Chapter 9:

A Modern Prophecy

I Failed As a Professional Baseball Player And Now Have To Fight Otherworldly Creatures With Nothing But a Baseball Bat


“Hey you’re the guy from the convenience store,” Bentley said. The old man in chains sat on the far side of the room. A seat had been set up on the opposite side of the desk for Bentley, he walked over and slid into it without concern.

“What are you doing all chained up in here? Who’s running the store while you’re gone?” Bentley had been rushed into the room with this old man who he met on the night before his baseball tryout with no explanation, so naturally he had a litany of questions. Chrysanthemum and Bentley’s conversation on the way over had been short and lacking any real substance.

“I didn’t expect you to call,” she had said.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to either,” Bentley had responded with a nervous laugh.

“Well I’m glad you did,” Chrysanthemum said with a smile that looked as if it were supposed to come off as friendly but seemed rather forced.

“Before anything happens I just wanted to apologize for everything I said last time, that wasn’t like me and—”

“Don’t mention it Bentley.”

“Yeah but I just need you to know that I’m not normally—”

“I said don’t mention it Bentley,” she had said, her voice taking on a sharp frigidity that reminded Bentley of the steel knife against his throat.

She had then given Bentley a quick tour of the base and its main room, a massive circular room that looked to Bentley like some futuristic train station. The walls all the way around the room were completely covered in televisions displaying what seemed like live security footage. Men in lab coats mashed away furiously at five-person control panels, keeping tabs on the many televisions. A large circular table sat in the center of the room with a small camera built into the middle of it projecting a 3-dimensional holographic image of the earth.

After the tour, Chrysanthemum had told Bentley that before he could officially start working as a member of the organization that he would have to meet with a strange employee.

“You mean the one with insight or whatever?” Bentley had asked, remembering their prior conversation.

“Exactly,” she had said before hurrying Bentley into the scary looking room where he now found himself.

The old man still clearly harbored some lingering worries about Bentley’s character, as his eyes narrowed at him similar to the way they had during their first meeting. Though, they seemed to have softened ever so slightly towards him since then which Bentley figured must be due to the fact that he no longer dressed like someone who had been living in a ditch for weeks. Bentley wore a freshly ironed white button-up shirt, his nice black overcoat on top, and a pair of black dress pants. Bentley’s hair was freshly cut as well, he may have been prone to angry outbursts and self-loathing, but he knew how to clean-up when tasked with making a first impression.

“I’m afraid there are no explanations I can give that would satisfy you with regards to those questions,” the old man said, “For many years now I’ve been a prisoner here, but sometimes I choose to be somewhere else simultaneously if there are things I’d like to witness… the call you received that night was one of those things.”

“Riiiiiiiight,” Bentley said, “Are you sure you’re not going senile? I’ve heard solitary confinement can do that to a person, especially someone as ancient looking as you.”

The old man delivered a swift flick to the center of Bentley’s forehead.

“What’d ya do that for?” Bentley rubbed the spot on his head with his eyes closed.

“Ancient as I may be, I’m still too young to refrain from taking offense to such comments,” he said.

“So what is it you need to talk to me about? I was told that I basically have the job so I would be a bit chafed if this turned out to be some type of job interview.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” the old man said, “Think of it more like a psych evaluation meets a palm reading.”

“No offense, but these hands are reserved only for my sister and hopefully Chrysanthemum someday,” Bentley said, pulling his hands into his chest and shrinking away from the old man.

“I will not actually be touching your hands so you need not worry about that,” the old man said with a sigh, “Although I wish you would at least try and hide your disgust.”

Bentley relaxed and returned his hands to the table.

“I’m sorry,” Bentley said, “I never really interacted with anyone outside of my family growing up so my social skills are probably a bit lagging. My sister would tell me that I was ‘honest to a fault’ or something like that.”

“I suppose that will make it easier to trust anything you tell me,” the old man said.

“I may be unreliable on a variety of fronts but in terms of telling the truth I’m as trustworthy as they come, so ask away,” Bentley said, not realizing he had proudly announced his own inadequacies.

“First, I need you to close your eyes.”

“Wha?! I knew you were gonna try something old man,” Bentley said.

“My arms and legs are in shackles for Heaven’s sake,” the old man replied exasperated, “It will just make it easier for me to resonate with you if we close ourselves off to sensory distractions.”

“Then we should probably do something about the stench of mothballs that you’re giving off.”

“Just close your eyes!”

Bentley relented and shut his eyelids. He knew that the old man truly meant no harm due to the warmish aura emitting from the man, something he must have missed in their first encounter at the convenience store.

The old man began to hum, first searching for his pitch and then raising and lowering his voice melodically to form the tune to a song that Bentley had never heard before but somehow seemed to recognize. It was one of those songs that forces one to visit memories that don’t exist, a song that reeked of familiarity even upon a first listen.

