He leaned back and rubbed the back of his neck. There was, he knew, a different kind of cult that slithered deep within the cracks of society, the kind that remained hidden from all but the deepest of prying. It was made of members that were stained with a sickness so foul that even criminals that were tarred as the worst of the worst would stand back, point fingers and declare them true symbols of evil. Unfortunately, John knew it as fact better than anyone.
He’d come face to face with the stinking, slippery tendrils of the beast more times than any man should, had peered into the eyes of souls that should never have survived birth. Sure, the word cult wasn’t ever used to encapsulate the coming together of these monsters, but it sure was an apt term considering other feeble attempts seemed to sanitise the filth. Words like syndicates, organisations and associates. Hardly strong indications of the fucking cesspools he had been forced to wade through. Cult was far more adequate, and he almost had to laugh at the irony at the way things had turned out. He’d handed his badge back to ensure never again having to dance with pure evil, and yet here he was with a simple missing person’s case drawing him close to the edge of a strange cult in a city on the other side of the planet.
Still, he reminded himself, so far all said and done it wasn’t exactly the same. There was nothing to suggest he was about to dance his way into a monster’s lair, but a much needed pay day from Sebastian had no doubt turned into a little more than he’d expected. It was unavoidable then, that parallels with the devils he’d chased simmered in the background.
Fuck it, he muttered to himself. He’d taken the job so there was nothing to do but get it done. Actually, now he’d technically taken two jobs, and there was no point sitting there letting the past creep on in. All he had to do was find Sebastian’s wife and the runaway doctor and then he could turn his back on this whole cult business. He wasn’t being paid for anything else. Finish the job and then he and Bobbie could head home and start sorting through the mess that was his life. Nice and simple.
“What do you say big guy, you up for a little fresh air?” he asked his friend while gently settling him in his cage. “A change in scenery will be good for you.”
The elevator made several stops on the way down, bringing with it a small gathering of hotel guests that seemed unsure of what to make of the man holding a cat so early in the morning. All he could do was quietly stare at the floor and, when the doors opened onto the lobby, dart his way to the sounds and smells of the restaurant.
Claiming one of the empty tables outside he lifted Bobbie onto one of the seats as the sound of laughter and splashing water drifted across from the pool. Scents of buttered toast and coffee beans filled the already humid air. John ordered some eggs from the young woman in a creased shirt who seemed somewhat flustered, adjusted his friend so that the sun shone down onto his face and activated the display on his phone.
After a few dead end searches he found one of the online social platforms where Rebecca had created a profile. He was surprised to see she’d kept it active considering the circumstances, though as he began to scroll through her entries it became evident that more than a month had gone by since her last log in.
He brought the screen a little closer and delved into the recent history. There were plenty of photos of her and Sebastian, accompanied with brief summaries that were par for the course for online broadcasts like declarations of love and happiness, copy and pasted poems with words of motivation and commentaries on various food dishes. Looking back through the previous months there didn’t seem to be anything to indicate she might not have been happy, or was thinking of leaving. If anything, it looked to John like just another social media broadcast by someone who was happy for the world to know that time and money was something she had plenty of.
The young waitress returned with his eggs and proceeded to pour a cup of steaming black coffee. She may have been flustered before but now there were hints of relaxation across her face.
“Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving a cat before,” she said.
“He may be small and furry but he’s a good tipper,” John joked, causing her eyebrows to lift at the sound of his accent.
“Oh wow, does he like, travel with you?”
“Actually, this was his first time on a plane. Well, that I know of anyway.”
“Hold tight,” she said before dashing back into the shadows of the restaurant and returning seconds later with a small bowl and glass jug of milk. “Now I feel like my morning’s actually been worth it. You let me know if you need anything else you hear?”
Happy with her performance she turned and headed to the other tables already bustling with activity. Bobbie sniffed at the air and craned his neck to the bowl, tongue darting into the cool liquid as John tasted some of the eggs and continued to read through Rebecca’s entries. As he did he could vaguely remember Sebastian speaking about her charity work, but so far he hadn’t seen anything that had to do with actually giving away money. Lots of spending to be sure, but not much giving. Still, that didn’t mean much though. He knew that those with serious amounts of money tended to keep the details of their charitable efforts hidden away in an effort to avoid an onslaught of outstretched hands.
He sipped at the bitter coffee and moved forward in time to read through some of the more recent entries, and suddenly found a definite shift in tone. The glamorous lifestyle photos began to fade away. It seemed Rebecca had chosen to replace them with links to unrelated news stories, with headlines that appeared to grow stranger and stranger each time.
The surrounding sounds began to fade away as his attention sharpened. Where before she had made an update once or twice a day there were now streams of links and updates, from terrorism reports and propaganda videos to catastrophic weather events and global disease outbreaks. Then there was a strange mixture of articles on the need for scientific research into mind altering chemicals blended with invitations to view certain documentaries on suicide, mixed with a scattering of images from deep space to keep things disjointed. No doubt about it she had certainly brought a change to her online presence, made even more evident with cryptic messages.
