Dark Channel

by Ray Garton

  Lauren, on the other hand, did not; she felt no different about him and his organization than she did about Hester Thorne and hers.

  “What’s funny?” Jordan asked.

  “This guy.” She sat on the end of the bed watching the screen.

  “Oh, yeah. A riot. He’s always reminded me a little of Mussolini, a fat Mussolini. Except this guy’s smile is a little more sadistic, I think.”

  She laughed again and turned to him; he was still sweeping the room with his black box, making his way to the television set.

  “The bible has warned us,” Reverend Hallway went on, strutting on a stage in front of an enormous audience, “of false christs who will come to fool even the very elite of god’s people. They will come in many different disguises—rock stars, popular novelists, even religious leaders—people whom we admire and lavish with praise. But they will try to lead you away from the truth. They will try—and sometimes succeed—to make you believe a lie. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a false christ. And Hester Thorne is a false christ.”

  Jordan flipped the switch on his black box again with a loud click and signed, “Looks clean.”

  “Clean? What does that mean?”

  “It means there aren’t any bugs in the room or taps on the phone.”

  “Did you think there would be?”

  “Didn’t know. That’s why I did this.” He removed the earphone and put the box back in the suitcase.

  “Why would the room be bugged?”

  “I don’t know. I just had to find out.”

  “So you wouldn’t blow your cover.”

  “That’s right.” He sat down on the bed beside her and smiled a cold, sarcastic smile. “You know how very important my cover is to me. My next step is to find a small animal and, after sunset, sacrifice it to the great god of private investigators so my cover won’t be—”

  “Okay,” she said, standing and slapping her hands on her thighs, “I want you to know right now that I do not like being in this situation. I’m not sure yet, but I don’t think I even like you. If you knew me, you would know that I usually like everyone, I’m a very easy-going person, but you are making this very difficult and you know that I’m under a lot of pressure here. I’m worried about my son’s life. And, as if your grating personality weren’t enough, there is something very wrong with this room. I wonder if you’ve noticed it yet?”

  “The bed.”

  “The bed, yes. Now, I suppose this is my fault, but when I agreed to pose as your wife for the sake of your cover, it was not my intention to sleep with you. What do you suggest we do about this little inconvenience?”

  “Well, Mrs. Schroeder—”

  “There, that’s what I’m talking about. I’ve already asked you to call me Lauren. I think this situation would be more tolerable if we could at least be on a first-name basis, but you won’t do that! It’s almost as if you don’t want to make me comfortable. Frankly, Mr. Cr—Jordan—I don’t think you’re a very nice person.”

  He gave her that humorless smile again and said, “You’re right, Mrs. Schroe—okay, okay … Lauren—I’m not. I’m sorry, but I’m not a very nice person. But I do want you to be comfortable. Believe it or not, that’s important to me. Under the circumstances, you are important to me”—Because of your fucking cover, she thought—“and I want to make this easy for you. But I assure you that I have no intention of seeking carnal knowledge of you. I intend to sleep in this bed. You’re welcome to sleep in this bed, too, with my solemn oath not to lay a hand on you. Otherwise, there’s a sofa right over there.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. Now, if I had the urge to jump your bones, yes, I would think there was something wrong with me. But that’s not the case. Now.” He stood and began removing clothes from his suitcase—which, like hers, was equipped with a tag that read PROPERTY OF LORNE AND BONNIE CUSACK, 1938 LARKSPUR, SANTA BARBARA, CA—and taking them to the closet. “We are going to make ourselves familiar with this town. If you’d like to take a shower first, please do. If not, I’m going to change my clothes and we’ll be off.”

  She clenched her teeth as she watched him hang clothes in the closet, resisting the feeling of helplessness that washed over her and made her want to scream at him and cry like a child. Instead, she opened her suitcase, removed a change of clothing, and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her as Reverend Barry Hallway said ominously, “Those who walk into the satanic trap set by Hester Thorne will surely … surely … be lost.”

  3.

  Mark sat at his small school desk in the seminar room, his notebook open before him, trying hard to listen closely as Hester lectured before the group that surrounded him. But listening wasn’t easy. He was exhausted from lack of sleep.

  “—but remember that, throughout the bible,” Hester went on, pacing in front of the group, “the ultimate sin, the act that results in decadence, destruction and ultimately, death—what I like to call the three D’s—is separation from god. But the lie that has been fed to you and others throughout time is that god is some great invisible omnipotent force and I’m telling you—and you’ve probably already realized this, or you wouldn’t be here—that just doesn’t make sense. We are now living among the three D’s like we’ve never seen them before and why? Because we’ve lost sight of—we’ve been separated from—ourselves. We now focus on greed, possessions and pleasures. Some call this selfishness. I call it selflessness, because in doing all of this, we don’t consider what it does to us. We have been separated from the one true god—we’ve been separated from ourselves. We all, each and every one of us, make up the Godbody, but right now, the Godbody is ill. And what we are trying to do in the Alliance is heal it. Before it’s too late.”

