by Joshi, S. T
I could tell that Josh was intrigued, but Ben was already repeating himself, and I wanted to get out of there before he hit up my nephew for another drink. I stood and beckoned Josh to come along. “Gotta go, Ben. Thanks for the story.”
“Told ya, Katie.”
But I did believe Ben. That was the problem. I might not trust him farther than I could throw him, but in this matter, unfortunately, I believed him. And that knowledge chilled me to the bone.
I asked Josh to drop me off at home. We were halfway there when we nearly plowed into a crowd outside the Chamber of Commerce.
Josh stomped on the brakes. I managed not to hit the windshield, thanks to my seatbelt, but I’d probably have a shoulder ache from it later.
Fifteen or twenty people in jeans and flip-flops spilled across the street, whistling, hooting, and waving signs that condemned “Bayfest,” the annual beachside bacchanal that draws Houstonians as honey draws flies.
A beautiful girl with big blue eyes, high cheekbones, and long dark hair motioned for Josh to roll down his window. As soon as he did she handed him a flier. “We’re demonstrating against Bayfest and all the developers who are destroying the beaches here,” she told him. “Please help us save the waves.”
“Okay,” Josh said. “But only if you tell me your name. Otherwise, I’m going out to rent a bulldozer and drive it right down to the beach. I’m Josh, by the way.”
She rewarded him with a dimpled grin. “I’m Cindy. You’re cute, Josh. Come to the meeting tomorrow night.”
He watched in the rearview mirror as she moved on to pass out charm and fliers to others in the stopped cars behind us. Then he looked down at the notice. “Gaia’s Children,” he read aloud. “Who are they?”
“A local nature-worship cult,” I told him. “Well-meaning nuts. Tree huggers. They think the real estate developers are evil. They might even be right. Bob Courtney is mixed up with them through his wife.”
“The astronaut? Cool. They’re having a big demonstration on Saturday.”
“A big demonstration? Maybe I’ll cover it for the Chron,” I said. “I don’t want to just pander to the real estate interests in town, even if they do support the paper with their ads.”
Josh handed the flier to me. “I might just come with you.”
“Shouldn’t you be studying?”
“I’ll be studying. Anatomy.” He gave me a sly grin that still haunts me.
How I wish I had told him to stay away, hit the bars, better yet, go to college on the mainland, instead.
* * *
The Bishop’s Palace has had some strange gatherings within its ornate limestone walls, so I suppose that the meeting of Gaia’s Children there was no big deal.
Even though I’ve seen it many times, I took a minute to look at the bronze dragons on the second story. The place is rumored to be haunted, but I’ve never seen a ghost there. On the other hand, I never feel entirely comfortable whenever I enter the Palace. It always seems as if the temperature is just a couple of degrees south of what would be comfortable. There’s a perpetual clammy, musty feel to the place.
The meeting, held in the great room by the main fireplace, began quietly with a roll-call. Gaia’s Children—I counted thirty-five there—seemed to be made up of aging post-grad students, a few undergrads, and a sprinkling of gray-haired activists whose idea of dressing up was to put on a clean T-shirt. Cindy, the pretty girl who had given Josh the flier, emerged from the crowd to greet us—or him, to be precise. Her smile kindled a glow in Josh that I hadn’t seen before.
Bob Courtney, splendid in a white golf shirt and blue shorts, stood at the center of the room engulfed in admirers. An aura of authority surrounded him like a halo. I could see right away that a good portion of Gaia’s Children’s activity involved hero-worship.
Courtney’s wife Fabiola brought the meeting to order.
“Welcome,” she said. Her voice was deeper and rougher than I’d expected, with an odd accent that must have been the lingering effect of her life in Brazil. “Please settle down. We have a lot to do so please pay close attention.”
Sleek, tan, dark-haired, and sexy in tight white jeans and top, she looked as though she would feel more at home on a fashion runway. In her exotic accent she inveighed against those who would ignore nature and not meet its needs. As she went on, laying it thicker and deeper, I saw her husband begin to stir.
