57
Things to Come
"How is it that the very sunlight does not turn to blackness before this thing, the hard earth melt and boil beneath such a burden?" – Arthur Machen, "The Great God Pan"
Yamato broke the silence.
"They've faced worse than this. They'll be okay."
"No one said they wouldn't be," said Taichi softly.
"Hey," Mimi said, "What happened here? Chiho-chan is Iori-kun's girlfriend, isn't she?"
"We don't have all the details," said Koshiro. He leaned over the back of his chair and gazed into the Digital Gate on the computer screen, unsure of how to continue.
"You said there were others," Jou reminded him. "There were other girls who were attacked."
"Other girls…" Sora's voice was low, and her eyes were distant. Whatever she was recalling having seen, she didn't like it.
"They were assaulted," Koshiro said, still not looking at his friends.
Assaulted. Why did that word seem so much more ominous? They all felt the difference. Sora was jolted back from her memory, and caught her left arm with her right hand, trying to suppress a shiver.
"It had to be a Digimon," Koshiro continued. "There was too much damage done to the apartment for it to have been a human. Ugaki-san was younger than the others, but the police think that it's all the same attacker."
"Were they killed?" Yamato asked.
"No. They were…" He paused in obvious discomfort. But as it turned out he didn't need to finish the sentence. One after another each face made the transition from ignorance to dark suspicion, to the horror of a dawning comprehension. Taichi stepped forward, his eyes fixed on his friend.
"Koshiro…"
"It's why we had to remain behind," Koshiro said, interrupting whatever was coming. "The enemy is still here, in the human world. We have to be there if it strikes again."
"You say that," Taichi said, "But how are we going to find it? How do we… How do we know that it's still here?"
"I think it's a safe assumption to make," Koshiro replied. "And it's an assumption we have to make to ensure that no one else here gets hurt."
"That poor girl…" Mimi murmured. Jou turned to look at her. He had been as surprised as any of the others at what Koshiro had just avoided saying. Mimi looked numb, in shock, and he knew her expression mirrored his own.
"Mimi-kun…"
"What's going on?" Gomamon asked. "What happened?"
"Something really bad?" Piyomon suggested.
Yamato's eyes found Sora's. He could see she wanted to talk, and he knew what the conversation would be about.
"It's… hard to explain," he said, addressing the Digimon in general. "We'll talk about it later. Right now we need to find whatever attacked Chiho-chan."
"I'm going to look through all the data on the attacks and see if I can find a pattern," Koshiro resumed.
"We should get out there," Taichi said. "You can send us mail through the D-Terminal if you figure anything out. Let's go, Agumon!"
And with that he was out the door, his partner trailing behind him. There was really no point to his leaving. They had no idea where the enemy might strike next. But Koshiro understood that it was Taichi's way of dealing with the stress. As long as he could stay in motion, could feel like he was doing something productive, he wouldn't have time to worry, or think about the horrors surrounding them.
The other Chosen Children and Digimon said their goodbyes before heading out themselves, leaving Koshiro to work in peace. Yamato and Sora were the last out, and they lingered with Piyomon and Gabumon outside the Izumis' door.
"They know so much about us," Sora said, breaking the silence. Yamato said nothing. "Our families aren't safe. If Iori's girlfriend became a target, anyone we know could be in danger."
"We'll end this," Yamato said. "We just… have to be on our guard." He clenched his fists. It wasn't that simple, and he knew it. Right now his brother and all of their younger friends were in the Digital World, walking into unknown danger, while a nightmare rapist and murderous demons stalked through Tokyo.
Piyomon was nuzzling her feathery head against Sora's hand, and Gabumon looked up at his partner with sympathy. They didn't know what to say to make things better. They just wanted their friends to know that they were there.
The Dark Man led the way through the base's corridors, and Wisemon followed behind with the Book in his grasp. Anubimon was standing alone in a room just off the hall, hoping that they would pass by without bothering him, but he didn't have high hopes. The Dark One always knew where to find someone, especially if they didn't want to be found.
"Step out here, would you, Anubimon?" the Dark Man said, pausing just before the door. The Digimon reluctantly obeyed, and found his attention drawn to the person standing behind the Dark Man. He hadn't been aware of Wisemon's existence, and though he sensed no malice from him, he didn't like the expressionless glow of the yellow eyes under the hood.
"I can open no more gates today," Anubimon said. "My energy is spent."
