They

by J. F. Gonzalez

  “What did she mean by that?” Vince was listening with bated breath.

  “I don’t know,” Mike said. He sighed. “Fortunately, we were able to talk to Jackie at length. Her parents were at work, so we sat in the living room and talked. She was quite the chatter box.”

  “I got the impression that she was standing on the sidelines when this shit happened,” Frank said, pulling a pair of black jeans over his legs. “She and Mary Ann were friends, but she didn’t hang out with this other gang of kids much.”

  Mike chuckled. “Yeah. She said that she felt she was much better than Clint and his crowd. I caught a whiff of contempt.”

  “More like an air of superiority,” Frank said, pulling a T-shirt over his lanky frame. His tattoos gleamed in the light.

  “The basic story is that Jackie confirmed to us that Clint and his friends were dabblers in a devil worship group,” Mike said. He took a sip of his drink. “She admitted quite freely that they were into it for the shock value. She didn’t hang out with them, but Mary Ann did. She said Mary Ann usually went along for the ride whenever Clint and his friends were out on the town.”

  “They were a bunch of your usual Marilyn Manson fan boy, pot smoking losers who thought it was cool to worship the devil,” Frank said, sitting down on the second bed. “Twenty years ago they would have been Black Sabbath fans.”

  Vince nodded. He remembered the stoner scene very well from high school.

  “Anyway,” Mike continued, “she said she never met Mark Lancaster and the other fellow, but Mary Ann did. And Mary Ann was scared of them the instant she met them. She told Jackie that Mark and Glenn were definitely serious about the occult. Jackie says she warned her friend to stay away from them, and luckily, Mary Ann heeded her advice. But she was still loyal to Clint; after all, they were dating. She loved him. So most of what happened comes directly from Clint telling Mary Ann, and Mary Ann later telling Jackie. It sounds like pretty reliable third-hand information, though. Jackie struck me as a very smart girl. She did some research of her own and found out some disturbing things.”

  “What kind of disturbing things?” Vince asked.

  “In a minute,” Mike said. He took another sip of his drink. Frank got himself a Coke from the refrigerator. He looked at Vince and resumed the narrative. “According to Jackie, Clint wanted to impress these guys. He was thrilled that a pair of older guys was into the same things he was. Clint and his friends felt they were respected when they were with them. So they started hanging out. When Mary Ann told Jackie the name of the cult these guys claimed they belonged to, Jackie grew even more concerned and scared. She’d already done a lot of reading on the occult, and some of the things Mary Ann said about them bothered her. So she did some more research. There was one bit of information that kept nagging at her—the group Mark and Glenn claimed they belonged to. Apparently they told Clint they belonged to an organization called The Children, and that they were based out of New York City.”

  “Another name for The Children of the Night?” Vince asked.

  Mike nodded. “Yes and no. I’ll get to that in a minute. What Jackie did, was she went on the Internet and did some intense research on the occult and Satanism for three days, asking people on various newsgroups about the Children. She got one response. The only thing the person said was that The Children was supposed to be a secret, sinister devil cult based in New York. That was all the correspondent would relate. The correspondent even went so far as to admit that the group itself was only rumored to exist. Jackie did some more checking and was able to confirm evidence of the rumor in a book linking the Son of Sam murders to a secret, underground satanic organization.”

  “So what did she do?” Vince asked, entranced by the story.

  “It scared the hell out of her,” Mike said. “And rightly so.” He traded a glance with Frank. “The Children are the New York State counterparts of The Children of the Night. There are factions in other parts of the country that go under other names as well. There’s a group in Alabama called ‘The Children of the Black Cross,’ for example. Another group in the Midwest calls itself ‘The Children of Darkness.’ They’re all connected with the main group in California.”

  The bottle of Rolling Rock was weighing heavily on Vince’s mind, and he finally dashed over to the refrigerator and pulled it out, opened it, and took a drink.