“You may reopen your eyes,” the old man said.

When Bentley opened his eyes, he was still seated with the old man, but they were no longer in the dungeon-esque room that they had been in moments ago. They sat side by side on the top of a bunk bed. Judging by the wooden make-up of the walls and ceiling, Bentley correctly assumed that they were in a log cabin of sorts. A small fan hung from the ceiling of the room, spinning rapidly, sending a slight chill through the otherwise warm room. Sunlight streamed in through a small circular window on the wall behind them, like angelic hands caressing their backs. The bed they sat on was made with a plain blue comforter and various pillows of numerous shapes and sizes, the decorative pillow in front read ‘Gone Fishing’ with the g in fishing having been drawn to look like its lower half was a fish hook.

“Where are we?” Bentley felt oddly comfortable in the unfamiliar room.

“Our physical forms are still in the organization’s headquarters,” the old man said, “Our consciousnesses are elsewhere, somewhere I figured would be more relaxing.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean but I can’t argue with the fact that this place looks like the dictionary definition of peaceful,” Bentley said.

The old man smiled in response to this.

“You should smile more often,” Bentley chimed, “Maybe if you tried to look a little less scary they wouldn’t keep you chained up in that room.”

“I’ll let you know that I let them keep my physical body chained up in that room,” the old man said with a laugh.

Any tension that may have previously existed between the pair had vanished with the change in scenery.

“Is this where you grew up old man?”

“No, but it’s the closest thing to it that I can show you,” the old man said.

The old man spoke in vague terms that Bentley was having trouble grasping, he was like a friendly grandfather who seemed to have trouble keeping his thoughts in order. However, Bentley could not escape the sneaking suspicion that the old man knew far more than he gave him credit for. After all, it was undeniable that Bentley had been inexplicably transported to this log cabin and that the old man seemed to be behind it. It couldn’t possibly be a hallucination because the soft feathery down of the mattress beneath him was far too different from the rusted metal chair he had sat in at the headquarters.

Despite his lack of a reaction, Bentley had been surprised by the apparent teleportation but after the many other surprises Bentley had faced recently, such as disappearing lemur men, indecipherable dreams, and giant eel monsters from hell, he decided not to question this rather pleasant one any further.

“Now,” the old man continued, “There are things I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Of course,” Bentley said.

“Why did you end up making the decision to join D.U.V.?”

Chrysanthemum had mentioned to Bentley over the phone that the organization, which up until that point had simply been called ‘the organization’ around him, was in reality called D.U.V. (pronounced “dove”). This stood for the Department for the Underworld’s Vanquishing. The symbolism of the dove and its association with heaven was not lost on Bentley, but he had always been annoyed by things that tried too hard to be symbolic and was thus unimpressed.

“Honestly, I’m sure other people have more valiant reasons than me, but I only wanted in for the money,” Bentley said with a shrug, “I was given a chance to be a hero to my sister and provide a better life for her so I took it.”

“And you think that such a simple motivation as that will be enough to keep you moving forward when faced with seemingly insurmountable struggles?”

“I think it’s the only motivation that would be enough to keep me going no matter what,” Bentley said, “Things like desiring revenge and wanting to save the world are grand and all—”

“But?”

“But those things are almost too grand I think. There are no checkpoints and thus no way that you can feel like you’re moving forward. They’re big sweeping goals that are either achieved or unachieved. Whereas with money, I see my work coming to fruition every week. I have something tangible to work for in the form of a paycheck. Intense feelings for revenge and such fade over time, but with every dollar I make, I can plan on doing something else with May once she wakes up that would have never been possible before. I get to watch as the medical debts dwindle and I build up money to pursue life’s pleasures with my younger sister. There is no ceiling to my goal, I only watch as the possibilities for the life I can help her lead increase, that way I will always have something to work for. I don’t care what kind of monsters I’ll have to face, my sister will wake up to the most luxurious life that anyone has ever experienced.”

“I see,” the old man said, pinching the soft blue comforter between his fingers.

“It may seem stupid but that’s the honest truth,” Bentley affirmed.

“It is indeed an honest answer, and for that reason I can accept it,” the old man said.

A bird began to chirp from outside of the window, breaking up the silence that this odd pair had drifted into since the old man’s acceptance.

“I suppose now I should tell you about the real reason I needed to meet with you so suddenly,” the old man said.

“Is this the palm reading part?”

“Yes, it’s a fortune telling of sorts but not the kind that you get for a few bucks at a mall kiosk.”

“Is this the insight you have that Chrysanthemum kept telling me about?”

“Exactly. It’s not some guessing game, I can definitively see the different futures that will await you depending on the choices you make at certain crossroads in life.”

“So can you tell me if my sister wakes up? Or if Chrysanthemum and I end up getting married?”

“Well if I delved into such specifics then we would risk changing said outcomes,” the old man said.