“Let us all honor nature …” she began.
Courtney stood up. “Not now.”
She frowned, opened her mouth to protest, but at a gesture from her husband she sat down, silent but simmering.
Courtney launched into his famous tale, of how it all changed for him in space. “When I first saw the Earth from above, I knew it was perfect. Sacred.”
Heads around him nodded. He could have been a preacher, and this group the choir.
“You can’t look at the Earth from space and remain unmoved,” Courtney added. “It’s so beautiful, so whole and awesome. Only a beneficent god could have created it. That truth came home to me when I was sitting at the controls of the Venture. I knew at that moment—in my heart—what I had always at best given lip service to: God has a divine and righteous plan for us and our beautiful world. We must do our best to be good shepherds.”
Courtney could probably have done this in his sleep, but the impact on the faithful was tangible. Maybe this was really what the members of Gaia’s Children came for, came to meetings to be near the famous astronaut who had glimpsed the truth from above, and listen to his gospel.
“And that’s when I knew that what I had to do was carry this message back to Earth and share it with you. We are so lucky to live on this splendid planet. We must cherish and sustain its resources. It is a rare jewel. We must not despoil it for quick profit. We must protect it.”
The group was applauding him now.
Courtney nodded in practiced acknowledgment. “That’s right, friends. That’s what Fabiola and I have decided to commit our lives to doing. We’ve traveled around the world, spreading the word. And now we’ve brought it home. That’s why we’re here with you today. We all love this town, this island. We know how special it is, and how fragile. For anyone who isn’t convinced of that, I suggest he or she take a look at where the Flagship Hotel used to be, or the remains of the Eastside Pier, and remember Hurricane Ike.”
Again, applause. Again, a nod.
“Now we’re not saying you can protect yourselves against forces of nature. We’re just suggesting that we care for what we have. And we’re asking you to ask everyone you know to join with us for a march through Galveston next Sunday. Bring your children, their children, and all their friends. Numbers count. We want to make a big statement. The more attention we can get, the more we can spread the word.
“Fabiola will be holding an organizational meeting Wednesday night, and we need a bunch of you to help us with logistics for the march. The nice people who own this place have allowed us to use it again that night, so please be here by 6:30 P.M.” Courtney was wrapping it up with practiced ease. “I know this is important to all of us. Let’s show how we feel about this planet we call home.”
Nodding at the applause, smiling his movie star smile, Courtney gathered up his stiff, angry wife, waved farewell, and departed the room, a conquering hero.
I gave the upcoming demonstration a brief notice under What’s On.
* * *
I didn’t attend the Wednesday night meeting, but Josh went in hopes of making a date with Cindy. He came home flushed with success—he was going to walk with her at the rally. But what else he told me sounded pretty damned weird.
According to Josh, something strange had happened. He said that Fabiola Courtney was wearing a white priestess gown and, after discussing the rally details, she closed the meeting with an odd chant that sounded Portuguese, maybe.
“And then there was this weird glow,” he told me. “At first I thought it was some goof, a couple of people wearing masks and using
LCDs to kid around. But I don’t think that’s what I saw.”
“Were you and Cindy smoking wacky weed?”
Josh gave me a disgusted look. “Don’t be insulting, Aunt Kate.”
“It’s been known to happen at gatherings of young folk.”
“Most of the people there were old enough to be my aunt.”
“Been known to happen among gatherings of old folk as well.”
“Look, I’m just telling you that something weird happened. And if you’re truly the journalist you pretend to be, then you might want to investigate it.”
Unfortunately, he was right.
* * *
As I said, it was after the first demonstration but before the rally on the beach that I began to receive the anonymous e-mails about Bob Courtney. Warnings that he was dangerously out of control, that he was hurting the city, hurting the citizens. If he was not stopped, terrible things would happen.
I deleted them. Cranks. But I won’t deny their words set my teeth on edge. I felt that pulsing beat of fear each time I walked out of my house. A sudden urge to duck and cover. I was beginning to fear that I was having a nervous breakdown.
