The Shelter

by Peter Foley

  “I’m prepared to die for this family, if, I er, have, I have to for freedom. Thank you, Dad.”

  Megan stirs. “Yeah, you’d die, but would you fight?”

  “Now, hold on,” the Pastor says, “Megan has brought up a sensitive question and you may not understand the gravity of it. All children must face this, you must face no difficulty in facing this kind of thought.”

  Another voice from the Blue Gowns addresses Aiden.

  “Now, Aiden, you’ve been good to us. I know you have your legal training, and you’ve been invaluable to the Temple all these years. So, what do you say? Here’s a question: if the Deep State were coming up the road right now, and we were gonna lay down our lives and fight, you say you would fight and give your life, but would you leave your daughter for the corporatists to have? What would you do in that case?”

  Aiden rubs his chin as his eyes tick over the question. “If it came to that, I would have to take her life.”

  Mutters of “Yes” and “Exactly right” underline some isolated clapping.

  “That’s fine, Aiden. But she’s old enough, she’ll fight. How old is your child?” asks the Pastor.

  Aiden, after a long pause, answers, “She’s eleven.”

  “We fight at eleven,” the Pastor says. “She’d take up a knife and she would fight until she was dead. Unless it came to an overwhelming invasion, then we would gently send her to sleep; we’re already prepared for that. People who are really loving and genuinely compassionate prepare for all such emergencies. Martin Luther King wrote, ‘We must develop the quiet dignity of dying for our cause’. And we likewise affirm that, before we will submit quietly, we will resist actively and put our lives on the line. If it comes to that, we’ve chosen our model; we will not march into the gas ovens, we will fight like those in the Warsaw ghetto. Patrick Henry captured it when he said, ‘Give me liberty or give me death’.

  “If people cannot appreciate a willingness to die for an uncompromised right to exist free from harassment, then they will never understand the integrity, the bravery and the honesty of this movement or the depth of commitment Father has to his principles. Drew, what do you say?”

  Under the heat of attention, Drew’s resolve evaporates like desert snow. “I’d fight for what I believe in. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  A twin flash of inspiration and suspicion twists Nurse Chamberlin’s face, the malady drives her pen over her notebook.

  “Good,” the Pastor says. “I’ve been thinking about you, Drew. I’ve been wondering how to help you. I wondered just how I might support your life, your mind. You’ve been a lost soul for so long but now you’re found. After some consideration, I know exactly what you require. Have I not always said ‘love is a healing remedy’? I have, and it’s true. You see, Drew, I believe it is time that you formed a meaningful romantic relationship here inside Salvation. I believe love is what you’re sorely missing in life. With that in mind, I think it’s best that you take a partner, a wife.”

  Drew stutters. The Pastor continues.

  “You’ll be pleased to know that I have selected a partner for you. Someone who will bring out the best in you. Someone you can trust and grow with. Tonight, I will perform the ceremony. Your partner, ordained by me, is someone I like very much and it’s someone you already know, I believe. She’s proven herself to be very capable. Congratulations, Drew, today, you and Megan will be married.”

  Megan splutters a protest, “But, Dad–”

  “But, nothing. Megan, I can see your relationship with Huxley isn’t working, it’s not healthy, it can never work. I have already given Huxley the news and I’ve partnered him with another. This is my will. You and Drew will be married right here, today. The ceremony will begin as soon as I’ve made the announcement. It will be done.”

  42

  The kitchen

  The Common Room is quiet. Lunch service has recently passed and a few people have chosen the open space as a hangout for the evening. While Barbara sits knitting with red wool, a few silver-haired men huddle around a pattern of domino tiles and a few others loiter, play cards, talk shop, and do whatever they can to entertain themselves. Hazel walks past them and into the kitchen.

  “Courtney!” she pleads in a whisper. The room is empty.

  Other than this room, Hazel has no idea where else to look, so instead of searching for Courtney, she hunts for the key. In a hushed quick fashion, she looks over the countertops, she explores the closets and she rummages through the drawers of stainless-steel cutlery. Finding not a single key, her eyes drift over a sink filled with dirty dishes and sets on an apron balled up on a shelf. She seizes the damp apron and searches its empty pockets, as she unfurls it, it drops to the floor. Reaching down, her vision falls on a series of dark little drops on the ground. They’re small, but numerous. The perfect dark circles lead to the foot of the freezer.

