by Alan Baxter
After what seemed an eternity, the Dominus pulled his hand away. Faith staggered, steadied by Lars. It was as well that he held her because she would certainly have gone face down in the dirt if he didn’t. ‘Just as well you took him out,’ the Dominus said, his expression showing disgust. ‘He did get to her.’ Faith frowned. Who got to who? Someone got to me?
Lars spat out a breath. ‘I knew it! But I could find no trace.’
The Dominus shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter now and the Channel is no wiser. Off you go.’
Faith looked from the Dominus to Lars. ‘What..?’
Lars stopped her with a quick, subtle shake of the head. ‘Come on,’ he said, before she could protest. ‘I’ll show you to our tent.’
As he turned her away, Faith heard the Dominus say, ‘Come on inside, boys. Let’s hear how everything is.’
She looked back over her shoulder and saw the Optimates follow the Dominus towards the marquee tent beside the barn, huddled and laughing as they walked. Even the Dominus seemed a little more upbeat. ‘What’s going on,’ she snapped, angry and embarrassed. ‘What the hell was all that?’
Lars smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it, love. How do you like this, eh?’ He swept out an arm, encompassing the entire valley in the gesture. ‘Pretty good, right? Even if I do say so myself.’
Faith didn’t want to let this go. She felt very frightened all of a sudden. ‘Don’t change the subject, Lars. What did he do to me and what did he mean with that stuff about a channel?’
Lars steered her towards one tent in a small group slightly larger than the others, right on the edge of the clearing between the barn and the camp proper. Like all the tents here it was military in style, heavy canvas, thick wooden poles. He held open the flap and she only had to duck slightly to go inside. There were two cots, a table and two chairs, with an old style trunk against one wall. ‘Sit down.’
She sat, looking around herself. Two cots, presumably one for each of them. She supposed there was no such thing as a double camping bed. But all this stuff was a bit old fashioned. They could have got a double air mattress in here. Less to carry around and certainly more comfortable. She felt like she had been transported onto the set of M*A*S*H. ‘What did he mean, Lars?’
Lars sat opposite her, leaning his elbows on the folding table between them. ‘It’s the first time he’s seen you and he’s obviously aware of the high regard that I hold you in. He had a close look at you, that’s all.’
‘Bullshit.’
Lars stared at her with a level gaze. His expression said, I don’t have time for this shit, but Faith would be damned if she was going to sit around and be subject to humiliation like she had just endured. ‘You just paraded me like a prize fucking sheep, Lars. There was no introduction, no conversation. I’m surprised he didn’t pull my mouth open to check my fucking teeth!’
Lars laughed. ‘I’m sure he decided your teeth were good enough.’
‘Don’t fucking play with me, Lars. I don’t like this at all. I don’t know what’s going on here and I don’t like being out in the middle of nowhere like this. Why am I being presented to him at all? As we walked through this camp, people were looking at your brothers in awe and looking at me with disgust. And I’m just led straight up to the Dominus? Presented to the main man as if I’m something special?’
Lars reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. ‘You are something special, love. I’ve told you time and again. You are going to be central to all of this because you are special.’
A tear rolled down Faith’s cheek and she cursed it, embarrassed she was showing weakness. Her fear and confusion were getting the better of her. ‘What, or who, is the Channel?’ Her voice was quiet, weak.
‘There are many things within our Order that you have yet to learn,’ Lars said, his voice soft, more concerned now. ‘The double edged sword of your quick rise is that you have missed out on a lot of our ritual and methodology. I’m sure that a lot of what you hear must be confusing and confronting, but try to relax. Trust me, my love, all right? I promise that you will learn all you need to learn as we go along.’
‘You haven’t answered my question,’ Faith complained, staring at the table top. ‘You never do. You’re like a fucking politician.’
Lars smiled. ‘Some things are hard to explain out of context.’
‘What’s the Channel?’
‘It’s hard to explain.’
