The Church in the Sand and Stars (final)

It was a hot, August evening when we started off the road. Our progress was slow, large rocks and divots made us ride with more caution, not to mention paying mind to the fact we were riding on dirt which altered how we needed to steer our bikes.

The hills drew closer and the sky turned from pink and orange to a darkening shade of blue. The warm air brushed my face as we made our way towards the black wall that was now the hills. There was nothing out here, no trails, no trash, no structures, nothing to indicate anyone had been out this way.

But D kept riding. We rode until we reached the foot of the hills and saw the terrain was too rough for our bikes. It was dark now and we had been riding for about an hour or so.

"What now?" I asked.

D opened Google Maps. "Looks like maybe a half mile or so through these hills until we reach the area Andrew showed us. Shouldn't take us too long."

"Are you serious? We can't see shit and we're about 3 miles out from anything. What if one of us get hurt."

D didn't respond and began walking northbound through a ravine, flashlight in hand. We hiked for about 20 minutes up and down over jagged rocks and dried bushes. By the time we were nearing the end of the hills I was drenched in sweat. Around this time, our radios began beeping in a low, deep tone, indicating our signal was gone. We would not be able to send or receive transmissions. D and I were completely alone.

We walked around the final bend in the ravine and came to an immense stretch of flat, dry land. We had reached the lakebed.

About another mile or so from where we stood was a single structure. It wasn't immediately discernible from that distance but just enough for D and I to recognize it as some sort of building. Without saying a word, we continued north into the lakebed. Andrew hadn't been lying.

A few minutes of walking and the final remnants of sunlight were gone. The sky was black and cloudless, countless stars made their presence known as we continued our approach to the structure. Our immediate surroundings were fairly visible by the bright, full moon.

By the time we were within a quarter mile of the structure, I could see it seemed to be a stone church, in the style of those old Spanish missions. There were no roads, no obvious trails or pathways, no evidence of foot traffic going to or from this church, just a place of worship existing in the vast darkness and sand.

D and I paused and studied the church's silhouette against the stars, its presence mirrored and surrounded by an apparent body of water.

D and I were confused. Not only had we found this unmapped church in the middle of the desert, but there was also a small lake surrounding it. At no point when we were searching Google Maps did we see any indication of water being present in the area. There was no information regarding seasonal bodies of water either, much less during this time of summer. D and I stood in silence for a few minutes before deciding our next move. We were at the edge of the water, the precipice of the unknown. The water was almost completely still, reflecting the stars, the moon, the sky, and the church like a mirror. The warm humidity of a summer night engulfed us, a gentle warm breeze occasionally brushed my face.

"What now?" I asked. I already knew the answer.

"I want to see what's in there."

"I'm not swimming out there."

"It looks shallow. You can see the base of the church, it can't be much deeper than a few inches. If it gets too deep we can turn back."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't overtaken with intense curiosity by this point. Everything we had experienced up to this point felt like it culminated here. I still believed everything was connected by something larger, and I thought I was going to get answers.

"Alright. Let's go." I said.

We understood there was risk to what we were doing, but we had guns, ballistic vests, and were both in good shape. We knew we weren't invincible but we felt competent enough to handle ourselves should any threats arise.

I stepped onto the water and saw its depth was no more than the sole of my boot. I took another step. I was immediately aware of a drastic drop in temperature, enough of a drop for D and I to see our own breath. We were blanketed in that familiar silence, only our breathing, the shuffling of our gear, and our wading the water was audible to us. The wind had completely stopped, and aside from the ripples of our footsteps, the water was completely still. For lack of a better way to describe it, the air around us felt hollow, empty.

As we continued walking through the water, the church's black silhouette growing larger as we drew closer, I looked to the sky. The moon was a bright beacon amongst billions of tiny white lights in an endless expanse reflected on the water. The darkness around us hid the rocky hills in the distance, giving the impression that the flat surface surrounding us ran on endlessly. It was as if we were in space, walking on an endless plain towards a place we were always meant to be. The whole experience was surreal. But despite the dream-like scene around me, the atmosphere was repulsive, hostile even, like we had stumbled into enemy territory.

After a few more minutes we had reached the church and stood at the large, wooden, sun-battered doors. The structure wasn't overly complicated, a stone or adobe building sporting two towers on either side of the wall which bore the wooden door. The church looked to be at least 150 years old by my guess, its bricks and stones torn, and gouged by years of sandstorms, and direct sunlight. At the top of the center wall was a metal cross, rusted, corroded, and forgotten.

"Pop the door." D said, his handgun pointed towards the wooden door.

I nodded and pulled the door open. The silence was shattered by the door creaking on its old iron hinges. Once the door was shut we were plunged back into the unearthly silence.

The church interior seemed to be in no better condition than its exterior. The floor was dry and dusty. The rows of wooden pews were empty, with several broken pews leaning to one side or another. There were several cave ins or openings near places where the walls met the ceiling, allowing the bright moonlight to enter the sanctum. At the front of the church was an empty altar, devoid of preachers or welcoming hands. From what we could tell, there was not a single soul in that dead place. There was no indication, at least to us, that this was an active church.

