by Amy Cross
“Give me a break,” Sam mutters.
***
“There's a voice in the darkness,” Raven says as, half an hour later, he sits at a table on the stage, with one of the locals, Ben Tovey, sitting opposite. “A voice calling to you, Ben. It's a woman. Have you lost a woman?”
“Not really,” he replies cautiously.
“A man, perhaps?”
“My Dad died when I was -”
“When you were young?”
“How did you know that?”
“He's here now,” Raven continues. “He has a message for you, Ben. He wants to tell you something that's very important to him, but I'm struggling to hear his words. I need you to focus on your memories of him, try to remember what it was like to be held in his arms. Try to remember the sound of his voice, the lilt and the cadence... Anything that might make it easier for you to hear his voice tonight as he speaks to you from the spirit world.”
“Jesus Christ,” Sam whispers to herself, sinking down in her seat. “This is ridiculous.”
“I think I remember,” Ben says after a moment, although he sounds very hesitant..
“Your father loves you very much,” Raven continues. “That's the message he wants me to give you. He also says he's sorry that he never got a chance to say a proper goodbye to you.”
“He said goodbye,” Ben replies. “He was in hospital for days. We talked loads.”
“But not the goodbye he wanted,” Raven adds. “He felt there were still so many things he could tell you, because you were too young.”
“Oh,” Ben says with a frown. “Right. Okay.”
“He says he's sorry that he left things the way he did.”
“I thought he left things pretty well.”
“There were things he didn't tell you,” Raven continues. “He was so proud of you. He feels that he never truly let you know how much he respected you for the way you live your life.”
“Well,” Ben replies, “that's... nice to know.”
“God helps us all,” Sam mutters, looking up at the ceiling.
***
“This poor soul,” Charles Raven says darkly, standing next to a motionless body on the stage, “died just two nights ago. He'd been suffering from a fever, and we heard of his plight as we made our way to Rippon. I felt moved – no, compelled – to help him, so we diverted to his town, but alas it was too late. All we found was a family in mourning, and a man called to the other side far too soon. And yet now, here tonight, in this room, I feel that I can do something that no-one has done before.”
He reaches down and places a hand on the dead man's forehead.
“I can bring him back,” he adds, causing an audible gasp from the crowd. “I can call his spirit back from the other side and I can raise him so that he walks again. But I can only do this if I have the support of every single person here tonight.” Turning to the audience, he pauses. “If anyone here doubts that they have the faith required to assist, then leave now. You will only reduce the chances that the rest of us have. I'm not judging anyone, but only those with true faith can help us in our mission here tonight.”
Sam raises a skeptical eyebrow. All around her, people are muttering to one another, but no-one takes the invitation to depart.
“You all feel the power of faith?” Raven continues, glancing at Sam, almost as if he knows that she has doubts. “You. You seem to have doubts.”
“Me?” Sam replies, hating the fact that suddenly everyone is looking at her.
“If you lack faith, I must ask you to leave.”
“I've got faith,” she tells him. “Loads of it. Buckets of the stuff.”
“I hope so,” he replies, before turning to look across the crowd. “Satan is close. I can feel him in this town. He often attends my shows, but this time... This time I feel that he has a special attraction to Rippon.”
“You don't know how right you are,” Sam whispers to herself.
“This man's name was Robert Shaughnessy;” Raven adds, looking down at the dead body. “His wife is here tonight to witness the moment when God allows us to bring this poor unfortunate soul back to the world of the living. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I ask only that you join with me in calling Robert Shaughnessy's soul back from the darkness. Encourage him to rejoin us in God's world, in a world of light and happiness and, most importantly, a world of faith! Let him know that we believe in him!”
Sighing, Sam watches as Raven leans down and kisses the dead man's forehead. Although she's impressed by the theatricality of the whole evening, she finds it hard to believe that anyone actually accepts it on face value. The whole thing feels far too fake for her to take things seriously.
“Join hands,” Raven continues. “Everyone join hands.”
A befuddled murmur spreads through the crowd.
“I beg you,” Raven adds. “Join hands and let the energy flow from one soul to the next. It's the only way we can amplify our faith and build it to the point where it might bring Robert back from the afterlife.”
To her surprise, Sam feels the people in the adjacent seats suddenly reaching out to take her hands. She flinches initially, before realizing that she might as well let them do it. After all, she knows that this whole thing is a charade, and she doesn't want to give Charles Raven an easy excuse when the 'dead' man fails to rise. Then again, she's convinced that the man isn't dead at all, that this is all some kind of huge confidence trick. Taking a deep breath, she watches the stage while trying to work out how Raven is going to pull off this act of deception.
“Sorry,” mutters an embarrassed-looking woman in the seat next to Sam as she takes her hand. “Hope you don't mind.”
“Sure,” Sam replies uneasily.
“Focus,” Raven tells the crowd. “Robert has heard us, but we must encourage him back to the light. Forces of darkness are compelling him to remain in death. It is not only Satan we must battle today, but also the other great spirits of death. Even the mighty Attaroth himself has taken an interest. Clearly there are great factors at play, but together we can fight them, together we are strong enough to make a stand for God's will. Pray for the soul of Robert Shaughnessy. Pray for -”
Before he can finish, the body on the table lets out a loud gasp and struggles to sit up.
