Modern Rituals

by J. S. Leonard

  James dared not move. Then he was on the floor struggling to breathe. The woman had managed to spin around, catapult upwards, and mid-swing, had kicked James square in the chest, propelling him a few feet backwards. She loomed over him.

  “And just what do you think you were doing?” the woman said. His diaphragm scuffled with his lungs.

  “Damn. Dammit! I…” James said, coughing. “…was trying to see if you were okay!”

  “Okay? I wouldn’t say I’m okay. But do that again, and a kick to the chest will be the last of your worries.”

  James made a deeply etched mental note to remain on this woman’s good side. He cautiously rose to his feet as the woman stared.

  “Listen—my name is James. I’m as confused as you are. Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “No clue. I was just running from someone and suddenly found myself getting a little too close to you.”

  Ugh—lousy first impression. His gut told him he needed to befriend this woman—that she was important. There’s something about this girl…I can’t put my finger on it.

  “I just found myself here as well, no more than a few minutes ago. It was like someone changed the channel on the television. My clothes were different, and there was a note in my pocket,” he said.

  The woman looked down at her outfit: she wore a pleated, blue-plaid skirt, with black, high-heeled loafers, high white stockings and a tucked-in, starchy, long-sleeve, white blouse—unbuttoned at the top. Given the right angle, someone would have a nice show of her breasts. She buttoned the blouse as high as it would allow.

  “Oh, my—I look like a school girl!” she said to herself. James didn’t mind it.

  The skirt contained two side pockets, into which she placed her hands and from one, retrieved her own note, keeping an eye on him all the while.

  “That can’t be a coincidence.” James said.

  “For all I know, you put this in my pocket,” she said, still staring at him.

  “I can’t prove that I didn’t. For all I know, you could have faked your crazy little entrance there after having just planted mine on me a few minutes before. I think we’re just going to have to try and trust each other for the time being.”

  The woman didn’t respond, though her shoulders appeared to relax as she studied him.

  “Let’s see what this says.” She unfolded the paper and peered down at the slip. It was no larger than a business card.

  “Well, are you going to tell me?” James said.

  “Oh, yes, sorry. It says ‘Restraint,’” she said. “What does yours say?”

  “Mine? It says ‘Protect,’ which has me clueless. None of this is adding up.”

  “Well, that doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

  James tried to form a sentence—a mental blankness disrupted his attempt and melded into an awkward silence between them. He sought a place to look away from her until he could collect himself.

  “My name is James,” he tried again, looking back at the woman. “James Bixby.”

  She scrunched her lips, leaving James’ words in the air.

  “Oh—right. I’m Olivia,” she said as if her name was new to her. “Listen, pleasantries aside, we need to figure out where we are and find help.”

  “No arguments here. Where do you suggest—” he said, but Olivia ignored him, walking away toward the stage on the opposite side of the gymnasium. She’d entered a pair of doors to the right of the stage by the time James caught up.

  They opened into a narrow, unlit hallway with two more doors on the left and one at the end. They continued, and James noted Japanese characters on the doors to their left, as well as the universal male and female symbols for “Restroom.”

  “Are we in Japan?” James said.

  They hurried, reaching the end of the hallway as the last of the light escaped from the gym doors. They pushed through an exit and met a cool, calming breeze.

  Before them sprawled a well-tended soccer field. Another field wrapped around the building behind them—a green pasture enclosed all of this, bordered by a thick forest.

  The sunset dripped blood-orange. James looked to his right—a concrete walkway extended around the building, away from the fields. He motioned to Olivia to follow him, but she was already on her way. Around the corner a large, empty parking lot fronted a series of buildings, including the gym. An archway provided a covered entrance between the gym and another large building. Beside it towered a sign printed with writing James couldn’t read. Olivia didn’t seem to have a clue, either.

  A gated driveway allowed entry into the parking lot, lined by a black, wrought-iron fence that extended into the forest, circling the property and continuing well into the distance.

  “It’s so quiet. This place feels abandoned. I mean, I don’t even hear any birds,” James said.

  “Yeah…” Olivia said, lingering on the last part of the word. The drawl of her English accent melted James. He loved English accents.

  Olivia headed toward the gate.

  “Whoa, wait—don’t you want to see if anyone is here? We should check this place out, right?” James said.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” she said. “Well, I mean, all of this doesn’t feel right. I think we need to get out of here.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” James agreed. “We’ve been abducted, but who abducts someone and just leaves them alone? Could it be something went wrong? Maybe this is our only chance to escape.”

  “Exactly. Come on.”

  They dashed to the closed driveway gate. James pulled on one side, hoping. It was unlocked.

  “Whew.”

  The gate squealed, settling long after James’ initial tug. They pushed through and met a road lined with pine trees. It shot far into the distance, undulating with dips and crests until the horizon swallowed it whole.

  “Inviting,” James said.

  Olivia nodded, then set off at a brisk jog. They followed the path for twenty minutes before slowing to a walk. The landscape persisted unchanged, the distant curve still distant. An unsettling, odd consistency to the trees troubled James as they journeyed.

