by David Dwan
A rumble of whispers ran through the crowd and Ross saw, despite the obvious mistrust of the church here, several of the older people cross themselves. He caught Rosa out of the corner of his eye doing the same. He chanced a glance at her and could see the beginnings of tears glisten in her dark eyes.
Still followed by the spotlight the children stopped in the very centre of the square but continued to walk in place, eyes closed, hands clashed in prayer as the young girl went on with her impassioned narration.
Ross caught the odd word he understood here and there as she spoke. ‘Hauser’ came up several times as did ‘iglesia’ which he had heard one of his Spanish colleagues say a few times during his time in the seminary. That meant church if memory served. Then ‘padre’, but more disturbingly she ended with ‘diablo’. He didn’t need a degree in Spanish to know what that meant.
“Diablo!” The girl shrieked again after a moment of silence. Then a hiss as two large dry ice machines either side of the stage flooded the square with smoke. As it was a windless night the smoke soon settled until it was a blanket over the entire area, covering the taller children from their waists and up to the chests of the smaller ones.
The smoke drifted over to where Ross was seated and he had to waft it away, he noticed some of the audience actually taking a few steps back to avoid it getting too close to them.
Back over by the front of the stage, the dry ice shifted as if touched in a light breeze. Ross strained to see and thought he caught sight of a large dark shadow within its thick billowing mass. There was a murmur of discontent from the crowd at this and some of the smaller children watching clutched to their parents legs or demanded to be picked up so they could bury their heads in familiar bosoms. Again some of the older villagers crossed themselves others looked away altogether.
What kind of celebration was this? Ross thought to himself with a growing sense of unease.
Yes, as he peered into the gloom Ross could definitely see something moving now within the sea of dry ice like some aquatic predator moving towards where the six children were still blindly praying. The young priest got a sudden stab of fear. Just what exactly was he witnessing here in this small none descript village in the middle of nowhere? A harmless tradition? Or some horrendous, blasphemous ritual sacrifice?
What if Hauser didn’t just banish so called demons? What if he could create them too? Christ what if those six children weren’t players in a show, but lambs to the slaughter? After all hadn’t Ross thought that the way the villagers had first greeted Hauser’s appearance was bordering on the messianic?
Ross let out a low curse under his breath and tried to push the lunatic notion out of his mind, but failed as the dark shape moved fluidly just under the cover of smoke and began to circle the children. He looked up at were Hauser was holding court. The old man was just sitting watching passively sipping his drink. The woman who had brought him his drink however was standing with her arms wrapped around herself with the look close to horror on her face.
Jesus Christ, what was this? Ross was suddenly all too aware of just how out of place he was here, and just how far away from home he had travelled. And most of all just how much this place hated the church. He looked at the six children, dressed like a church choir in their cassocks. Or were they sacrificial robes?
Then Ross, along with most of the watching crowd, cried out in shock as the thing under the smoke suddenly reared up in front of the children. It was silhouetted where the suddenly blinding spotlight reflected off the dry ice it emerged from, making a nonsense of its physiology. It was big, Ross could make out that much, but its limbs seemed too long for its body. Then its black mass of a head almost split in two revealing a fleeting glimpse of dark vicious looking teeth.
“Jesus, God!” Ross shrieked as the thing lunged at one of the children. Many in the crowded echoed this but to his disbelief more still were whooping and laughing at the sight. Some threw their hands in the air and others actually clapped as the child screamed and his stomach seemed to explode in a shower of thin entrails. A moment later the child was gone, lost in the smoke.
SEVENTEEN
Ross got to his feet and felt his head swim as the shock of it hit him. Someone was at his side, he turned, it was Rosa, she had a hold of his shoulders. “Ssh, it’s alright, Father. Look.” She said pointing back to the scene of execution.
But he could do nothing but stare at the look of mild amusement on her face. “What is this madness?” He said and she physically took hold of his face and turned him back.
The remaining five children all scattered as the smoke began to dissipate. “Deja de!” It was another child’s voice coming from the stage.
Ross knocked Rosa’s hands away from his head and looked on at the surreal sight. A boy of perhaps eight was standing next to the girl on the stage, he was dressed exactly like Hauser, complete with fake white beard and white wig sticking out from the bottom of a homemade Panama hat.
The crowd went wild. And began chanting; “Hauser, Hauser!”
Back in the square the creature reared up again as the smoke began to dissipate from all around it. It took Ross a moment to process what he was seeing. It was a puppet! Now that the illusion was fading along with the smoke, he could see it was being operated by four master puppeteers all dressed in black. Two were controlling the four twisted limbs, one in front one in back. Whilst the other two were working the massive misshapen head and jaws.
“Hauser! Hauser!” The chant continued as the child playing the old man raised a piece of paper above his head. The ‘creature’ coward seeing this and the crowd cheered.
Up on the balcony, Ross could see that both Hauser himself and the once scared woman at his side were chanting and clapping too.
“What the fuck is this place?” Ross said.
