Dark Channel

by Ray Garton

  “Will it hurt?” he asked.

  She hunched down in front of him. “Of course not, sweetheart. Would I want you to do something that would hurt you?” She waited for an answer, then: “Well, would I?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “You’ve watched the ceremony before. You haven’t seen anyone hurting, have you?” He shook his head again.

  “You’ll feel no pain,” she said, holding up her penlight. “It’ll be over … like that—” She nicked the light off. “—and then, just as quickly—” She turned it back on. “—you’ll be starting all over again, a healthy baby boy who will have the privilege of growing up in the New Age of Enlightenment. So. Are you ready, Nathan?”

  There was a long pause before he nodded, then he took her hand and they went into the cave.

  Inside, light from the lanterns danced over the glistening cave walls. In the smooth curves of the rock formations, Nathan imagined that he saw faces, hands, eyes, grinning mouths. Drops of moisture clung to the tips of stalactites, sparkled like diamonds, then dropped. The whispered voices and crunching footsteps echoed through the darkness.

  By the time they reached the Center of the Vortex, the voices had silenced and everyone began forming half-circles around the glowing crevice: first the children, then the adults.

  A small pixieish young woman with a fluorescent lantern came to Nathan, smiled and said, “Hi, there.” Her voice was high-pitched and tiny, like Tinker Bell’s; Nathan liked it.

  Hester said, “Nathan, this is Angela. She’s going to prepare you. She will bathe you, then lead you in a brief meditation and chant. Go with her now and, when you come back, it will be time for your re-embodiment. Okay?”

  He nodded.

  Angela took his hand and led him away.

  24.

  “I think we’d better go down,” Flash said, frowning at the gauge.

  “How much do we have left?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?” Flash shouted.

  “Well, doesn’t the gauge say how much is left?”

  “The damned gauge doesn’t go by ounces!”

  “So how far do you think we can get?”

  “I don’t know!”

  Marvin looked down. He saw car headlights gliding silently over a freeway with buildings lit up on either side. He recognized miniatures of familiar signs: 7-Eleven, Denny’s, BP, 76.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Headin’ into San Jose pretty soon.”

  “Where do you want to put it down?”

  “There’s a field up here ’side the freeway that’ll do me.”

  Marvin remembered pictures he’d seen of Chernobyl right after the meltdown at the Russian power plant—the burned bodies, the blackened landscape—and of the surrounding area and people years after the accident—hideously deformed cattle and babies—and he thought of what this area would be like if he failed to stop Mark Schroeder. He realized the chances of success were slim, but they were much slimmer if he didn’t try, didn’t push himself—and, if necessary, Flash—to the limit.

  “Keep going,” he said.

  “You are crazy! Do you hear me? You are out of your fuckin’ mind?”

  “Fine. Just go a little further.”

  “A little further? Just what in thee hell does that mean, a little further?”

  “It means just what it says.”

  “I’m puttin’ her down,” Flash growled with determination. They started down and the dog began wriggling excitedly.

  “You do and you’ll have to deal with this on the ground.” Marvin aimed the gun at him.

  “What, you’re gonna shoot me?”

  “If you don’t keep going.”

  Then Flash surprised Marvin. He started to cry. He shook his head, sniffling, wiping his nose on his sleeve and muttering, “Shit. Sheee-yit! Son of a bitch. I shoulda stayed in m’damned bed. Don’t know who in the hell you think you are, but … shee-yit.”

  They kept going.

  25.

  Mark was sitting perfectly still in the plane, eyes closed, head back, hands joined in his lap. He was chanting under his breath, lost in meditation; his mind was focused sharply on what he was about to do.

  The plant. The task. The purpose.

  He could not hear the plane’s engine or the pilot’s voice. He couldn’t even hear his own breathing. There was nothing but his task and its purpose and—

  —a tiny insect-like voice. It was deep inside him, in the deepest, most private, secret part of him. He’d been able to quiet the voice a little, but he could not silence it.

  What if she’s wrong?

  So he tried, instead, to simply ignore its words.

  What if death does exist?

  He increased the speed of his chant.

  What if you really will be killing all of those people?

  He deepened his meditation.

  Ending their lives … murdering them …

  And still the voice went on. Unstoppable. Undeniable.

  What if they’re landing?

  He chanted faster, a little louder.

  We’ll be killing them soon.

  Mark’s chanting stumbled. He didn’t understand the voice now. It wasn’t making sense.

  “I said, we’ll be landing soon. Mr. Schroeder?”

  The plane’s engine roared in his ears suddenly. He felt the rumbling vibration all around him and reality rushed in on him in an instant. Mark opened his eyes and turned to the pilot. “I’m sorry?”

  “We’ll be landing in a while. I thought I’d let you know.”

  “Oh. Yes. I see. Okay.”

  His body felt numb. His head ached and his mouth tasted like old pennies.

  But he had a task, a purpose, a destiny. He would let nothing stand in his way. Not even that voice …

  … the small, irritating voice of the one thing that had terrified Mark relentlessly since the day he’d left Lauren: doubt.

  26.

