The Armageddon Effect (Egregor Book 1) Read online

  “No, not really. Glad I could provide some humor.” I snorted.

  They both burst into laughter.

  Great, my coworkers think I’m crazy. Thank God we have a small room with just us three.

  What could I tell them?

  ‘Yeah, I just had this crazy OBE and now I can hear thoughts. How’s your day going?’ Somehow, I didn’t think that would further my career. But it was thrilling to think I could hear other people’s thoughts. Headphones helped me ignore the other coders and my imagination ran wild.

  Just call me Lane Psiwalker. Or maybe the one with the exploding heads. Yeah, Scanners!

  Okay, this was getting fun, well, except for the reacting to other people’s thoughts part.

  Can I control this?

  More surfing didn’t reveal additional insights on the events, but several focused on brain wave resonance enhancement. My training discs had that effect. Then others touted full body immersion and sensory deprivation in dark tanks to achieve OBE states. Artifacts, often occult in nature, were also popular topics. They could amplify the astral state. One even showed a few examples of them. There were rods decorated in ancient Egyptian and Kabbalah symbols, intricately carved amulets with Chinese calligraphy, and talisman with Pagan signs.

  “I can make some of these,” I blurted out. Ignoring the turned heads and questioning glances, I delved further into the occult.

  Around lunch I headed outside while still pondering amulets, rods, and staffs. My favorite diner was only five blocks away. Sunlight reflected off the tin gutters of the log buildings lining the street. I surveyed the traffic.

  “Rustic. Woodland Park was designed for tourists.” I grimaced.

  Wooden-planked sidewalks graced storefronts as I noted which shops had the fewest people in front of them. I tend to avoid tourists. Fewer people walked on the left side of the street. The sign over John’s prospector shop reminded me I should swing by there soon.

  Carvings of bears and mountain lions provided an obstacle course of wooden predators that dotted the picturesque walkway. My steps echoed along the planks. A dust devil whipped discarded Styrofoam cups into the sky nearby, and the air turned chill. I pulled my leather jacket’s collar up over my neck.

  My skin crawled and it felt like someone watched me.

  The wind sprite turned into my path and pelted me with debris then vanished. Small bits of trash floated down and fell slowly like time held its breath.

  Something caught my eye. Glancing down, I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Doubt gripped my heart as a dark shadow flitted across the boardwalk, changed shape into a black horned snake, turned and slithered up to my boots.

  Right there at my feet! Where no shadow should be. It skittered away, a spider now. I blinked.

  What the hell was that?

  I looked around, dumbfounded. I need to get a handle on my brain. I closed my eyes.

  It must be birds.

  I looked up. No birds were in sight.

  Crushing fingers gripped my throat. I couldn’t breathe and stood frozen on the walkway. Fear pounded in my ears as I clawed at my neck.

  A car horn blared loudly nearby. The sound shattered the stranglehold. Gasping, I steadied myself against a wooden post. Heart racing. Eyes wide.

  I tried to latch on to nearby sounds to regain a sense of reality. Rubber tires slapped asphalt as angry tourists honked horns in the midday traffic. Loud voices drifted on the breeze.

  I’m losing my mind.

  Adrenaline hardened my fists, and I pushed off the post. I shrugged and rolled my shoulders then twisted my neck to stretch the muscles there.

  I’ve had enough of this crap.

  A surge of power left tingles in my chest and arms.

  I glanced around. Tourists mingled with a few suits on the street, some ranchers over there, just people lost in their zones. The radiant figure in the OBE came to mind, and I wielded the image like a shield.

  That attack came from someone. They’re stalking me.

  There, on the edge of my vision, a gray form appeared. I tried to look without turning my head, but they were gone.

  Yeah. I thought so. Screw this.

  I picked up my pace, then started jogging. I made the diner door and ducked in, breathing hard.

  The cashier smiled at me, “Please come in. Are you dining alone?”

  I stared at her for a moment. Her big smile was disturbing.

  What the hell are you smiling about. Can’t you see someone tried to attack me?