Thank you everyone for all your love and support. There is something very beautiful coming, and we all need to prepare. Remember to keep looking up!
Look up to what exactly, John wondered? He continued to read through the mental musings that would forever be held in the realms of cyberspace.
I’ve come to learn there’s no point in fixing what is broken. It’s not easy turn our back or our hearts, nobody knows that more than me, but what we’ve become is so very far from what we should be, what we could be. The prose was accompanied with an image of blood soaked body parts scattered amongst the shadows of a bomb blasted marketplace. I would rather pay today for tomorrow than pay tomorrow for today, and in evolution blood will always be the currency.
Somewhere in the restaurant a plate shattered onto the ground but John hardly noticed as he moved to another message, this one with a red tinted photo of the surface of Mars taken by a rover.
A cold heart can know only one change, and that’s the presence of warmth where before there was none. What some call desolate, I call a canvass. Where you might see a barren loneliness I see the surface of a seed.
The surreal stream of consciousness left him wondering why Sebastian hadn’t bothered to mention Rebecca’s sudden strange need to sprout nonsensical new age statements. Surely that was kind of important?
The death of a star turns glistening wet so that we might observe creation. I understand now that the architect of matter has a path set before us within the suffering that defines our tragedy. Just like a mother and child scream in birth, so too will we soon cry out with the shift of the Heavens.
Sitting there in the warmth of the Miami sun, with Bobbie cleaning milk from his paws and guests diving into the pool, the words just didn’t make any sense. Maybe, John thought, he wasn’t really dealing with any sort of cult problem. Reading through
the fragmented posts, it was becoming ever so slightly possible that he was dealing with an issue of mental health. It might’ve been a bold assumption to make, but to stray from photos of wine soaked lobster tails and adorations of newly purchased bling to photos of Mars and talk of suffering wasn’t exactly a logical progression.
He pushed away what was left of his eggs, swigged some coffee and scrolled to the last update before all fell silent.
Those who know me know I don’t make decisions lightly, so I hope you all understand and respect my decision to shed the life I’ve been living and begin the new phase. I’m sure many of you will wonder why and will have many questions, but I can only say this. Thank you for all of your love and support, for your kindness and understanding through such a profound transition. When darkness falls so that the moon might shine, please look up. Tomorrow is written deep in the shadows, and the answer to your questions goes around and around. If we make it to the other side I’ll find you, I promise. P.S. Sebastian, I’m sorry you didn’t see, but I’ll never be sorry for the doors you helped me to open. It’s not our love that has come to an end, but only the window of time that sees a flower bloom before being swept away by the changing winds. I hope, no, I pray, you understand.
Beneath the final word lay a satellite image of the Earth taken at night, speckles of city lights and scatterings of electrical activity curving along the globe. Captioned along the bottom edge in silver tinged cursive was the simple statement goodbye. If the date was accurate, she’d broadcast her last puzzling declaration just shy of a month ago.
John exited the platform and leaned back in his chair. The din of the restaurant came rushing back. Now that he wasn’t looking at the screen anymore he slid on his sunglasses and glanced around at the tables filled with hungry families that laughed and chatted as though volume was a competition and young couples that shared the look that only new lovers could, the look that said they knew a secret nobody else had discovered. Over by the pool lounging in recliners with flesh roasting in the morning sun, several bikini clad women were doing their best to let the night roll on as trays of champagne were delivered table side. As he took in the idyllic scene John knew what he needed to do, and dialled the number for the man who was responsible for his breakfast in Miami. It was late night back in Sydney but it didn’t take long for Sebastian to pick up.
“I was wondering when I might hear from you.”
“I’m surprised you’re awake,” John replied.
“Sleep is for the young or trouble free you see, and unfortunately I can claim to be neither. So tell me, have you found her?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.” John wiped at the sweat that was trickling beneath his eyes. “You should have told me you went and gave my details to the FBI.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right. It didn’t exactly come down to a choice of any description. I reached out to them when I was first trying to find Rebecca but, as things turned out, they came to be reaching out to me. If you must know they wanted me to fly back over but when I told them about the service you’re conducting for me I became somewhat less interesting to them. When you think about it, you could say it’s all become quite exciting.” The connection fell silent for a number of beats before he continued. “I’ll do whatever it takes John, you should know that.”
“That’s all fine and dandy but from this point on you need to warn me before any surprises.”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay,” John eased up, “that’s all I ask. Now I attended the dinner like you wanted but she wasn’t there. When I was leaving though I’m pretty sure I spotted her, which means if I’m right then we at least know she’s still here in Miami.”
“Was she with someone or by herself? Can you be positive?”