  They had all heard the voice that had spoken through Hester a while ago and they had spoken little since, leaving one another alone with silent thoughts.

  Jordan’s fear grew more intense as he imagined the kind of future Hester and Orrin—or who or whatever it was—had in mind for the world … unless Marvin succeeded in stopping Mark Schroeder.

  Lauren thought only of Nathan and wondered what he was doing at that moment.

  Coogan thanked god his wife was not alive for all of this, and wondered what mistakes they could have made in raising Paula that would make her want to join such a vile group and turn her back on her own children.

  Lizzie wondered if maybe Hester wasn’t meant to succeed, if perhaps god had other ideas, and she prayed for the strength to overcome such doubts.

  Then the voices outside the cave drew closer. Footsteps resounded in the cave and voices rose and fell, then silenced. Only the sounds of movement and an occasional reverent whisper could be heard as the Inner Circle gathered outside the alcove.

  “Oh, god,” Lauren whimpered. “They’re out there. Nathan is with them, he’s out there somewhere. My baby, oh, god …”

  “We need to pray,” Lizzie breathed. “That’s all we’ve got left.”

  “Amen,” Coogan said. “He’s done bigger things. No reason he can’t change their plans.” He nodded toward the archway.

  Lizzie stood and went to him. “Anybody want to join us?” she asked.

  Jordan ignored them.

  Joan looked at Lizzie cautiously and said, “Look, I walked away from the Catholic church for good reasons, and I—”

  Outside, Hester said, “The circles are complete. We are ready to begin.”

  Lauren stood and stumbled to the far wall of the alcove that faced the group outside. She pressed her palms to it first, then
her cheek, her entire body, and whispered, “Oh my god, my baby, my little boy.”

  Benjamin growled at her for moving so close to the archway.

  Lizzie grabbed Coogan’s hand, then Joan’s, closed her eyes and said rapidly, “Dear lord, we come to you in desperation. The best we can do is put this in your hands, but we need your help and we need it now. Nathan needs your help, Marvin needs it, wherever he—”

  “And now,” Hester said, “we will focus our energies on the wholeness of the Godbody and begin the chant to call on the Guardians.”

  Following Hester’s lead, they began to chant: “Gaaawwd-baaaww-deeee. Gaaawwd-baaaww-deeee …”

  “My little boy,” Lauren murmured, “my little boy, my son, my baby, what are they doing to my baby. …”

  Benjamin growled at them again, louder this time, moving toward them threateningly.

  The chanting went on relentlessly.

  Lizzie continued to pray.

  And although he appeared to ignore her, Jordan’s eyes were closed and he was following intently Lizzie’s every word, because he knew there was nothing else he could do.

  27.

  Nathan was embarrassed.

  Angela had led him away from the group and down a long narrow branch of the cave to a room with a black pool in the center. Drops of moisture fell from the long narrow stalactites hanging from the narrow ceiling and sent constant ripples over the pool’s surface; the gentle dripping echoed through the room and down the passage behind them.

  Angela had set her lantern on a flat stone the size of a large barrel and, in one unexpected movement, slid Nathan’s robe up and off, pulling his arms over his head.

  That was why Nathan was embarrassed; except for his sneakers, he was naked.

  Then Angela took off her robe.

  Nathan’s face burned.

  She took his hand and led him into the pool until the water was up to his waist.

  “There are crystals in this pool that Hester has treated and energized,” she said. The echo in the room gave her soft voice a magical quality. Nathan found it relaxing, calming. “Bathing in this water will increase and purify the energy you already possess. And if Orrin chose you himself, you must have a lot of very special energy.”

  Putting one hand on his back, she cupped the other and scooped the cold water onto his chest, running her hand down his abdomen, then repeating the gesture two more times.

  Nathan watched her closely. He watched the way her shiny blond hair began to fall slowly around her shoulders as she moved, the way her tiny round breasts shifted slightly now and then, the way her eyes sparkled and her hands felt on him.

  “Now,” Angela said, “I want you to lean back and relax. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

  He leaned back into the crook of her arm.

  “Hold your breath,” she said, placing a hand on his chest.

  She dipped him under the water and pulled him back up.

  When he opened his eyes and saw her pretty smile, her bright eyes and her hair falling down around her face, he realized she was one of the last people he would see in this life.

  28.

  “I’m takin’ her down,” Flash barked decisively.

  “How much farther?” Marvin asked.

  “I don’t give a shit in the morning how much farther, I’m takin’ her down, and if you don’t like it, you can shoot me when we land, but I’m not gonna—”

  The engine coughed.

  “Oh, shit,” Flash groaned.

  The engine began to sputter.

  “What’s wrong?” Marvin asked, panicking at the sounds from the engine.

  “We’re outta fuel that’s what’s wrong you son of a bitch!”

  Marvin felt sick. He clutched the edges of his seat and muttered, “Oh god, this is it, this is it, this is it. …”

  They began to descend quickly, but the engine was still wheezing and struggling; it hadn’t died yet. Flash was trying to get them as low as possible before that happened.

  Then it stopped.

  Silence.

  “Glide us in glide us in!” Marvin screamed.

