Messiahs

by Matt Rogers

  She turned east and walked a giant loop of Bicentennial Park, passing by a couple of high school sports teams conducting early morning training sessions, their soccer boots kicking up dewey condensation from the grass. Thoroughly warmed up now, she doubled back west, following the artery of Echeta Road. She passed a roadside drive-thru diner and ordered a bagel and a long black from the takeout window. The woman who served her was maybe fifty, plump, her face the texture of leather, her eyes kind.

  She said, ‘I haven’t seen you before.’

  Alexis said, ‘New in town. Just visiting.’

  ‘You like it so far?’

  ‘So far,’ Alexis said with a smile, accepting the steaming cup of coffee and the bagel wrapped in a paper bag.

  She carried on west before finally turning north into a residential suburb and traipsing around until she hit a viewpoint called Overlook Park.

  The park was aptly named.

  The sun beat down on her face as she found a bench and sat down, taking some load off her feet after putting them to use for most of the morning. She found solace in looking out at the residential cul-de-sac and the prairie beyond. The hill sloped down past white houses with brown roofs sitting on freshly mowed lots and levelled out into the undulating grasslands that swept all the way to the horizon, so vast and so empty.

  She enjoyed the weather, sipped the coffee, munched the bagel.

  She and Violetta were early in their quest, and she figured the most important thing was making herself known to the residents of Gillette, spreading awareness of her presence through word of mouth. So she stayed on the park bench, and when the sun reached its peak in the sky she closed her eyes so she could tilt her face toward it.

  The warmth calmed her, soothed her.

  Almost made her forget the reason they were here.

  Right now, life was beautiful.

  When she lowered her head and opened her eyes to take another sip of coffee, there was a woman beside her on the park bench.

  Alexis quashed her reaction before she could jump out of her skin. Whoever the woman was, she’d approached without so much as her heel scuffing on the sunbaked pavement. She looked like she was in her early thirties but could have been older. Her face was smooth and contoured and her eyes were crystalline. They were somewhere between blue and green, with flecks of both colours like an opal. She had frizzy brown hair falling in two big tufts on either side of her head, which served to frame her perfect face.

  Alexis found her odd right away.

  She was conventionally attractive, but the very nature of her being seemed artificial. She was intensely happy with nothing behind the eyes.

  Alexis said, ‘Hey. Nice to meet you,’ like the easygoing wanderer she was supposed to be.

  Good thing she remembered to keep up the act.

  The woman beamed a smile and said, ‘Hello. My name is Maeve. What’s yours?’

  26

  Alexis’ heart thudded for a single beat.

  She felt it in her chest, more powerful than usual, but she didn’t allow her heart rate to increase. She didn’t allow any change of expression in her face. So all it turned out to be was a single thunk, then straight back to normal.

  There wasn’t a chance Maeve Riordan noticed.

  Alexis smiled without a care in the world. ‘Hi. I’m Alexis. You live here?’

  ‘Not Gillette, I’m afraid,’ Maeve said. ‘I’m a ways out. But I like to visit every so often, make sure I’m keeping up to speed. What brings you here, girl?’

  Alexis batted her eyelids and flooded her eyes with warmth, pretending it had made her day for this stranger to start a dialogue. ‘Oh, I don’t have a real good spiel for this part, I’m afraid. Some people I meet, they’ve got such nice stories … so poignant and beautiful, you know? I’m just a bit of a nomad, and that’s the truth. Grew up in Jersey but over there it’s all so … busy. Finished college and decided not to go straight into full-time work. Started backpacking across the country, and that would have been, what, eight years ago now? Ended up finding my best friend last year when I was passing through Ohio. She and I have been travelling together ever since.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Violetta.’

  ‘And are you two … together?’

  Alexis scoffed and shook her head, lowering her eyes out of perceived shame. ‘No, ma’am. It’s not like that. Not like that at all.’

  ‘You can tell me if it is,’ Maeve said. ‘Most people out here aren’t what you think they are. There’s no shame in it, girl. We’re not going to persecute you for that.’

