The Relic Keeper

by Anderson, N David

  “No no, that’s me, but I wasn’t dead, well not really, it’s just like when someone’s resuscitated. I wasn’t ill, there’s no need to be scared, I’ve nothing infectious,” stammered Mathew, trying desperately to decide which was the best way to explain his current circumstance.

  “Look,” said Philip, trying to salvage what he could from the situation, “I think I can explain this better…”

  “I think you’d better shut the fuck up,” snapped Karl. “I’m not stupid. We hear the news you know, we all heard about you. I’ve had a dead body in my truck, something that belongs outside, has been in my home. I’ve shared my food with it. I’ve given it a ride, and shelter. We even fuckin’ slept alongside it.”

  “What can we do with them?” asked the man holding Philip’s hands tightly behind his back. He pulled both arms back and upwards, and Philip grimaced with the pain. Another man pulled Mathew’s head back, and he yelped with the pain, as the nagging ache in his leg flared into an agonising pain and he fought to keep his composure.

  “That one,” said Karl, nodding at Philip, “takes him out the way, break both his legs and leave him with some water. This thing needs to be treated properly. Get some rope and hang him. Then we need to set a fire.”

  A group of men pulled Philip away, while six more surrounded Mathew, grabbing his limbs and pushing him to the ground. People jeered at him and several spat in his face, someone kicked him hard in his left leg and the pain seared through his body. He looked around for help and could see Philip being hauled to the other side of the yard, struggling uselessly. As he watched through the punches and kicks he saw a young man of about 20 walk calmly up to Philip with a half metre steel rod in his hand. Mathew was heaved upright and half carried, half pulled, to where Philip was being held on the ground. They moved two pallets into place and positioned Philip’s right leg across them so that the gap between them was just beneath his knee. As he watched Mathew felt the rope fall around his neck and begin to tighten.

  “You can watch this, freak,” snarled the man with the rod to Mathew as he kicked Philip in the stomach as hard as he could. Philip cried out, unable to move because of the travellers holding his hands and feet.

  “Hold him tight,” yelled Karl, kneeling down by the journalist. “I’m going to let you live,” he continued more quietly, “but I want you to understand that I’ve done you a big favour by this. And I want you to remember never to fuck with me or my people again. Understand?” Philip nodded as best he could, all the time looking for some opportunity to move. None came.

  Karl stood and walked around the man held tight on the ground. “I’m going to stop you from coming after us, but that’ll heal. This is to remember me by. Make sure that dead thing is watching. Hold out his arm.”

  Philip fought to keep his arm still, but it was pulled across from him towards where Karl stood. He took a serrated knife from his belt, half out of its scabbard, and knelt back down, close to Philip’s face.

  “Just remember, I didn’t kill you, and I could have.” He pushed the blade up to the side of the man’s left eye, then quickly stood and brought the heel of his foot down hard onto Philip’s outstretched fingers.

  The yell made Mathew wince, but he was kept in place and made to watch by the hands that held him. He felt the noose tighten around his throat and pull him back. He strained to breathe, feeling the restriction around his airwaves. His legs kicked uncontrollably as he was pushed to the ground and he clutched at his throat until his hands were grabbed and brought around his back, where they were tied with wire. He began to plead and whimper as he was dragged along the ground towards an area where the redundant fencing posts had left a cross-member about two and a half metres from the ground. The rope that held him was thrown over the horizontal beam and he was pulled back to his feet, his toes somehow just managing to touch the ground, but not enough to relieve the tension of the rope. His eyes bulged and he tried to gulp as much air as he could with every single breath; fearing each would be his last.

  “Let them go. NOW!” a voice shouted across the commotion. Mathew couldn’t move, but he felt people look towards the sound of Rei’s voice.

  “Karl, tell them to let go of both of them, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

  The hold on Mathew released enough to let him turn his head, although the noose remained tight, choking him as he struggled to get his feet on the ground.