“No mate I can’t be positive but I’ve got the seminar to attend tonight so there’s as good a chance as any that I can get a closer look. For now though we’re just going to have to wait and see. Anyway, that’s not why I called.” John poured the remnants of his coffee into his mouth and winced at the fact it had already gone cold. On one of the tables by the far end of the pool he noticed two men who didn’t quite seem to fit the picture. “I know this isn’t the easiest of subjects, but I need to know if Rebecca was suffering from any kind of mental illness before this all went down.”
“Dear boy, are you asking me if my wife is crazy?”
“No,” John said firmly, “I’m asking if she might’ve had some sort of health condition that could have affected her thinking. I have to assume you’ve read through her online entries, and if you did then you’d have to admit things sure turned strange nice and quick.”
He adjusted his sunglasses and took another look at the men by the pool. They were both dressed casually enough, but there was something in the way they sat rigid in their seats and didn’t appear to be indulging in any type of conversation that had John wondering what they were doing there. It might have been the paranoid cop in him that never seemed to fade away completely, emerging from the shadows at times of uncertainty, but something about them wasn’t quite right.
“Rebecca always did have a way with words,” Sebastian responded. “Some even say she was crazy for marrying me but no, I don’t think this has all come about due to some sort of psychological damage. Admittedly there’s every reason to question someone’s state of mind when they decide to leave everything behind and travel to another country, after all it’s a decision that can hardly be deemed to be normal, but whatever the reason it’s not something that’s fixed with medicine. We’re dealing with a cult John, make no mistake. Cults tend to have a unique ability to sway people into doing unexpected things.”
“Maybe so, but if it turns out she’s had a breakdown or lost her grip on reality a little then my job gets somewhat more difficult. That is, if I can even find her.”
“I assure you John, we’re not dealing with the fallout of a breakdown. You of all people should have an understanding of the difference.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what it means. Now this FBI thing, I trust it won’t get in the way of why you’re there? I made it quite clear during our chat that your priority is my wife.”
“Don’t worry,” John said through his teeth, “I told them I’d keep an eye out but that’s about all.”
With a casual turn of his head he watched the men by the pool. Gambling had never been his thing, but it was pretty much a sure bet they were watching him and Bobbie for some reason. Normally his instinct would’ve been to march on over and confront them, to ask them exactly what they were so interested in, but he was far from the comfort of home ground.
“Listen mate,” he announced with a sudden sense of urgency, “it’s time for me to get going. I’ll let you know what happens tonight but in the meantime you make sure you let me know if I should be expecting any more surprises.”
He terminated the call before Sebastian had the chance to respond. All he’d wanted to know was if Rebecca had gone and lost her mind, though apparently that wasn’t the case. Not yet anyway. The whole sinister aspect of cults was the ability to draw in sound minds before somehow ingraining the idea that death might be some magical bridge. So far though, there didn’t seem to be any talk of people dying.
The men at the far end of the pool continued to stare in his direction, sunlight reflecting off untouched glasses of orange juice. John couldn’t resist the urge to nod in their direction before tucking Bobbie into his carrier and making an exit from the restaurant. As the lobby came into view and the cool air conditioned air bristled across his face he stole a glance back over his shoulder and found the table empty, only the orange juice hinting that it had been occupied. The day was still young but already an unsettling fog seemed to be rolling in. At least the eggs had been cooked perfectly.
Chapter 13
After making sure Bobbie had his fill of cookies and checking several times to see if the information for the seminar had been sent through, John
had called Vanessa. She’d sounded out of breath when she’d answered, as though he’d caught her running, but when he explained he had a few hours to kill and wanted to get out of the hotel she’d laughed and promised to be there shortly.
Now he was in the passenger seat surrounded by the bumper to bumper late morning traffic with the hotel towering in the rear view mirror. The sweet scents of strawberry and vanilla emanated from Vanessa’s still damp curly hair as she stole glances at John while navigating the maze of moving metal.
“So mister policeman,” she almost sang, “I broke you out of the hotel so what would you like to do with your freedom?”
John couldn’t help but laugh. There was something about her presence that seemed to take hold of the moment and squeeze out the negative vibrations that he was sure followed him wherever he went. “Considering I’ve got a few hours to kill how about you take me somewhere off the tourist map, some place you like to go. I’ll save the tacky souvenirs for the airport.”
“You wanna go someplace to eat and grab a cocktail on the beach?”
“Not really,” he said as a cab nearly scraped the edge of their car. “Seriously, I want to see a little of the city through your eyes. Surprise me, take me somewhere that you like to go.”
“I can choose anything?” Vanessa asked with a hint of excitement.
“Absolutely, I insist.”
“Well then,” she replied with a tap of the steering wheel, “I think I have just the place. And no tacky souvenirs either, I promise you that.”
“Sounds damn good to me. Lead the way.”
After a sweat soaked attempt at sleep that proved only to bring another round of torturous nightmares, and a morning that had involved death tinged cults, strange social media ramblings and unwanted attention pool side, it was almost therapeutic to be in the car. Stuck in traffic and unsure of where he was going, there was little to do than lean back and take in the view.
The Hallucigenia Project Page 16