  After a long silence, James said, “Does this road seem really remote? You would think we would have hit an intersection by now. Or hell, at least turned. We must be really out there.”

  “Yes, it does. But, what choice do we have? Let’s keep moving.”

  Perspiration stung James’ eyes as they approached a distinct change: the road curved into a dead-end—a reflective barrier stood between it and the forest.

  “What’s this shit? How do people even get to this place?” James said.

  “No idea. Maybe there’s another road around here that connects to this one. I think we should keep going.”

  “Into the forest? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “You afraid? Like I said, we don’t have many options right now,” she said.

  James hated to admit forests spooked him—he blamed his city-boy upbringing.

  “I dunno,” he said. “It’s just that in all the horror movies I’ve watched, the forest generally turns out to be a bad decision.”

  “If this is a horror movie, then we’re already screwed, aren’t we?” she said, then hopped the road block.

  James kept close to her. The sun filtered through the forest canopy, casting a net of broken shadows on the ground. Shafts of light thrust down, highlighting swirling clouds of dust within tightly packed trees. Dirt layered the ground and no evidence of shrubs, weeds or the like presented themselves.

  “That’s strange—I thought it would be darker by now. Not that I’m complaining, or anything,” James said.

  Olivia looked to the sky, her eyes distracted.

  “So, James, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”

  James had been wondering whether he should make small talk. Her question relieved him.

  “I’m from Chicago—you?”

  “London. But, I was in Belfast…” she said, then shook he
r head. “Earlier.”

  “Belfast? How’d you find yourself in Northern Ireland?”

  “Long story. What do you do in Chicago?”

  “I’m an artist and I teach part-time at U-of-C. Oh…um…I mean the University of Chicago.”

  “An artist? What kind of art?”

  “Well, now, that’s a long story. Let’s just say I focus on transformative interactive media,” he said eagerly watching her reaction. James loved talking about his work—and watching how people reacted to seemingly nonsensical streams of words.

  “That sounds…um…interesting,” Olivia said. “Perhaps you could tell me more about it sometime.”

  “Gladly. To sum it up, my work explores the intersection between tangible and intangible interfaces our consciousness uses to interpret reality—Ow!”

  James’ face ran head-first into…nothing. Olivia gasped from behind him as his head snapped back.

  “Good God! What the hell?”

  He rubbed his nose and scanned the air, expecting to find a tree branch or steel wall. Olivia slid passed him, extending her arm—it struck an invisible, solid object. She balled her hand into a fist and punched. A rippled impression swirled from the strike point, altering the forest scene into a painting on a wobbling canvas. Thin strands of light traced honeycomb patterns where the canvas bowed—they reminded James of circuitry on a silicon board.

  The picturesque landscape returned to normal as the ripples subsided.

  “Holy motherfucking shit!” James said.

  8

  Purgatory 8 bustled. Theo contemplated the picture before him. On the wall monitor, Olivia and James stood at the perimeter point. They had discovered it within an hour of launch. Whether this was a red flag, Theo did not know.

  “Keep the lights on. We need these two to find their way back,” he said.

  Susan nodded curtly, then returned her attention to the screen before her.

  “Oh, and up their cortisol and testosterone—lower her estrogen. They need to get a move on.”

  9

  James pressed against the barrier, following it in each direction until he lost sight of Olivia. It did not end.

  Olivia rejoined James.

  James scratched his head and sighed. “Find anything?”

  “Shhh! Do you hear that?” Olivia had raised her finger at James.

  James pricked his ears.

  “No, I don’t… Oh, wait…”

  A low hum whirred beneath the otherwise silent woods. It sounded like the electric rattling of a power main, but no ordinary power main—like an ocean of electrical static.

  “Is that…is that from a power station? Damn, I can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from—it must be huge!” James said.

  The discovery of the invisible barrier had left James bewildered. He stared beyond the barrier. The omnipresent, electrical thrum vibrated his body—it had a pacifying effect. A vacancy overrode James’ thoughts.

  “There has got to be a way out of here!” Olivia said, startling James.

  He jumped and drew in a deep breath, his once-expressionless face filled with focus.

  “You’re right. There’s gotta be a way out of here—we just need to find it.”

  James pulled out the slip of paper from his pocket and turned it between his fingers.

  There must be more to this.

  “We need to head back. Look around. See what we’re up against,” Olivia said.

  James glanced up at her and the paper slipped from his fingers and spun to the ground, landing in a thick patch of dirt by his right foot. The word “Protect” stared up at him. Olivia had turned to walk away, and James bent down to pick up his note. He followed her, rubbing dirt from the parchment, and as he rubbed, the parchment changed. The texture frayed. He flipped it over. A series of words appeared.

  “Whoa…whoa…whoa! Check this out!” he said, still wiping away dirt.

  Olivia turned and jogged back to him.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  A varnish had coated the parchment’s reverse side, now rubbed free by the abrasive dirt. James scratched away the remaining substrate, revealing the following characters:

  教室 B-12 // 本 Amida

  “Uh…looks like a mixture of Japanese and English. Check yours,” he said.