  Rei was standing about 10 metres from them, moving backwards and forwards to keep everyone in her sight. Both her hands were held out in front of her and she was holding a nail gun.

  “I can shoot 12 times with this thing. And if anyone does anything I do not like, first I will shoot them, and next I will fire at the propane container by the trucks. And you, Karl, if you don’t get your people off of them right now, I will fire a nail right through you scrotum.”

  “But you won’t do that my lovely will you. I don’t even think you can shoot,” he said calmly looking her in the eye.

  “I was Tokyo under 18 shooting champion 3 times and I am really fucked off right now, so don’t push it,” she yelled back. “Now, you don’t need anything from these people, so leave them and go.”

  Karl didn’t move. Rei shot a bolt that landed neatly between his feet, sending a small cloud of dirt and dust into the air. He was visibly surprised. She raised the nail gun a couple of degrees, tilted her head and aimed carefully at Karl’s crotch.

  Karl looked around at his entourage. “Ok, let them go. Get in the trucks and move out, before this crazy bitch destroys the vehicles.”

  The crowd dispersed in an air of disappointment, giving a few subtle kicks as they left. Philip pulled himself to his knees and inspected his hand, while Mathew fell and tugged clumsily at the rope around his neck. As the half dozen trucks began to move away from the farm Rei hurried over to Mathew and released the rope with deft precision. Then she left him gasping down air and quickly made her way to Philip. He was swearing under his breath and holding his right hand in his left. Rei took hold of his hand and moved it around in her own.

  “They’ve dislocated your first and third fingers, the rest is just badly bruised. It could have been much worse; nothing is actually broken. Right, brace yourself, this will hurt.” There was an audible clunk as the fingers slipped back into place and Philip yelped slightly. “You won’t be playing piano for a week or two, but it should be ok, just very painful.”

  “What about me?” gasped Mathew, having staggered across to where the other two were stood. “They tried to bloody kill me.”

  “They only tried to kill you,” snapped Philip indignantly. “They actually did break my hand you know.”

  “No,” said Rei quietly, wrapping a makeshift splint around Philip’s wounded digits. “They dislocated your fingers. I told you, it isn’t broken.”

  “Well hoo-fuckin-ray. As it goes I’ve never had my fuckin’ hand stamped on before. At least you’ve died already once.”

  “Don’t bloody stay here then,” shouted Mathew in retaliation. “I don’t want you, and you’re only here for some bloody story anyhow. So why don’t you do me and you a favour and just piss off, ’cos I’m bloody sick of you whining and complaining about what I’ve done, like I can do anything about it now. And it’s like you’re so virtuous; you’re a fucking parasite.”

  “Right, you piss-dick,” said Philip and moved himself up to Mathew so that he stood 10 centimetres from him, drawing on his height and build. “I just tried to get you out of that, in case you didn’t notice. ’Cos you’re so fucking inept that you can’t talk your way out of a situation, or lie convincingly. If we weren’t looking after you you’d already be dead – again. So try being a bit fuckin’ grateful!”

  “Oh you’re so full of it, aren’t you. Think you can intimidate me now, yeah?” Mathew pushed Philip back slightly but the larger man retaliated and shoved his right hand hard into Mathew’s chest. Philip cried out as the pain flared across his damaged fingers.

  “Now th
at you have both got that off your minds I think we should try to do something constructive,” interjected Rei, moving between the two men and casually rechecking Philip's hand. “I think that we still have about 130 kilometres to cover and we can’t stay here in case the travellers return.”

  “Great,” Philip grunted, rubbing his hand. “So what are we doing? Walking?”

  “Well, I think I may have found something of use to us in a barn over the other side of the farm, that was why I was so long returning, not that either of you thought to check on me. Follow me.”

  “Were you really a shooting champion in Tokyo?” asked Mathew as he hobbled as quickly as he could after Rei.

  “Just assume that I was,” she retorted. “By the way, why was the landowner killed?”

