The Last Church

by Richard Lee

  Amazing.

  Rachael had presented him with one item, the computer (he could sell it for a small fortune when the war ended—not that he would ever part with it), but he had a feeling she’d brought more back with her.

  When he broached the subject with Rachael, her comrades in arms went defensive and moved back a half step. Rachael was the one to lie and said, “No, not a thing, Professor.” She was a good leader, but a bad liar. He would give her time, something the entire team needed. He was surprised they all hadn’t ended up like Penny. He missed Michael and Josh. He’d never thought of Josh as a hero or Michael as someone who’d run away from the team and project. What had happened to him? The professor feared the worst. The German/Arabian foot soldiers had gotten him at the start of their assault.

  Nothing could be done for them. He would concentrate on helping the three others and whatever could be done to make Penny comfortable where she was resting.

  He shook his head and turned his attention back to the computer. Peter’s computer. He was positive he would find some information on it. Some information he could use to try and answer his question of ‘why.’

  The only item needed to make the computer work in this time was a power splitter. They were cheap and easy to find if you knew where to look. A few days ago he had been surfing the Black Web. Illegal to use but open to all and only dangerous if the authorities decided to do a check on your internal IP address, which was seldom performed.

  No one knew what the government was doing with the war on. Presidents and prime ministers were busy trying to outsmart each other and find a way to peace before this disagreement turned into a fourth war. Which everyone was betting it would. Strange thing was, no one seemed to care as long as he or she weren’t directly involved.

  He found the splitter easily and from a source he had used before. A source he trusted: his brother living in the States. Kyle had always dabbled in the Black Trade, although he called it the grey shade of the law. Moving to Maine had been the perfect decision of his life. He had met some other people who also lived in the grayness, and now he was living it up. He was wealthy and had everything they had dreamed of when they were young and growing up.

  He remembered the day Kyle was to transport to the States.

  His brother had said, “You’ll make it one day, Dale.” They both hugged. “You got the smarts in this family. Work hard and you could end up a professor. Won’t that be something?”

  “You’re the one with the smarts, Kyle.”

  “Then come with me. It’ll be hard for the team to go solo.”

  Dale slapped Kyle on the back. “Get the fuck out of here before you get arrested for being a pussy.”

  Kyle stepped into the transporter. Before the door closed, he said, “If you ever need help with anything, and I mean anything, even help with that stupid quest of yours, I’m just an email away.”

  The door closed, there was a bright flash, and when the door opened again, Kyle was gone. That was thirty-five years ago. He had never seen him again, and contact via email was limited. He was happy for Kyle. He had everything. Professor Dale had a long way to go, but he wasn’t doing that badly.

  He smiled at the memory. They had risen against the odds to be where they were today. Rising from a poor family, which had once been wealthy, was not an easy task. Yet they had both managed, on opposite sides of the law.

  Recently their contact had increased, but with email monitored these days, they discussed only bland matters of life. The only safe way was Direct Messaging. That was how he ordered the splitter. The Black Web was the only way to connect to Direct Messaging.

  He fumbled the splitter connector from the plastic box. He had received it only a few hours earlier and was eager to test it out. He had only one fear. The black market wasn’t the most reliable source around. There was still the possibility the splitter wouldn’t work and could destroy all the information on the HDD. Brother or no brother, it was a risk he was weighing up as the door to his office buzzed.

  The screen above the door showed Rachael waiting patiently outside. She carried a large shoulder bag.

  “Enter,” he said, although it was not required. Sometimes being lost is such a distant past, an old expression would automatically voice itself. He pressed the button and watched the door slide open.

  Rachael wore a small smile. Her eyes didn’t twinkle as they had last month. If her story of what had happened at Peter’s place were true, then she was holding up far better than any books he had read would claim.

  “Rachael, dear.” He stood up to greet her while at the same time dropping the splitter box to the floor next to his chair. “What can I do for you?” His voice sounded warm and friendly, but his smile felt fake.

  “Hi, Professor.” Rachael looked at the floor a moment before raising her eyes to meet his. “I, um, I mean me and Ami and Eric are going to visit Penny.” She readjusted her shoulder bag before continuing, “And we thought, if you had time, that maybe you’d like to come with us.”

  This was unexpected, and such a nice offer that he felt heat rise to his cheeks. He sat back down, almost falling into his chair. Such a coincidence, he had made plans to visit the girl later this week.

  Rachael fiddled with her shoulder bag and seemed very interested in watching her fingers.

  The professor put his elbows on the table and interlinked his fingers. He sighed deeply and said, “I’m very sorry, Rachael, but time is against me today. In fact, I’ve made an appointment for Friday. It’s the only day I can find a moment of free time.”

  “Okay.” Rachael’s voice was down.

  “I’m very sorry.”

  “No, no, it’s okay. I just thought if we all went at the same time, it might...I don’t know...help her somehow.”