  Mark scribbled some notes—mostly to appear attentive—frowning at the pages before him, his thoughts elsewhere. He was surprised when he noticed everyone standing and filing out of the room. He quickly sat up, closed his notebook, and stood.

  “Mark, wait.”

  He turned to Hester, who started toward him, carrying a briefcase. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing,” he smiled, “I was just—”

  “You weren’t even in this room.” When the door closed and they were alone in the room, she reached up and gently brushed aside a strand of hair on his forehead, then her fingertips trickled down his cheek like tears, brushed along the line of his jaw until her hand came to rest over his heart, palm first. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  Warmth spread from the touch of her hand and filled him like a drink of strong liquor.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m just … I was thinking of Nathan.”

  “I thought so. Are you worried?”

  “Well, not worried, just …” He shrugged and let the sentence dangle.

  “You know what it does to me when I see you like this? It hurts me. It makes me think you don’t trust me, that maybe you even suspect me of something—” She chuckled, “—something … sinister?”

  “No, no, not at all. I’ve just never been separated from him for this long. I … think about him a lot. It would help if, you know, if I could just … see him for a minute or two. Talk to him.”

  “Just to make sure he’s all right?”

  “Well …”

  “So you think he might not be all right.”

  He sighed, feeling defeated. He couldn’t make her understand.

  “I understand, Mark. I would probably feel the same way in your position. But believe me, I’m doing what’s best for both of you. See, you’ve both been misled, Nathan for five years, but you … you’ve been living outside the truth considerably longer. Now I know, Mark, that you would never knowingly mislead Nathan, but that’s the point. If you were with him, you might inadvertently do or say something that would turn his eyes from the truth we
are trying to ingrain in him in as little time as possible. Being your son, Nathan would naturally be more likely to follow your example than he would ours. Think of it this way: you’re both in a hospital recovering from an illness. You’re staying in the adult ward, Nathan is in pediatrics. It’s temporary and, most of all, it’s for the best.”

  Another sigh blew up from his chest, but this time it trembled, slightly weakened by her gentle touch.

  “How would you like to go for a walk?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  In the hall outside the seminar room, Hester stopped one of the white-suited men, gave him her briefcase and said, “Take this to my office for me, please?”

  “Certainly, Hester.”

  Everyone was on a first-name basis in the Alliance.

  They left the complex—which was located behind the hotel—and followed a path up a small hill, holding hands, until Hester veered off the path and led him into the dense shade of a wooded area, cool from the lack of sun. The gurgle of a distant stream drifted through the darkness and above them, through the branches of the trees, the mountain watched as they walked in silence—

  —until Hester spoke: “Is everything else okay? Aside from missing Nathan?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine.”

  “You’re sure? Don’t you … miss your wife, too?”

  “Lauren. Well … I think of her.”

  “How do you think of her?”

  “I wish she’d come here, too.”

  “You thing she might?”

  “I … doubt it.”

  “Do you want my opinion? My experience?”

  “Sure.”

  “She won’t. She may come looking for you, but she won’t come looking for the truth.”

  “You think she’ll come looking for me?”

  “Did you leave her anything?”

  “I left her the house, the—”

  “But no money.”

  “Well … no. I feel a little guilty about that. But you did say everything.”

  “And for a reason. If you leave something behind, you might be tempted to go back to it. I don’t need your money. You’re cared for very well here, and that, of course, is not free, so what you contribute goes toward that expense. But when Jesus told the rich man to give up all he had, he was trying to tell him how pointless it is to become so attached to his belongings. They won’t be around forever. The truth, though, the real truth, is eternal.”

  Mark couldn’t hide his smirk. “I thought you didn’t like that stuff, all that stuff about Jesus. Christianity, I mean. You’re always calling it a lie.”

  “Only what men have made of it. Jesus was actually the most well-known channel in history.” She smirked, too.

  After a silent moment, Mark said, “Sometimes I wonder how Lauren is doing, because I took all our money, I—”

  “Don’t worry about that. She’ll get by. She’s not helpless. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe she’ll come here and investigate the truth that you’ve found. But it’s never happened before.”

  “Should I … get a divorce?”

  “That’s up to you.” She stopped walking and stepped in front of him, still holding his hand, moving her other hand to his face, stroking his cheek. “Do you ever get lonely?”

  He started to respond, but did not; he wasn’t sure if she meant lonely for companionship—because there was plenty of that, he was surrounded by people—or lonely for a woman.

  “You can tell me. It’s okay. Don’t you get lonely … for a woman?”

  It was something she did a lot: answer a question an instant after he’d asked it silently, in his mind. He smiled and asked quietly, “Do you read my mind, Hester?”

  “No,” she whispered, lightly brushing a fingertip over the lashes of his right eye, “I read your eyes.”

  After a moment, he said, “I get lonely sometimes. For … well, for quite a while, really. We haven’t been very, um … intimate for a long time. Sexually. Lauren and I, that is.”

  She moved closer until her breasts were pressing against him and her breath was warm on his face.

