Widowmakers: A Benefit Anthology of Dark Fiction
Page 34
I let that unsettling knowledge roll around in my head as I attended her funeral. I remember seeing Jack at the services, looking as alive and healthy as any man I had ever seen. I remember seeing him cry, and feeling grief for him even through my own tears. I had never known Tanya all that well, but oh, how I had wanted to know her, to love her.
It was almost a week after her body had been consigned to the earth that I realized my wish had come true. I had asked for Tanya, but I had not been specific enough I suppose. There are a hundred stories of wishes, and tale of The Monkey’s Paw, by W.W. Jacobs had struck me hard enough when we read it in school that I’d actually bought a copy of it in a Scholastic Books collection of horror tales. I had asked for Tanya and I had been granted my wish, you see, but I had never specified that she had to be alive.
I lay in bed after that epiphany and rocked back in forth slowly, sweating a nervous fear from my body as my mind reeled from the implications.
Jack’s wishing well worked.
Jack had made his prayers, his sacrifices, and he had received his answers.
For one moment I actually thought about going out to the wishing well to make another wish, this time with a better sacrifice, something of greater value to me than my grandfather’s pocket knife. I was young, as I have said, but maybe not quite as foolish. I thought about The Monkey’s Paw again before I could build up the nerve to seek out that wish. The idea of Tanya coming to me, alive and hideously mutilated, her heart gone, her flesh destroyed, was enough to stop me from trying another wish.
And ten minutes after that, I thought of Jack and the look on his face as he told me he no longer needed diapers. Then I thought of Tanya and her last walk with him into the woods when he wanted to show her something special.
Maybe even something miraculous.
I didn’t go to my parents. They would have never believed me. I didn’t face Jack because, to be perfectly honest, I think I was afraid of him. What if he made another wish, and I was the subject of that guilty little prayer to the wishing well?
Instead of telling anyone my suspicions I snuck from my room and into the tool shed where my father kept all of his hobbies and supplies. I’d been twelve, I think, when he decided to spend a summer building the veranda in our back yard. He’d bought lumber, of course, and he’d bought tools and a planer, everything you could need to make the area look exactly the way he wanted it to. He’d also bought cement. My father was a firm believer in a solid foundation, and that meant something a little stronger than wood.
My father, ever the cautious man, had bought more than he needed. At fifteen I was fit and I was healthy. I couldn’t have proven it as I carried the fifty-pound sack of Quik-Rete over my shoulder and stumbled into the woods.
I had no idea how deep the wishing well was, but I had a feeling that enough of the damned stuff dumped into it would at least stop Jack from making any more wishes.
Part of me expected to run across Jack on the way to his wishing well, and I’ll admit that I was breathing hard from more than the backbreaking weight of that damned sack by the time I reached the area. I kept waiting for him to appear, kept waiting for him to attack, because I think I knew even then that if somebody gets too many wishes answered, it can become an addiction.
You don’t think so? Have you ever tried having a rational conversation with someone who wants to convert you to his or her religion? If so, and you’ve been unfortunate enough to run across the wrong ones, you know what I mean. They didn’t need miracles in their lives to believe that their religion was the only right one. They didn’t need proof to have absolute faith. It was years later when it happened of course, but I can still remember the devoutly religious maniacs who flew stolen planes into the World Trade Center towers in the name of their god.
Faith is a powerful tool, but I think in the wrong hands, it’s a murder weapon. So, yes, I was afraid of Jack. He had more reason to be a fanatic than anyone I had ever met at the ripe old age of fifteen.
Jack didn’t show up to stop me. No one did. Still, I stared at that damnable little pond for close to an hour before I opened my quick drying premixed concrete and started pouring the course mixture into its pristine depths.
When I was done, the puddle was gone, lost under the gray sludge that was already beginning to dry. I limped all the way home, and I think I cried a bit, too. I had ruined Jack’s dreams if I was right in my assumptions, but I had stopped him too late to save Tanya and I was too scared of trying for my own miracle before I destroyed the best hope I had.
I remember I dreamed of Tanya that night. I don’t remember the details, it’s been far too long, but I know it was an erotic dream. I’d say maybe that was her spirit’s way of thanking me, but I don’t believe in ghosts and I never have. I’ve never seen the proof you see, and without the evidence, it can only remain a fantasy for me.
I woke up sore but happy with myself. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I had done a good thing and stopped Jack from doing anything worse.
In my defense, I was young and I was foolish.
* * *
Chapter Two: False Idols
I wasn’t there for the death and violence. I missed a piece of the puzzle. Maybe even a few pieces, but I’m including them as best I can in an unbiased fashion.
The headline for the newspaper said, “They never expected bloodshed.” That was the only defense any of them could offer. It was a scandal, of course, but worse than that, there were lives ruined in the process.
The house, euphemistically called the Dungeon, sat at 73 Witcher Street at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was one of only three houses in the small area and old growth trees and shrubs bordered it. The plant life did a wonderful job of insulating the sounds of parties that went astray. And folks, almost all of the parties held there went astray.