  “We’ll tell you later,” said Philip, holding his hand and glaring at Mathew as they followed the slight figure of Rei to a dilapidated barn across the field. Mathew glanced back to see the Karl’s entourage disappear out of the farm.

  The barn was remote, quiet and cold. The door creaked as they walked into it and the shafts of light that streaked through the cracks in the walls illuminated air packed with dust that had been disturbed when Rei had first entered the building. Here and there were pieces of farming machinery and attachments for them: ploughs, a cross-cut mower, a threshing machine and parts of an old tractor. Piled up in the corners were pallets and tin barrels, rolls of wire, and an assortment of different lengths of wood.

  Rei led the way, the two men following gingerly behind. She walked purposefully around the machinery to the far end of the barn, where she stopped and turned towards her companions.

  “Can we use it?” she asked.

  “What the fuck is it?” said Philip, clearly unhappy with the unveiling of Rei’s discovery.

  Mathew pulled some of the bales from his view. “Bloody hell. You’ve found a Jag.”

  “It’s been reconditioned by the look of it, I think the owner must have been a collector. If we can start it can we drive it?” asked Rei.

  Mathew almost forgot the burning sensation around his neck as he circumnavigated the Jaguar.

  “This was a beautiful car in her day, you know. XJ12, 5.3 litres V12 engine.”

  “Fascinating,” said Philip sarcastically. “Can it be driven though?”

  “Well, yeah. And it looks like he took care of it, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t start straight off. These were classy cars.”

  “We’ll need a key,” stated Philip.

  “Not necessarily,” said Mathew. “Have either of you guys have ever heard of hot wiring?” From the blank expressions he guessed that they hadn’t. “Well, let’s see, it’s been a while.” Mathew sat in the driver’s seat, and looked around. He pulled the blind down and a key fell into his lap. “That should make it easier,” he said.

  46

  The light at the end of the corridor flickered and buzzed. It was hung centrally from a cord attached to the ceiling, rather than discreetly housed behind the wall to cast a uniform amount of light about the room. Eventually the short tube became fully illuminated and remained fully lit, only occasionally shimmering into partial darkness. It cast dark shadows on the off-white of the walls, which reminded Deon of old films that he had seen as a kid. He seemed to remember that in the films sometimes the light had been swung, usually during a fight, causing the shadows to grow and sway against the wall, like spectral versions of the people who threw them. It seemed strange to him to see shadows inside a building, and he supposed that this must be a very old place. Not since leaving Unit had he seen lighting like this. There the lights had to be activated by pulling a cord that trailed beneath them, whereas here there was a small white switch on the wall. But Unit had been a communal experience and there people expected the facilities to be basic, if not archaic. Here he was in a building in the centre of the city. This was not the sort of place that he recognised.

  He walked up to the light that dangled before him. He thought it looked like an iridescent spider, hanging from her web to attract the moths that fluttered helplessly around her bright body, clanging clumsily and repeatedly against the hot surface until they fell dying to the floor. The light that they were attracted to caused the heat that killed the hapless insects. How terrible, he thought, to be continually drawn toward the means of your own destruction. Deon closed his eyes and still saw the impression from the bulb inside his dark head, now emblazoned with colour that he hadn’t seen before. It was, he thought, as if he saw the light in a completely different way with his eyes shut. He remembered how he’d felt when the spirit of God first touched him. That moment of epiphany when he became enlightened and saw the real world that had previously been darkened. He recalled the internal glow and warmth that had filled his body, and how he could feel the energy coursing through him. Somehow it had seemed familiar, like the return of spring. He lifted a hand and touched the bulb, making his hand sting as the lamp swung from his touch, creating light and dark patches of red appear on his closed eyelids. Light and dark, attraction and death; they were all linked somehow. He had seen much of these things, especially over the last few weeks. Now he had the chance to see his life in the true light, and this light of God could help him to overcome his own death and transform into everlasting light and life. He had to have faith now, more than ever, because if what he’d been told was correct he was at an important junction in his life.

