by Ray Garton
Jordan was already trying hard to control his natural reaction to the situation, but when Hester mentioned Fiske, the smallest reaction slipped by, just a twitch, maybe, a slight flinch or a flex of his jaws. But she noticed.
“Fiske? You’re working for Fiske? He sent you here?” She looked as if she were about to laugh.
He tried, but he knew he failed to hide whatever minute response Hester was looking for.
She stood, nodding. “But you’re not going to tell me where Mr. Ackroyd is, are you?”
He didn’t even look at her.
Hester waved for the four men to get out of the archway, then said to Benjamin, “Bring Mr. Cross out to the Center of the Vortex. And hurry.” She walked briskly out of the alcove saying to the three guards, “Don’t even let them speak.”
Jordan lifted his head then as Benjamin started toward him from the back of the alcove. His instincts told him to defend himself or run, but both were impossible; he didn’t have a weapon, and the men blocking his exit did.
When Benjamin stood before Jordan, his massive body blocked the light of the lantern and he blackened Jordan’s field of vision like an enormous shadow. Benjamin’s odor coated the inside of Jordan’s nostrils until he thought he’d never stop smelling it.
“He’s my friend, Benjamin,” Lizzie whispered.
The man holding the shotgun said, “Quiet.”
Benjamin stood there for a long moment, looking back and forth between Jordan and Lizzie. Jordan found it hard to believe, but Benjamin appeared confused.
Because of what Lizzie said? he wondered. What has she said to him? What has she done to affect him that way?
He had no time to think about it, though, because Benjamin bent down, wrapped an arm around Jordan’s waist and squeezed, lifting him from the rock and carrying him out of the alcove.
Jordan realized at that moment that what he’d felt up until then was merely tension; the real fear was just beginning to spread through him. He closed his eyes as Benjamin carried him jarringly, holding him like a sack of laundry, until—
—the darkness behind his eyelids began to swirl with color, then exploded with rapid-fire visions—
—a line of naked people falling into a trench after being shot—
—an old woman nailed to a wall with long rusty spikes—
—hands being chopped off—
—and Jordan opened his eyes and breathed, “God, no,” because it was starting again, the same nauseating headache he’d felt the last time he’d been in the vile blue light that surrounded him once again.
Benjamin finally stopped and set him down on unsteady legs. He tried not to look at anything but his feet, but it really didn’t make any difference; the light enveloped him, oozed into his pores and flowed thickly through his veins and arteries. He lifted his head slowly and squinted against the light coming from the crevice just two feet in front of him.
“Oh, god,” he groaned as his muscles began to ache and his stomach churned.
“Unpleasant, isn’t it?” Hester asked. She stood beside him. “It’s always unpleasant for the unenlightened who have not been through the proper preparation.”
Staring at his feet again, Jordan spoke in a strained voice. “Like brainwashing?”
Hester laughed. “I’m sure that’s how you see it. But look at this, Mr. Cross.” She swept an arm toward the crevice. “This is real. I certainly didn’t create it. It’s not natural. Not natural in the sense with which we’re familiar, anyway. It’s supernatural, don’t you think? So why would I need to brainwash anyone? What purpose would it serve? All I need to do is lead them to this and prepare them for the truth that it gives.”
Jordan was hunching forward slowly, one forearm across his stomach.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Cross?”
He wanted to close his eyes, but he knew what awaited him if he did, so he left them open and let the throbbing blue light pierce his eyes and fill his head.
“Not well?”
He could still smell Benjamin, who stood nearby, and wondered if his theory about the cause of Benjamin’s deformities was correct.
“It’s only going to get worse, you know,” Hester said.
His knees gave way unexpectedly and Jordan went down, groaning at the painful impact. It was getting worse. He was afraid he would vomit soon, perhaps even pass out.
“If you’d like to get away from the light, Mr. Cross, all you need to do is tell me where Mr. Ackroyd is. Is he doing something? Running an errand for you, perhaps? Or just watching television?”
