by Mark Tilbury
‘Are you a doctor?’
‘No, Father.’
‘Then what qualifies you to award a death certificate?’
Marcus picked up the rifle and emptied three more bullets into Tweezer’s corpse. He lowered the rifle. ‘That’s all the bullets gone, Father.’
Ebb didn’t care. A thousand bullets might not be enough to kill a heinous creature like Tweezer. You could never be certain. Of that he was certain. ‘I need treatment. That swine’s bitten my nose.’
Marcus peered at Ebb’s wounded face. ‘Can you walk, Father?’
The mention of walking made Ebb’s injured leg throb. ‘I don’t know. Help me up.’
Marcus helped him to his feet and then buzzed about him like a fly wondering whether to offload its eggs. ‘Shall I fetch Sister Alice?’
Ebb shook his head. A mistake. His brain bounced off the sides of his skull.
My poor little Pixie-pea, his mother said, from beneath the shroud of her pink wig.
Ebb told her to shut up.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. ‘Pardon, Father?’
Ebb regarded Marcus warily. He was more than aware that evil spirits could hop from one body to another like a virus in a Russian winter. It might well transpire that all the bunnies would need to be burned after this sorry episode. It might be prudent to start again with Benjamin and Madeline. Perhaps those two could breed a new generation of Sons and Daughters of Salvation. At least a new generation could be raised up pure and proper without fear of interference and risk of contamination.
Has Pixie-pea bitten off his nose to spite his face?
Ebb gawked at his mother’s skeleton. He was sorely tempted to go over there and dismantle her, bone by bone.
Marcus turned his attention to the Imposter. ‘I still don’t get what he was doing up that tree.’
Ebb was in no mood to discuss the him. ‘Perhaps he was trying to rescue a cat.’
‘We don’t have a cat.’
Ebb snorted. A huge mistake. He ignited the afterburners idling on the spot where his nose used to be. He beat his fists against his sides and panted like a woman in the throes of labour. When the agony had subsided enough to allow the passage of words, Ebb chose them carefully. ‘I don’t know why he was up a tree with a long-range camera, any more than I know why you seem to persist in babbling nonsense every time you open your mouth. But I’ll tell you this much: if he’s a cop, and any cops show up here, that’s the end. Over and out. Roger that?’
Brother Marcus looked at him with those blank-canvas eyes.
Ebb tried to summon saliva into his mouth. ‘Everyone is to come to the Revelation Room. We shall pray. And then we shall set the fire.’
‘Fire?’ Marcus squawked.
Ebb was now convinced Marcus had the leadership qualities of a chimpanzee. He clearly didn’t have a brain capable of independent thought. One thing was for certain in these dangerous times: he was in no mood to let his nose burn whilst Brother Marcus fiddled. ‘I want you to help me up to my room. Then get Sister Alice.’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘Then get dressed in your overalls and get back up that tower. If any cops show up, I don’t want you to engage them in a shoot-out. This is not the OK Corral. You come and tell me so as we can get all the bunnies down the rabbit hole.’
‘The rabbit hole?’
Ebb thumped the floor. ‘Down here, Pixie-pea.’
‘Yes, Father.’
What a mess, Ebb thought. What a great big, tub-thumping mess.
30
‘Oh, Father,’ Sister Alice cooed, looking at Ebb and stroking his head with her long slender fingers. ‘What on Earth happened?’
Ebb tried to force a smile. A try to be a brave little soldier whilst you fib to the doctor about how you fell down the stairs kind of smile. ‘Brother Tweezer attacked me.’
Sister Alice looked as if an invisible hand had slapped her across the face. ‘Attacked you? Whatever for?’
‘Did Brother Marcus not tell you?’
‘He told me you were hurt, Father. He said nothing else.’
Ebb gargled blood and swallowed a thick clot. ‘Brother Tweezer had the Devil inside him. Brother Marcus shot him.’
Alice’s eyes doubled in size. ‘Shot him?’
‘I’m afraid he had little choice. Brother Tweezer was out of control.’
‘I thought Brother Tweezer was pure.’
Ebb laughed. It sounded like a frog trying to learn to croak. ‘This is the very reason I tell everyone to be on their guard.’