* * *
When Ben Mattox disappeared, nobody believed it at first. The local gossip had it that Ben had gone away before, was hiding out in Mexico, fishing in Louisiana, sleeping off his latest bender in Kemah. A couple of folks suggested alien abduction. But they usually did this after the third drink at the M & M. Ben didn’t reappear before the big demonstration.
At the time I didn’t think anything of it. A month later, Ben reappeared. Actually, it was only his head, washing up along the seawall like a coconut. Dental records identified him, poor Ben. I’d have been really upset if I hadn’t already seen what I’m writing about now.
* * *
The day of the rally dawned with thunder and lightning as the heavens opened above Galveston. There would be no march today. Despite my better sense, I allowed Josh to wheedle me into dropping him off at a meeting that Cindy was attending to help reorganize the rally.
Out along the western edge of the island, amid the scrub pines and ramshackle beachhouses, nearer than I liked to the place where no one goes, the group was meeting in an old fisherman’s lodge. This was miles away from the pyramids of Moody Gardens and the water slides along the Strand. This was the dark side of Galveston, where tales of strange misshapen people hiding in wrecked buildings and deadly events kept most sane folks away. I wanted to get out of there, and I wanted to take Josh with me.
The wind picked up. Lightning danced along the horizon and thunder rumbled after. The downpour poured on, and I decided to hang around in case the meeting was canceled and Josh needed a ride back home.
Despite the weather, the group was good sized—at least twenty-five people crammed into the rustic living room. But where was the ringmaster? Bob Courtney had obviously had the common sense to stay home and sleep in. Not so Fabiola. She was all too present. Flamboyantly arrayed in a white tiered skirt, lacy blouse, and white turban, she presided like a queen. There was a strange light in her eye.
Before the meeting could get under way she insisted upon an invocation.
The group quieted under her direction.
“Aum est Bamida,
Aum est Bamida,
Allbamda Ai, Bamida Ai,
Open the way!!
Give of your power, give praise to Old Ones!
Quimo Alta!!
Open the way!”
I couldn’t help thinking this was a bit odd for a pro-nature meeting. What did these words mean?
“Bamida Ai,
Jembarue Ai,
Halmolu, the bridge-maker,
Indara, the guide,
Open the way!!
Give praise to Old Ones!
Quimo Alta!! All souls on the other side!
Open the way!”
Next Fabiola made a series of strange, keening ululations. I didn’t know human beings could make those kinds of noises. Fabiola again repeated her chant, and those noises.
Suddenly there was the dank reek of the sea in the air, bitter, harsh.
And then it happened.
A hole opened in the middle of the air. That’s the only way I can describe it. A hole, pulsing dark, then bright, filled with a green light so hot, so blinding that I couldn’t look at it for long. The edges of it seemed to move and ripple, like the arms of a starfish. I closed my eyes, and the afterimage burned white against my closed eyelids. The thing was howling like an angry beast. It was terrifying. I looked down to see if my legs were still holding me up. I couldn’t feel them.
I looked up just in time to see Josh, entranced, moving slowly toward that screaming light storm at the center of the room.
“Josh! Stop!”
He didn’t hear me. No one could hear anything but the roar of that evil light.
Half-blind, I grabbed for his arm, but Fabiola got between us. She laughed at my fear and continued chanting “Baumida Ai, Baumida Ai!” I begged her to stop, but she ignored me and pushed Josh forward, closer to that thing. In horror, I realized that she intended to offer him to it, a human sacrifice.
I grabbed my cellphone, but the battery was dead.
I waved it anyway. “Fabiola, I’ve called the police.”
She turned her back on me and held her arms up, palms facing the light. The vortex had doubled in size.
“Look!” she cried. “Look, O Great Ones, at the gift offered to you.” She prodded Josh, and he moved like a sleepwalker toward that awful light. “Those who refuse to honor the forces of nature will be punished!”
Now the thing moved, rolling deeper into the room. The crowd fell away. There was nothing between that monstrous thing and Josh.