  The professor smiled in understanding. From what the doctor had told him over the DV-net-phone, Penny was in a self-induced blockage. She had blocked the entire world. She could still hear and see what was going on, but had decided to ignore everything. The doctors also said once she decided to accept what had happened, then the subconscious would kick in and fire up the conscious and she would be back to her old self in no time.

  The professor frowned remembering that conversation. At the time he hadn’t believed them. He guessed he would see for himself on Friday.

  “Again, I’m very sorry I’m unable to make it today.”

  “Okay.”

  He waited for her to leave, but she remained.

  “Is there something else?”

  After a moment, Rachael hurriedly said, “I’m sorry, Professor, but I lied to you.”

  “Lied?”

  Rachael blushed and slowly nodded.

  “I see.” The professor’s voice was soft and soothing. “And what was it you lied about?”

  “We didn’t get just the computer.”

  “Yes?” he prodded.

  She removed her shoulder bag and tried to unhook the latch.

  The professor was sitting upright in his chair, most of his weight resting on his elbows.

  “Professor, Josh wanted to document our adventure into the past. And after a short discussion we decided to get a digital camera. It seemed like a good idea, but to document the events as they happened we had to steal one.

  “Penny stayed outside while the rest of us went in. The second Josh touched a camera everyone could see us and we them. And so we ran out the store.”

  “Interesting,” the professor said, a little confused as to what she was saying. This was an entirely different story than the earlier one. He decided to let her finish.

  She looked very nervous and he felt sorry for her, as he watched Rachael fumble with the click latch of her bag.

  “We couldn’t see people after that brief second, but we could feel them touch us. I was worried that we might end up stuck in that time zone.”

  The professor nodded. He was eager to see what was in the bag. Rachael had stopped playing with the latch to look at him as she finish
ed the story.

  “Anyway, we got a digital camera and made a video recording of our trip through Opera Sands. And if this darn latch would open, I have the camera to show you. I have no idea how to get it working and I thought possibly you might have some knowledge about these things.” She smiled brightly as the latch on her shoulder bag snapped open. She reached inside and gently lifted out the digital video camera. “This is it,” she said and passed it across the desk.

  The professor was speechless. He took it from her and gently placed it next to the computer. The digital camera setup was the same as that for the computer. He prayed the splitter from his brother worked well.

  “Professor,” Rachael spoke slowly, “you know about the theory of time travel, yes?”

  “Unlike you, I have yet to experience it.”

  Her smile remained but dimmed a little.

  “Do you have a question about your experience?”

  “Well, I just wondered why, when we went back in time, were we generally stuck in a certain second? And only when we interacted with items of the past did we experience a time interaction?”

  The professor slowly shook his head from side to side. “Time travel is still a tricky subject and it’s one that I’m not well versed in. The first question I’d have on this would be, how in the world did it happen?”

  “We don’t know. In one direction of Zone Three there was nothing but sand and then almost out of nowhere, in the opposite direction, stood trees and shrubs and basically a lot of nature.”

  “I see.”

  “I know it sounds make-believe. To fully believe it you’d have to experience it first hand. You know I’m not very good at explaining myself fully.”

  The professor laughed. “Yes, your assignments do require the full understanding of a dig’s working process.”

  Rachael’s smile had shrunk back to the size she’d greeted him with.

  Quickly, the professor changed the subject.

  “How are Ami and Eric holding up?”

  “Ami is fine. She’s a bit stressed lately and complains of having bad dreams, but with her doctor’s help she’ll pull through.”

  “And Eric?”

  Rachael started playing with her shoulder bag as she answered. “Eric is okay.”

  The professor sensed something wrong in her answer. He didn’t expect any of them to turn up for any lessons, not for a couple of months at least. But Rachael and Ami had returned last week. But of Eric, he hadn’t seen a sign or heard anything from him. “But?” he gently prodded.

  “But...” Rachael stopped playing with her bag. She stared at the professor with such a seriousness he had never seen before. For a brief second, she reminded him of Michael. “But,” she continued, “he’s distant. It’s like he is here but he’s not here at the same time. If you talk to him, he’ll answer you, but when he looks at you, it’s like he isn’t really seeing you or anything for that matter.”

  “He might still be in shock,” the professor offered.

  “He won’t go to a doctor or anything.” Rachael’s voice had a tone of worry running through it.

  Suddenly a beeping came from Rachael’s visor. She automatically flipped down the screen.

  “Your friends, I assume, are growing impatient.”

  Rachael nodded. “Yes. We only have a set amount of time to see Penny and no one wants to be late, but I just had to give the digital camera to you. It’s the reason that Josh taped the events as they happened.”

  “Really?”

  Rachael nodded again. “He wanted you to have a complete and accurate account of the trip.”

  This time it was the professor’s turn to nod.

  “I’ll see you in class, Professor.”

  He watched her leave and waited for the door to automatically slide shut before he inhaled deeply and loudly. He hadn’t noticed he had barely breathed since she gave in the camera. He was beside himself with joy and it had taken all his will to act professional and gently answer her questions.

  It was not a good idea to watch the video at his office. For the first time in his life, he would leave work early. But first he needed to test the splitter.