‘Where’s Brother Tweezer now?’
Ebb swallowed another clot and almost gagged. ‘In the Revelation Room. He’s dead.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Maxine, too, I fear.’
‘That’s terrible, Father.’
Blood dribbled onto his top lip. ‘We’ve got a crisis on our hands. A crisis of gigantic proportions.’
‘But if Brother Tweezer’s dead, I don’t see—’
Ebb held up a hand. ‘I fear Brother Marcus was contaminated when he killed Brother Tweezer.’
‘Contaminated?’
‘Satan is more than capable of jumping from one host to another. Especially in circumstances such as these.’
‘Do you think Satan is inside Brother Marcus?’
‘It’s a certainty.’
‘Is it wise to let him have possession of a rifle, Father?’
Ebb tried to sniff with a nose that was largely missing from its post. ‘It’s best not to alert Satan. Let him believe that he’s fooled us. That way we can buy time.’
Sister Alice peered at the congealing wound festering in the middle of Ebb’s face. ‘You need to go to a hospital.’
‘I’m not going to hospital. Not with the group in such disarray.’
‘Then let me call a doctor.’
‘No. I’m not having any agent of the state setting foot on my premises.’
‘I know you always want to put yourself first, Father, but the wound needs treating. It might need suturing.’
Ebb shifted on the bed and tried to make himself comfortable. His beautiful king-sized bed had turned itself into a bed of nails. ‘Suturing, my eye. It needs bathing and dressing. There’s TCP and bandages in the medicine cabinet. You’ll find a small plastic bowl in the cupboard beneath the basin. It might be prudent to give it a swill out. I usually use it for soaking my feet.’
Alice straightened up and headed off to the en-suite bathroom. ‘As you wish, Father.’
Ebb watched her go. He wished all the members of The Sons and Daughters of Salvation behaved with the same level of decorum and dignity as Sister Alice. Unfortunately, the rest of them seemed to be mutinous trouble makers who needed constant observation and appraisal.
As for Madeline, his mind was torn in two. One part of him believed that Brother Tweezer was guilty as charged. But there was still a tiny sliver of doubt. What if she had enticed him? It was well within the capabilities of Satan to use such tactics. Money wasn’t the root of all evil; seduction was.
Act in haste, repent at leisure.
Ebb twisted his head to one side as his mother’s hot breath blew against his left ear. He could even smell stale booze, which was particularly scary considering Tweezer had robbed him of the best part of his nose. ‘Go away. Leave me alone.’
‘Pardon, Father?’ Sister Alice called from the bathroom.
Ebb didn’t hear her. All his senses were tuned in to that hot breath.
All the bunnies must burn, Pixie-pea.
Ebb opened his mouth to disagree and then clamped it shut. His mother had a point. Apart from Sister Alice, how could he trust any of the others? Sister Dixie was nothing more than a pay-as-you-go whore. Sister Emily was a decent housemaid, but utterly dispensable. Bubba was a dangerous mute, and Brother Marcus a glorified drug dealer with the brain capacity of a pebble.
By the time Sister Alice returned with a bowl of warm water laced with TCP, a length of bandage and a bag of cotton
wool balls, Ebb was convinced that he would have to start afresh with The Sons and Daughters of Salvation. Make a clean sweep. Even Madeline and Benjamin would have to be sacrificed. He couldn’t afford to take any more risks. You only needed to take a peek in the Revelation Room to understand how dangerous it was to trust people.
Alice cleared the bedside table and placed the bowl on top. She put the bag of cotton wool balls on the bed, took one out and dipped it in the water. ‘Are you ready, Father?’
Ebb nodded, his mind cast adrift with thoughts of burning bunnies.
Alice dabbed his wounded nose with the cotton wool.
Ebb screamed as the rocket took off again from its launch pad.
Sister Alice withdrew the cotton wool ball from Ebb’s nose and stepped away from the bed. ‘I told you that you needed medical attention.’
Ebb was in no mood to listen to reason. He was too busy piloting his own internal rocket. He beat his fists against the white cotton sheet as though trying to transfer the pain. After close on two minutes, the rocket switched off the burners. Ebb lay panting on the bed, his neck contorted at an awkward angle.