Lars kept his voice quiet and level, but she could tell it wasn’t the way he wanted to keep it. It sounded like he wanted to burst, to shout and curse, hit her. She deliberately pressed him. ‘What’s the Channel.’
Lars’s voice became harder. ‘Don’t push it, Faith.’
‘What’s in that big shed?’
‘The future.’
‘Why’s it so heavily protected?’
‘Even the most devout can be curious.’
‘What’s the Channel?’
Lars stood up explosively. ‘I have things to do. You should rest. This is your home for now, your own space. You should stay here and rest.’
Faith looked up from the table, her eyes dark. ‘What if I choose to walk about outside instead?’
Lars shrugged. ‘Whatever. But don’t go beyond the boundaries of the camp. Outside the torchlight it’s dark. Absolutely, desert outback dark, and easy to get lost. Don’t wander off and get lost, okay?’
‘Like you really care.’
Lars shook his head. ‘I know you’re confused. I know you’re angry with me because I can’t answer all your questions.’
‘Won’t, you mean.’
‘But don’t think for a moment that I don’t care. I care very much. It’s late. Try to get some sleep. If you must go for a walk, that’s fine, but don’t be long and come back here for some sleep. I’ll be back myself in an hour or two.’ He leaned down to kiss Faith’s lips but she turned away, forcing him to settle for a cheek. He stroked her hair and left the tent.
She sat and stared at the tent flap. She was incensed and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Every time she stopped to think about it, her brain got fuzzy. She was being raised up in this Order faster than anyone else. She seemed to have walked straight into the highest levels and she had no idea why. When she tried to think about it, her brain tripped over itself and changed the subject. When she asked about it, Lars just told her she was special. And what the hell did that mean anyway? Special in what way? Right now she felt special in a remedial class, stay back and do the year over again kind of way. With a growing sense of trepidation she tried again to think about what she might be to this Order. What this Order might be to her. She was at the centre of something enormous, something powerful. They were going to make some changes, there was no doubt about that. It would be magnificent, wouldn’t it? They were going to commune with a god. They were going to become something the world had never seen before.
And there she went again, her brain rambling through all the bullshit she had been fed instead of concentrating on the issue at hand. What exactly was she, herself, within all this? Why was she special? What did Lars have in mind for her and what was the Channel this Dominus mentioned?
What about him, too. He looked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo if Shaggy lived to be a thousand years old. But he had been powerful, no doubt about that. The instant he had touched her, his power was apparent, pouring off him in terrific waves. It was almost as if he was not only looking closely at her but also saying, Feel my power. Feel how strong I am. Worship me! He had a presence, there was no doubt about that. Faith wasn’t surprised that people like Lars paid him the respect they did, aside from the fact that he’d taught them all they knew. He was one of those people that simply commanded respect. Faith barked out a curse. Here she was, mind wandering again. Why couldn’t she hold one single train of thought?
What was it the Dominus had said? He did get to her. What the hell did that mean? Was he talking about her personally? And, if so, who had got to her? She should know if someone had got
to her, surely, whatever that actually meant.
That feeling that she had forgotten something rose up again. She paused, surprised by her own thoughts. She deliberately calmed herself, taking a deep breath and starting to use the meditation technique she had used back in the hostel in Sydney. Back when all this began. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. She breathed and emptied her mind. Forget all this ONC stuff for a moment and go back to her old self. Go back to her old ways. She focused inwards and felt more power there than she had ever known in herself before. She had certainly grown during her time with the ONC. She let her thoughts float by like bubbles, images playing out on the cinema screen of her mind. She witnessed. What was it she was looking for? There should be a thought somewhere, something about a thing she had forgotten. A thing or a person? Or an event?
He did get to her.
What did that mean? The thought floated past her mind’s eye again.
He did get to her.
Who got to who? Someone got to her and it was important or not?
The Channel is no wiser.
The Channel? What was the Channel? Who was the Channel? There was something that she was supposed to be realising. Something important and relevant to everything going on here. A decision. An agreement. She had made a decision and it was a big one. But what was it?
