Before repressing his knowledge permanently, Johnson sought out a monk to confide in. So he went down to the old seminary.
***
“Father,” Johnson said, walking slowly and complacently along the wooded path. His pace matched the priest who walked beside him.
Mark continued, “I believe I have had what can only be termed a ‘demonic experience.’”
“Go on,” the priest said, never one to judge or doubt.
“Specifically,” Mark detailed, “a jaunt to Hell.”
***
The two operatives subtly moved into position on top of a hill with some bushes on its summit.
“My GPS said that these two are the only ones in this vicinity. He has to be one of them,” whispered one of the operatives.
“Alright. We sure no one can see us from the campus?” asked the other.
“Affirmative,” replied the first. “Are you ready?”
The other one shrugged his shoulders and said, “Ah, what the hell.”
***
The monk stopped walking at that word. “Child, you must know that mortals are seldom – if ever – allowed to visit Hell while alive.”
“Father McKinley,” Johnson began, “I do not know much about the Church or Christianity. I simply wish to know if such a journey is possible.” Mark paused. “Tell me, father, is it?
“Did you witness the horrors inflicted upon the damned? Did you fell the constant, dulling pain of guilt? Did you wish to repent and be accepted into God’s loving bosom? If not, then you are speaking heresy. Or you were in an influenced state of –”
Mark cut the man off, “Father, I may not be Christian but I would never speak heresy.” This silenced McKinley. “My partner and I both underwent the same affair. The chances of two people having the same type of unearthly experience under any circumstances are minimal. Now tell me father, was my experience genuine?”
Father McKinley stood silently for a moment, contemplating. “Tell me, Mark, where is your partner now?”
Johnson suddenly saw the monk’s point. “He has been assigned to temporary retirement and is undergoing mental examination. I would have been as well if I breathed a word of this. And now I can see why.” Mark stepped a foot or two away. “I . . . believe I am alright, father. Forgive me, but I wish to walk alone now.”
McKinley smiled. “As you wish, child.” The monk then turned around and walked back to the main campus.
***
From behind the bushes, an operative lowered his periscope and glanced at his partner. “We sure this is the guy?” he asked.
“Positive,” the other operative answered. “You can tell the suits to wait at the end of Path C1. They should intercept him if he doesn’t take a side path.”
***
Johnson continued peacefully down the path. Peacefully, that is, until he heard a twig loudly snap on the path ahead. He would normally disregard it as normal, but no forest animal would be out in this cold.
“Father forgive me,” Johnson said as he reached for his Berreta and cocked it. He daren’t draw it without a good reason, however. He slowly and alertly continued down the path until he came to a four-way crossroads.
“Special Agent Johnson,” suddenly said a nearby generic voice. Johnson turned to his right and saw a black-suited man (very similar to himself) walking towards him. The man was wearing shades despite the fact that the sun was setting.
“We’ve been looking for you,” said another droning voice to Johnson’s left. Johnson looked and saw another black-suited man walking toward him from that direction. Johnson drew his Berreta.
“We believe we have an offer for you,” said the one on his right, still unnaturally calm.
Johnson lowered his weapon and listened.
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