by Brad Kelln
"Ding-a-ling!" Nick laughed enthusiastically.
It occurred to Wenton that alcohol might not be the only substance flowing through Nick's veins. The man was either high or virtually psychotic.
"You wanna fuckin' pull it together?" Wenton snapped.
Nick stared at Wenton with an exaggerated look of hurt and then a big smile spread back across his face.
"What do you know about a Web site?" Wa pushed. "We know you were involved with it."
"A Web site. A Web site," he sang. "It's not the Web site that's going to get you, it's the prophecy."
"What?" Wenton snarled.
"He's returning. He's probably here right now if you believe Gary. But no one can stop it. That's why it's a prophecy. It was already decided," Nick said in a hushed whisper. His face stayed serious for another moment before he broke into laughter again.
"This is fuckin' useless," Wa said, turning to Wenton. "You wanna go?"
Wenton nodded. "Fuckin' lunatic," Wenton sneered, pushing back from the table. "Feels like I'm interviewing Edward Carter all over again."
"NO!" Nick Stangos screamed.
Wa and Wenton froze as Nick covered his face and dropped his head to the table.
"What?" Wa asked.
"Don't say that name. He's the one," Nick hissed into the table.
"What name?" Wenton demanded. "Edward Carter? That name?" He smiled as he said it. He liked that it bothered Stangos. He liked that some- thing could at least get a reaction out of the slob.
"So you don't want us to say Edward Carter?" Wenton smirked.
"Shut up," Wa snapped at Wenton. He turned back to Nick. "Why does that name bother you, Nick?"
"Don't say that name. Don't say that name," he moaned and rolled his head back and forth on his hands.
"Did you do something to Edward Carter?" Wenton asked.
He rocked back and forth without answering.
"You fucked Edward Carter up, didn't you?" Wenton continued.
Wa sat back down at the table, his eyes glued to Nick.
"Just don't say that name," Nick pleaded.
"What'd you do to Edward Carter, Nick?" Wenton pushed.
"I didn't do anything."
"You did something. There's something upsetting you. Let's help each other out."
"Just don't say that name. He's the one. He's the one."
"We're not going to say the fuckin' name," Wenton said impatiently. "Just tell us what happened to him. Why is he the one? What does that mean?"
"The Scrolls spoke of him. Of 'the child of incest,'" Nick moaned. "The one that starts everything. The end of everything. It couldn't be stopped. I'm going to die."
"You're not going to die," Wa tried to comfort him.
"Fuck you!" he screamed, bolting up in his chair.
Wa was startled, but Wenton didn't react.
"You don't know what's going on or who they are. They aren't human. They can get to anyone. They've probably already gotten to you."
"Tell me about Edward Carter," Wa interrupted. "How's he fit in?"
"SON OF A BITCH!" Nick screamed, gripping the sides of his head and closing his eyes. "You can't know about any of this. How the fuck do you know about Edward Carter?"
"Just tell us. It's too late for theatrics," Wenton said casually.
"EDWARD CARTER IS EVERYTHING!" Nick screamed. "If you know what happened to him, what made him, you'd know everything. He's the reason everything has gone to hell!"
"So what'd you do to him?" Wa barked.
Nick suddenly stopped and looked up at Wa. "I didn't do anything to him. It was Gary Wrightland."
THIRTY-EIGHT
"What are you doing home?" Marlene Wrightland asked her husband as he entered the back door. "Not feeling well?"
He paused and looked up the small stairwell to his wife standing in the kitchen. He realized it was unusual to be home early in the afternoon but it couldn't be helped. "Forgot something."
"Forgot what? I could've run it over to the church." She wiped her hands on a towel and then dropped it on the counter off to her side.
"No, it's more something I need to check. Don't worry about it. Go back to whatever you were doing?"
"Fine." Marlene threw up her hands. She'd seen him in a "mood" before and didn't want to get into it.
Gary watched his wife turn and move back into the kitchen. He took the stairs, two at a time, to the second floor. He passed the bathroom on his right and then his son's room before entering the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
Once inside he glanced back to make sure Marlene hadn't followed. He closed the door, quietly. He looked up at the section marked out on the ceil- ing, the attic. His heart pounded and he looked away.
After carefully dragging the reading chair to the centre of the room, he reached up and could just barely touch the attic door handle.
Gary tugged gently until he felt the heavy springs drag. Steadily, he pulled the trapdoor down until he could reach the edge with his hand. He pulled it further until he could reach the ladder secured inside. Soon he was crouched inside the cramped attic.