  Curiosity grips Hazel, she can’t resist following the trail. After a glance over her shoulder to the Common Room, she walks to the cold door of the freezer and lays her hands on its chilled circular handle. The door opens with surprising ease.

  In the darkness she sees a faint outline. After a moment, her vision cuts through the gloom of the interior haze and she sees something she will never forget: Tom’s motionless body. His face cries out to her, his naked limbless torso hangs mid-air, ice white and heavy. Below Tom, in a pool of blood, lies Courtney. In one hand she holds a blood-red knife, her other is frozen into a talon and clings to the edge of the door frame. Her face is desperate and decorated with iced tears.

  Hazel slowly, silently backs away from the view. As her thoughts pace and sum into emotional paralysis, she feels a sudden tightness around her throat. At close proximity she sees a tattooed forearm and bicep around her neck, it squeezes and chokes. She lashes out with her hands, throwing them over her head to try and claw herself free, she swings her elbows as hard as she can, but her breathing is now under someone else’s control. She’s lifted off her feet by her delicate neck.

  Kicking legs in the air.

  Swirling in the ears.

  A tightening grip.

  Weakness in the arms.

  Warm blood in the head.

  Throbbing pulse, thick and short.

  The taste of iron.

  Tongue swollen in the mouth.

  Breath escapes and doesn’t return.

  Darkness.

  43

  The wedding

  “Attention. Attention. Would everyone report to the Sermon Hall immediately. It’s with much celebration that I announce the marriage of Drew Samuel and Megan Dwight. All must join to witness the ceremony, which will take place immediately. That is all.”

  Jubilant faces pour into the Sermon Hall. Fluttering ladies surround Megan. She blushes and smiles at the sudden rush of attention. The dusty piano springs to life with a bright, off-key happy melody. People gather around Drew to offer handshakes and warm congratulations.

  “Boy, I knew you and her had a spark, I just knew it. I told Rod, man, I did,” Nick says.

  The hustle and bustle consumes the betrothed couple. Megan glances across the room towards Huxley, who has walked into the Sermon Hall holding Judy’s hand. Megan looks back at Drew with a shallow expression.

  She takes his hand and says, “We hardly know each other, and we may not like each other very much at this moment, but this is Father’s will, so it’s our duty to do this for Father and for each other. I embrace it. I embrace you. I accept that we will spend our lives together. We will have to put in effort, we will have to commit ourselves to making this work, but we can be good for each other. We can learn to love each other. I will let you be my husband.”

  Moments gather, accelerate, twist and turn. The discordant piano keys slow their dance to a half speed, inharmonious rendition of Ave Maria. Before Drew can draw breath, the Pastor is stood at the lectern and the people of Salvation have taken their seats. Drew and Megan stand in front. In Drew’s hand somebody has plac
ed a blue gown.

  “Dearly beloved,” the Pastor begins, “we’ve had some very special occasions that we’ve all celebrated together. From coming here to Salvation, to the birth of little Quincy, and now, today, we gather again to witness and celebrate a special union, the coming together of these two wonderful people, Drew and Megan.”

  The crowd roars their approval, the Pastor shouts above the noise.

  “While it is so true that a man can be made strong with the support of love, it’s equally true that a woman can find great power from the alliance of marriage. It is my honor to wed these two people today, so I bless this union, so that it may be healthy and fruitful, so that it may serve Salvation greatly. There’s nothing nobler or finer in the eyes of Father. While we all know what sour consequences can come from ignoring Father’s will, we also understand the beauty of his vision.”

  Several women dab tears from their eyes.

  “Let us begin. Do you, Megan Dwight, take this man, Drew Samuel, and pledge to be one half of a whole. To bear his children and serve Salvation together for the rest of your life and in eternity? Repeat after me… ‘Father, I take this man, Drew Samuel’…”

  “Father, I take this man, Drew Samuel,” says Megan in a whispered echo.