"Don't worry about it," said the Dark Man. "There's only one gate that still needs opening, and you aren't going to be the one to do it. This is Wisemon…" He lifted a hand to indicate the hooded Digimon. "…And he's here to become your replacement." The Dark Man resumed his walk, leaving Anubimon staring at his retreating back. "Well come on!" the Dark One shouted. "Allow us to escort you home."
Anubimon followed, trying to understand what he meant. Was it another joke? "Home" would be where the Dark Man had found him, the pyramid and temple in the wastes of desert. Anubimon had dwelt there for countless years, staring down into the darkness and passing judgment on the data that found its way there after each death and deletion. He had been the jailor of some, the savior of others. It had been his gift to know what each deserved – rebirth at the Village of Beginnings, or eternal burial in the World of Darkness.
At least, those burials should have been eternal. Anubimon's gaze was far-reaching, but he was not omniscient, and there had been several times that things had slipped through the cracks. Perhaps the Dark Man had first crept out into the light that way, but Anubimon doubted it. Whatever the Dark Man was, he didn't resemble any known inhabitant of the Digital World.
Now Anubimon saw the portal over the Dark Man's shoulder, and through it the great gray pyramid wavering in the distance. But why? Under other circumstances, Anubimon might perhaps have felt relief at the sight of his former home, but at that moment he felt only a growing unease as he watched the stone walls sway, and heard the Dark One's low chuckling.
The ocean's boundaries were lost in fog. If it had boundaries. Sometimes it seemed as if the land was as fluid as the water, present at times, absent at others, the shoreline never the same. Or that could be a mere trick of the fog, hanging thick and opaque. Occasionally the fog would move, without wind, creeping into one's field of vision and dissolving the world as if it had never existed. Creeping, creeping into the mind and fastening itself in the darker corners like a disease.
There were no waves, not usually. They were there when they were needed. They could be heard while remaining invisible, a reminder to anyone who had tried to forget that the Dark Ocean was always back there somewhere, lapping greedily at the borders of reality. If the need arose there might be a real wave, something sudden, cold, powerful, and tangible, something to shock the sea's prey into a panic. …But you couldn't count on the ocean to be like anything. Two people could be standing side by side and their perceptions would still differ widely. Perhaps there was no ocean – just an idea too insidious for expression.
It mattered little to Demon. Nothing ever much impressed him. He had come to this World of Darkness vast ages ago, after being cast out from the Digital World that he had sought to conquer. There was no demon or fallen angel more powerful; his arrogance was well-founded.
Still, his recent mysterious visitor had intrigued him. Rather than wait for the nameless man's reappearance, Demon had returned to this ocean, the site of his last temporary defeat, to verify that the man was indeed an agent of the High Priest. Stretching out a hand, he let fall a black orb into the murky water below. It submerged without a sound, but the surface rippled.
"Come out, minions of Dagomon. I have business with your master."
As he spoke the fog above the water's surface seemed to thin out, revealing the spine of a great reef. From its crevices emerged Dagomon's black, oily worshippers, their unblinking eyes turned up to the hooded figure looming above them. One, larger than the others, and crowned with longer spines, gestured with its claws as it answered.
"Our god knows what you have come seeking."
"Your so-called god should know better than to trifle with me. What does he want? Surely he didn't think that I would be so stupid as not to question his motives."
"The Chosen Ones' power continues to grow," the amphibious creature answered in its hollow tone. "If the light is to be overcome, many must band against it."
"Ridiculous," Demon sneered. "I need no assistance against children. So Dagomon is both fool and coward. He has his duties, and he should stick to them, and stay out of my business and out of my way."
He turned to go, but stopped as the Deep One spoke again.
"The future will reveal who are fools, Demon. You may be surprised by what it brings."
Demon rounded on the reef, and the black creatures instinctively crouched.
"You dare to speak that way to me?" A flick of the Demon Lord's wrist and the speaker on the reef was engulfed in flames, screeching as it burned away to nothing. "Nothing that dies so easily should take me lightly! Flame Inferno!"
The amphibious creatures scattered, diving into the water if they were near enough, the others being incinerated. Demon turned away as the reef caught fire and began to burn, the smoke of it darkening the already gray skies.
"Don't test me, Dagomon," he muttered. "Anyone who meddles in my affairs will not have long to live."
A pool of purple opened at his feet and Demon sank into it, leaving only his threat behind as the portal closed.
His words could have been heard only above the surface, but his malicious thoughts sank downwards through the ripples that played about the burning reef, through the crushing fathoms of dark water and abysses immeasurable, to a place where no glimmer of light had ever reached or ever would reach. And in that blackness, something heard and understood.