  “There’s no need for you to be lonely,” she said. “None at all.” She lifted his hand to her shoulder and pressed it there, then lifted both hands to his face, leaning forward and giving him a light, gentle kiss on the mouth. “I’m here for you, Mark. I’m here for all of my people. But I especially want you to know that I’m here for you.”

  She was so close, so warm … he resisted the small temptation to step away from her and, instead, slid his arms around her and pulled her closer, gently at first, until he put his mouth over hers again, then he pulled her body hard against his, giving in to the warmth that came from her, not opening his mouth at first, for fear she wouldn’t respond. But when her lips parted and he felt her tongue moving against him, he smiled, let her in, let her lick his lips, run her tongue over his teeth, let her draw his tongue into her mouth and suck on it like a penis, moving her mouth backward and forward on it, flicking her tongue over it, gently biting it, letting loose a throaty laugh as she pulled her mouth off of it and looked at him with promise in her eyes. He’d grown hard against her and was embarrassed for a moment, almost pulled away, but she quickly whispered, “No. No, don’t. If this is what you need, I want you to have it. See … that’s part of the truth, too. We need each other. We’ve lost that.” She smiled so brightly, so happily. “Do you want me, Mark?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Do you want me?”

  He couldn’t answer, so he nodded, tightly closing his mind’s eye to shadowy images of Lauren.

  “Then I want you.”

  They kissed again and he moved his hands over her slowly, feeling her back, her shoulders, her hair, her breasts. …

  There was a sound in the woods. At first, Mark thought it was the brook in the distance, chuckling over rocks and fallen branches, but—

  —it was a laugh, a high, melodic laugh wafting through the dense gathering of trees.

  Hester pulled away, still smiling, but looking around them.

  “Ah,” she whispered, “I forgot. We should go.”

  “What? You forgot what?”

  The laugh came again and this time it was undeniably that of a child.

  “I forgot the children are performing exercises today,” she said.

  “Exercises?” He backed away from her and looked around until he spotted two children. They were not easy to spot; they were dressed in clothes that blended perfectly with the woods around them, but he was unable to see their exact color because the children darted behind the fat trunk of a tree. “What exercises?”

  “Educational exercises.”

  There were more of them farther away, darting from tree to tree, only these children were silent, quick, almost invisible.

  Hester took his hand and began leading him back toward the path.

  Mark asked, “But what kind of educational exercises would—”

  He stopped speaking, froze in place and gaped at a space between two large trees where—

  —Nathan ran beside another child, hunched low, dressed in the same camouflaged clothing and moving in perfect silence. At least … he thought it was Nathan.

  “Nathan?” he called. “Nathan?”

  “Mark,” Hester said, her voice firm now, “we shouldn’t interrupt them.”

  A small head peered around a tree trunk, face lost in shadow. “Daddy?”

  It was Nathan’s voice.

  Mark let go of Hester’s hand and moved toward the tree several yards away. “Nathan! It’s me!”

  “Dad!” the boy hissed.

  Mark blinked. There was no happiness in his son’s voice, nothing to tell Mark that Nathan was playing, having a good time or glad to see him.

  In fact, Nathan’s voice was thin and high-pit
ched. He sounded terrified.

  “Dad, you gotta hide!” Nathan rasped.

  “What?”

  “Come on, Mark, we’re interrupting their exercises.” Hester took his hand and tugged him toward the path.

  “Nathan?”

  “Hide, Dad! They’ll kill you! They’ll eat you!”

  “What?” Mark shouted. He spun toward Hester. “What did he say?”

  “Remember what I told you, Mark? Remember, I told you we’re educating him? In the truth?”

  “What did he mean, they’ll—”

  She stepped close to him again, but this time her face was dark, stern, and she clutched his elbow hard. “Mark, I will explain if you want me to, but you still won’t understand. This is just an exercise, just a lesson. We’re doing what we have to do to teach these children and—”

  “C’mon, Dad, hide! Don’t let them find you!”

  Hester pulled hard on his arm and he went with her, only for an explanation.

  “What the hell is he talking about, Hester?”

  “It’s a lesson, an object lesson, like a fairy tale with a moral at the end. It’s just a game, Mark. But now that he’s seen you, it might not work at all! Don’t you understand that children have to be approached differently than adults? Can’t you see that?”

  They were on the path again, heading toward the complex, but behind them, Nathan’s voice traveled on the slender breeze: “Dad! Hide! Hide, Dad!”

  Hester clicked her tongue and looked perturbed. “He’ll be marked down now. For coming out of hiding.”

  “Hiding from what?” Mark asked, looking back over his shoulder toward his son’s voice.

  “From lies. Well, he doesn’t see it that way yet, but he will, afterward, when it’s all been explained. It’s just a game now. Didn’t you ever do that when you were a child? Learn lessons from games? From exercises?”

  They slowed their pace and Mark turned to her; he felt confused, uncertain. “I … guess so. I don’t know.”

  “That’s all they’re doing, Mark. And it’s my fault that we interrupted. I should have remembered they were doing exercises in the woods today. I’m sorry if you’re upset. It’s my fault.”