  In the background, a country western song warbled of mama and a lost child. Something snapped and my mind drifted into a haze. I saw a blurred image of a tall woman running with a young boy. Mud matted his blond curls. He held a knife in a bloody hand, and his lips turned down in stifled sadness.

  “Sir?”

  The image vanished.

  “What! Yes, thank you.” I paused. The young woman in front of me, what was her name? I plastered a smile on my lips and nodded, hoping my charm would reassure her that my wild-eyed look was temporary.

  Her puzzled expression brightened. “This way, please,” she said and led me into the packed dining area.

  I hesitated. The noise of clanking silverware and conversation echoed off the walls. So many people. They gathered around oak tables covered in red and white checked plastic, awash in dishes. Children dancing with brown bears adorned the window as cars rolled by outside.

  There are no background thoughts or noise here.

  The vibrant atmosphere created a sanctuary. Fear, anxiety, paranoia – poof! All vanished in a psychic shield born of family, friends, and homespun goodness; all bundled up with the aroma of hot grease and fruity pancakes.

  There’s my table. Empty.

  Dodging leather and Levi’s, I followed the hostess over to the corner table and sat down.

  I smiled at the waitress. Leanne. Her petite frame and blonde bun belied her Olympic-level strength and agility. She balanced overloaded plates from hand to elbow with practiced ease. She gave me a smile and familiar nod. I grinned back with a conspiratorial eyebrow lift.

  “Here’s your menu, sir. Enjoy your lunch,” the hostess said.

  I love small towns.

  The noise increased in the popular diner and the rush of hungry patrons filled the few remaining empty tables. An attractive woman wearing a black and gray pinstriped pantsuit drifted in with the traffic and time slowed down. She was a looker. Her slick, business attire caught my attention amid the checkered woodsman shirts and blue-jean shrouded boots. She looked professional, yet not completely uptight. Sable hair cascaded past her shoulders like curtains of ebon night. She had slim, well-proportioned curves in the right spots that titillated the imagination. As I drank her in, something in my mind registered familiarity.

  She glanced my way. I stopped breathing for a moment. Women don’t usually look at me. I mean, I’m not ugly, but the geek stamp on my forehead turns them away. I’ve always wondered about that. Is there a geek body odor, or a look in the eye? Okay, maybe it was the almost-hip-but-not-quite long hair or the glasses.

  For a moment, she became transparent. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Fumbling, I retrieved my dropped fork.

  I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she found a table and sat down. An aura of luminous red-gold shimmered around her. She stood out among the other patrons like a luscious red cherry amid a pile of dusty peanuts. She had noticed me as well, and her steel-gray eyes regarded me coolly, without invitation.

  I busied myself with my meal. No need for ESP or anything else to decide if she was watching me. She stared for quite some time, and it was making me uncomfortable.

  Got it. You’re seeing luminous people now. Mescalito should show up any minute.

  My imagination was on overdrive. Several cups of coffee later and it was time to head back.

  Why I wasn’t running to the nearest therapist was beyond me. The OBEs, psionic assaults, and glowing people didn’t seem that strange.
In fact, it almost seemed I was waiting, anticipating it all. Something gnawed at my memory, just out of reach.

  On my way out, the woman was engrossed in the daily newspaper. She didn’t look up.

  The sun had warmed the crisp air and slow traffic wound its way up the crowded main avenue. Woodland Park only had one main street which became the main highway into the mountains. It tended to be busy around lunchtime and stayed that way until late afternoon.

  The calming effect of the diner disappeared once outside. My neck and shoulders released a rush of adrenaline as I flexed muscles there.

  Okay bitches, I’m ready.

  My eyes narrowed and I surveyed the street. I walked, taking several slow deep breaths. Was I jumpy? Hell, yes.

  I crossed the street between traffic. The mental noise returned and provided a constant background sound like rain.

  A few muddied gray people walked nearby. I stopped on the boardwalk and tensed, ready for a fight. None of them appeared interested in me. Their facial color was dull as if a gray powder was clumped on their faces. I looked for any out of place shadows. Nothing.

  Occasionally, one of the “Gray People” would glance my way, stare for a moment, and move on.