There was little to be found in the attic. Blown-in insulation filled every corner with loose bits of grey and white.
He strained forward, feeling beneath the soft insulation until his hand met something smooth and hard. He pulled the oversized briefcase out and held it close to his chest for a moment.
And then he retreated, moving quickly down the ladder with the brief- case tucked awkwardly under one arm.
Once back on the bedroom floor with the trap door secured and the reading chair pushed into its original position, he sat on the edge of the bed. The large case sat at his feet. He looked down at it, contemplated opening it. He knew he shouldn't. He could feel its power hidden beneath the leather and tucked into heavy foam inside.
Gary relented. He leaned to the case and pulled the flap back. The case fell open in two sections and Gary stared in at a solid metallic surface. Only one dial was visible on the outside. He wanted to take the instrument out and hold it, but he didn't. I have a job to do. I can't be here. He ran his fingers along the cold metal and gently caressed the dial. He knew he shouldn't touch it but he couldn't help himself. Through no conscious choice, his eyes closed. He felt for the lip of the case and snapped it shut.
His eyes remained closed for a moment as he tried to regain his balance. His legs felt unsteady but he was running out of time. He stood, moving the case to the side with his foot. He stepped to the closet and reached into the back. When he pulled his hand out he held a large grey wool overcoat and a plain baseball cap.
Finally, he moved to the larger dresser that sat against the far wall of the bedroom. He stooped to pull open the bottom drawer. He reached into piles of underwear and socks and felt at the back. His hand came across some- thing cold and hard. He pulled his arm out and stared at the large eight-inch hunting knife in a fitted plastic case. This time,
he thought, I'm going to finish the job.
THIRTY-NINE
"Gary Wrightland?" Wa asked in surprise.
Nick's head hung limp. Wenton thought he might have passed out and reached across the small table to flick the man's head. Nick jerked but didn't look up.
"Are you saying Pastor Wrightland has something to do with Edward Carter?" Wa asked, an edge rising in his voice.
"Do you know Gary?" Nick mumbled, still not looking up.
"I just met with him a few days ago."
Now he looked up. "You met with him?"
"Yes."
"What'dhesay?"
"He told me about you getting kicked out of seminary."
Nick laughed.
Wa ignored it. "He also told me about your experiments. The stuff with the low frequency weapons."
"Did he?" Nick grinned.
"I'm getting tired of this shit," Wenton blurted. "Just tell us what you fuckin' know."
Nick's demeanour changed again. His head drooped. "What can I tell you?" He looked as if he might cry and then he suddenly laughed so hard that he started to cough. He had to brace himself against the table. Spit hung off the corner of his lip and he wiped it away on the sleeve of his shirt.
"I'm dead," he concluded. "I can't tell you anything."
"Try," Wenton said coolly.
"Did Gary tell you about the Dead Sea Scrolls?" he asked Wa.
"Oh shit," Wenton muttered, covering his eyes. "We're getting' religious again."
Wa frowned at him before turning back to Nick. "He mentioned them. He did some grad research there. At the Qumran site."
"What?" Wenton said. "Did you say Qumran?"
"What's the matter?" Wa asked.
"Nothing."
"You've heard Qumran somewhere before?" Wa asked.
"Nevermind."
That was the only answer Wa needed. He realized Wenton had been haunted by the word just as he had been. "So what about the Scrolls, Nick?"
"I need a drink." He pushed away from the table, attempting to stand. Wenton leaned across and with considerable force seated Nick back in his chair.
"Okay," Nick continued. "I'll get a drink later."
"The Scrolls," Wa prompted.
"Fine. How much did Gary tell you about the scrolls? Did he tell you that the Dead Sea Scrolls contained more than just bits and pieces of the Bible?"
Wa shrugged. "I think he mentioned something like that."
He sighed as though this should be common knowledge. "The jars found near Qumran contained three types of scrolls. Bits and pieces that were identified as early versions of the Bible. Bits and pieces that were probably contemporary art of the time including traditional songs and such. Basically crap.
"But the third category has been loosely referred to as 'apocrypha.' These are scriptures intended to be part of the Bible but frequently omitted from the different versions. Religious scholars and church leaders have specifically chosen to hide these works from the world. The messages of these scrolls have been deemed either too fanciful or too frightening for mass consumption. They've been covered up."
"What kind of stuff?" Wa asked.
"For the most part, the Apocryphal Scrolls contained clues to the com- ing apocalypse and the end of the world. They contained specific details of how the Antichrist would come into the world."
