Area 51: The Grail-5 by Robert Doherty Page B
Authors: Robert Doherty
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Espionage, Political, High Tech, Space ships, Area 51 (Nev.), Extraterrestrial beings, Grail
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Richard was in bed, his body weakened by the disease ravaging him. I was wiping
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the sweat off Richard's brow, when I heard the heavy wood door crash open. I ran to the top of the stairs and saw it in the foyer. It looked up at me and I first beheld those eyes.
They transfixed me. I knew Richard's guns were in the study, but I could not move. The creature came up the stairs, occasionally staggering to the right, grabbing the railing as if it were drunk.
It wore a long black cloak, the tail almost touching the floor, and underneath, formal wear, as if it had come from a party. But the cloth was dirty and spotted. It came close to me and I could smell the stench of death on its breath. It opened its cloak. A hand came out holding a surgeon's blade.
It pressed the weapon against my throat. I thought it would rupture the skin.
Never had I been so aware of the blood that flowed through my veins, feeling that cold steel against my flesh.
"Your husband, whore," the creature hissed. "I want your husband."
I wanted to shake my head, but I thought it would finish the work of the blade. "He is not here."
"You lie, bitch. You are a whore like all the others."
I was startled when Richard's voice came from the doorway to our room. "I always knew I would see you once more."
How Richard managed to get out of bed, I knew not. I felt, and still feel, I had let him down. I should have thrown myself into the blade and ended it there. Perhaps that would have satisfied the blood lust I could feel coming off the creature. We once met a man named Bram Stoker who spoke of creatures of the darkness who drew blood from their victims for sustenance. Richard had been intrigued and talked
55
with Stoker deep into the night until I could no longer stay awake with them.
Richard told him of Indian legends of things called vampires and other similar creatures he had heard of in our travels around the world. If such creatures existed, I knew this was one of them. But Richard seemed not afraid of this thing that stood in our house.
"Leave my wife be. She has nothing to do with this. She knows nothing."
The creature pulled the blade away from my neck, and with a movement faster than I could follow, hid the blade deep inside the recesses of its cloak.
"I don't care what she knows. She is like all women. A whore. Worth nothing. She deserves what they all deserve. Death. Worse than death."
But he took a step away from me, toward Richard, something stronger than his hate for my gender drawing him toward my husband.
"Al-Iblis." My husband said the name like it was a curse, and confirmed what unholy creature I was seeing. Richard had written of it extensively in the manuscript. I knew then what I had hoped was just a collection of tales was true. The world as I had known it and been taught by my church, my parents, my schools, was not the world as it was.
"Sir Richard Francis Burton," the creature hissed. "I had heard the queen-whore knighted you. You have traveled far since we met in Medina. But you never came back to me like you promised."
"You lied to me," Burton said.
The creature laughed, like the sound fingernails make on a blackboard, causing my skin to crawl. "I lied? I told you much truth. Enough for you to go to Giza, to find Kaji. So I lied about myself. What does that matter? You will never know the truth."
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"I know more than I did," Richard answered him. "I know many of your names now."
The creature smiled, revealing yellowing teeth. "You do? Do you know what they call me now?"
"In the newspapers they call you Jack the Ripper," Richard said, a name which froze my heart. I had read of the atrocities committed by the shadow the papers had given that title to. To have it stand here in my hallway; I knew we were doomed. I had read how his hate for my gender had been displayed, most likely with the very same blade that he had held against my throat seconds earlier.
"The Ripper," the creature repeated. "They are fools. I do not
54
the sweat off Richard's brow, when I heard the heavy wood door crash open. I ran to the top of the stairs and saw it in the foyer. It looked up at me and I first beheld those eyes.
They transfixed me. I knew Richard's guns were in the study, but I could not move. The creature came up the stairs, occasionally staggering to the right, grabbing the railing as if it were drunk.
It wore a long black cloak, the tail almost touching the floor, and underneath, formal wear, as if it had come from a party. But the cloth was dirty and spotted. It came close to me and I could smell the stench of death on its breath. It opened its cloak. A hand came out holding a surgeon's blade.
It pressed the weapon against my throat. I thought it would rupture the skin.
Never had I been so aware of the blood that flowed through my veins, feeling that cold steel against my flesh.
"Your husband, whore," the creature hissed. "I want your husband."
I wanted to shake my head, but I thought it would finish the work of the blade. "He is not here."
"You lie, bitch. You are a whore like all the others."
I was startled when Richard's voice came from the doorway to our room. "I always knew I would see you once more."
How Richard managed to get out of bed, I knew not. I felt, and still feel, I had let him down. I should have thrown myself into the blade and ended it there. Perhaps that would have satisfied the blood lust I could feel coming off the creature. We once met a man named Bram Stoker who spoke of creatures of the darkness who drew blood from their victims for sustenance. Richard had been intrigued and talked
55
with Stoker deep into the night until I could no longer stay awake with them.
Richard told him of Indian legends of things called vampires and other similar creatures he had heard of in our travels around the world. If such creatures existed, I knew this was one of them. But Richard seemed not afraid of this thing that stood in our house.
"Leave my wife be. She has nothing to do with this. She knows nothing."
The creature pulled the blade away from my neck, and with a movement faster than I could follow, hid the blade deep inside the recesses of its cloak.
"I don't care what she knows. She is like all women. A whore. Worth nothing. She deserves what they all deserve. Death. Worse than death."
But he took a step away from me, toward Richard, something stronger than his hate for my gender drawing him toward my husband.
"Al-Iblis." My husband said the name like it was a curse, and confirmed what unholy creature I was seeing. Richard had written of it extensively in the manuscript. I knew then what I had hoped was just a collection of tales was true. The world as I had known it and been taught by my church, my parents, my schools, was not the world as it was.
"Sir Richard Francis Burton," the creature hissed. "I had heard the queen-whore knighted you. You have traveled far since we met in Medina. But you never came back to me like you promised."
"You lied to me," Burton said.
The creature laughed, like the sound fingernails make on a blackboard, causing my skin to crawl. "I lied? I told you much truth. Enough for you to go to Giza, to find Kaji. So I lied about myself. What does that matter? You will never know the truth."
56
"I know more than I did," Richard answered him. "I know many of your names now."
The creature smiled, revealing yellowing teeth. "You do? Do you know what they call me now?"
"In the newspapers they call you Jack the Ripper," Richard said, a name which froze my heart. I had read of the atrocities committed by the shadow the papers had given that title to. To have it stand here in my hallway; I knew we were doomed. I had read how his hate for my gender had been displayed, most likely with the very same blade that he had held against my throat seconds earlier.
"The Ripper," the creature repeated. "They are fools. I do not
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