“He is here!” Raven shouts, as the crowd reacts with shock. “Our work is not done, though! Keep pulling him toward the light! There are dark forces trying to draw him into the shadows and they won't give up until we have our brother Robert here with us again! Pull! Believe!”
“Please,” Sam mutters. “How gullible are people around here, what kind of -”
Before she can finish, she feels the woman in the next seat squeeze her hand tighter than ever.
“Seriously?” Sam asks, looking over at her and seeing that she's got her eyes tight shut, as if she's trying desperately to contribute as much faith as possible.
“Come, Robert!” Raven continues, putting his hands on the man's shoulders. “Allow us to bring you back from death! We are sending our energy of renewal to you, for we know that you yearn to live again. It is that yearning, that desire for life, that will lead you back into the light! Our energy goes to where it is most wanted, and right now that means it is flooding toward you! Your work in the world is not done!”
The body twitches for a moment, before turning to look at the crowd with a cold, dead expression in his eyes.
“Robert!” a woman shouts, rushing to the stage, only to be held back by some of the show's crew. She struggles to get free, with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Stay back!” Raven tells her. “Your husband is poised between life and death! We must be patient and not try to complete the process too soon. He -”
Suddenly the body tries to get up, but some kind of smoke is coming from his mouth and he soon tumbles down, landing hard against the floor. A hint of blood sprays from his mouth, and as he tries to get up again his entire body seems to be locked into a series of convulsions.
<
br /> “Not bad special effects,” Sam whispers to herself as she cranes her head in order to try to get a better view. “Gotta give them some credit for trying.”
“Help me!” the man calls out, his voice sounding painfully distorted as more and more smoke pours out of him. “I can't -”
Before he can finish, flames start bursting from his face, as if they've ignited from within his body.
“Something has gone horribly wrong!” Raven shouts.
“No kidding,” Sam mutters, as members of the crowd start running from the tent. Staring in horror, she watches as Robert Shaughnessy rolls onto his side, with flames starting to consume his entire body. With the other audience members screaming as they run for the exits, Sam feels frozen in place, as if all she can do is watch as the man burns just a few meters away on the stage. She keeps telling herself that it's all some kind of visual effect, even though it's the most realistic 'effect' she's ever seen and she can smell burned hair.
“Robert!” the woman screams.
“Help him!” Raven shouts.
As several crew members rush to the burning body, Sam feels someone tapping her shoulder.
“You have to get out of here!” Andy hisses, grabbing her arm and pulling her from the chair.
“It's finally getting interesting!” she tells him.
“Something's wrong,” he continues, forcing her toward the door, with the rest of the crowd having already run away. “This doesn't usually happen.”
“Sure it doesn't,” Sam says with a smile. “I've got to admit, it's a hell of a show. I didn't see this part coming. Charles Raven's a real showbiz kind of guy, isn't he?”
“No-one saw this part coming,” Andy says, leading her outside before stopping and taking a step back. “I have to go and help. Whatever's happening... Something's gone horribly wrong!”
“So what's the punchline?”
“Punchline?”
“This is some big finale, right?” she continues. “You're building up to a show-stopper. Come on, this is obviously a slick production. What do -”
“You don't know what you're talking about,” Andy says firmly, with genuine fear in his eyes.
Sam watches as he heads back inside and closes the door, and she stands for a moment, listening to the sound of people shouting inside the tent. Turning, she looks across the town square and sees members of the audience standing around in bewildered shock, talking to one another about the sights they saw during the show. As hard as she tries, however, Sam can't quite work out why Charles Raven would want to scare his audience. She knows the whole thing was just a trick, but still, something doesn't feel quite right. As tricks go, it all seemed too dark and horrific, almost barbaric, and the woman 'playing' the wife was either the best actress in the world...
Or she was completely genuine.
Looking up at the Raven Revivals sign above the door, she feels a shiver pass through her body as she spots a solitary raven sitting on one edge and staring down at her. From inside the tent, Robert Shaughnessy's wife continues to scream.
Seven
“Sick!” Scott shouts as he jabs the controller toward the screen, causing the video game chainsaw to rip straight through the video game zombie, spraying CGI blood and guts everywhere. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”
Swallowing hard, Anna stares at the screen and watches as the zombie falls into two separate pieces on the floor. Already, several more zombies are stumbling closer, but Scott is already revving his chainsaw with the enthusiastic gusto of someone who can never tire of this kind of thing.
“You wanna take over?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the screen.
“I'm fine, thanks.”
“Go on,” he continues, thrusting the controller into her hands. “You'll pick up the controls fast enough. Just hack away at the damn things.”
“Um...” Sam watches the screen as another zombie comes closer. Turning the controller, she makes the chainsaw rev again before finally she brings it swinging down through the zombie's head.
“You're a natural,” Scott tells her, reaching over to the screen and turning the volume up so they can hear every decibel of zombie-ripping action.