On the wall behind the altar, was what looked to be a large fresco, its depiction indescernible to us due to our distance and the faint lighting. Without a word, D and I slowly stepped toward the altar like a blasphemous procession, the heavy silence broken by the sound of boots walking across a dust covered, stone floor. Despite being sheltered from the outside by the church walls, the bitter cold did not relent. The only thing making the temperatures tolerable was the fact we had been covered in thick, summer humidity just a few minutes before, however, that novelty was slowly fading.

With my flashlight, I inspected the wall starting at its base where the remnants of a crumbled fresco were present. Its colors were bright greens, blues, and pinks, however, its subject matter had long since been destroyed. On the wall which I suspected had been hidden at some point by the crumbled, brighter painting, was what seemed to be an older, faded, and chipped fresco. It was large, taking up the whole space of the wall. Its primary colors being black and various shades of browns, oranges, and reds. It depicted a black figure standing in what I assumed was black water. It was horned, with lengthy, twisted arms and fingers. Its hands shoveled the upper half of a naked human into its mouth, a secondary mouth near its groin ate the head of another. The being seemed to be much larger than the suffering figures in the pits around it. It was a horrendous visual. After some research, the closest resemblance to what I saw would be "Maestro Dell'Avicenna's Paradiso e Inferno".

By this point, our presence in that vile chapel felt wrong, and still, the congregation mentioned by Andrew and others were nowhere to be found. The flock had been long abandoned by their shepherd, replaced by something else. Who was this place for?

"I'm going outside." D hadn't spoke since we entered the church.

"Wait. What do you think this is?" I asked, referring to the painting in front of us.

D looked up at the demon. "There's something wrong about all of this. I don't like it. I have no idea what this whole place is meant to be and I'll be honest, I don't really want to find out anymore. I'm heading back."

"Yeah, let's go man."

D started towards the door. I spent a few extra seconds, no more than 10-15, and studied the fresco once more. Regardless of how others involved with this place felt towards it, to me, this was a place of malice. I turned to follow D who was already opening the wooden door to the outside. He slipped beyond the door and out of sight. There was a roughly 5- 10 second gap between D exiting the church and me opening the door for myself.

D was gone.

The water was a solid mirror, not a single ripple or blemish was visible on that surface. My confusion quickly turned to panic as I ran around the corners to my left and right.

"D! Where you at!" I called.

No answer, no ripples in the water aside from my own. There was no way D could have walked far enough in that timespan for him to not hear my calls. I circled the entire building without so much as a shred of his presence. For what felt like hours, I circled and re-entered that church in vain. D was gone, and it was like he had been plucked straight out of our existence.

I ran into the darkness and didn't stop until I reached our bikes. D's bike was still parked next to mine. I reached the road, my radio once again able to send and receive transmissions. I radioed to dispatch and briefly described the situation I was in, namely where I was and that my partner was missing. I then asked them to start an airship (helicopter) to assist with a search. I heard the sergeant acknowledge my traffic and informed dispatch he was en route to my location.

The sergeant and other patrol officers were at my location in minutes asking what happened to D. I described everything I felt was immediately relevant to finding him. I gave them the route to get to where we dismounted our bikes, the ravine we took to reach the lakebed, and finally the location of the church. Given the fact that the terrain was too difficult for the department's patrol vehicles (Ford Explorers) to navigate our route, we waited for the airship to come overhead.

At first, everyone's questions were out of concern for D's wellbeing and assumed my cooperation. However, the airship eventually came over the radio, informing us that there was nothing they could see resembling water or a structure in the dried lakebed. The questions stopped. The others were beginning to question my innocence.

After about an hour or so, the sergeant informed me I would be riding with him to the station. Once at the station, I sat by myself in his office for what felt like hours, eventually being told I was going to be placed on administrative leave. I didn't argue, D was missing and by all appearances, I was hiding something about it; and we had lied about our reasons for wanting extra overtime.

I assumed they found D's bike but without the presence of the church, it was easy to understand how they came to suspect that I was lying. Especially when, as I came to find out in the coming weeks, investigators found both our sets of footprints in the sand leading to the lakebed and only one set coming back. To them, my circling of where the church had been implied some kind of struggle between D and I. Bloodhounds lost D's scent near that same area. D was gone, and I knew he wasn't coming back.

Its been about 2 years since then. I'm still on administrative leave and have made a few compelled statements to Admin when ordered, but otherwise, I've been kept in the dark about what's going on with D's disappearance.

I have no answers to what D and I experienced. Bucket, the owner of the abandoned tent in the hills, the residents of the burnt house, and whoever created that fresco in the church, all have their own ideas of what's out there; but what its true form and intentions are, I don't think I will ever know. All I know is that the sand and stars are home to something deeper, and more ancient than I care to think about.

A braver person than I might have tried to go back and find their own answers, but I'm a coward. I can't bring myself to endure that silence, that cold, that deathly still air again. My only hope is that wherever D is, he is not suffering.