  Olivia retrieved her slip and scratched at the reverse side. Nothing happened.

  “You need to use something gritty to take it off,” James said. He took a pinch of dirt from the ground and placed it on her paper.

  She rubbed. Same inscription. Neither of them understood Japanese, leaving them to ponder the English words. Neither B-12 nor Amida meant much to them.

  “Hmmm… Maybe B-12 is a code? What is Amida referencing—is that a name?” Olivia said.

  “Not sure, but this was obviously meant for us to find,” James said. “I wonder if there’s some way we can translate these characters.”

  Olivia started back toward the road. “Well, we aren’t going to find any answers out here, I guess. Let’s go.”

  They reached the dead-ended road. The quiet forest unsettled James as the low hum diminished behind them. The silence deafened—his ears desperately grasped for sound, only to find a peculiar auditory void. His heart’s thumping resonated in his neck.

  “Man…do you hear that? Or, rather, the lack of that?” he said.

  “I’m sorry?” Olivia said, hopping back over the roadblock.

  “It’s like this forest is dead. I haven’t heard a single bird or animal. Nothing. I’m no country boy, but I know that forests aren’t this quiet.”

  “It is strange, yes.”

  They walked to the parking lot entrance in silence.

  An eeriness crept into their surroundings: quiet and chilly. Tendril shadows snaked around the forest and school grounds. James’ neck hairs stood on end as if a stalker watched him—or rather, hunted him. The buildings invited him.

  James approached the archway positioned between two buildings at the forefront of the compound.

  “This must be a high school, but it’s not American, I can tell you that. Where the hell are we?” James said examining the archway and marquee.

  Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but words evaded her. She could be anywhere. She could be far from Belfast or only a few miles from her flat. This place did not strike her as threatening—no, it was the unknowing that threatened; the lack of information and strategy. It was balls-up and it boiled her blood. A tingling clawed on the underside of her skin—this, she knew, was her subconscious digesting her surroundings, the result of which she hoped would reveal her next move.

  She had new clothes. She had a piece of paper. She had a potential ally—or enemy? She wasn’t certain, yet. She couldn’t escape by running—at least not here. And, she had a slight headache. She needed more options, and options came from access to resources—especially information. Her next steps: explore the school—or whatever it was—and figure a way out.

  Olivia stood silent for few moments. Finally, she said, “Anywhere.”

  They passed underneath the arch and into an open foyer sandwiched between what appeared to be a two-story administration office on the left and an entrance to the gym on the right. A pair of soaring glass doors provided entry to the office building, and on them, Japanese characters mixed with numbers informed of office hours or the building name—at least, James assumed they did. The foyer narrowed into a long walkway shooting through the school’s campus, intersected by a covered walkway that connected a windowed low-rise—twice the size of the gym and three stories high—on the left and another building beside the gym on the right.

  Perhaps that building to the left is where the classrooms are?

  THOCK—the sound of knocking wood mingling with babbling water broke the pervading silence. It trilled from a well-manicured Zen garden that harbored a lily-pad-laden pond and towering, Japanese gazebo under which meditated a mammoth, bronze Buddha statue. The administrative building wrapped behi
nd the garden, standing as perimeter to intimate dirt paths speckled by inviting stone benches and shrubbery. A bamboo dipping-bird filled with water and repeatedly spilled its contents by slamming upon a hollow log.

  In other circumstances, James would have found this spot beguiling—charming…romantic even. He looked at Olivia and realized that he was goggling her.

  “Huh…” he said, embarrassed, and glanced away.

  He peered up at the offices. They overlooked the garden from floor-to-ceiling windows on each level—they seemed to lack interior lighting. The windows revealed nothing.

  They arrived at an intersection where the tea garden ended and an overhead sky-bridge connected two buildings.

  An entrance opened off to their right. “Looks like a multipurpose room or something,” Olivia said.

  They slowed to investigate the juncture—James walked in front of Olivia and stopped, turning to face her.

  “Well, I think we have the gist of this place. This looks like the center—the whole thing’s not all that large, really,” James said. “You okay? You haven’t said anything for a while.”

  She looked at him and parted her lips, but instead of speaking she cocked her head and her eyes widened. James whipped around—he struggled to distinguish the outline in front of them.

  A girl. A small girl.

  “Hey, there! We aren’t here to hurt you!”

  No response.

  He raised his hands and walked forward until he could see the young girl’s eyes. Dread sunk needles into his neck—the eyes discharged a frightening stream of murderous lust. Knee-length wet, matted hair shrouded her downcast face. She wore a tattered, gossamer gown, grimy and unwholesome over pallid skin, slightly damp and decayed here and there. A sneer furled her purple lips.

  “What the holy fuck!” James said, reversing course, placing himself between Olivia and the girl.

  The wet girl wriggled forward in spasmodic, bone-snapping movements, careening down the corridor in blurs and snapshots.