  Alexis sighed. ‘We’re just friends. Honest. I’d tell you if it wasn’t true. You seem like a very trustworthy person.’ She laughed and looked around, like the ditzy girl next door. ‘I mean, gosh, I’ve known you all of two minutes, haven’t I? Thank you for listening to me talk. Not many people do. You’re a good person, Maeve.’

  Maeve said, ‘Are you lost, dear?’

  Behind the curtain, Alexis marvelled at Maeve’s forwardness. The woman was getting right to the point.

  But Alexis still had a role to play. ‘I’m sorry?’

  Maeve smiled, recognising she was moving too quickly. She looked out at the view and took in the ambience for a beat, then reached out and put a hand on Alexis’ knee. ‘I think we were supposed to meet.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘This is a small town. Word gets around. I hear you didn’t have much of a pleasant experience at the bar last night. Word reached my ears, like Chinese whispers. That man named Brent had some … let’s just say “impolite” things to say about you. About both your beauty and your wrath. But I heard about what you said last night. About how you weren’t sure where to go next, or what to do, or even what the point of your life is. Now of course I’m awfully sorry that this personal information reached my ears, but it did, and we can’t change the past, can we? All we can do is look to the future. And I think I’m in a unique position to offer you a bright future, Alexis. If you’re interested…’

  ‘I don’t want to be rude, ma’am, but I hardly know you.’

  ‘Which is a given when two parties have just met,’ Maeve said. ‘But I think over time, if we do get to know each other, we’ll end up having more in common than you could ever imagine.’

  Now she was staring right into Alexis’ eyes, her hand still on her knee. Alexis didn’t look away. She was struck by how transfixing Maeve’s gaze was. It was seductive in its appeal. There was love and warmth in Maeve’s eyes now, and Alexis couldn’t tell if it was artificial anymore. She knew it was, but if she was truly a backpacker who’d met this woman, she would have bought it hook, line and sinker.

  Alexis said, ‘What’s this opportunity?’

  ‘Myself and my husband run ... well, I guess you would call it a commune. We aren’t fans of the regular way of living. As you can see, it’s not very private. You had a few drinks at the local watering hole and opened your mouth and suddenly the whole town is talking about you. It’s sad, to be frank. Very surface-level, very superficial. What we have is something pure. Out in the grassland, we’ve put together a little community of like-minded souls. We have an easygoing existence, and we champion love. Real, unrequited love. There isn’t enough of it in this world. If you and your friend are interested, I’d be honoured to host you free-of-charge for a few days.’

  Alexis didn’t respond.

  If she was too enthusiastic…

  Maeve suddenly looked hurt. She cast her eyes away and took a small, fluttering breath. ‘If not, dear, the last thing I want to do is annoy you…’

  Alexis said, ‘Why’d you come to me? I’m sure you see lots of people passing through town, ma’am.’

  ‘And sometimes I talk to them on park benches like these,’ Maeve said without missing a beat. ‘If I don’t like their energy, I never make the offer. We’re a rather exclusive community, Alexis. I hope you understand how rare it is for me to offer an invitation so soon. But you’r
e a pure soul. I can sense it.’

  Sure you can, Alexis thought.

  She looked all around like she was grappling with indecision, even though she had Maeve eating out of the palm of her hand. She stared vacantly off at the horizon, then allowed herself a half-smile and turned back to the woman.

  ‘You know,’ she said. ‘That sounds like a fine idea, Maeve.’

  Maeve beamed. ‘You won’t regret it, dear. I’m afraid we don’t have everything set up to accommodate your needs — after all, I didn’t know I’d be doing this so soon — but it won’t take long. Shall we pick you and your friend up at eight tomorrow morning? At the entrance to Bicentennial Park?’

  Alexis nodded, then paused. ‘That’s within walking distance of the Budget Inn. Did you know we were staying there?’

