by Mark Tilbury
The lights went out. Darkness wrapped itself around Maddie like a thick black fog.
‘Try to get some rest,’ Dixie said. ‘It’ll be a long day tomorrow.’
‘Especially for sinners,’ Emily mumbled.
Dixie sighed. ‘Especially for the deluded.’
27
Ebb unlocked the basement door and turned to Marcus. ‘Be on your guard.’
Marcus wrapped a finger around the trigger. ‘Yes, Father.’
‘He may be dangerous. Particularly if he’s wounded.’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘That’s not to say I want you turning him into a colander if he dares to move. Just be attentive.’
Marcus nodded.
Ebb opened the basement door, making a mental note to keep a careful eye on his new deputy. Brother Marcus looked as if he might be open to invasion. He took a few tentative steps down into the basement.
Tweezer was lit up beneath overhead lights suspended above the cannabis plants. He sat with his back against the wall, one leg splayed out at a crazy angle. Ebb thought Tweezer looked like an image drawn from a child’s imagination.
He stopped halfway down the steps and turned to Marcus. ‘Keep the gun trained on him at all times.’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘And please remember he is no longer a member of The Sons and Daughters of Salvation.’
‘Okay.’
‘He is an enemy of The Sons and Daughters of Salvation, and therefore a prisoner. First thing tomorrow, I shall instruct Brother Bubba to build a cross for him.’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘We must cancel all street operations for the time being. Once Tweezer is dealt with, I want you back up that tower. The Imposter might well use telepathy to call his cronies. The farm can stay in lockdown until we’ve got ourselves on an even keel.’
‘But I—’
Ebb flapped a hand and moved down a few more steps. ‘Tweezer?’
Tweezer regarded Ebb with his good eye. The other one looked like an overripe plum. He mumbled something unintelligible and waved an arm in the air.
‘Remember that Satan is within him, Brother Marcus. Don’t be fooled by his pitiful pleas.’
‘My leg’s ba-roke,’ Tweezer said, the word snapped in two by a sob.
Ebb faced the man who had betrayed his trust. The Judas Iscariot of The Sons and Daughters of Salvation. ‘Broken, my eye. You’ve probably just sprained your ankle.’
Tweezer didn’t agree. ‘It’s ba-roke.’
‘I’ll tell you what you’ve broken, Pixie-pea. Your pledge to The Sons and Daughters of Salvation. How’s about that for getting yourself bowled out for a duck?’
‘I didn’t—’
Ebb held up a hand. ‘Save your lies.’
‘I’m not lying, Fa-ther.’
‘You went to my room. Guilty or not guilty?’
‘I only—’
‘Guilty or not guilty?’
Tweezer looked away. ‘Guilty, Father.’
‘You then tried to force yourself on Madeline. Guilty or not guilty?’
‘Not guilty, Father. She enticed me.’
Ebb produced the bottle of acid from the pocket of his robe. ‘Perhaps the holy water shall tell us the truth?’
Tweezer attempted to burrow through the stone wall with his back. ‘No, Father. Please. I haven’t done nothing.’
Ebb reached the bottom of the steps and uncapped the bottle. He drew the last of the acid into the dropper and squeezed the contents onto Tweezer’s bare foot. The foot which was joined to the ba-roken leg. He then threw the bottle at Tweezer’s head. Fortunately for Tweezer, Ebb’s aim was diminished by exhaustion. It smashed on the wall behind him.
‘Be gone, Satan.’ Ebb commanded.
Tweezer screamed. He writhed and bucked on the floor like an enthusiastic student of breakdance. His head banged against the stone wall. Snot bubbled from his nose. His lips stretched wide in a rictus grin. He looked as if he might be on the verge of turning into a rabid animal. Ebb had once researched the phenomena of shape-shifting, and although he didn’t subscribe to the notion, he conceded that anything was possible whilst under the spell of a demon. Particularly the type proclaiming squatters’ rights in Tweezer right now.
Ebb turned to Marcus. ‘See how Satan resists?’
Marcus nodded and trained the gun on Tweezer.
Ebb stepped back as Tweezer attempted to shape-shift into a snake and slither across the floor. ‘I command you to keep still, or Brother Marcus will shoot you. Do you understand?’