Never having been to the Dungeon, I could have pointed to fifteen students on the quad at any time who had and at least three who’d come away from the experience altered in one way or another. There were at least seven girls who were rumored to have been raped at the dubious ceremonies that had taken place there and easily twice that number who had allegedly invited multiple partners to take advantage of them.
The Chambers family owned the only three houses on Witcher Street. They’d been purchased for next to nothing at auction after all of them had been gutted by an arson attempt when the developer discovered he wasn't going to be able to finish the project. Upon his release on bail, the arsonist returned to the scene of the crime and christened the house that would later become the Dungeon with his blood, a sizeable portion of his brain and skull, and a .45 caliber bullet.
His loss was the Chambers’ gain. Jack Chambers was assigned the duty of hiring all of the contractors and making sure that everything went smoothly. He was given a substantial budget by his parents and a promise that one of the houses would be his when he finished.
He kept the house on the left and the other two properties were rented out to the Phi Kappa Gamma fraternity and to the Church of Answered Questions, respectively. The Dungeon was paid for and maintained by the church, which paid promptly every single month just as it had since the rental agreement was signed.
Three nights a week for the last two years, the Church of Answered Questions held services. The rest of the time the building stayed locked up and properly secured.
Jack Chambers saw to it himself, as the founder of the church in question. He was, therefore, accountable for a great deal of the mayhem that ensued in the eyes of the law.
The detectives placed in charge of the investigation had no trouble finding Jack Chambers. He was the one who called the police and insisted that most of the church members stayed for questioning.
Interesting things to note about the churchgoers: The vast majority of them were under the age of twenty-five, all of them attended the same school and most of them were found either partially clothed or fully naked. Chambers was one of the only exceptions. He remained fully clothed.
That hardly mattered to the police. They were there for answers about not only Burkes’s death but for a string of allegations regarding the church and its bizarre practices. They were hoping for a connection to several drug dealers that haunted the campus town. They didn’t find any. They did find several under-aged drinkers among the congregation, but when it came to the hardcore use of narcotics there was surprisingly little to go around.
And that was exactly the problem. The stories they were hearing made absolutely no sense. If drugs weren’t behind the episodes, then mass hallucination might well be the culprit.
None of the students at the scene were released that night. All of them down to the last was detained and questioned before any decisions were made.
The forensics team that investigated the site paid particular attention to both the statues they found and to the food and beverages present in the Dungeon. Any possible source of hallucinogen was examined, though remarkably little would later show up in the resulting court cases.
A careful examination of the events was culled from the different testimonies. There were discrepancies. Several aspects of the case were exaggerated, but the reports were at least consistent in the chronological events.
The Church of Answered Questions had been founded two years earlier as part of a sociology experiment. Four students were directly responsible for the expenses, the operation of the church, and the actions of the church’s congregation. Not a one of them saw jail time. Weird world we live in, isn’t it?
So, on to the facts: First, Jack Chambers was the de facto head of the church. Second, his cohorts included Harold Perlman, Robert “Bob” Harris and Mina Orolagas. All three of them were in the same sociology class as Chambers and they, along with him, created the church as a social experiment.
The goal was to study how people reacted to a new religious environment. Apparently they reacted well enough. The church kept financial records and paid taxes. They didn’t make any mistakes along those lines. In the first few months, the church was definitely on the poor side of things, with a mounting debt that the four founders paid from their own pockets. Within half a year, they had earned back all of the money they’d put into their experiment and had plenty of excess.
The rumors about the church started from day one: First as the obligatory stories of human sacrifices and satanic rituals, all of which were shrugged away quickly by the college students and discussed with different levels of vehemence by the local churches. The four people in control did nothing to discourage the rumors, as I understand it. They even asked that people keep them posted on the latest gossip. Mostly so that they could file it away for their project, if I understood the news articles correctly.
The one thing they didn’t do was tell anyone at all that they were working on a project of any kind. As far as all of the members of the church knew, the new religion was completely legitimate. That might have actually been the start of their troubles.
From everything I’ve heard, Jack Chambers did an amazing job leading the congregations. He’d been popular ever since high school, but his magnetism only increased once he started at the university.
I can’t say that he was the most popular man in the entire school, but I can testify to the fact that he was in the top ten. The very same oratory skills he showed to his followers probably kept him from being at the top of the list. Politics and religion are two things that people say should never be discussed in public, and Jack went after both with a nearly fanatical fervor.
On the campaign trail a year earlier, incumbent senator Henry Tarmut had made a stop at the university to speak up against a few of the more liberal views. He was opposed to abortion, for example. Jack Chambers was there and fired a volley of questions at the politician. For every answer the man had, Jack had a counter argument. In the long run, Jack came out smelling like a rose. Tarmut arrived at the college in a limousine and stepped from it like royalty. He didn’t quite have his tail between his legs when he left, but it was a close thing.