The thoughts floated by and other thoughts floated with them. She saw the journey, the car, Jake and Chris sitting behind her. She saw Lars’s house and the ONC Gathers there. She wished she’d had the chance to attend more of those, learn more about this Order before she was thrown so deeply into a major event like this one. If only she understood more about how they worked, what the rituals entailed. Even what their terminology was. She was sure that none of this would seem so frightening if she just understood the whole thing more. But, for whatever reason, Lars was being deliberately obtuse about it all.
With a sigh she realised she was actively thinking again, her meditation all but forgotten. Just lately she hadn’t been able to meditate properly and that bothered her. It had never been an issue before. It was something she took solace in, something she found refuge in. It was disconcerting that her mind was so out of her own control lately. Too much to think about, she supposed. Too much information flooding her brain, making it difficult to keep up with anything. She was tired. But screw Lars, she was going to have a walk about this camp before she slept, even if just to spite him.
She stood and pulled open the tent flap, looked out. People were still up everywhere. She was having trouble keeping track of time. They had left Lars’s house in the middle of the night and driven to that motel. They’d sat around there most of the next day, then driven for hours to get here. It must be close to dawn. She stepped out and began wandering aimlessly through the camp. Her tent would be easy to find again, situated as it was right near the front.
As she walked she heard all kinds of voices, all kinds of languages. People sat in groups near camp fires set up between tents, smoking, drinking, laughing, talking. The smell of pot drifted through the air and Faith gravitated towards it. The thought of getting stoned appealed to her immensely. The one thing pot was good for was making nothing else matter. Whatever was pissing you off, it would go away while you were stoned.
As she made lefts and rights, trying to track down the elusive source of the odour, she noticed someone moving with her. Trying not to let on that she had seen him, she stopped, looked around. From the corner of her eye she saw the figure drop out of sight behind a tent. She walked on another few metres, then stopped again, spinning this time. She clocked the guy drop from sight, then he slowly stood up again. He knew he had been caught out. He shrugged and walked up to her. She recognised him from the Sydney Gather. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Sorry.’ He seemed genuinely apologetic. ‘Lars asked me to keep an eye on your tent and follow you if you went anywhere.’
‘You’re a shit spy then.’
The young man laughed. ‘I know. To be fair, I never tried to pretend I wasn’t.’
‘Why did he want you to follow me?’
‘Dunno. He said he didn’t want you to get lost and if you looked like you were going to leave the camp I was to stop you.’
Faith raised an eyebrow. ‘And how exactly did you intend to do that.’
‘Dunno. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to it.’
Faith shook her head. ‘Fucking Lars. He’s pissing me off lately.’
‘You and him are pretty tight, eh?’
Faith decided to avoid the question and the inevitable others that would follow it. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Jordan.’ He extended a nervous hand.
‘Can you smell that weed, Jordan,’ Faith asked, shaking his hand. Jordan nodded. ‘You like weed, Jordan?’
He shrugged. ‘Sure.’
She looked around herself. ‘You know, I want to get really fucking baked.’
Jordan grinned. ‘Sounds good. Let’s go.’ He turned around and walked between two tents. ‘It’s this way,’ he called back over his shoulder. Faith smiled. He obviously had a better nose for this sort of thing than she did. They walked several yards then Jordan stopped and sniffed again. He looked around one of the tents, then grinned. He pointed. ‘There they are.’
Faith looked where he was pointing and saw a group of about a dozen people sitting around a large fire. They were passing fat joints around, at least three on the go that she could see. One of the people sitting there looked up and saw Faith and Jordan watching them. ‘Cruor Novus Sempiterna Omnipotens!’ he said, grinning.
Faith smiled back . ‘Cruor Novus Sempiterna Omnipotens.’ This looked good. These people didn’t know her as anything other than another ONC member. She could be as anonymous as them.