  Maeve smiled, and Alexis could swear she was gripping her knee tighter. ‘Perhaps. Word travels quickly, as I said. But don’t be alarmed, dear. We have the best intentions in our hearts. Trust me, I think you are going to finally discover your purpose. Tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of your life. I guarantee it. And if not, no harm done. You and Violetta can be on your way. But life becomes magical when we open our eyes to new ideas, doesn’t it?’

  Alexis smiled back. ‘It does. I’m excited to see your commune.’

  Maeve said, ‘We’re all thrilled to have you. The rest of the community doesn’t even know you’re on your way, but they’ll embrace you lovingly. Would you like that?’

  Alexis teared up like she’d never had a place in this world. She shook her head in embarrassment and wiped her eyes, as if it were unintentional. She said, ‘I would like that very much.’

  Maeve took her hand off Alexis’ knee and put it on her shoulder. ‘You are loved, Alexis. I want you to know that. No matter what this life throws at you. You are loved. And there’s a home for you out there. I have faith it will be with us.’

  Alexis let the tears flow freely.

  Maeve said, ‘I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to make you emotional. We’ll see you tomorrow. Have a pleasant evening.’

  She got up and walked away, slowly, without hurry.

  Alexis waited for her to go, then killed the tears. She wiped her face, impressed by the fact she could pull the waterworks out of thin air.

  Then she headed back to the Budget Inn on foot.

  27

  In case the Arbuckle Lodge was compromised without their knowledge, King and Slater spent the night sleeping in shifts.

  They got three hours of sleep each, twice over, going back and forth from midnight to midday. No one disturbed them. No one came for them. There wasn’t so much as a peep from the corridor outside their room.

  With six hours each under their belts, they headed outside in the early afternoon for a meal.

  They’d already got word from Alexis that Maeve had approached her in Overlook Park.

  En route to the closest eatery with Glock 43s concealed under their jackets, they kept an eye out for any signs of ambush, but it appeared their escapades the night before had deterred anyone from pursuing them. They knew if they hung around in town for too long and made their presence obvious, escalation was inevitable. But they couldn’t maintain the roles they were playing and shut themselves up in their room from paranoia, so they strode for a twenty-four hour diner up the road from the lodge, aware they were probably under surveillance.

  Slater said, ‘That was fast from Maeve.’

  King said, ‘I’d wager she has her finger on the pulse of the rumour mill. It wouldn’t have taken long for word to reach her.’

  ‘You think she’s heard about us?’

  ‘I can’t see how she hasn’t.’

  ‘Then why haven’t we been approached yet? She should have been waiting for us downstairs.’

  ‘She’s not omnipresent,’ King said. ‘She can’t be in two places at once. And we’re wildcards in her eyes. Best to deal with the backpackers, get the easy job out of the way, before she figures out what to do with us.’

  ‘Do Violetta and Alexis need us, then?’

  King looked across. ‘What?’

  ‘They’re already in. Their cover’s intact, and they’re getting taken to the commune tomorrow morning. Surely they can kill Maeve on their own.’

  ‘You think Maeve’s the only person running Mother Libertas? It’s a serious cult. She’ll have at least a handful of co-conspirators, and maybe hundreds of followers living in the commune. You think Violetta and Alexis can kill everyone in charge and escape without getting torn apart by the masses?’

  ‘If they do it fast, and they don’t hesitate … yes. Won’t that shatter the followers’ belief systems? If they see their invincible leaders killed?’

  King shook his head. ‘That’s not us. We’re not storming in there to kill anyone who seems like they might be in charge. What’s to say Maeve hasn’t brainwashed or threatened everyone she works with? We need more information on just how guilty the cult leaders are. Right now we know nothing. We barely understand how the cult operates or what exactly they tell their followers, and we don’t know who’s responsible.’

  ‘You think we can stay here in town and find out?’

  ‘We’d serve more of a purpose if we go there ourselves.’

  ‘That’s if this act works.’

  ‘Then let’s hope it does.’