Tweezer stopped writhing. His good eye narrowed. Ebb didn’t trust that eye. He checked Tweezer’s mouth for signs of a forked tongue. ‘What are you?’
‘I don’t understand, Father.’ The words came out flat and compressed. Pitiful, even.
Ebb wasn’t fooled. ‘Are you a snake?’
Tweezer shook his head. His good eye swivelled from Ebb to Marcus. ‘I’m just me, Father.’
‘That’s what I fear most. Perhaps I should fetch Max to flush you out.’
‘No, Father. Please….’
Ebb turned his back on him. He wasn’t about to let Satan engage him in a war of words. ‘Come down here, Brother Marcus.’
Marcus walked down the steps. When he reached the bottom, Ebb took the gun off him. He aimed it at Tweezer’s uninjured leg and pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed around the basement walls. Tweezer screamed and arched his back. Blood blossomed like a liquid rose from a ragged hole just above his kneecap. He huffed and puffed on the floor as if making ready to visit the Three Little Piggies.
Ebb lowered the rifle and addressed Marcus. ‘Fetch Max.’
‘Yes, Father.’
Ebb turned back to Tweezer. ‘What do you think about Brother Marcus taking over your role as second-in-command?’
Tweezer clutched his wounded leg and panted like Max in the midday sun. ‘That… fucking… drug… addict?’
Ebb smiled. ‘Said the rapist.’
‘I never raped no one.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘And why was that? Did you suddenly see the light?’
Ebb watched Tweezer’s lips try to wring an answer from his addled brain. ‘Or perhaps Madeline spurned your unwanted advances by kicking you in the face.’
Tweezer wiped his mouth. His hair was pasted to his head in greasy strips. ‘She seduced me.’
‘Why would she want to seduce you?’
Tweezer wiped blood from his leg and pawed the wound. ‘I’ve no idea, Father.’
‘You’re hardly a catch, are you?’
Blood oozed between Tweezer’s fingers. ‘She deceived me, Father. Just like she’s deceiving you now.’
Ebb smiled. ‘Perhaps you ought to put your finger in the wound. Like the little Dutch boy who stuck his finger in the dyke.’
Tweezer regarded Ebb with an eye stoked with malice. ‘Huh?’
‘That’s dyke as in dam, not a lesbian.’
Tweezer looked away and focused on his bleeding leg.
Ebb pointed the rifle at him. ‘I suggest you speak the truth from now on if you want to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, Pixie-pea.’
Tweezer snarled and raised his muzzle. ‘Fuck you.’
Ebb took a step back. ‘I wondered when Satan would announce himself.’
‘You’re fucking nuts.’
Ebb aimed the rifle at Tweezer’s head. ‘Don’t cast stones at me, Pixie-pea. I’m just the messenger.’
Tweezer clawed his leg. ‘I’m sorry, Father. It’s just I’m in such pain.’
Ebb studied Tweezer’s good eye for signs of Satan. The man was certainly displaying schizophrenic behaviour. ‘Jesus suffered upon the cross for you, Brother Tweezer.’
‘I know, Father.’
‘But do you?’
‘I know Jesus suffered for me, Father.’
‘Actions speak louder than words through a bullhorn, Pixie-pea. And your actions te
ll me you regard Jesus’s suffering to be banal.’
‘That’s not true, Father. I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me. Everything. I even killed Brother Gerald for you.’
‘For me?’
‘Yes, Father. You said—’
‘I hope you’re aware that God is watching you?’
‘Yes, Father. But—’
‘Brother Gerald was a sinner. Just like you are. And sinners must be punished. The Bible says so. The Scriptures say so. And Jesus Christ Himself says so. I did not order Brother Gerald’s execution, the Lord Jesus Christ ordered it. Fact!’
‘I’m not saying—’
‘Brother Gerald committed the sin of homosexuality. He deserved his punishment. But never confuse God’s will with mine. Brother Gerald suffered death by a thousand cuts because that’s what God decided.’
Tweezer gawped at Ebb. ‘I’ve never let you down, Father.’
Ebb raised his eyebrows. ‘Madeline might beg to differ.’
‘I never—’
Ebb held up his free hand. ‘Save your lies, rapist. I want you to focus all your attention on crawling to the other end of the room. Do you think you can manage that without tripping over your tongue on the way?’