  Tension eased out of my neck as I realized they weren’t going to attack.

  Who are they?

  –You should be more careful.– The thought was loud and crystal clear.

  Startled, I missed a step and fell into a large wood stump carved to look like a lunging mountain lion. Regaining my balance, I turned and looked around. Across the street, walking in the same direction, was the woman from the diner. She looked right at me for a moment, then turned and continued up the street.

  –Don’t be so obvious. They will notice.–

  I quickened my pace, agitated. Busting through the office entry, I bounded upstairs, gasping for breath.

  –You’ve met a primal recently, haven’t you? A powerful egregor?– the woman was saying.

  I don’t know what you’re talking about!

  My God, I’m speaking to someone in my mind.

  –The Egregor woke your mind, but there is danger. You can trust me.–

  Diving into the safety of my office chair, I cautiously parted a window blind and peered out.

  Go away!

  No one was out there, just the busy street.

  “Hey, Lane.”

  My chair crashed to the floor as I fell backward.

  “What!” I got up, brushing dust and dirt from my clothes.

  My coworker’s puzzled look barely covered a smirk.

  “You have that buffer snippet ready?”

  “Yup, sending it now, Shade.”

  Shade was a short, lanky guy with a permanent, annoying smirk I wanted to smash. I detested him. The image of his bloodied nose caused me to chuckle.

  That woman had talked to me in my mind, and in broad daylight, not some dream or out-of-body experience.

  I didn’t know what to think about this revelation. My mind raced as I tried to put the pieces together. First, I heard others. Now I’m talking, with my mind, to someone else. Thinking about the radiant being seemed to block the mental chatter.

  I focused on the job, opened my developer software platform, inserted the code changes, debugged then ran a quick boundary test for memory leaks.

  All clean. My fingers rapped keys to upload the code to our working directory, and I released the file lock so someone else could access the program.

  Finished! It was an hour early, but the boss was cool if the work was done.

  There was still something that needed checking. The woman had used an unusual word. According to the Internet, an “egregor” was an occult term referring to an autonomous psychic entity made up of the collective thoughts of a group of people.

  The words echoed in my mind … the collective thoughts – of countless billions – of people.

  That’s what the golden being was! The Egregor of Compassion. I glanced at my hands. They were warm and glowed a faint gold. Looking up, I saw that both my coworkers had strong auras around their heads, cobalt blue with tinges of red and black.

  “Aw, Damn.” I grabbed my black leather briefcase and headed downstairs. I cracked the door, looked around, and scuttled over to the Caddy. It fired up smoothly and I eased onto the avenue. I glanced in the rear view mirror. Nothing. No luminous people, no gray people, nothing except a busy street on a sunny afternoon.

  “Guess I picked the wrong day to stop drinking.” Half-smiling at the old movie reference, I pushed the accelerator and felt the reassuring rumble of the engine.

  SANCTUARY

  I tapped the wheel to syncopated techno as the afternoon sun warmed my skin and wind whipped my hair. Pastures of buffalo-wheat and bluestem sped past. The Caddy’s chrome reflected a dazzling white from the deep-powder snow line. Off to the right, pinon pines nestled among spruce and fir on the north flank of Pikes Peak.

  The last three miles plunged into Waldo Canyon, where the highway snaked through sheer rock cliffs prone to rock fall.

  The big Caddy pitched down into the steep canyon grade. I frowned when the breeze carried scents of smoking oil from the undercarriage.

  Damn, the seals are leaking oil again. This car is going to catch fire one day.

  The highway followed a splashing stream that cascaded down the rocky mountainside. Tires shrieked and the Caddy lurched across the steep roadbed. I slammed my foot down hard on the brakes and clutched the steering wheel in a death grip. Sweat ran across my brow. The squeal of rubber on asphalt lessened as the massive car leveled out.

  Stop daydreaming. Wake the hell up, Lane.

  On icy days, the road was deadly. I drove by a sign that read “Manitou Springs Exit.” Rock tailings and cracked timbers marked an abandoned mine shaft near the highway sign.

  It’s a wonder more people don’t fall in.