The mini Hauser jumped down off the stage and began to circle the cowering puppet. He lunged trying to touch the paper to the thing, but it dodged dramatically which won a cry of “ole!” from the crowd. He lunged twice more each time just missing the target as they continued dancing around each other. Then finally the boy made a feint left and as the thing moved to avoid the anticipated contact, he leapt to the right and slammed the paper into its chest where the paper stuck.
The crowd let out a roar of approval as the puppeteers raced around the square making the creature convulse very convincingly until finally they threw it into the air letting it fall hard to the ground and made their exit leaving the puppet in a crumbled heap.
The victorious child put one foot on it and raised his hand in victory.
The place erupted and all the main lights came back on.
“Dulces para todos!” The boy shouted and at this a dozen screaming kids ran into the square and began to beat and pull at the puppet which burst open showering them with a mixture of confetti, sweets and treats of all shapes and sizes.
Ross half sat half fell back down onto the bench where Rosa joined him. “What the..?” Was all he could muster with a shake of the head. She thrust a fresh bottle of beer into his hand and he took a long swig.
The child who had been the creature’s victim got to his feet to join in the free for all for candy as did the other performers. Ross could now see that in fact his guts were nothing more than strips of red ribbons stuffed under his cassock.
He took another long pull on the beer draining half of it and gasped, not caring this time if anyone heard. “That’s an interesting looking piñata,” he said watching as the destroyed remains were dragged from the square. The band reappeared on stage and began playing a slower number to which several of the villagers began dancing to.
“There is an interesting story behind it,” Rosa said. “You look like you could do with some food, Father.”
In all the excitement Ross had forgotten just how hungry he was, he took another drink and looked at the beer, his second, which was now three quarters gone. What with the heat and the floor show his head was beginning to swim and this thoughts clo
ud somewhat.
“I think that would be a good idea,” he said. Ross looked up at the balcony to see Alicia was up there now talking with Hauser and the middle aged woman. The German was clearly not happy with something and Ross reasoned that he was the topic of discussion. This was confirmed when Hauser looked directly at him for a moment, even at that distance he could plainly see a look of contempt on the old man’s face. Then back to the two woman who were clearly haranguing him.
“Poor Hauser hasn’t got a chance,” Rosa said getting to her feet. She gestured up to the balcony. “You must understand,” she continued. “Hauser has had it very hard, and from what he tells us much of that has been due to the indifference of your Vatican.”
“They’re trying to convince him to talk to me.” Ross said.
“Yes, Gabriela has a way with him, he can be a how you say, old bastard? At times, but he has a good heart, and our love. She will talk him around.”
“But you don’t even know why I’m here.” Ross told her.
“No, but it must be of great importance for you to come all the way from England. Besides, he knows we will not let you take him away.”
“As I said to Alicia, it’s not like that. Something’s going on, back in Europe. God I don’t even really believe it, but I really could do with talking to him. Apparently he’s got experience in...” He had to think for a moment before adding lamely. “Things”
“Oh, that is true for sure,” Rosa said. “We here in Santuario know that more than most.”
Ross couldn’t help thinking back to the bizarre show he had just seen. He shuddered slightly as he wondered what events had inspired such a twisted tale.
“Patience, Father. I’ll get you some food and another drink?”
“A soft drink, please?”
“Of course,” Rosa said with a smile. “Yes, patience. Poor Hauser will be much more accommodating after another bottle and five more minutes with Gabriela and my Alicia.” With that she set off towards one of the large barbeques that was still blazing away full blast.
Ross finished his beer and looked back up to the balcony. Sure enough, the older woman was still speaking to Hauser who actually seemed to be shrinking further and further down in his chair as she spoke.
EIGHTEEN
It was sometime later when a reluctant Hauser finally relented and had agreed to grant the English priest a few moments of his precious time. Thanks in no small part to the opening of a second bottle of his favourite local wine and of course the insistence of his housekeeper/conscience and voice of reason, Gabriela.
Ross was sitting on Hauser’s balcony now, waiting for the German to make an entrance. He looked down into the village square which had long since been cleared and the last of the celebrants, young and old, had wandered off into the night and home.
The priest checked his laptop again like a junior partner waiting to make a power-point presentation to the chairman of the board. He tapped the keyboards touch pad once again to stop the computer go into hibernation mode as it had threatened to do ever since he had turned the machine on, some thirty odd minutes ago now.
He cursed having not thought to bring a mains adaptor with the two pin configuration favoured by Mexico but checking the battery life he was relieved to see it was still pretty much full, indicating a good couple of hours of power left. Surely that would be enough if Hauser didn’t keep him waiting too much longer.
Raised voices speaking heatedly in Spanish drew Ross’s attention over to the large double patio doors that led out on to the balcony. Although there were a set of delicate lace curtains drawn across it, he could see two silhouettes beyond engaged in fierce debate. About him Ross had no doubt and wondered if perhaps Hauser had changed his mind and was refusing to see him after all, even if only for a few minutes.
Ross shook his head wearily. It was too late and he was far too tired for this. He was feeling more than a little drowsy after such a long and eventful day as it was. Let alone after the eleven hour flight, three hour taxi ride not to mention having the bejeezus scared out of him by a bunch of kids and a monstrous, misshapen piñata.