“That feels like a bit of a cop out,” Bentley whined, his eager expression having shifted into a pout.

“What I can tell you will feel rather vague for this reason I’m sure, but I promise you that it is absolutely necessary.”

“Alright,” Bentley said, “Hit me.”

The old man took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing.

“There’s trouble coming this way Bentley, trouble unlike anything humanity has ever seen. I’m sure you have been told a good deal by Chrysanthemum but the Hellgate is widening by the minute and eventually there will come a day when Earth and all its inhabitants are swallowed up by Sheol. The world will be engulfed in everlasting fire and overrun by bloodthirsty Cerbs of all kinds. That is hardly the worst of it though. There is one particular being in Hell who will be able to emerge through the gate if it is allowed to fully open. If this happens then there is no hope for any living thing’s survival. Everyone and everything will perish in the worst way possible.”

“Why are you telling me about all of this?” Bentley’s hands had started to shake and his colorless face made him look more dead than alive. This man would’ve been a riot telling horror stories around a campfire, because every word of his hung in the air like a noose, promising calamities to come. If this was intended to motivate Bentley before he went out into the field then it was failing miserably, making him feel more hopeless about the impending doom than anything.

“Because you are the centerpiece to all of this, the gear that makes everything turn, the star which all else orbits. You, Bentley Flynn, are the key that will either save this world or plunge it into hellfire,” the old man said.

“Me?” Bentley’s brain fizzled out like a tablet dropped in water. He was the most useless person to ever exist, he couldn’t even help his family or secure a spot on a minor league baseball team, and now here he was being told that he was the key to preventing the coming apocalypse. It didn’t make any sense. Being a superhero tasked with saving the world may be what every young boy dreams about, but Bentley quickly discovered that having the responsibility genuinely dumped on one’s shoulders was anything but exciting. Bentley felt ready to faint, fall off the top bunk of the bed they sat on, and faceplant onto the wooden floor below.

“I know this is sudden and I apologize, timing never was my strong suit, but the fate of the world does rest in the palm of your hands. You have a good soul so I have faith in you, however I also sense an immense anger and capacity for hatred within you. Therefore, everything will depend on the man you choose to be in the end. I cannot lie to you and say that it will be an easy choice. Your future holds unimaginable pain and suffering. You will lose many of those you love and will see things that will haunt your dreams. You will teeter shakily on the edge of insanity for a good portion of your existence. Still… a time will come when you have to make a choice. Will you save this world, despite all you will have been through up to that point? Or will you allow the sweet darkness to overtake you? Like I said before, it will all depend on the man that you choose to be Bentley.”

Bentley removed his head from his hands and noticed that at some point during the monologue, they had returned to the cell in D.U.V. headquarters. His head was running amok with thoughts that he could not comprehend. He had yet to feel the true weight of the burden he had been given and still felt crushed simply by the prospect of having to carry it. Bentley wanted to sink into the floor and disappear where nobody could find him. After touting his own worthlessness for so long, to have so much expected of him so suddenly seemed somehow worse than the alternative of being a nobody. Hell? The end of the world? More pain and suffering? It felt beyond what his already fragmented heart could handle. How could he be the key to fixing everything anyways? He wasn’t special in any way. His only three traits were the fact that he hated himself, his skill with a baseball bat, and his affinity for lemon flavored snacks. None of these things qualified him for anything, so why was he considered essential to saving the world from destruction? Despite all this, Bentley could not shake one simple yet painfully human idea keeping him from walking away.

“So if what you're saying is true and I’m as important as you say I am… then that means I might deserve a pay raise sooner rather than later,” Bentley said.

The old man seemed a bit taken aback by this comment. It appeared his insight into the future had not seen this coming.

“Umm… well… uhh… I suppose yes. You are a vital piece of the puzzle so you would most likely receive a hefty bonus if you saved the world,” the old man said.

“Then I’m in. I’ve already dealt with pain and suffering. I’ve already lost almost everyone I loved. Dreams that aren’t nightmares are few and far between for me. And sitting on the fence between sanity and psychosis is a position I’ve gotten used to. I have nothing to lose and only things to gain. I’m going to stay alive, save the world, pay off my medical debt, and take my sister on a vacation to Okinawa when she wakes up. Maybe Chrysanthemum will even come with us at that point and we can treat it like some anime filler episode.”

“Now it feels like you are the one not making much sense. But if you are aware of the struggles you will have to endure, then I suppose my work here is done,” the old man said.

“Thanks old man,” Bentley said, “If they ever let you out of these shackles then I’ll let you come to Okinawa too.”

With that, Bentley pushed himself up from the chair and made his way to the door, filled with a newfound and rather ignorant resolve. The old man clasped his chained hands together and muttered a simple prayer as Bentley strutted away.

The lemur-man will tear this boy apart,” the old man concluded sorrowfully.