"Nice story," Wenton interrupted. Fanatical bullshit
"I know," Nick agreed. "A lot of the stuff sounds fanciful and I think that's why so many scholars and religious leaders decided not to include these scrolls in modern biblical texts. But Gary was obsessed with the apoc- ryphal writings. He was sure he could use the information from these
Scrolls to avoid the apocalypse. He became an archeology buff and an expert on the Dead Sea Scrolls and went on the expedition to Jerusalem. It wasn't a part of his training in seminary. He did it to find out as much as he could about the Scrolls.
"So the Dead Sea Scrolls predict the end of the world, eh?" Wenton said skeptically.
"That's not new. The Old and New Testaments are full of references to the end of the world. Especially the Book of Revelations* It's one of the more psychedelic books of the Bible but apparently it's missing large sections that describe exactly how the world is going to end. That's partially why Gary was so concerned with the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Book of Revelations that we see in traditional Bibles is incomplete. Many people, like Gary, believe that the full version is contained in the Scrolls but has never been released."
"What's the missing stuff all about?" asked Wa.
"The story goes that one of the Scroll jars contained a parchment that was loosely translated as the 'Convergence.' It described the coming of the Antichrist, or the Beast. It's an event predicted to happen immediately before the end of the world and the second coming of Christ."
"Why do you keep saying 'the story goes' or 'people believe'?" Wa asked.
"Because this isn't exactly accepted religious territory. Basically no religious leaders will confirm the existence of the Convergence Scroll and very few academics or archeologists will either. It's a real controversy."
"Blah, blah, blah," Wenton interrupted. "What's this got to do with ECOR?"
"Nothing," Nick said, surprised.
"So is ECOR testing weapons on people, trying to make them insane?"
He frowned. "I don't think so. They just hired me to feed their research team facts about electronic weapons. They knew I had an interest in that and have kept up-to-date on the research. They were starting up a research branch on it."
"They were doing Web sites," Wa corrected.
"Yes, to document their research on technological applications of-"
"No, they were using your info to do conspiracy Web sites. They thought it would help push delusional patients over the edge."
"Oh my god. That's not what they told me. I can't-"
"Believe it," Wenton finished.
"Finish the story on Gary," Wa said.
He took a deep breath. "So Gary was convinced that if he could find out everything about the coming of the Antichrist, he could save the world. He was obsessed with it. It was all he ever talked about. He'd researched every- thing he could about the Convergence Scroll and was convinced he could find a way to prevent the Convergence."
"How?" Wenton asked. "Plug up the main exit from Hell?"
Nick laughed but the effort made him cough again. This time it ended in a rasping, wet gurgle as he coughed up phlegm. He caught it in his mouth and swallowed loudly. "Actually, yes!"
"I inadvertently mentioned some research to Gary on cellular excitation and religious experience. He jumped on-"
"English please," Wa grumbled. "I'm just a poor dumb cop."
"Well, I just told Gary about how epileptics often report religious expe- riences during seizures. Seizures are essentially just
all the neurons firing at once. It's like a person sticks their brain in a light socket and BZZZZZZ." He nodded grinning broadly. He'd obviously not talked to anyone in a long time because he was thoroughly enjoying having an audience, even though right now his audience was staring at him without any hint of amusement. Nick's smile faded and he continued.
"So after I told Gary about this epilepsy thing-which was just something I came across when I was doing my physics undergrad degree, he started grilling me about whether that meant we could make people more open to religion or at least more open to religious experience. I said no but he kept poking and digging around. It was Gary who came up with the idea of using low frequency beams to open a person up.
"Gary figured we could use an Extremely Low Frequency beam, or ELF, and at certain frequencies stimulate an individual's temporal lobes and cre- ate a condition not unlike that experienced by the epileptics who report religious phenomena. Somehow, Gary convinced me to help him build a machine. We built it and he took off with it."
"But weren't you kicked out of the seminary for experimenting with that machine?" Wa asked.
"No," he said almost laughing. "I was kicked out for drinking. I kept showing up to lectures drunk. Did Gary tell you that I was the one experi- menting with the ELF?"
Wa nodded.
"Figures. Anyway, Gary grabbed the machine and took off on the expe- dition to the Dead Sea Scrolls. It was shortly after he left that I was kicked out of school. I didn't see him again until he came to visit me a few years ago. He showed up at my house ranting and raving about solving the Convergence. I tried to humour him, even helped him fix up the old ELF unit he had-showed him how to boost the power-but really didn't talk to him much. He was crazed. He really scared me. He was so worked up talk- ing about how he found the portal. I didn't know what he meant at first, but he kept saying he found the portal. That's the first time I heard the name Edward Carter."