  “Jackie claims she told Mary Ann to stay away from Clint,” Mike continued. “She told her friend everything. She didn’t know if Mary Ann related all this to Clint. She claimed Mary Ann told her she would find a way to tell Clint without revealing the source. She seems to think that Clint already knew he was over his head and was staying away from Mark and Glenn out of his own fear. When the dead dogs turned up in that field she knew something big was going to happen, but she didn’t know what. She said Mary Ann avoided her in the next few months. Like she was ashamed that she was still seeing Clint, who by now was regarded as the Black Sheep of Warwick County. Then Maggie Walters was murdered, and at first the newspapers weren’t reporting the occult symbols found written on the walls at the murder site. But for some reason, Jackie had a feeling there was a connection. Then last week, the Intelligencer ran an in depth article on the case, and for the first time all of Lancaster County learned about the mutilation and the Satanic symbols found in Maggie’s house. And then Clint disappeared, followed closely by Mary Ann.”

  “Does she have any idea what might have happened to them?” Vince asked.

  “Not really, but get this. Jackie came to the same conclusion Frank and I have been coming to. Maggie may have been killed by these guys for some kind of revenge ritual. The killing of the dogs on April 30—Walpurgisnacht—is significant. It’s a day that is said to provide great power to the black magician for certain rituals. The murder of the dogs was done in conjunction with a preliminary ritual for something bigger in Lititz. That something bigger was probably the murder of Maggie Walters.”

  “I don’t think I follow,” Vince said.

  “The first ritual opened the gates,” Frank said. He was sitting on the couch, holding his can of Coke. “They probably invoked the names of whatever demons they have working with them. It was all done in preparation for the murder of your mother, which was designed to be both a revenge killing and to lead them to something bigger.”

  “In other words, they’d already staked her out?” Vince asked. “They’d found her months before they actually killed her?”

  Frank and Mike nodded. “Yes,” Mike said.

  “Why didn’t they just bump her off then?”

  “You still don’t understand these guys,” Frank said, looking grim. “The ritual they performed was also probably one of protection. They didn’t want to get caught. They wanted to throw confusion and chaos among the local population. And it worked.”

  Vince was about to open his mouth again and blurt out another question, then stopped. He had to keep reminding himself that he was dealing with religious nuts. Religious nuts did all kinds of wacky things like perform suicide bomb missions for this or that jihad, or self flagellate themselves for whatever purification purposes. Or they killed abortion providers for God, or killed dogs to summon up demons from hell.

  I can’t believe I’m dealing with this bullshit, Vince thought, nodding at Mike and Frank to continue.

  “Jackie doesn’t know what will come next,” Mike said. “But she said that she was pretty convinced that was the group’s purpose. That Maggie’s murder was both an act of revenge and a ritual designed to go after somebody else.”

  “Me,” Vince said.

  “We don’t have solid proof of that,” Mike said.

  “What about what happened today?”

  “I admit that what happened today and last week in Irvine are disturbing,” Mike said. “But I really believe they aren’t related to the group responsible for your mother’s murder.”

  “How can you say that? They tried to kill me!”

  “Mike’s right,” Fran
k said. “Whoever tried to kill you today are not cut from the same mold as The Children of the Night. Those guys were operating more like hit men than deranged cult members.”

  Suddenly, it hit him. The revelation sparked in Vince Walter’s mind so great that it was as if fireworks went off in his head. “Oh my God,” he said, feeling faint.

  “What?” Mike looked worried. “Vince, you okay?”

  “You’re right,” Vince said, his voice hoarse as his throat constricted. He could feel his heart pound in his ribcage. “The guys who tried to kill Tracy and me, the same guys who tried to get me today back in Lititz…they’re not part of this Children of the Night group.”

  “About time you started listening,” Frank said, drinking his Coke dismissively.

  “They’re part of an opposing group,” Vince said. He looked at Mike and Frank with dawning revelation. “A Christian one. And they’re trying to kill me because somehow they know.”

  Mike appeared to catch on. “Goddamitt, Vince, I’ve told you that—”

  “They’re trying to kill me because they know I’m the Anti-Christ.” Vince licked his lips nervously. “And this…this Children of the Night group…my mother took me all those years ago because she knew. And they’re trying to get me back.”