  He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and gently placed the digital video camera inside. Removing a key from his trouser pocket, he placed it in the small hole and locked the drawer. He gave the drawer a couple of shakes to ensure it was securely locked. Satisfied, he searched the floor near his chair for the splitter box. It was resting behind the rear wheel of the chair. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad he hadn’t rolled the chair back to open the drawer. The splitter was delicate.

  He retrieved it and opened the box. From inside he pulled out two small rectangular plastic boxes. The larger of the two had two wires at each end. One of them reminded the professor of holo-photos of the old jack-points telephones had way back when there were dial telephones. The other was circular with magnetic connectors.

  The small box had a circular point connector and he plugged this into the back of the computer where small writing read AC. Into the back of that he inserted one jack-point. The other end he plugged into the room’s mainframe power supply. It had six outlets, but until today he had only ever used one. The mainframe power box sat on the side of his desk.

  That done, he repositioned the laptop computer so that it rested on the desk in front of him. He took a deep breath, fearful of what might happen and depressed the power on button below the fold up screen.

  It beeped.

  The sudden sound caused the professor to jump in his seat. The chair jolted backwards. Its wheels glided an inch over the carpet.

  The laptop’s screen went white then black and a small white cursor flashed at the top of the screen.

  The professor watched it for a full minute while his heart beat slowed down.

  The computer beeped a second time and the screen turned green, followed by a bunch of pictures. He knew these were called short-cuts. Net visors used the same thing for accessing the web or mail.

  He played with the computer awhile, trying to find Peter’s personal files. By chance he clicked a folder called ‘My Docs.’

  “At last,” he whispered.

  There were many files. Two were books he knew Peter had written about sales. Those books were still popular and widely used. There was a file called “Recite” and many titled “Journal 1-1,” “1-2,” “1-3.” The numbers reached “1-9.” That was the last file.

  He double clicked on “Journal 1-1.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Journal Entry 1-1

  Well, this is my first attempt at writing a journal. I’m not sure how to go about writing one of these. I thought I’d better keep a record of what’s been going on in my life since I found this book. It’s written in old text, but I can read it and understand the riddles there in.

  I’m not gonna bother inserting dates as I know when everything happened. I have roughly ten years left and to tell the truth, it doesn’t really bother me. I’d much rather die young, surrounded by this wealth, than dying old and poor.

  How did I get this wealthy?

  Well, as I have already mentioned, I found a book. The title’s translation is something along the lines of “A devil’s wish.” I call it “The devil’s wish book.” I found it behind a bookcase in the antique shop I run. It used to be my parents’, but they gave it to me when Dad retired.

  I had to build an altar and HAD to use the wood from this bookcase. I wondered why at first. There didn’t seem to be anything great about this altar. Then I remembered something Dad told me. “Son,” he said, “you’re looking at a thousand years.”

  It didn’t look that old to me. Christ, I was about ten years old when he told me. I liked it because of the color. It was a dark red and brown mix. Dad told me it was from Egypt. My grandfather had paid a small fortune for it. He had it disassembled and shipped here. It was then rebuilt to look like a bookshelf. He had two cabinets added. Dad told me when he first saw a picture of it, it didn�
��t look like a bookcase. He said it looked like some kind of special table only used for certain occasions, like your Sunday best for church or a wedding. You know what I mean. It was special in that kind of way.

  “Yep, it’s a bookcase now,” Dad said. “The color you like so much—” He smiled. “—it’s from blood.”

  “Way cool,” I remember saying at the time.

  “Yep,” my dad said. “It was bathed in slave’s blood and the color will never fade.”

  When I got older, I didn’t believe that story. Now I do. Like I said, the altar had to be made from this bookcase. The wood was special that way.

  I’ve read a lot of books in my time, mostly horror. I read a lot of Stephen King, Christopher Pike, Ramsey Campbell, Richard Laymon (he’s one of my favorites), Edward Lee and a host of others. I also read those lawyer books and some science fiction. I love reading. Wish I still had time to do that.

  Anyway, I mentioned those books and movies for one reason. Each book or movie—well, not all, but many dealing with demons or devils or witchcraft etc.—had something in common. The good guy or bad guy had an amulet of some kind. It was used to either protect them or to be used for their deeds.

  I have one of those.

  I used to think amulets were shit. You know, cheaply made rubbish. I have a dagger that sucks in people and blood. It’s pretty hard to believe, huh? No, not really. I learned that on my first kill.

  Did you know killing is like a drug? Do it once and maybe you can stop. Do it a few more times and you’re hooked. The look in their eyes when you thrust the dagger into their belly, or slice their necks, is a trip, man. This is what total power feels like.

  But I’ve gotten ahead of myself.

  Being rich rocks, doesn’t it?

  I know it does. I won the lotto three times in a row with only me having first division, each time. I knew I was going to win. It was my first wish after killing two burglars; a muscle bound pussy-whipped prick and his girlfriend. Now she was hot. I disposed of them with the dagger, said a chant for my wish and it came true.