  “Helicopters don’t glide, you asshole, they drop.”

  And they dropped …

  29.

  “We’re landing,” the pilot said.

  Mark blinked several times, then nodded and said, “Good. That’s good.” But his words did not hold the confidence he’d intended and it made him nervous, agitated. There was no more time to chant or meditate, no more time to think.

  Maybe, Mark thought as the plane descended, that’s just what I don’t need … time to think.

  The wheels of the plane shrieked as they scraped the runway.

  Impact was deafening.

  30.

  Marvin and Flash had both screamed all the way down, Flash holding his barking dog to his chest while Marvin leaned forward with his face between his knees, then

  —the slamming shock of the helicopter landing, the crunch of metal and—

  —the helicopter’s curved Plexiglas broke in several places, forming sharp, transparent fangs that surrounded the two men, and then—

  —cold.

  Marvin didn’t move for a long time. His lower back felt as if someone had driven over him in a car. His eyes were clenched shut. All he could feel was the cold and something moving on his lap. He opened his eyes slowly to see the dog perched on his thighs, jittering happily as if it wanted to go back up and do it again. Marvin turned to Flash, who was leaning forward in his seat, shaking his head and scrubbing his face with his palms.

  A fine white mist curled all around them.

  The helicopter had fallen through the ceiling of something, taking out a good portion of two walls as well.

  “Oh, boy,” Marvin sighed. He pushed the dog off his lap, unbuckled his belts and tried the door. It was stubborn, but he managed to get it open after a few tries. When he got out, his body still stiff from the tension of the drop, he stumbled over several hard objects lying loose on the floor around him. He looked down.

  Cornish game hens.

  Marvin looked all around them and realized where they were: inside a long, rectangular, refrigerated shipping container. They were surrounded by frozen Cornish game hens, chickens, steaks, hamburger patties, hot dogs and fish, all wrapped in plastic.

  He leaned into the helicopter to tell Flash he was going outside, but stopped. Flash was hugging his dog and sobbing.

  Marvin turned and sidled through the opening in the wall, careful to avoid the jagged, torn aluminum, and hopped down onto the pavement.

  He heard footsteps and voices rushing toward him and he thought fast. If he was found, he’d never get to Diego on time.

  There would be questions to answer and police to talk to and he could not afford that, so—

  —he turned away from the voices and saw more shipping containers, six of them all together, grouped neatly around him behind a large building. He limped to the back of the one they’d landed on, then ducked around the corner and headed for the back of the next container. Hurrying along the wall of the building, he went around the corner and realized where he was.

  Ahead of him was a lot filled with eighteen-wheelers. To his left, trucks were lined up at a fuel island.

  They’d landed at a truck stop.

  The footsteps and voices drew no closer; they’d stopped at the helicopter and he could hear several people talking at once,

  “—call the police and get a—”

  “—calling an ambulance now, so—”

  “—just dropped right out of the sky, just dropped like a damned—”

  Trying to conceal his limp, Marvin headed for the fuel island to look for a ride, comforted by the weight of the .38 beneath his sport coat.

  31.

  Mark
stepped out of the plane and onto the runway. He was surprised by how weak his knees felt.

  The airpark was well lit but small, and there appeared to be no one around except himself and a man standing beside a dark sedan several yards away. The man started toward him, taking broad steps but not hurrying.

  Mark turned and looked into the plane. The pilot smiled and nodded toward the man with the car, saying, “He’ll take it from here.” Then he leaned over and pulled the door shut.

  “Mr. Schroeder?” the man behind him said.

  Mark turned to him and tried to smile, but he knew it was a clumsy effort.

  “I’m your driver,” the man said. “You’re to come with me.”

  Mark followed him to the car, willing his legs to hold him up and trying to ignore the speed of his heartbeat.

  In the car, the man smiled and asked, “Did your flight go well?”

  Mark looked at him and thought, They’re all so calm. So at ease. Then: “Um, the flight? Yes, the flight, uh, went fine, just fine.”

  The man started the car.

  “Um, how far do we have to go?” Mark asked.

  “Oh, it’s a little drive. Not bad. I have something for you to listen to.” He pushed a cassette into the tape deck.

  “Hello, Mark,” Hester said.

  Her voice startled him and his back stiffened.

  “I think I know what you’re thinking right about now,” she said, “and I want to ease your mind. You’re probably having doubts, aren’t you?”

  He almost responded, but pressed his lips together tightly.

  “You’re human, Mark. Humans have doubts. Just keep remembering a few things to fight those doubts. Remember the Center of the Vortex and how wonderful that light made you feel. Remember Orrin and the things he’s taught you. And remember me, Mark. When you’ve re-embodied, we’ll be together again. Orrin will see to it.”

  Mark could feel the tension bleeding from him as she spoke. Her voice alone was enough to calm him, but her words gave him strength.

  She went on: “You’re heading now for your destination. I want you to relax and chant with me, Mark. Focus all your thoughts and energy on your task, and remember … we’ll be together in the New Age.”

  Mark relaxed in his seat, leaned his head back against the headrest and began to chant quietly with Hester.