  “To be my partner in life forever,” continues the Pastor.

  “To be my partner in life… forever.”

  Joyous celebration pushes a wave over Drew as the pressure builds.

  “Drew Samuel, do you in turn accept the love of Megan in a union ordained by Father. Do you honor my will and accept her hand forever? And forsake all others besides her, Father and Salvation? Repeat after me… ‘I, Drew Samuel, take this woman, Megan Dwight’…”

  Drew is silent. The tension rises. The crowd shuffles with disquiet.

  “Drew, I command you, for all that is good you will take this woman in life. I’ll say it again, repeat after me… ‘I, Drew Samuel, take this woman, Megan…’”

  After a long pause, Drew looks over to the crowd, then to the Pastor, then to Megan.

  “I… I…”

  “Say it!” commands the Pastor.

  “I, Drew Samuel…

  “SAY IT!”

  “… I Drew Samuel, take this woman, Hazel…”

  Surprise lights the room. Drew’s eyes widen with the shock of his own words. He turns to the crowd, it glowers back at him. Megan looks to the Pastor, both swell with rage. She balls her fist and takes a step towards Drew. He braces for impact.

  “Father!” A yell comes from the doorway, turning all eyes. Sid walks up the aisle. He lumbers between the seats and towards the lectern with something heavy slung over his shoulder.

  “Oh my gosh!” says a voice in the crowd, triggering ripples of excited talk.

  Sid approaches the Pastor. With a bow, he rests his load on the floor at Drew’s feet and stands back to reveal Hazel’s limp body.

  “That’s her! That’s her!” someone cries.

  “Father! I’m sorry to interrupt – but I found this one snooping around where she don’t belong.”

  The audience look to the Pastor, his eyes glow as he gathers his force. He pounds on the lectern.

  “How dare you motherfuckers deny my will! I have never, in all my life, seen such treachery! Well, I think we all know what needs to be done here. I think it’s clear to all of us that these two motherfuckers need to pay a visit to the fucking Blue-eyed Monster!”

  Underneath animated gasps and excited confusion, Megan loses no time. She pounces on Drew, the Planning Committee follow her lead and pile in. The blows fall at a wicked pace. Drew is unconscious before he hits the floor.

  44

  The monster

  Deep sleep.

  “…So, one of the hamburgers figured it out?”

  Memories of sound.

  “…I’m afraid we can’t, there’s no room in the freezer.”

  Blurred images.

  “…Don’t worry, the Blue-eyed Monster will sort this out, you go make some room…”

  Eyes open, but sheer darkness.

  A crack of blue light shatters the black then vanishes. Through the blanket of night Hazel can’t see Drew, but she can hear him breathing on the other side of the abyss. She finds herself sitting on a chair, her hands are bound at her back, rough material is tied across her mouth. Her head throbs. A cobalt blue flash rips open the black in front of her and vanishes. A cackle calls from the void.

  “Mister Samuelssss…”

  Hazel can see Drew now, to her left, his face is illuminated by flashing blue electric teeth. Like her, he’s sat bound and gagged. His eyes are bloody. The Blue-eyed Monster looms in front of Drew’s slumped face. A bead of blood runs down his cheek.

  “I take this man, Drew Samuelssss…” says the monster.

  The monster pounces and takes a bite of Drew’s chest. Drew’s body sizzles and tenses with an unnatural power. The shock makes his body rigid and tremble. Hazel calls out his name, but the fabric in her mouth reduces her voice to a strained muffle. The Blue-eyed Monster satisfies its hunger and retreats back into the gloom, and with it takes Hazel’s vision. Again, Drew’s heavy rapid breathing is the only sound in the dark.

  With another fissure of blue, the monster reappears at Drew’s shoulder. It lunges and takes another bite. The light of the beast’s mouth illuminates Drew’s body. Vicious sparks hiss and snap upon contact with his skin a second, then a third time. Drew’s muscles ripple again. After the third bite he slumps forward and falls off his chair to the floor. Hazel shouts to him, but only the monster can hear her. She knows she’s next.