  My house was north of downtown, nestled among rolling foothills. Passing motorcycles reminded me of Steve. We had taken a putt on the Harleys, roaring up the highway while punched pipes thundered as only Harleys can. Their distinctive rumble intoxicated the senses, and the powerful bikes could put up a lot of speed very quickly. Little separated you from the roadway other than leather and blood.

  I clenched my jaw at the memory and a tear whipped in the wind. The tears were dry when I pulled into the driveway.

  I trudged inside and headed to the kitchen. Phats cuddled up next to my leg as I ate leftover takeout. The homemade tamales had a delicious green chili that seared the tongue.

  “Do you see them too, those gray people?”

  Phats just stared at me and licked his paw.

  “I bet you do. I admit, they have me spooked.”

  Now he was licking his butt.

  “Great, thanks for the input.” I scratched his back.

  I took a long soaking bath then hit the sheets.

  # # #

  “Come, quick, there’s no time!” a woman said. She yanked hard on my stomach, and I staggered upright. Sleep lingered on fuzzy blurs. She pulled again. My abdomen muscles clenched like a tug from an invisible umbilical cord.

  “This way now!” She half-dragged me toward the wall of the bedroom and went right through it.

  Wait.

  I put my hand up to soften the collision. My arm sank in elbow deep then the rest of me followed.

  “Who are you?” Sleep blurred my vision.

  I’m floating. In midair.

  Momentarily startled, I wiggled my legs and waved my arms like a drowning swimmer.

  I’m in the astral.

  I hovered a few feet above the Caddy. Flickering shadows surrounded the buildings in dusky light.

  “They come at night, and they know where you live now. Stop wiggling! You’re fine.” The sexy woman from the diner hovered a few feet from me. A gray skirt hugged shapely hips and her white blouse shimmered in the twilight. She grasped a silver cord in her hand that attached to my stomach. Her other hand held an opaque
, blue stone shaped like a letter opener.

  “What’s that?” I pointed at the cord.

  “There’s no time. We must hurry. Look.”

  Two man-sized oily teardrops oozed into the distant intersection.

  My eyes widened and fear paralyzed my limbs.

  Night terrors. They aren’t real. No.

  Obscured by shadows, something large lurked behind them. Tentacled. Sinister. Hateful. Blackness clung to it like a living cloak. Dark rubbery tendrils shot out of the blobs. The woman jerked me aloft and accelerated upward.

  My head exploded in sizzling stars. A headache blasted cracks in my skull. Searing spasms seized the back of my neck as muscles violently contracted.

  Unmistakable words crawled the surface of my mind in a guttural moan.

  –Come back, psi child. You are one of us.–

  I looked behind me. The horror was real. Black tendrils stretched from my neck down to the creatures below us. Thin tendrils sprouted over my shoulders and covered my back in thick rubbery cords. My head spun as nausea bubbled bile into my mouth.

  I must go back.

  “Let me go!” I coughed. I started to fight against her grip, writhing, as she propelled us upward.

  The letter opener in her hand ignited into a cold-blue flame, and a shimmering oval enveloped us like a cocoon. My skin pricked in the chilled air.

  The cocoon’s frosted surface burnt the black tendrils. They turned to smoky vapor and swept behind us. My back stung and burned. I glanced down at the ethereal flesh on my shoulder, but my mind couldn’t make sense of it. White bone shone amid seared porcelain flesh. We rushed into the twilight and the Colorado Springs vortex disappeared behind us.

  The ground faded away. Moisture cooled my skin as we sped by billows of muted color. They reminded me of ghostly street lights on a night with heavy fog.

  We flew into one of the misty glows. Moisture glistened on my face and the air took on an intense lilac hue. A forest appeared below. We descended towards a glade with a large pond surrounded by trees that extended to the horizon.

  The sky was bright and thick with clouds. Our cocoon vanished and we plunged towards the sparkling pond. I sensed wisdom and caution from hundreds of prismatic ellipses that wobbled like giant soap bubbles around the pool. They moved into the trees as we descended. The thoughts grated and poked like pin pricks in my skull. Alien.