  But he’d been told many different things recently, and had seen different truths. Often what one person told you went completely against what others would say. He thought about Philip’s pragmatism and Rei’s ideology. He remembered his own thoughts on Mathew and the cries of the angry demonstrators outside the Walden Centre, calling his resurrection an abomination against God. Since leaving Unit he had let God guide him, but was that how he got to be here now? He wasn’t sure. He felt a strange feeling, as if he’d been awoken from a dream to find himself in the dream after all. He remembered being at the apartment and the surprise of seeing Aaron arrive for him and being brought to this place, but it all seemed vague and ethereal. He began to worry about Mathew, Rei and Philip, and then wondered if he hadn’t imagined the whole bizarre story. He wished he had a tobacco tab and his autopipe.

  He crouched into the corner of the empty room at the end of the grey corridor and pulled his arms about himself to keep warm. He touched the reliquary, but it felt cold and remote. The weather had been hot outside, but in here the temperature was much cooler, as it had been on the night that he’d left the burning commune and headed north. Maybe that had been his temptation, and was merely the shadow cast from the light of the destruction he’d witnessed. Or perhaps the world really had ended and this was his trial; his chance to prove his worthiness. How can you tell if reality is true when you only have your own senses to rely on? The light crackled for a final time and then went out, leaving Deon in the dark. At first he thought that he was finally dead, until he became aware of a small shaft of light from beneath the door at the other end of the corridor and the noise of the air-conditioning. He could feel his head throb from the anxiety and decided that, wherever he was, this was a real place. He had to focus his thoughts on events and decide what he needed to do. But his mind remained confused and the conversation that he kept returning to was the one that took place when he had arrived here with Aaron that afternoon.

  “We have work to do, my friend and Brother Deon,” Aaron had said as he whisked Deon along the street and up the short flight of stairs that led to large red-brick building. Above the large doors was a slab of concrete with a crown imprinted into it and the letters E II R, and Deon saw the words Telephone Exchange beneath this, but was not sure what this meant. He wondered what a telephone was and why it needed to be exchanged. And exchanged for what? Inside the building was empty and smelt of urine. The floor was covered with bird droppings and Deon could hear the scratching sounds of verminous creatures from behind the walls and amongst the ancient stationary machinery of
the structure. Their feet echoed as they walked the corridors and dropped into the underground section of the building.

  “This,” Aaron said triumphantly, “is where we now operate from. But our operation is now very different from what it was, because now we must work hard and fast. Although this does not look much, this will be a glorious place in years to come.” He guided Deon through the twists and turns of the labyrinth under the streets and finally they arrived at a small door that led into a carpeted room, where maps adorned the walls next to a large wooden crucifix. Beneath this was a desk, where someone was sat reading from an ethervision screen. As they entered Aaron coughed theatrically and the figure switched the screen off, allowing the image to disappear in a shimmer of colours. For the second time that day Deon was startled by the face of someone he never expected to see.

  “Good afternoon, Brother Deon. You have been sorely missed,” said the Divine Caroline.

  “Brother Deon, you seem surprised.”

  “I’m sorry,” Deon managed to blurt, “I thought that you were…’

  “Dead? No, the police details weren’t correct at all about that. I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to contact you earlier, but there have been tasks and procedures that have necessitated my attention. Since the appalling disaster that occurred at Unit I have been trying to reinstate the commune to the glory of God, and that has taken almost all of my time, although I have been able to keep an eye on your movements, Deon. It seems that you have been of a far higher profile than either Aaron or I have.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve felt it important…”

  Caroline waved a hand to indicate to Deon to stop talking. “There is no need for either an apology nor an explanation, Brother Deon. You have seen a chance in the world where your abilities would be of use and your charity was required. There is no shame, nor is there any need for justification in this. It is always important to help those in need, and this is what you’ve been doing. I applaud you for this.”