‘Why?’
Ebb pointed the rifle at Tweezer’s head. ‘Yours is not to reason why, Pixie-pea.’
Tweezer groaned and rolled onto his front. ‘My legs. Oh, God, my legs.’
Ebb was unimpressed. ‘My legs, my eye. Use your arms to pull yourself forward.’
Tweezer inched forwards, mewling like a cat with its tail caught in a mousetrap. He stopped after a few feet and looked over his shoulder at Ebb. ‘Why are you doing this, Father?’
‘Move.’
‘I don’t want to go in the Revelation Room.’
‘That’s too bad, Brother Tweezer, because that’s where you’re going.’
‘I don’t want to die, Father,’ Tweezer whined.
‘Then you should have thought about that when you attacked Madeline.’
‘I didn’t attack her.’
‘God will be the judge of that. Get moving. A slug on a sleeping pill could move faster than you.’
‘My legs are broken.’
‘One of your legs is broken. The other one is wounded. There’s a difference.’
‘There’s no difference in the fucking pain.’
‘Perhaps you need a bullet up the backside to hurry you along?’
Tweezer didn’t. He put his head down and inched forward.
‘The Imposter will be pleased to see you. That’s if he’s still alive. He looked in bad shape the last time I saw him. He’s a tough nut to crack, I’ll give him that.’
Tweezer reached the other end of the room. He lay on the ground panting and wheezing and sobbing. They didn’t make men like they used to. Ebb blamed it on the overuse of comforters in infancy. And antibacterial wipes. And indulgent mothers who perched themselves on the edge of baby-boo’s crib waiting for the first murmur of discontent.
‘Move away from the door,’ Ebb instructed.
Tweezer rolled over and whimpered.
Ebb felt scorn tempt his trigger finger into action again. Was this really the same man who’d used his bare hands to kill? Subjected Brother Gerald to death by a thousand cuts? He leaned the gun against the wall and took a bunch of keys from his pocket. ‘Move one whisker, and I’ll kill you. Is that clear, Pixie-pea?’
Tweezer minced his words through clenched teeth. ‘Yes, Father.’
Ebb inserted a brass key into the lock and turned it anti-clockwise. He opened the door and picked up his rifle. The Imposter was still tied to the chair where Sister Alice had left him. He looked ragged, to say the least. ‘I’ve brought you some company.’
The Infiltrator didn’t seem very appreciative. He thrashed from side to side in the chair, thus proving you needed little fuel in the tank to start an engine.
Ebb turned his attention back to Tweezer. ‘Get in!’
‘Please, Father, I don’t want to go in the Revelation Room.’
‘Once you’re settled, I’ll fetch you some water.’
‘I don’t want water.’
‘There’s no point in throwing temper tantrums, Pixie-pea.’
Tweezer didn’t move. ‘Please, Father. I’ll do anything. Please.’
‘If you want me to shoot you, then I will. It’s up to you.’
‘And what happens if I go into the Revelation Room?’
Ebb smiled. ‘I’ll make sure you get a fair hearing.’
‘No, you won’t. You’ll just murder me like you did all those other poor sods in there.’
‘Have you been given the powers of prediction?’
Tweezer looked up at Ebb, his good eye burning as bright as a church candle. His hair was splayed out in wild clumps above his ears. His ridiculous goatee beard was almost white with froth and dribble. It was a good job that Max wasn’t too fussy about what she ate. He would make sure he chopped Tweezer up into indistinguishable lumps for her. Ebb had learned the skill of butchery from the internet. It was simple when you got down to the bare bones of it. There wasn’t that much difference between a pig and a man when it came to butchery, except a man kicked up a lot more fuss about going to meet his maker.
A shadow moved in the corner of Ebb’s eye. He snapped his head round, fearing that the Imposter might have somehow slipped his bonds. No. Still tied to the chair. Ebb rubbed his eyes and focused all his attention on Tweezer. He ached for his bed. For the feel of the cool cotton sheets. Perhaps a good bottle of red and a box of Milk Tray to calm his shattered nerves.
Perhaps when things settled down, he could take a trip to London and indulge himself in the services of a rent boy. Sex was so much more enjoyable without the restrictions of relationships. He’d allowed himself to fall in love once with Brother Gerald. Never again. Once smitten, twice shy.