His eyelids were growing very heavy and he had to concentrate hard to keep them open. But concentrating wasn’t easy because there was a throbbing buzz growing steadily louder in his head.
“I know how much you know, Mr. Cross,” Hester said, kneeling beside him. “I know exactly what you’ve uncovered, and it doesn’t mean a thing. It’s all been for nothing. I’m taking steps to make sure you’ve done no damage and to cover your traces so you won’t do any damage. To do that, I think it would help to know where Mr. Ackroyd is. And you’re going to stay right here until you decide to tell me.”
Jordan’s teeth clenched and he swallowed repeatedly to keep from vomiting. With a hoarse voice he said, “Why do … you need me … to tell you? Why don’t you ask … Orrin.” He spoke the name with disgust.
“Because Orrin is an Ascended Master and deals in great truths … not in the whereabouts of aging salesmen. That’s why Orrin has me, to help pave the way for the truth, for his arrival on this plane of existence … and to find out where your friend is right now.”
He began to blink and his eyes burned and watered, but he managed to keep them open. In spite of that, however, the images of death and violence he’d seen when he’d closed his eyes began to flash in his mind just as vividly. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the ground.
“I … I’m gonna … b-be suh-sick,” he rasped.
“I’m sorry.”
He fell on his sides as snakes squirmed in his stomach and gnawed with dull fangs on his insides. “Please,” he breathed.
“Where is Mr. Ackroyd?”
A long, low groan rose up from Jordan’s gut, then he vomited.
Benjamin stepped forward, making a small sound in his throat, and leaned down to help Jordan up.
“No!” Hester shouted, looking up at him with shock at his behavior.
Benjamin backed away hesitantly, blinking, shaking his head every few seconds and making irritated coughing sounds. When he saw his mother’s furious stare, he stepped forward quickly and kicked Jordan in the back, then turned away. But, although Hester did not seem to notice, the kick was merely a halfhearted gesture.
“Where is Mr. Ackroyd?” Hester asked again. “If you tell me, you can get away from the light.”
Jordan clawed at the earth with his fingers as the world tilted and spun around him. “Heli … copter.”
“Helicopter? What helicopter?”
“Flash.”
“Gordon? Chuck Gordon?” He nodded.
“Where is he going?”
“Duh … Diiiego.”
“The nuclear power plant?”
Another nod.
“He’s going there to stop Mark Schroeder, I take it.”
“Yuh.”
Jordan could keep his eyes open no longer and gave in to the display of carnage that took place in his head.
“All right, Mr. Cross,” Hester said, standing. She turned to Benjamin. “Take him back.”
Benjamin picked him up and carried him, faster this time, back to the alcove. When he was back on the ground, Jordan lost consciousness.
Hester motioned for the man with the shotgun to join her just outside the alcove. He handed the shotgun to one of his partners and stepped through the archway.
Hest
er said, “I want you to go right now and find, um … find—” She closed her eyes, froze a moment, “—find Luis Jimenez and bring him here to me. Right now. And hurry as fast as you can.”
The man said, “Yes, ma’am.” Then he turned and left.
Lizzie knelt beside Jordan, who remained still for a minute or so. When he began to move his head, she stroked his hair gently and whispered, “Just lie still for a while.”
Hester said, “I’d rather you remain seated, Lizzie.”
“Oh? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.” She didn’t move.
Jordan looked up at her with bleary eyes, made a noise that sounded like a chuckle, and croaked, “S’good t’see you.”
Lizzie rubbed a hand over his back lightly, up and down, up and down.
Hester said, “Lizzie, you have been doing uncalled for and very unfriendly things behind my back. Your friends have come on my property armed with guns. Now, in light of all that, I think it’s only proper that you remain seated!”
Lizzie glared at her a moment, then whispered to Jordan, “Just stay right here until you feel like getting up.” Then she returned to the rock on which she’d been sitting.