The press had a field day with the quotes from both sides, and before long Jack and his Church of Answered Questions were well on their way to being an accepted force on the college campus.
But the rumors were still flying, weren’t they? Yes, indeed. I can remember them all well enough. I know, because I was keeping track, too. I had no desire to see Jack and no wish to be noticed by him, but I was watching from the sidelines and taking notes.
Three Asian kids were allegedly driven from the church by an angry mob. I tend to believe that particular rumor was just that, a rumor. Because there were seven acknowledged members of the church who were Asian, and I don’t think Jack would have been foolish enough to piss off that strong a percentage of his congregation.
Jack wasn't the kid I’d known growing up any more than I was the kid he’d known. I was quieter, I think, but Jack? He’d come into his own as it were. Have you ever seen somebody who made everyone around you stop and turn their heads? That was Jack. It had little to do with his physical looks, which were certainly enough to catch the eye, and everything to do with his presence. He walked into a room and people were drawn to him. They may not have even noticed it, but that charisma of his was almost a palpable thing.
I noticed him. He did not notice me. We did not exchange words, nor did we consider pleasantries. I think that suited us both in the long run. He had his life to live and I had mine. I just took a few extra minutes every day to see where his was going.
If you’d asked me back then what I thought the future would hold for Jack Chambers I would have said he had a serious career ahead of him as a politician. If you’d asked me what I thought of his church, I would have told you it was a dangerous thing.
But remember, I had a bias going in. I knew, or at least suspected, what Jack had done to get where he was. No one asked my opinion and I did not volunteer it. I merely listened.
One month before the start of the summer quarter, the Church of Answered Questions had a celebration of “The Truth.” I did not attend. Of those that did, most were converted to the church’s doctrines. I believe that year saw the largest summer enrollment in the history of the university.
The rumors of blackmail started shortly after that. According to some of the conversations I overheard, there were some wild things going on at the church’s functions: orgies, heavy drug use, etc. All of the stuff you expect to hear about a cult, right? Only the difference here was that allegedly the church recorded everything and didn’t mind using the tapes they made as a good method of making sure people came back to the fold instead of leaving.
Personally, I doubt it. I think if anything, the people who went to the church enjoyed whatever passed for ceremonies and came back of their own volition. Why? Because I didn’t see a lot of unhappy faces in the church crowd. I saw smiling faces, the sort you expect to see after church sessions at any Catholic or Methodist congregation lets out. They were glad they were there, or they managed to act the part like they were cruising for an Oscar.
Come the next fall session, there was literature about the Church of Answered Questions floating around all over the campus. Here, for your enlightenment, is the writing from one of those religious tracts.
Do YOU Have All the Answers?
Through the course of your life, has your Pastor, Preacher, Rabbi or Other Religious Leader answered the questions you have regarding God? If you answered yes, how many times was the response something along the lines of “You have to have Faith?”
The Church of Answered Questions can give you Proof, not a promise of Redemption, but absolute Proof of the existence of a greater power.
Join us, bring your questions, and let us help you find your way.
I stared at the first of those fliers with something like fear in my heart, becaus
e I knew that at least one of the people involved in the church had reasons to believe in miracles and faith. He just happened to be the leader of the church.
I stayed away. The sort of proof he might have was not the sort I wanted to examine closely.
One year into the church’s growth, I saw the first recruiters on the street, not merely asking about whether or not you’d heard their truth, but actively seeking new people to come to the church and spend a little time among the brethren as it were.
Weird thing. They never once approached me. They zeroed in on kids on both sides of me more than once, but not a single member of the church ever once asked me if I was interested. And I’ll let you in on a secret that I’ve never shared before. I heard the word “Pariah” used in my presence more than once.
The church would have stayed nothing but a point of curiosity for me if they hadn’t been so active in recruiting as many people as they could. I think for a lot of the people who joined the congregation it was done as a lark. I don’t honestly believe that everyone who went to the occasional functions at the Dungeon was a true believer. The idea that anyone could get the loyalty of that many people is too unsettling for me to want to contemplate seriously. Whatever the case, however, by the end of its first year, the Church of Answered Questions claimed over three hundred people among their parishioners.
Three hundred. Think about that. College is where everyone wants to try something new, wants to find themselves, really, and three hundred people decided that the church founded by four fellow college students was what they wanted to be a part of.
They didn’t dress differently. They didn’t wear crosses or shave their heads or even have any special hand signals, but three hundred people from all over the country, all over the world, claimed to have washed their hands of their previous religious beliefs and accepted the “Truth” of the Church of Answered Questions.
Like I said, Jack Chambers was charismatic as all hell.
The church didn’t get quieter. It spoke out loud and clear to anyone who wanted to listen, and quite a few who didn’t much care what the members had to say. Political rallies were a target for the congregation. Religious meetings were almost always in their sights, too. Though they were never violent, the chances were good that anyone who had a public forum was going to be met by members of the church who had questions and wanted answers.