  They made it to the diner without incident, found no hostility in the faces of the patrons eating lunch, and concluded that they weren’t in grave danger yet. They ordered huge meals and gorged on copious amounts of carbs in mutual silence. The old military adage: Eat when you can. You never know what the future might hold.

  They finished, left a hefty tip, and figured it was best not to test their luck.

  Slater said, ‘I say we head back for the rest of the day. Keep in touch with the girls, find out what they’re doing.’

  King thought about it and nodded. ‘We’ve done our job. The rest is in Maeve’s hands.’

  They’d been cooped up in their hotel room for the last twelve hours, so Slater suggested a detour through Camplex Park for a breath of fresh air amongst nature. They took Saddlehorn Road around the park, drinking in the sun, tasting the cool air in their throats. It was bliss in comparison to a stuffy room, no matter how luxurious the hotel was.

  Trees were dotted intermittently through the swathe of grass constituting the bulk of the park. Slater took the lead, heading off the road, taking a direct diagonal route back to the Arbuckle Lodge.

  King followed, but the emptiness rubbed him the wrong way.

  There wasn’t a soul about. The wind blew through the trees, whipping at their clothes.

  A man with hunched shoulders and wide meth-crazed eyes stepped out from behind one of the trees with a gun.

  It happened so fast that King couldn’t shoot first.

  He had his Glock out of his jacket in maybe a second flat, but the man already had his own barrel aimed at King’s head, and he fired.

  King wasn’t there anymore though.

  The instant he’d registered the hostile gun, he’d dropped to his stomach on the grass, hard enough to give himself a mild concussion if he wasn’t careful. But a concussion was infinitely better than a bullet to the dome, so he took the risk. The guy’s first shot blasted the silence away, and the displaced air of the bullet’s flight path whipped over his head. It missed by a solid three feet, but the shooter was competent enough. He’d aimed for King’s centre mass and instinctively squeezed the trigger before realising King’s centre mass was now on the ground.

  King fired back.

  One shot to the head.

  Almost unfair, given his skillset.

  The junkie’s neck snapped back and he slumped against the tree trunk and slid down to the base. His dead eyes were glazed as his chin dropped to his chest.

  The noise of the twin reports echoed all the way through the vast grounds of Camplex Park, and faded away.

  Slater stood deathly still.


  King clambered back to his feet, already having suppressed his adrenaline response considering the threat was gone.

  Slater looked all around. ‘Shit. Let’s go. Now.’

  King said, ‘Search him first.’

  28

  Slater figured a junkie hired by bikers to execute them in broad daylight wouldn’t have much to offer in terms of important loot.

  He reluctantly searched the corpse anyway.

  Then realised he should never assume anything.

  He went into the inside pocket of the body’s oversized leather jacket, and felt the clink of glass between his fingers. He seized the contents of the pocket and came out with two full vials of Bodhi.

  He held them up for King to see.

  King’s eyes widened. ‘Where was he going with those?’

  Slater went through the man’s jeans pockets and found a phone and a tattered wallet, but no keys. He suspected the man was homeless. The smartphone was an ancient model with no passcode — typical junkie foresight — and the wallet held no credit or debit cards, just fifteen dollars in cash and an old ID that identified the man as James Fitch.

  Thirty seconds had elapsed since the incident, and no Good Samaritans had emerged to investigate. Slater hoped they’d been far enough away from any ears to explicitly identify the noise as gunshots, but he doubted it. His ears were still ringing from the reports. Someone would come check it out eventually, so time was against them.

  He finished patting down the body and said, ‘That’s it.’

  King was already on the move.

  They were back in their room within ten minutes, and only passed three people on the way back to the hotel, none within the immediate vicinity of the shooting. One of the three had nodded politely to them — the greatest threat in subsequent police interviews — and the other two hadn’t glanced up from their phones.

  Overall, a good result.

  Slater sat on the edge of his bed, going through the would-be assassin’s phone. There were multiple texts to a nameless contact — just a number in the phone — about drug deals for personal consumption. He disregarded them, kept scrolling, and hit the jackpot.