Sister Alice studied him the way someone might study a dangerous animal. ‘You must let me call a doctor.’
‘No,’ Ebb wheezed. ‘No doctors. Just get me sleeping pills. There’s some in the medicine cabinet.’
‘Okay.’
‘And there’s a half bottle of whiskey under the kitchen sink.’
‘Is it wise to drink alcohol and take sleeping tablets?’
Ebb hoped that Sister Alice wasn’t going to get all motherly with him. He was in no mood to be anyone’s Pixie-pea. ‘I’ve had half my face bitten off by that madman. I don’t need any lectures about pain relief.’
‘Yes, Father. Sorry, Father.’
Ebb watched her walk out of the room. Tears leaked down his cheeks. He resisted an urge to wipe them away in case he touched the pothole in the middle of his face. As he tried to shift his neck into a more comfortable position, a terrible thought struck him: What if Tweezer had AIDS? Or hepatitis? Or syphilis? He had a sudden urge to phone the hospital and demand a blood transfusion.
The more he considered it, the more convinced he became that Tweezer was a carrier of some horrendous disease. It was well known that syphilis turned its victims as mad as a Mormon. It made perfect sense when you considered the man’s lifestyle prior to joining The Sons and Daughters of Salvation. Those bikers were always at it like spring bunnies in a meadow.
By the time Sister Alice returned with the sleeping tablets and the bottle of whiskey, Ebb was already preparing for death. He relayed his fears to Sister Alice.
Sister Alice did little to allay those fears. ‘Let’s just deal with one thing at a time.’
He washed down three sleeping tablets with all the whiskey. Straight down the hatch as Reg the Veg might have said in his more liberated days. He then handed the bottle back to Alice and eased himself down on the bed. ‘As soon as I’m asleep, tend to the wound and bandage it.’
‘Yes, Father.’
Sister Alice’s spiky grey hair put him in mind of stalactites. ‘I am the moon,’ he said, as he drifted off into beautiful black oblivion.
31
Alice walked into the Sisters’ Room and stood just inside the door. It was almost eight o’clock in the morning. She smiled and clapped her hands together as if bringing a class to attention.
Dixie unzipped her sleeping bag. ‘What do you want?’
The smile slipped from Alice’s lips. ‘I would advise you to keep a check on your manners.’
‘Would you now? And who put a rod up your backside?’
‘I know being crude is the weapon of choice for women like you, but as of today I’m in charge, so you be careful how you speak to me, Sister Dixie. Very careful.’
Dixie sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘In charge? You? Why?’
Alice puffed out her flat chest. ‘The Father is currently indisposed.’
‘Indisposed? What’s that supposed to mean? Why can’t you talk in plain English?’
‘Sorry, I forgot about your council estate background. Brother Tweezer attacked the Father. There. Is that plain enough for you?’
‘Tweezer attacked Ebb?’
‘He’s called Father. Show respect.’
Emily lifted her head up from the bucket between her knees. She looked at Alice with bloodshot eyes. ‘Why did he attack the Father?’
‘Because Satan was inside him.’
‘Who? Ebb or Tweezer?’ Dixie asked.
Alice ignored her. ‘Brother Tweezer has been dealt with, and the Father is recuperating. I’m not here to discuss the ins and outs of it with you.’
Maddie feigned concern. ‘Is the Father hurt?’
‘Nothing a few days’ rest and some TLC can’t cure.’
‘I shall pray for him,’ Maddie said. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help….’
‘Thank you, Madeline. I shall bear that in mind. In the meantime, I’m afraid the farm has got to remain in lockdown. All I ask is that you girls try to stay patient whilst we get things back to normal.’
Emily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘For how long?’
‘As long as it takes. We’re a man light with Brother Tweezer’s departure. Marcus is manning the tower, and the Father is confined to bed. I know it’s not ideal, but—’
‘So what are you saying?’ Dixie said. ‘You don’t trust us?’
‘I’m not saying anything of the sort. I trust Sister Emily and Madeline implicitly.’
‘But not me?’
‘No.’
Dixie snorted. ‘Fuck you.’