‘Get in. Now!’ Ebb shouted.
Tweezer crawled into the Revelation Room.
Ebb waited for him to get a good way inside and then followed him in. Peace and serenity washed over him. This was his place of renewal and rejuvenation. Of solace.
The Imposter tried to speak, but his efforts were in vain. Sister Alice had secured his lips with duct tape as instructed. The chair rocked precariously.
‘See how the Imposter fights his fate, Brother Tweezer?’
Tweezer didn’t respond. He lay face down on the floor, motionless. Ebb jabbed his backside with the rifle. ‘Come on, sleepyhead. You’ll have plenty of time for rest later.’
Tweezer didn’t respond.
Ebb studied him with caution. Experience had taught him that Satan could strike without warning. There was a slim possibility that Tweezer might have passed out, but Ebb hadn’t built his empire by taking risks. He aimed the rifle at Tweezer’s backside and pulled the trigger.
As expected, Tweezer was feigning unconsciousness. He roared back to life, screaming and bucking. The shot echoed around the Revelation Room. Tweezer made frantic efforts to clutch his backside and eat the floor at the same time.
Ebb waited for him to settle down before trying to reason with him. ‘Why do you fight me so?’
Tweezer whined and sobbed like a child with a scraped knee.
There was little point in engaging with a burnt bunny. Not when he was destined to shame the shovel. ‘Have some dignity, Brother Tweezer.’
Brother Marcus called out from the Cannabis Room. ‘Father?’
Ebb steadied himself. He’d never allowed Brother Marcus access to the Revelation Room before. That special privilege had only been afforded to Tweezer, Bubba and Alice. But now it was time for Marcus to step up to the plate. ‘Come on in.’
Brother Marcus walked into the Revelation Room with Max panting and slobbering on the leash beside him. He stopped just inside the door, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.
‘Welcome to the Revelation Room.’
Marcus stared at the Imposter. ‘He’s… still alive,
then?’
Ebb ignored him. He didn’t have time to discuss the Imposter right now. He walked over to the wall where three skeletons were secured to their crosses with twine. Each had a small leather-bound book lodged in its ribcage, documenting its life and association with Ebb.
Marcus gawked at the skeleton with the pink wig and sunglasses.
Ebb snapped his fingers and pointed at the skeleton to the right of his mother’s. ‘This is Brother Gerald. He died about a year before you arrived.’
‘Died? How?’
Ebb prodded Brother Gerald’s pelvic area with the rifle. ‘Guilty of the sin of homosexuality. Tweezer subjected him to death by a thousand cuts.’
Marcus’s mouth hung open. Ebb’s mother would have said he looked as if he was trying to catch flies. The man would need to sharpen up considerably if he wanted to take Tweezer’s place. ‘Do you know the principle of death by a thousand cuts, Brother Marcus?’
Marcus shook his head. His eyes seemed drawn to Ebb’s mother. Particularly the wig perched on her head.
Ebb ploughed on. ‘It’s an old remedy. You hoist the accused up in a net, so as tiny portions of flesh are poking through the holes. Then you chop away until the job is done. Can’t say for certain how many times Brother Gerald was cut. A thousand might be a bit of a stretch.’
Marcus looked from Ebb’s mother to the Imposter and then back again at Ebb’s mother.
‘I’ll tell you this much: that man could scream. Two barn owls left their roosts that night, didn’t they, Brother Tweezer?’
Tweezer didn’t answer him. He seemed too concerned with trying to breathe and plug up holes in his leaking body.
Ebb excused him on the grounds of compassion. ‘Brother Gerald tried to seduce me.’
Marcus looked at Ebb with peek-a-boo eyes. ‘Seduce you?’
Ebb crossed himself and gazed at Brother Gerald’s grinning, cavernous mouth. The mouth that had performed oral sex on him. Whispered promises of love. Threatened to betray him when Ebb had refused to acknowledge that they were an equal partnership. The mouth that had threatened to take all his money and leave The Sons and Daughters of Salvation.
‘I tried to save him,’ Ebb said, ‘but he was beyond salvation.’
Marcus pulled on the end of his nose as if trying to flush thoughts from his brain.