The Arc of Light

The Arc of Light

by Mithrandir

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Copyright Mithrandir 2017

Published by

Wind and Fire Publishing

All Rights Reserved

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Dedicated to my readers,

more specifically those who

bought the book.

Chapter 1

This is all your fault! shouted James angrily. He stood facing his friend Wang Qiang. They had just been through a terrible ordeal. Their clothes were tattered.

"My fault? scorned Wang. Now, how do you spin that?"

Well, for starters, you insulted him, getting him all ticked. Something I would expect from you, really.

By those standards, it’s his fault, since he insulted me before I ever did anything to him.

James mused. "Well, you have always had a knack for appearing like a mischief. I myself would have called you that. But I’m not only considering the first few things at that place you did, but all the cracked up things you’ve done. For example, convincing me to check out this God-forsaken object in the first place."

Wang clenched his teeth. Neither he nor James were in a lively mood. "You—came here—out of your own accord!"

Uh huh, said James. Well, if you must know—

Uh … a voice from behind Wang murmured.

James peered behind Wang.

Uh oh, James said. This can’t be good.

Wang turned around. In the corner of the room was a man with frayed white hair, glasses, and formal clothes. He wore a light blue lab coat.

Right! exclaimed Wang. Should we knock him out again?

No! James cried in reply.

Well, then what? Ask him what he knows?

Make a break for it. I’m in no mood to wait around.

Wang seemed satisfied with that answer. Agreed.

It was completely dark, other than the screen of the computer and the soft turquoise glow radiating from the arc, which was connected by a thick wire to the computer through a side jack near the ground.

Both of them stared at the glowing object, reluctant to leave just yet, while the professor wasn’t fully conscious. There was an allure to the arc’s light, almost a—supernatural allure. It gave you a warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach when you were in the presence of its soft turquoise light.

Inside the arc was total darkness, a black abyss. You could not see the other side when you looked through the arc. It wasn’t just a really thick curtain, as they had suspected. Rather, it was more like complete emptiness, as though there was no atoms there at all.

Wang was amazed that such a mysterious and powerful object would be in this seemingly trivial building. He also wondered how it was created, who took part in its production, why it seemed abandoned, and . . . and . . . what on earth happened to them?

Assuming, of course, Wang thought to himself bitterly, that the place was even on earth.

He didn’t know anything about it, except that it was an arc, obviously, and that if you passed through the black abyss inside it you would be transported to another place. He didn’t know if the place was back in time, in the future, another universe, or even another dimension. However, while he did intend on getting answers, he never intended on ever going back through there again.

Wang’s attention was drawn elsewhere when he saw a hand pop from the arc. Wang gasped. He rubbed his eyes and squinted. Looking again, he saw that the hand had disappeared.

What? asked James, following Wang’s gaze.

Uh, nothing, I guess, said Wang. He then grudgingly began turning towards the doorway, longing for a good night’s rest, but once again the hand popped out.

Wang had half his mouth open in unbelieving awe and said, James. . . there’s a hand—it just popped out from the, uh, portal thing.

James, who had been glancing back and forth from the arc to Wang, wondering what was the matter, began to fear for his friend. Wang, he said tentatively. I think you’re hallucinating. I don’t see anything through the arc.

Wang then saw a whole arm thrust out. He knew he wasn’t hallucinating. Come over here, he called to James.

James walked to Wang and gasped. James couldn’t glimpse the arm from the side of the arc he was at, but it was undeniable now from Wang’s point of view. James turned towards the door. "I am definitely leaving . . . now. You should too."

James sprinted to the door. Crap, it isn’t opening! Weren’t you able to open it before?

Wang saw a small table against the corner to the left of the door. Quick, under here! he whispered.

They quickly scuttled under the table. The room was dark enough that whatever was emerging from the arc wouldn’t see them . . . hopefully. Honestly, people with super-vision wouldn’t surprise them at this point.

Within a few seconds, an entire body collapsed onto the black floor in a fit of laughter. He staggered up and brushed his long, golden hair from his forehead. It was a man in a loose, light gray cloak with golden lining on the sides. His face was weary and cold. His expression seemed forced, as though this was the first time he ever smiled.

In his hand, he had a scepter that was a soft color of gold. The orb on the top of the scepter was a golden light like the sun. The thing that struck James the most, however, was his eyes. They could’ve passed for normal eyes, but they were too maniacal and were flitting back and forth. Too evil for his liking.

The man calmed down, his chest still heaving. Well, I certainly showed them, now there will be no problem. Now to get rid of this.