‘That’s one for the Father when he has recovered.’
Maddie tried to diffuse the situation. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if we all pitched in and helped?’
‘Yes, it would,’ Alice said. ‘But the Father has instructed me to keep the farm in lockdown, so that’s what I will do.’
‘I suppose you’d jump off the tower if he told you to?’
‘Save your sarcasm, Dixie. I don’t care what you say. God is watching you, and I will report your behaviour to the Father.’
Emily peered into the slop bucket. ‘How long’s this going to last? I keep throwing up.’
‘A day or two, tops. No longer than that.’
‘A day or two?’ Dixie said. ‘And what are we supposed to do if we need the toilet? Crap on the floor?’
‘Use the bucket.’
‘How are we meant to use the bloody bucket with Emily hogging it day and night?’
‘I’m not hogging it.’
Dixie looked at Emily as if she wanted to ram the bucket over her head. ‘And where are we supposed to empty it? Out of the window? Oh, no, oops, forgot, the window’s locked.’
Alice held up a hand. ‘For God’s sake. I’ll come in twice a day and empty it.’
‘I can’t stay locked up in here,’ Emily said.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Alice assured her.
‘No I won’t. You don’t understand. I need access to a toilet.’
‘I’ve just told you: I’ll come in and empty the blasted bucket.’
Dixie grinned. ‘Language, Sister Alice, language.’
Emily gripped the rim of the bucket. ‘But I’m throwing up all morning. And my bladder’s weak. I need access to a toilet.’
‘You’ve probably got a tummy bug. I’ll bring you some bottled water with breakfast. It’ll help to flush it out of your system.’
‘I’m pregnant,’ Emily blurted.
Dixie shook her head. ‘Not the famous phantom pregnancy again.’
‘It’s not a phantom pregnancy. It’s real.’
‘Shall I tell you how she got pregnant?’
‘Shut up, Dixie. You know nothing about me.’
‘She fantasised that Brad Pitt came in through the bedroom window and made love to her in his latest movie.’
Alice crossed herself. ‘Pregnant? How?’
&nbs
p; Dixie laughed. ‘Don’t you know about the birds and bees?’
‘I’m not a whore like you.’
‘Fuck you.’
Alice glared at Emily. ‘Who got you pregnant?’
‘I don’t want to say.’
‘Let’s see,’ Dixie said. ‘If it wasn’t Brad Pitt, that leaves four possibilities. Was it the resident rapist, Tweezer?’
Emily peered into the bucket as though the answer might lay among the bile and the urine. ‘Leave me alone.’
Dixie forged ahead. ‘Then there’s the Father, but he only runs rent boys up his flagpole. So that just leaves Bubba and Marcus. I’m still putting my money on Brad Pitt.’
Emily lifted her head up from the bucket. ‘It’s Marcus.’
Alice’s jaw slackened. ‘Brother Marcus?’
‘We’re in love.’
‘In love?’ Dixie said. ‘That magic mushroom wouldn’t know what love was if it bit him on the arse.’
‘Shut up,’ Emily shouted.
Maddie watched the three women facing each other like wronged victims on a reality TV show. All it needed now was Jeremy Kyle to come waltzing out from behind the wardrobe and offer counselling.
‘Copulation is strictly forbidden.’ Alice said.
‘We’re in love.’
‘You’re far too young to know the first thing about love, you silly girl.’
Emily bent back over the bucket. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘She’s lying,’ Dixie said.
‘I’m not lying.’
Alice shook her head. ‘The Father will go spare when he finds out.’
Dixie rounded on her. ‘Then don’t tell him.’
‘Don’t tell him? What happens when she starts showing?’
‘We could get rid of it.’
‘I’m not getting rid of it. Marcus said the Father will understand.’
Alice’s eyes flashed in the morning sunlight. ‘And you believe him, do you?’
‘Yes.’
Dixie rolled her eyes. ‘Marcus just told you what you wanted to hear to get inside your knickers. Trust me. All men do.’
‘Even if Marcus does carry a torch for you,’ Alice said, ‘you’ll end up getting burned by it. Oh, God, child, what in heaven’s name were you thinking?’