“Where’s my son?” Lauren whispered suddenly, speaking so quickly that the sentence became a single word. She’d been mustering the courage to ask the question since being brought to the cave, but she was so scared that when she finally spoke, the words spilled out in a jumble.
“He’s in good hands,” Hester said pleasantly. “He’s being prepared for tonight’s ceremony.”
“Cere—what ceremony? Pruh-prepared how?”
“Spiritually. I’ll be seeing him soon. He’s the Chosen One.”
Lauren cried out and her hand went to her mouth. “No. No! You’re going to k-kill him!”
“Oh, no. There is no death, Mrs. Schroeder. Only re-embodiment. Nathan will be re-embodied, and when he comes of age in his next incarnation, the New Age of Enlightenment will have begun.”
“Buh-but why d-do you have to kuh-kill him?”
“We’re not killing him, but if that’s the way you choose to see it … You see, Mrs. Schroeder, each person is a kind of human generator. The energy that comes from that generator can move mountains if used properly, it can move whole worlds. We’re using it to bring Orrin from the spiritual plane to this physical plane of existence, to form a sort of bridge between the two planes and bring them closer together to speed the coming of the New Age of Enlightenment. Your son will be the final Chosen One. Then Orrin will come.”
Lauren began to cry, bouncing slightly as if the rock she was sitting on had become hot.
“Just think, Mrs. Schroeder,” Hester went on. “Your son will be living his next incarnation in a world with no crime, no addictions, no corruption. People will live in harmony with one another and with the planet.”
Lauren’s voice grew louder until she was shrieking hysterically and she dove from the rock toward Hester with her arms outstretched, crying, “You bitch, you fucking bitch, damn you, I’ll kill you!” and—
—the two remaining guards rushed toward her as—
—Lizzie and Joan went after her, followed by Coogan, whose movements were stiff and clumsy, and—
—Hester stumbled backward but not fast enough because Lauren slammed into her, hands clamping onto her throat, but not for long because—
—Benjamin’s hand fell between them and pressed on Lauren’s chest, pushing her back firmly, but without undue force, until she was standing between Lizzie and Joan, frozen with fear, her jaw slack as she stared straight up at Benjamin.
The guards stopped, but did not retreat.
Lizzie put her arm around Lauren and, as they sat again, said, “Don’t do that anymore.”
“Very good,” Hester said quietly to Benjamin.
After a few moments of silence, Coogan said to Hester, “So what’re you gonna do with us? Do we get re-embodied, too? Or are you just gonna kill us?”
“As I said before, Mr. Coogan, there is no death, therefore there is no killing. As for what will happen to you, I’m not sure. I’m going to leave that up to Orrin. When he materializes here tonight, he will make that decision. It’s appropriate that you will be waiting here for him because his whole purpose for coming is to cleanse the earth of those who close their minds to the truth and those who actively stand in its way.”
“Satan doesn’t cleanse,” Lizzie said matter-of-factly. “He decays, corrupts and destroys.”
Hester turned an icy gaze to her. “Please, Lizzie. Keep your biblical mythology to yourself.”
The guard Hester had sent away returned to the alcove and said, “He’s just outside, Ms. Thorne.”
Hester left the alcove, but they could hear her voice just beyond the archway.
“Luis,” she said, “I’m very sorry to disturb you, I can tell you were sleeping, but I’m afraid something’s come up with which you can help me.”
Luis said, “Oh, that’s, uh … no problem, ma’am.”
“Good. Now … if I’m not mistaken, you were a police officer in San Jose before coming here, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And San Jose is very close to the Diego Nuclear Power Plant, am I correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. They’re neighbors.”
“I’m wondering … do you still have friends on the force there, Luis? People you still talk to, keep in touch with?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ah, good. Very good. I think you might be able to help me.”
15.
Marvin had to urinate.
It had begun as simply an ordinary, low-grade urge to relieve his bladder, but he’d ignored it back then. He’d been ignoring it for well over an hour now. Under normal circumstances, he would be able to ignore it awhile longer. But not under these circumstances.