A few of the others turned around to see the newcomers. The man that had spoken held out the joint he was smoking, a question in his eyes. Faith smiled again. ‘Excellent.’ She pulled Jordan with her and sat down beside the man, filling her lungs as introductions were made around her and a bottle was passed from the other side.
‘So now we know where they are. What do we do about it?’
Cai Wu looked at Petra and smiled. ‘Initially, child, we do exactly what we do best. We observe. That in itself will be hard enough.’
Meera nodded, almost invisible in the blackness of the outback night. ‘They have sentries along both sides of the valley and at the entrance. There’s a rough track that leads from the end of the dirt road and they have to walk for some distance to reach the camp. There are guards all along there too. And with the guards are wards and alarms of all kinds. They are being extremely careful.’
Petra looked back to Cai Wu. ‘So how do we watch, Master? It sounds as though it will be very hard to get close without being spotted. And we couldn’t communicate with each other without being discovered.’
‘You could get closer, Petra,’ Meera said from the darkness. ‘You are more skilled than I.’
Petra smiled at her friend. ‘You’re generous to say so. But even if it were true, what would I do when I got close?’
‘We need you to get us all close,’ Cai Wu said. ‘From what Meera has reported it would seem that getting above them at the head of the valley would be the ideal vantage point. You have the ability to sneak in among their wards and set up a safe space. I imagine they will become ever more distracted as they near the time of whatever it is they are gathered for. Make a safe space, Petra, and we will all join you one by one, hidden in the landscape and your cloaks. I trust in your ability to do that. Then we will decide what to do next.’
Petra looked at her Master, at her friend Meera, at the other Magi around her. From what Meera had reported there were hundreds of ONC members camped in the valley, thousands possibly. They were outnumbered many times over. Certainly they could observe from a distance, but to what avail? She could not help thinking that Isiah would have had a different plan of approach. He would have brought new perspectives and new skills to their g
roup in a situation like this. But that was hardly relevant any more. With a quick nod she slipped away into the dark.
17
Isiah felt as though he floated through tar, thick, cloying. He realised that feeling at all was unexpected. He wanted more than anything to sink back down into the depths and the dark, the encompassing nothingness somewhere below him. A part of him ached for it, yearned for it, but that didn’t seem like the wisest option. Some deep, primal survival instinct forced him to pull his attention away from the welcome black. He sighed, tried to open his eyes. They felt as though they were glued shut. He tried again, his eyelids peeling apart as his dry and swollen lips parted with a sticky sound of protest. Pain fired in lightning flashes throughout his body. He groaned. Watery light and shadows flooded into his vision. ‘Oh, Jesus...’ His voice was incredibly weak.
‘How do you feel?’ asked Jesus.
Isiah blinked several times. ‘Surely not,’ he muttered, trying to look around.
Christ smiled. ‘Surely not what?’
‘I’m hardly a Christian.’
‘Don’t worry. You’re not dead.’
Another face swam into view and Isiah smiled. ‘Gabe! You heard me.’
Gabriel’s face was wracked with worry. ‘Of course, my friend. But I really doubted if it mattered. You were so... broken.’
Isiah nodded, his face darkening. ‘I thought it was over.’
‘So did we for a while there. Your strength is remarkable.’
‘We’ve fixed you as well as we can,’ Jesus said. ‘But there’s more work to be done. Perhaps only you can do that?’
Isiah felt as though he had been run over by truck. Several times. He scanned around himself, not daring to move, grimacing as shards of agony pulsed with every heartbeat. Muhammad smiled, giving him a friendly nod. Sakyamuni Buddha sat crosslegged nearby, smiling serenely. ‘You never cease to amaze us,’ he said quietly. Kali and Durga stood at the edge of the gathering, their glares angry and concerned at the same time. Gwan Yu leaned heavily on his large bladed weapon, scowling. As more of Isiah’s senses woke up, he began to feel gods all around him, some deliberately out of sight, but letting their presence be felt, others leaning in for a better look. ‘The gang’s all here, then,’ Isiah said with a wry smile.