  THEY ARGUED ABOUT it all night. Mike quickly changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt during the debate. The chilling revelation remained with Vince, yet part of him still couldn’t believe the accusations he was coming up with about himself. I don’t feel any different, he thought as Frank glared at him from across the room. I’ve never felt any different…like I was a god, or a demigod, or a demon, or whatever. I’m a blood and flesh human being. I don’t have supernatural powers. If I were the Anti-Christ—or the Messiah for that matter—wouldn’t I have some kind of supernatural power? Wouldn’t I have known before now?

  Mike even verbalized this in the debate. “If you’re the Anti-Christ, Vince, prove it. Make something move with your mind.”

  “Yeah,” Frank sneered, lounging on the bed. “Make that glass over there levitate.”

  “Take a hike,” Vince said. He felt like a jerk for even bringing it up.

  “I’m serious,” Mike said, stepping in front of Vince, looking at him sternly. “If you feel you’re the Anti-Christ, you should be one of the most powerful men on the planet. You should have some kind of magical powers. Let’s see you do something. Come on, hotshot, let’s see your stuff.”

  “You’ve made your point,” Vince said. He was getting angry, and while he wanted that anger to be directed at Mike and Frank, what he felt was anger toward himself.

  “Come on!” Mike was pressing the point. “Just try. Here.” He walked over to the other side of the room and picked up a plastic glass. “Focus on this glass. Try to tap into your psychic energy and push it off my hand.”

  Vince rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

  Frank nodded. “Go ahead. Try it.”

  They were dead serious. He briefly considered retreating further into the shell he was beginning to build around himself, then decided to take the test. This would be proof positive. If he could move the glass by the sheer power of his will, and do it easily, then he would have the proof that he possessed supernatural powers. He knew that there were people that possessed telekinetic power, but this was different. Telekinetics usually had to summon up their power from some deep well within themselves. They had to work at it. If Vince were a supernatural being, he should be able to topple that glass over as easily as if he were doing it with his hands.

  Vince focused on the glass, than willed his psychic energy toward it, not even knowing what he was doing or where to tap into it. He simply willed himself to push the glass off of Mike’s hand.

  Nothing.

  He concentrated harder. The skin of his forehead furrowed in concentration. He pictured the glass in his mind, visualized himself toppling it off of Mike’s hand with a single mental push.

  It remained on Mike’s hand.

  He relaxed and looked up at Mike. “I can’t.”

  Mike grinned. “See? You don’t have supernatural powers, you dimwit.”

  Vince relaxed. Mike’s jovial tone put him at ease. Maybe Mike and Frank were right. He was taking this much too seriously. He had to look at this from a logical angle. He’d never felt different around other people, and he surely didn’t feel any different now. He was not the Anti-Christ. He was simply a man. A man who was being stalked by two groups of crazed religious fanatics for whatever insane reason they may have.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry we had to argue about this, but…” he ran his hand through his hair. “What else could they be after me for? I mean, think about it.” He looked up at Mike and Frank, silently imploring them to at least consider his original reasoning for his crazy idea. “True, I don’t feel any different, and I don’t have supernatural powers. Fine. But these two groups are after me for some reason, and the only thing I can think of is that I must be important to them. I have a feeling that this Children of the Night group isn’t responsible for trying to kill me today. I don’t think they were involved in the botched attempt in Irvine, either. I think you guys presented some very logical explanations regarding this fact. And if you consider your own theories, you have to consider the possibility that if The Children of the Night is a group of crazed devil worshippers with an Armageddon complex, there has to be a Christian organization focusing on the same thing.”

  “Of course,” Mike said. “That would be the host church from which The Children sprang from.”

  “Yeah, but even those guys wouldn’t be involved in what happened this morning,” Vince said. He rose to his feet and paced the room. “They wouldn’t want me dead. They’d want me alive.”

  “Which makes your theory fall to pieces,” Frank said.

  “What if there’s another renegade Christian group out there?” Vince said, whirling to face Frank. “Some other underground group that thinks I may be the Anti-Christ?”