“Cool,” Anna replies, cutting down another zombie. This time, she hits the creature's gut, causing its intestines to spill out across the floor. She winces a little as she hears the sound effects.
“Watch out,” Scott continues. “Some of them don't die straight away. If you only get their head, they can still crawl toward you and bite you, and then it's game over. That's the thing with zombies, they might be brain-dead, but they'll keep coming after you if they can still move their bodies. You have to be smart!”
“Okay -”
“Look! That one down there! Get it!”
“Where?” Anna shouts.
“Here,” he continues, putting his hands around hers and guiding the controller down. On the screen, the chainsaw cuts straight through the face of a zombie on the ground.
“Great,” Anna mutters, unable to ignore the fact that this particular zombie appears to be a young woman.
“Die, you piece of crap!” Scott shouts, slicing the chainsaw through the rotting corpse again and again. “Look at all the blood! Man, I hate zombies. Sometimes I wish there really could be a zombie apocalypse, so I could go out there and make some gore soup, you know? I swear to God, I wouldn't be freaked out at all, I'd just grab as many weapons as I could find and I'd go and make zombie soup all over the streets.”
Anna nods, although she's starting to feel nauseous.
“Do you smell something?” Scott asks. “Like...” He looks over at the door. “Maybe I left the fridge door open or something. I swear I can smell... Like, ham or something. Some kind of meat that's gone off.”
“I should go!” Anna blurts out, getting to her feet so quickly that she almost loses her balance.
“Seriously?” Scott pauses the game and sets the controller down. “Please, stay a bit longer. We don't have to play a game, we can watch a movie or something, or just talk.”
“It's getting late,” she tells him, “and I just...” Looking at the screen, she sees that the game has been paused just as the chainsaw rips through a zombie's head. For a moment, she imagines what it would be like to have Scott cutting her up in real life. “I just need to go,” she continues. “It's not you, it's me, I'm... I'm just really tired.”
“Are you sure I didn't gross you out?” he asks as he gets up from the sofa. “I know these games are pretty gross, and I think sometimes I go over the top...”
“It's fine,” she replies, realizing that although the zombie game freaked her out, she also feels strange, almost as if her skin is crawling. “I guess that cocktail went to my head as well,” she continues, “and I'm really not used to being out like this.”
“Gotta get home, huh?” he asks. “What's wrong? You gonna turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”
“Not quite.”
“So do you want to do it again?”
She looks at the screen.
“Not this specifically,” he continues. “I mean more... this. Us. Meeting up.”
“Sure,” she replies, even though she feels deep down that there's no way she can risk letting him find out the truth about her. Given his apparent hatred of zombies, she figures he'd respond by grabbing the nearest chainsaw. “That'd be great.”
“So I can call you?”
“I don't have a number.”
“Okay, but I can drop by some time? I'd probably better leave it 'til after the funeral, 'cause that'd be weird, but... I guess I'm just saying that I'd like to see you again. Maybe another drink, or a meal, or we could find something fun to do outside Rippon...”
“I can't leave town,” she tells him.
“You can't?”
“Long story, but...” She pauses, and for a moment – just one stupid, idiotic moment – she actually considers telling him the truth. “I just can't,” she adds finally. “I'm sorry.”
&nb
sp; “Then we'll find something to do around here,” he continues. “Rippon's not exactly the center of the world, but I reckon we can come up with something fun. I mean,we're two reasonably smart people, right? There's a river that runs around the bottom of the hill, almost like a moat. Have you ever had an actual picnic? I could organize it all, you just have to show up!”
“That's sweet,” she replies, “but... The truth is, I'm not up for dating. I hope that doesn't annoy you, but I'm at a stage in my life where I can't see anyone. And I think that stage might last a very long time.”
“That's cool,” he says, forcing a faint smile that hints at deeper disappointment. “We can always hang out as friends, right?”
“We...”
“Can't we?” he asks. “I mean, when two cool people find each other in a place like Rippon, don't we have, like, a moral duty to stick together?”
“I really need to go,” she tells him. “I'm sorry, but...”
With that, she turns and hurries from the room. Ignoring his attempt to ask her what's wrong, she makes her way down the stairs and into the hallway, where she spots a framed photo of Ruth Havershot hanging on the wall. She feels a shiver pass through her body as she opens the door and runs out into the night, and she doesn't stop running until she's made her way to the end of the street and around the corner, at which point she finally stops and leans back against the wall. Out of breath, she realizes that air is leaking out of several holes in her torso. Reaching down, she slips a finger under the edge of her dress and feels a loose flap of decayed skin, with dusty old meat beneath. Seconds later, she gets a whiff of decaying meat.
“Idiot,” she whispers. “Anna Marsh, you're nothing but a monster. No guy would ever...”
Sighing, she looks up at the night sky. In the distance, she can hear a lot of chatter coming from the big tent in the town square, but the last thing she wants right now is to be around other people. If the evening with Scott was one final attempt to enjoy the company of living people, it turned out to be a complete disaster that only served to prove the opposite: that she's better off alone, out of sight, where people won't find out the truth and call her a monster. She thinks back for a moment to the video game, and to the glee with which Scott was dispatching zombies.