His entire body felt knotted with tension. He thought that, if it were physically possible, his hair would be clenched. The helicopter flew in a single direction, but it went up and down and left and right, bouncing around the sky like the little white ball in an old-fashioned movie-house sing-along as Flash whistled to himself and sang songs, swaying in his seat to the off-key tunes.
Jordan thought better of insisting that Flash knock it off—maybe this was the best he ever flew, maybe it was a lot worse when he was frightening tourists—for fear of pissing him off and giving him any reason to start really playing around with the controls. So he’d been silent, holding the flask between his thighs while perspiration soaked his palms and dribbled down the middle of his back and his bladder grew like a water balloon being filled slowly. He realized that he was actually squirming in his seat like a little boy. About the only thing he wasn’t doing was—
He put a hand over his crotch and squeezed. It was getting worse fast. His penis was beginning to ache.
“The hell’s wrong with you, boy?” Flash asked, interrupting a round of “Someone’s in the Kitchen with Dinah.”
“I’ve gotta go,” Marvin rasped.
Flash squinted at him, puzzled. “What? You gotta … you mean you gotta—” He threw back his head and let out a long string of staccato cackles. “Number one or number two?”
“If you mean do I have to urinate or defecate, I’ve gotta take a piss! How long before we stop to refuel?”
Flash was too busy laughing to answer, and as he laughed he looked out his window to the ground below and—
—the helicopter made a sudden dip to the left and Marvin felt his insides rising quickly and he was sure he would throw up. They were going down. Dropping. Fast.
Marvin screamed, “Holy fuckin’ shit, we’re goin down we’re goin’ down we’re goin’ down!”
They touched down.
There was no more movement except inside Marvin’s abdomen and skull. He was slumped down in the seat,
hugging himself and panting.
Flash was hysterical.
“Dun-did we l-land?” Marvin asked.
“Yeah, we lan—” He stopped to laugh some more, “—we landed, bucko. We’re in a—” More laughter, “—a field, so you can get out and drain your lizard.” He went on cackling.
Marvin didn’t move for a while, just tried to concentrate on slowing his dangerously rapid heartbeat and catching his breath. He removed his seat belts, set the flask on the floorboard, opened his door and peeled himself out of the seat. Ducking more than he needed to, he hurried out from under the rotor, his feet shooshing through tall dry weeds that danced in the swirling air. The dog followed him happily, yipping and snapping at his ankles.
Marvin’s weak legs abandoned him and he dropped to his knees, still wheezing a little. He realized he didn’t feel the need to relieve himself anymore and looked down to see a large wet spot over his crotch and left thigh. The dog stuffed its nose between his legs and sniffed voraciously. Some of the tension in his gut let go and he began to giggle, then laugh loudly. But in seconds, his laughter ended with a dry, hollow sob. Then he stared at his knees silently.
He still had a fair chance of dying, either in the helicopter or at Diego. Of course he could always tell Flash to head back and just forget the whole thing, or have Flash drop him somewhere in San Francisco and he could take a cab home.
And abandon Jordan and Lauren and Lizzie.
And let Mark Schroeder carry out his assignment at Diego and kill everybody within the zip code and then some.
Actually, he thought it would be nice to stay right there in that field. The ground was cool and he liked the sound and smell of the weeds.
Marvin thought of Lizzie again and closed his eyes.
“God, if you’re there … and boy, I hope you are, ’cause I’d hate to think I was doing this all by myself … give me a hand here, would you? I don’t want to kill this Schroeder guy, but I may have to. And I sure as hel—I-I mean, I sure don’t want to get killed myself, but—” A chuckle. “—I might. So, um … yeah, just give me a hand with this. Thanks. Um … amen.”
Brushing at the spot on his pants, he stood and went back to the helicopter, where Flash was laughing even harder. The dog jumped in and nestled in between their seats again.