“No! No!” I threw myself in front of him and grabbed him around the waist, hanging onto his belt loops. Josh was oblivious, tried to brush me away as though I were an annoying insect. He seemed hypnotized. All around us people stared, mouths open, dazed. Meanwhile that thing came closer.
One voice rang out. “Fabiola, stop this! You’ve gone too far!”
It was Bob Courtney. His hair was uncombed and messy, he looked a bit unsteady on his feet. “Whatever you gave me in that drink wore off,” he said. “I’ve come to stop you.”
She sneered. “Nature must be honored. I’ve brought the Old Ones here to be honored.”
The monstrous thing was pulling at us. Pulling at me and at Josh. I strained to push us back, away from its terrible magnetic force.
“Fabiola,” Courtney said. “You don’t know what you’re doing. This isn’t honoring nature. This is something unnatural. Dangerous.”
His wife laughed. “You’re jealous, Bob. The Gods come to me. I’m more powerful than you are. Only I could free the Old Ones from their prison in the sea.” Fabiola pushed me away from Josh and began to pull him toward the awful starfish thing. He didn’t hear me calling to him.
“Baumida Ai!” Fabiola cried. “Baumida Ai! We must feed the Old Ones.”
“No!” Courtney moved in front of her, blocking her way. She swung at him, landing a considerable punch to the side of his head. As she and her husband struggled, the skies thundered, lightning crashed overhead, and Josh let out a scream that raised the hair on the back of my neck. The light was pulling at him, gathering him in. I fell to my knees and grabbed his legs, pulling him down. The terrible force of the thing was irresistible. Agonizing. I was ablaze with terrible pain as the vortex tried to take me as well. I screamed in pain. The roaring was in my head, half elemental, half beast. Plumes of green iridescence eddied and swirled above our heads.
Courtney must have seen our peril because suddenly he was between us and that thing, pushing us back with astonishing strength.
“No, no more of this!” he cried. Grabbing his wife’s arms, he began chanting.
“O Deuses! Do tomam-nos ambos!”
She struggled against his grip. “No! What are you doing?”
“Do tomam-nos ambos!�
�� Courtney shouted. “Do tomam-nos ambos!
“O Voce Deuses!
Tome-nos agora.
Nos dois.
Somente nos dois
Abra a Porta!”
The horrific light thing roared angrily, retracted, and whirled, sending a storm of green flickering light around the room.
“Abra a Porta!”
The thing roared again, spun, then extended a funnel-like tendril. With incredible speed it swept up both the former astronaut and his wife. I thought I heard the sound of waves crashing and smelled rank seawater, but the noise of the thunder, the thing roaring, and the people screaming around us made it difficult to know what I was hearing or feeling.
A high wailing split the air.
I pulled Josh into a bear hug, practically sitting on him.
The light began to shrink in upon itself like water circling a drain. At the center of it I saw figures writhing in the dying light. The Courtneys? Something else? I’ll never know.
For a moment the vortex swelled and its light became blinding. Then, with a piercing shriek, the thing vanished. As the light went out I eased my grip on Josh. He was silent and dazed, but he didn’t fight me. When my vision cleared, the starfish thing was gone. So were Bob and Fabiola Courtney. Josh lay trembling against me.
* * *
Josh had seemed so out of it that at first I thought he wouldn’t remember anything. For days afterwards, he was glassy-eyed, seemed to be in a fog, forgot to attend classes, seemed unfocused and unconcerned. But he finally threw off the lingering effects and began to pick up the pieces of his academic schedule. Life was settling back to normal.
Then one night I awoke to a strange sound.
“Bamida ai!
“Bamida ai!”
It was Josh, sleepwalking across the living room, chanting those terrible words that had summoned Fabiola Courtney’s beast from the sea.
My veins filled with ice. What if he could summon that monster with those words? What if that hungry stinking nightmare thing opened up in the middle of the air right here in front of him, in the living room? The thought made me shake with fear. Josh wasn’t safe here. He had to get away, as soon as possible.