  “Vince,” Mike said, his eyes closing in frustration. “We’ve gone over this time and time again and—”

  “Wait a minute, just hear me out here,” Vince said. He regarded the two men calmly. “I’m not the Anti-Christ. I’ve accepted that. But suppose this other fictional group I’m talking about really thinks I am. For whatever…strange reason they might have.”

  “Why would they think this?” Mike asked.

  Vince didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s the stupidest reason for them wanting to have you killed,” Mike reiterated.

  “But let’s suppose it’s true. Suspend your disbelief for a moment. Use your imagination. Apocalyptic Christian sect splits into two opposing groups. One sect worships the devil. The other remains Christian. Their sole purpose is to bring about the Anti-Christ to usher in Armageddon. They want to fulfill the prophesies in the Book of Revelations. I think it’s insane, and so do you. These guys don’t, though. They’re dead serious about it. Okay, still using your imagination? Great. Let’s pretend my mother and your mother,” he looked at Frank as he said this, “are really into this group, for whatever reasons they may have. They’re stoned, they’re really fucked up, whatever. My mom gets knocked up and has me. I don’t know who my father is, but I know he’s not the guy that I remember growing up with. I know my mother never talked about him. Now, still in make-believe land? Great.” He stepped toward them, really absorbed in the narrative now. “Let’s say with a combination of all the drugs and the mysticism and all that went on back then, that my mom is brainwashed into believing I may be the Anti-Christ. In reality, she probably fucked some guy at a love-in and got knocked up, had me, joined this group around the same time. She’s young, she’s confused, she’s lonely, and they provide all the support and comfort she needs at the time. She also meets a man she falls in love with. He’s a member of this cult. She joins up with them right when they make this split and she’s so happy that they accept he
r, and the drugs are just blowing her mind that she gets really sucked into their spiritual beliefs. She buys the crap they’re pushing. You still following me?”

  Mike and Frank nodded. Frank said, “Yeah, I can buy that. Keep going.”

  Vince was on a roll. “Okay, let’s pretend they convince my mother that I really am the Anti-Christ. The key word is they convince her. Maybe they brainwashed her into believing that she really fucked the devil or something. Maybe they were all tripping the night she got knocked up and they used this to their advantage. I don’t know. What’s important is this: they need their Anti-Christ in order to feed on their own religious hysteria and support their theology. They need this…this figurehead to legitimize their creed. The Christian side of them knows this, but they aren’t aware of me. They may know that the devil side of the sect has, quote unquote, conjured up the Anti-Christ, but they don’t know who he is or where he’s living. Remember, this is a war for them, even though they’re really fighting for the same thing. They’re still playing it out as if one side or the other is going to win. So they convince my mother I’m it, I’m the son of the devil, I’m the one that’s going to lead them to victory and glory and they’re going to rule the world. They bring me to a bunch of rituals and pray to the devil and all that other happy horseshit that I’m now starting to remember. And they brought Frank and some of the other kids to the ceremonies, too, simply because they were still too stupid and too caught up in the drug scene to know any better.”

  Mike was listening to the narrative with interest. Frank was nodding along, his features impassive as Vince took him down memory lane.

  “So things proceed along as fine as can be. Oh, they need to spread a little mayhem every now and then. Perform some satanic rituals, kidnap and sacrifice a few runaway kids, that sort of thing. They’re Satanists, remember, and even though we think they’re completely bugfuck, they believe this horseshit. They really believe they’re performing some divine rituals when they do this stuff. So the years pass, and we move into this nice suburban home, and my mom and who I think is my dad try to protect me and shield me from the world as any good normal parent would do. Mom is pretty much zoned out because maybe her husband keeps her that way. But she wises up somehow. She gets off the drugs, and within a year or two she begins to wise up even more. She begins to think that maybe this crap she’s been led to believe is nothing but crap. Maybe she begins to look at me in a different light. After all, I’m just a normal, eight or nine-year-old boy. I don’t have horns growing out of my head, I don’t have a tail, I don’t smell like brimstone or have fangs. My mother has inspected every inch of my body from the time I was a baby and she knows I don’t bear the mark of the beast.” He sniggered. “And forget about that shit about the numbers being on my head. I was as bald as Telly Savalas when I was born. She would have been able to see it.