  “Hazel Cox… Do you know just what you do to me?” The monster whispers in the dark, revealing itself once again in a bolt of blue. The sizzling crack appears in front of her face, flashing, chewing and heating the air, moving closer until it rests by her eyes. Turning her head away, she shows the beast her cheek and a tear. The monster’s formless mouth spits branches of lightning. She shouts against her muzzle and feels its razor heat on her cheek, followed by the touch of a cold hand on her shoulder.

  “I see you around here… and all the time you do it to me…”

  Slowly, the hand moves from her shoulder down to her breasts. It lingers, squeezes and slides lower, caressing her stomach and gliding down to her knees. She thrashes, but the hand moves towards the edge of her gown and makes its way beneath. Clamping her thighs, she screams until her throat hurts. The claw forces her legs apart and begins to creep. Fingers stroke her inner thigh and crawl along her skin, moving higher, groping, pawing until it reaches the cotton of her underwear. A muffled protest is all she can do to resist. The beast pulls at the waist of her underwear.

  “What is this?” the monster says.

  With a clatter, Hazel’s cell phone falls to the floor. The monster bends down to reach for it, and by a touch of its hand the screen comes to life, casting a white beam upwards and illuminating the Monster’s face; the face of the Pastor.

  With all the ferocity she can summon, Hazel lashes out, striking the Pastor with her knee, toppling him to the ground. The phone falls from his hand and its light is extinguished. Once again she’s plummeted into a chasm.

  “You’re gonna be fucking sorry for that!” shouts the Pastor through the dark.

  Hazel falls silent but her breathing is heavy. With her hands still bound behind her back she rises to her feet, sightless. With retreat impossible, she listens for the Pastor’s breath and struggles against the ropes at her wrists. She takes one small step forward, then another, probing the area in front of her with her foot.

  “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” the Pastor says, crawling around on the floor, searching.

  “You’re gonna dieeee…” He laughs somewhere in the abyss.

  Hazel holds her breath to quell all noise. She hears only the pulse of her heart.

  “I can hear it. I can hear your heart beating, Hazel… my sweet Hazel. I can hear your heart… Would you like t
o know what I’m going to do to you, Hazel? Yes, I’m going to have fun with my new toy. Don’t worry, when I’m done with you, Heaven’s gate will be open and I will feed my church with your corpse.”

  The pulsing inside Hazel’s ears intensifies. She tries to block it out and concentrate on locating the Pastor’s voice.

  “…Resist me and my angels will throw you into the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth inside the doors of Hell. Come to me, Hazel!”

  The scent of the Pastor’s aftershave hits Hazel on a rush of air as he swings a fist. He misses. She kicks into the dark and makes partial contact.

  “You bitch… So, you think you’re a god?” he shouts, swinging his arms in all directions.

  She adjusts her position and swings her leg again. She makes direct contact. She kicks out again and again and knocks the Pastor to the ground. She swings with all her strength, but the Pastor catches her leg and drags her to the floor. She crashes down, landing on her tied hands. Pain shoots up her shoulders and the Pastor is quick on her, beating her around the head. She throws a knee into his crotch, toppling him to one side. The struggle has loosened the bonds around her wrists, she pulls against the coarse ropes and fights her hands free. Scrambling to her knees, she knocks an object across the floor. Reaching out, she grabs it.

  Deciphering it with her hands, she discerns that it’s a meter-long metal pole with a plastic handle. She gets to her feet and swings it, beating the Pastor as he rises up. She grips it tight and beats him harder and harder. Her finger stumbles on a trigger, it sends out a blue electric bolt shooting from the tip of the pole.

  Lit by its shadowy blue light, Hazel sees the Blue-eyed Monster is no more than a crude cattle prod. She pounces on the Pastor, zapping him in the chest with a long unbroken shock. He tries to cry out, but his jaw is clamped, all he can muster is a primal groan. She zaps him again, and again, and again until the Monster’s battery runs dead and no more sparks fly. The Pastor slumps to the floor. She drops the spent cattle prod, removes the gag from her mouth, and pulls up the waist of her underwear. “What’s the weather like in Hell, dickhead?” she says breathlessly.