He flung his cloak off, revealing gray pants, shoes, and a shirt. He picked up the cloak and rolled it up at the speed of light. He then shuffled off to the door, scepter in hand, kicked the metal door down effortlessly, and went through the furnace room and up the stairs.

Wang whimpered and said, James, that was—

I know, Wang. This is not good.

* * * * *

Now, for this project, I will be picking your group.

The whole 6th grade class collectively moaned. The teacher of language arts, Mrs. Scarlett, never let them pick their partners or group. Her reasoning was that the best friends will end up with each other, resulting in less work and more talk.

Andrew recognized this fact, but always assumed that all she had to do if they couldn’t be trusted with each other was separate the offenders, not punish the whole class. Admittedly, he didn’t really care about productivity, but more the fact that he would have to waste more minutes of his precious time waiting for the drawing.

She drew five Popsicle sticks with names from the class written on the side.

Kyle, Selena, Maria, Richard, and Walter, she said slowly with enthusiasm as though she enjoyed watching them squirm, though he knew she just had a happy disposition that wasn’t natural.

Selena and Maria looked particularly glum, as they didn’t know each other. Selena, in fact, was new to the school. The rest of the boys shrugged as though it could have been worse.

He was waiting for his name to be called, but Mrs. Scarlett was taking her time. So, his mind began to drift to when he might escape this prison. As soon as he would get home, he would snack on things he probably shouldn’t eat and collapse on his bed.

Unless, of course, his dad made him help with his ice cream shop. His dad always hoped that Andrew would take over his business, but Andrew’s sister Ashley would be better suited. Andrew always said that he was made for something more than a manager of a rudimentary ice cream shop, but his dad would always laugh and say, You’ll understand some day. Well, that someday felt like it was never going to come.

The class was going to end any minute, so he would find out who he would end up with soon. Naturally, he thought drearily, he would have homework to complete and this book project wasn’t helping his load at all. Each group was to finish reading their book (the class read most of it together and were almost finished anyways) and do a report on it by the 30th of April.

This was fine, as it was the 23rd, giving them a whole week to do it. Plus, Andrew already read the book in 3rd grade. He refocused on the name calling, realizing it must be nearing the end.

Sally, Trevor, Austin, Olivia, and Tyler, Mrs. Scarlett said more quickly than before, wanting to be done with school like everyone else.

Darien Daniels, his best friend since preschool, who had been sitting by him with a bored expression up until now, snickered. The rest of the class seemed to be exchanging glances with each other, too. Everyone except Sally knew that Trevor had a crush on her, and everyone but Trevor knew that Sally had a crush on him.

The last five names were being read off, and Andrew’s mood was getting lighter as he realized subconsciously that maybe Darien’s name hadn’t been picked yet. Time went even slower for him as he was feeling immensely tired.

Lilith, Darien, Rachel, Benton, and Andrew.

Darien grinned at him. Andrew smiled back. This wasn’t too bad. Lily and Rachel hadn’t ever been obnoxious, and he was friends with Benton, whom he saw on a daily basis.

The bell rang, and Andrew shot up, yanking his stuff from the desk, and bolted through the door to his lockers, barely making it in front of everyone so as to avoid being trampled.

Andrew always sensed that Mrs. Scarlett frowned at his tendency to be the first one out of class almost every day, but it was nothing personal. If it were any other class during the last hour of the day, he would always be the first one out of there, too. He was close to the door anyway.

Andrew pulled his backpack onto his shoulders and set off for home. He strode out the exit to his right at the end of the hallway. Darien ran up to his left as Andrew walked over the parking lot and onto Radiation Road.

Darien wasted no time. So, I’m guessing it’s too much to hope for you doing it for me? he asked.

Andrew knew what he meant. Both Darien and Andrew were lazy, so much so that they worked at it. They played to their strengths. In math, Darien had a natural gift, as Mr. Downing put it.

Darien hardly tried, but he seemed to understand numbers more than he understood himself. Andrew preferred reading, as the way words arranged themselves into thoughts and statements always amazed him. (He was also good at it.)

Since they shared all of the same classes, the grade being as small as it was, they had the same homework. So, Andrew did the language homework for the both of them, and Darien did the math (or as Darien liked to call it, meth) homework. But projects like these were too big for just one person. Also, Rachel would never let Andrew do it on his own.

Yep. I’m guessing we’re going to put it off until the end of the month, right?

That’s a positive, said Darien.

They walked for a few steps. How many words have you read so far this quarter?asked Andrew.

Darien replied, "Well, you know I can’t figure that out when I’m halfway through a book. I wasn’t going to try, but my mom, like, totally freaked out on me and told me to start reading.

