining silent.

Emmett lurches forward "You don't seem to grasp the severity of the situation my son."

Marcos doesn't move an inch and continues his mocking stare "I think your persuasion tactics need a little work father."

"How's this than. If you think the nightmares and visions are bad now, trust me when I tell you, things are about to get so much worse. If you are the foretold Eldritch Prophet, your only way out of a fate worse than death is by cooperating with us."

"I think your a little confused Father. Last I heard, the media was calling me the Prophet Bomber. Eldritch was nowhere in that title."

Emmett suddenly smiles deviously, taking note of Marcos' flippant defiance "Alright then, I think I have enough for the Church to proceed. Guard!" he says as the guard comes back in to the room "You may see me out now. We're done here."

"Awww, so soon Father? I though since you were here we could get in a few games of tic tac toe." says Marcos mockingly.

"Fret not my son, we'll be seeing each other again shortly."

"Well anytime you need me to tell you to go fuck yourself, I'm always here Father." says Marcos with an insulting wink as Emmett is escorted out of the room.

"I'll be back in five minutes to take you back to your cell, Morales." says the guard as he too, exits.

Marcos leans back "Great with my luck, they'll have a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses in here tomorrow."