He let out a long sign of despondency and rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “What the fucking hell am I doing here?”
“I thought priests weren’t supposed to curse?” A voice said from behind him.
“You kidding?” Ross said not looking, the voice was clearly German. “I learnt all my best swear words in the seminary. We used to have competitions.”
“I bet you did,” Hauser replied. “Still, you should be glad Gabriela doesn’t speak a word of English, even the dirty ones.”
“Crap!” Ross turned to see Hauser standing in the doorway with Gabriela. “Sorry,” he said to the woman flustered, then remembered she didn’t (thankfully) understand.
The woman simply smiled at him then fixed Hauser with a look of such venom Ross was doubly glad she didn’t understand. “Sé amable, Hauser,” she said then to Ross with a nod. “Padre.”
“Sí, Sí,” Hauser said to her as she moved back through the doors and shut them leaving the two foreigners alone.
Hauser sat down at the table across from the priest. He poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle in front of him and even though there was a second glass he just placed the bottle back down an took a sip.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Ross said to get the conversation started.
The German shrugged and took another sip before indicating after Gabriela with a nod of the head. “Believe me, I didn’t have much choice.” Hauser said and eyed the priest from under his hat. “Still,” he relented after a moment’s contemplation. “You have come a long way.”
Ross nodded. “Tell me about it,” he said wearily. He gestured down into the square. “That was quite a show,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s fast becoming an annual tradition here,” he said. “But the children love it.”
“Strange story. Is it some sort of local ancient myth?”
Hauser took another sip of wine. “Local, not so ancient,” he replied and looked off into the darkness beyond the light of the balcony and to some distant memory.
Ross studied the older man trying to get a handle on him. Close up, he looked much more haggard than his body language at a distance early had indicated. Then he had the air of a much younger man about him, his gait, and the way he held himself. But his physical appearance added ten years to him.
Hauser smiled slightly obviously sensing his scrutiny. “So, let’s have it. Why have you travelled over five thousand miles to see someone who I’m sure you know doesn’t give a shit about the Vatican’s latest woes? Whatever they are these days.”
“Yeah, Father Mendez said you might feel like that.”
“So, it was old José that sent you. How is that Spanish bastard? Still holed up in that tomb of a Vatican library?”
“Truth is I’ve no idea. I’ve never actually met the man.”
Hauser seemed surprised at this. “You’re not one of his God squad?”
Odd term, Ross thought. “No,” he replied. “Whatever that is.” This won a frustratingly knowing smile from the German. Was this some joke between Hauser and Mendez? One which Ross wasn’t privy to, but perhaps a part of?
‘What do you get if you send a priest half way around the world?’ Type of thing. Ross didn’t much like the thought of being a punchline in this routine of internet demons and remote Mexican villages.
As he sat there looking at the smug German, Ross could once again feel the events of the last few days catching up with him. All of a sudden he became aware of the absurdity of it all. Maybe it was some cosmic joke or something after all. Ross suddenly felt a flash of anger.
He had spent the last few minutes rehearsing in his head just how to approach the subject of demon time with the German. As if he was truly beginning to think any of this was real. Demons? He felt like he had let himself be railroaded this whole time.
What was he doing here? He fu
med inwardly. Certainly the show demon time was real enough, and yes it had caused a lot of pain and distress to four of his fellow priests over its short lifetime. But surely, surely it was all smoke and mirrors.
He thought of the puppet and how, albeit briefly, he had believed such a thing could exist. It was easy to be drawn into it all, especially if you add a potent mix of suggestion and good old fashion TV special effects to the equation.
Oh, to hell with it, Ross told himself and fixed the German with a look which he secretly hoped had an edge of mockery to it.
“I’m here,” he finally said. “Because Father Mendez said that you caught a demon once.” He was impressed he managed to keep a straight face.
The German didn’t so much as flinch. “More than once,” he replied not missing a beat. It was said without the least bit or irony or humour which took Ross aback a little.
Okay, if that’s how we are playing it, Ross thought. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Have you ever heard of a man called Michael Davis?”
Hauser shrugged. “Not that I remember,” he replied. “Why?”
“Rumour has it that you sold him a demon a while back.”
A flash of recognition bloomed in Hauser’s grey eyes. “Christ, yes. Back in England!” He shook his head remembering. “It was shameful really. The poor bastard was so scared out of his mind I could have sold him anything I wanted to. Yes, it was one of my last encounters.”
“For real?”
“Sure, the thing was there to reap all kinds of shit on his sorry body and soul. I had a tip he was a target, so all I had to do was keep an eye on him and wait for it to strike. Mind you as it was I was nearly too late. Still, I stopped it and sold him the thing plus the means of keeping it bound. Easy money. Don’t know why I never thought of doing it earlier, I could have made a fortune over the years.” He laughed at his own foolishness.
“Why would you do that?” Ross asked.
“Why not? He practically begged me to once he’d changed his trousers! The poor fool had no idea the thing would only last a few hours at most. God knows what he thought he could do with the thing. It properly turned to dust before he could figure out where he was going to put it.”