She threatened me with extra hard labor, and I don’t need that, and she probably would refuse to let me go to your house. It was actually a pretty frightening experience. Anyways, I decided to get off my— he swore, "—and read.

I actually finished a high word-count book, but I looked the word count up on the Internet and couldn’t find it, and Mrs. Scarlett said I’m out of luck. What a— he swore again.

Well, I quit trying, so I guess I’m getting an F when fourth quarter ends. It was great timing, too, because when I confessed to my mom about it tonight, she had no idea what I was talking about. There’s something with her PTSD that does it, I guess . . . he said, trailing off.

Andrew looked at Darien with astonishment. He had met his dysfunctional family before, but now he had two new emotions towards that short skinny woman who was Darien’s mom, assuming his interpretation was correct: pity and respect.

Of course, he continued, not allowing the conversation to go elsewhere, I had an idea that she would have forgotten anyways, or I wouldn’t have told her. I also worded it so that in case she remembered, I could have said I was talking about something else. Dang, AR Reading was set up better than this new charter school thing they’re trying.

Andrew had heard all this from him before, but Darien had a habit of repeating himself, just one of the many quirks of his.

Us 6th grades never did AR Reading, Darien. How would you know? asked Andrew.

He shrugged. My brothers always complained about it.

Andrew lived on the outskirts of town, which was on the way to Darien’s house. Once Darien reached Andrew’s house, he’d be picked up by his mother, leaving the town of Hillsboro to his house in the countryside.

Hillsboro, though small and at first glance insignificant, was quite famous. It held the honor of being the last home of the politician, scientist, and actor Ryan Goodell. He was extremely rich and influential, not to mention strange.

After retiring from the House of Representatives (he broke the record for youngest representative), he built his house in the middle of nowhere or, in other words, in the middle of Nevada. The government was forced to give away a lot of land to people when they were discovered (with the help of Mr. Goodell) to have illegal and dangerous plans for it.

Ryan bought most of the empty property around him, divided it, and sold it for lower prices. Coincidentally, this was also the most fertile area of Nevada, making it ideal for living.

As more and more people moved into the land surrounding him, Mr. Goodell decided that their settlement should be called New Vada. Many thought this was funny, others inappropriate, but the name stuck.

For an unknown reason, Mr. Goodell left. No one knew for certain why, though Mr. Goodell did originally move to Nevada to get away from people, as his wife said. In that case, it made sense that he would be disappointed that his house became a town.

Whatever the reason, it was known that he then settled down in a tiny, unincorporated town in Wisconsin, called Hillsboro, the very town Andrew lived in. The town was naturally secluded, being surrounded by bluffs. Until recently, you had to take winding back roads to get in and out of it.

Strange things began happening there almost as soon as he arrived, according to natives. An enormous stone building was erected towards the edge of town that looked quite unwelcoming.

There were almost no windows and, though no one was ever seen entering, strange noises were heard from it almost constantly. Andrew’s aunt described it as weird clicking and humming, but native townspeople embellished upon it until it became tortured screams and maniacal laughing.

Naturally, that building became Andrew’s school.

Mr. Goodell was murdered after only about five years of living in Hillsboro, eight years ago. His last reported words were received by his wife’s phone via text, ‘My will is unchanged.’ Immediately after that, a volley of explosions went off in downtown Oklahoma City, where Mr. Goodell was visiting at the time. His body was never found.

This was all the news channels talked about, even overshadowing the peculiarly violent foreign genocides. Not only was Mr. Goodell incredibly famous, but nobody knew who the perpetrators were. However, since nobody knew who they were, it was like he never existed a month later. At least for the mainstream news.

The Internet never forgot about Mr. Goodell though. Perhaps the most striking part of all this was that no one knew what was on his will. His wife obstinately refused to give any information on the matter, and she died in a car accident just two years later.

But based on how fervently officials refused to release what was on his will, Andrew suspected the government didn’t even know, though everyone was sure he had one. Conspiracy theorists came up with a crackpot full of ideas as to what happened to him. Andrew merely scoffed at them. Unbeknownst to him, though, the real story was more bizarre than what even the craziest conspiracy theorists could cook up.

Most of the bills Mr. Goodell introduced while a Representative were vetoed, so the primary physical evidence of his existence was his mansions; one in New Vada, another in his hometown, and also his manor in Hillsboro. He also starred in quite a few movies when he was younger.

Darien and Andrew walked past Mr. Goodell’s former manor.

It’s a shame that his wife wanted the manor to remain empty. I would love to live in there, said Darien