by Wood, Rick
Jenny raised her eyebrows in bewilderment. “I grew up with her. I was there when she died, it’s…” she petered off. She had no words.
“Right,” Derek slammed his hands against the table and looked to Martin, then to Jenny, then back to Martin. “Excuse me for being forthright, but we have little time to lose. We need to get down to business. Decide our next move.”
“Our next move?” Martin echoed.
“By now I’m sure you are aware that your role in this is to lead the army, to be the frontrunner in the war against hell.”
“Yeah, about that –”
“Please, Martin, I know you will feel trepidation over such a task.”
Martin frowned, wondering what trepidation meant.
“But please, don’t fear,” Derek continued. “I’m sure the whole prospect must be quite daunting. Just give it time. When the day comes, you will be ready. When the day comes, you will be the one guiding and reassuring me.”
Martin gave a contented nod. No one had ever put it like that before. Everyone just went on about what was expected of him; no one had ever told him that it would take time, or that it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t yet feel ready.
“So what do we do until then?” Martin asked.
“Until then, my friend, we gather our army.”
Derek withdrew a piece of paper and placed it on the table before them. On it were a list of fifty or so names – with the first three crossed out.
“This, Martin, is a list of the most powerful people in the field of the paranormal in the world. The heir has been working his way through them. It is now our task to collect the rest before it is too late.”
“Won’t it be difficult to convince them?” Martin mused.
“On the contrary; these people know what is coming. They are powerful; they will have felt it. All we need to do is recruit them.”
Derek grinned.
“My friends,” he gestured grandly, “it is time to gather our army.”
31
6 Feb 2003
California, United States of America
The studio audience poised on the edge of their seats, peering at the remarkable woman on-stage, jaws dropped in astonishment.
“And so,” Elisha Port continued, “your husband, Michael.”
The bewildered woman beside Elisha covered her tear-stricken face with both hands, peering through her eyes at Elisha.
“He is well. He is in heaven, at peace,” Elisha continued. “And he has one more thing he would like me to say to you.”
Elisha’s bracelets jangled as she reached out an arm and placed it on the woman’s leg. Elisha’s dreadlocks were tucked behind a bandana, her large body filling out a bulky multi-coloured robe she had worn for every single television show she had performed over the last forty years.
This was the moment. This was the moment she waited for, the reason she did this job.
“Your husband wants me to say that he is okay. He also says, watch out for the jelly-fish, love, otherwise things could get awkward again.”
The woman choked on her pleasurable grief. Her tears mixed with smiles, contently resolute, despairingly ecstatic with the news.
“Is that okay?” Elisha asked.
“Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome. Please, if you’d like to take your seat.”
The woman, bursting with sobs, blubbered her way back to her seat to appreciative claps.
Elisha took centre stage and addressed her audience.
“Thank you so much for joining me on this journey,” she concluded. “Thank you, and good night.”
With a nod, she left the stage to a deafening applause. People whooped, cheered; some gave a standing ovation.
She paused in the wings, sipping on a water bottle.
“Hello, Elisha,” came a young man’s voice. A teenage boy leant against the wall.
“Hello,” Elisha replied.
“My name’s Martin,” said the boy. “You know what I’m here for?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a psychic if I didn’t. Please, let me get my bag and we can go.”
Martin nodded. She returned with her luggage within five minutes, and together they left for the airport.
*
10 Feb 2003
Mumbai, India
Traffic poured past like a gushing water of misery, men on motorised bikes weaving in and out of impatient cars. The grey buildings stood in regimented lines beside the road. People scurried past, not looking at her leant against the wall, shivering beneath her blanket.
The streets were all Aisha Mustaaq had ever known. Fourteen and homeless. Discarded by her family for being an abomination.
All the things she’d had to do, she had done to survive.
Things she had never wanted to do.
Things she would never admit to herself.
Her body stiffened at the sight of a man hurriedly approaching her. As soon as he opened his mouth, his words came tumbling out, too quick for her to fully understand them. Aisha was hungry and tired, two things that delayed her senses, and her fragile state of mind struggled to take in the man’s diatribe.
But it only took her a minute to realise what this pervert was after.
The man was grabbing at her, throwing away her blanket, his hands flailing over the parts of her body she had been taught to keep private.
No one around her did anything.
She begged him not to do it, tried telling him what would happen if he did, urgently pleading with him to listen.
“Please, I don’t know how to control it!”
If anything, her resistance only spurred him on quicker.
As soon as his hand entered her, that’s when it happened.
Why did it always have to happen?
The man’s body launched backwards, soaring across the air, and lethally collided with an oncoming car.
The car sped away and she was left to weep over another body she had unwillingly taken.
“That’s quite a gift you have there,” came a British accent from behind her.
She spun around, her hands risen, ready for a fight. But this man was not like any other she had met. He was warmer. Kinder. With a smile, more genuine than anyone who had ever approached her. His attire was remarkable; a grey suit with waist coat and black tie, dressed in a smart, Western fashion.
Luckily, he appeared to be able to speak her language.
“My name is Derek,” he told her. “I’m here to take you to Britain. To give you a home, to put your powers to good use.”
“Leave me alone!” she shouted. “Or I’ll end up hurting you!”
Derek shook his head.
“Try it,” he stated matter-of-factly.
She flung her arms out toward him.
Nothing.
It didn’t affect him.
He crouched beside her. “One of my friends, who used to be a very good man, helped me learn how to resist such things.”
“You – you know how to control this?”
Derek confidently nodded.
“I do. Will you come with me, Aisha? Let me teach you?”
Finally.
This was her salvation.
*
12 Feb 2003
Nakhon Sawan, Thailand
Paradise Park was truly that – paradise. The morning sun paraded around the blue sky, coating the scene in unfathomable beauty.
This was good for Tee-Yong Sin.
Plenty of tourists. Plenty of money.
He wandered through the crowds, peering over all the faces of holiday-goers. Of happy families. Of hopeless idiots.
A woman, speaking some European language, possibly French, perched on the railings. She was obese, with a juicy bum crack sticking out from beneath her vest. She stuffed an overfilled sandwich into her mouth.
Her bag sat on the floor beside her, unguarded.
Tee-Yong grinned. With a flick of his hand, a wallet floated from the bag, into the
air, and across the park, landing in his pocket.
He bit his lip and smirked. Too easy.
“You know,” came a female voice from behind him. “Some people call that stealing.”
Tee-Yong shot around. A Caucasian woman with a British accent stood behind him.
“Who are you?” Tee-Yong demanded.
“My name is Jenny. How would you like to put this power to good use, rather than nicking everybody’s personal belongings?”
Jenny took the wallet out of his pocket and walked over to the fat lady, placing it back in her bag unnoticed.
“Do you mind?” retorted Tee-Yong with strong irritation. “I’m working here!”
Jenny looked him dead in the eye with a knowing grin.
“Not anymore you’re not.”
Tee-Yong raised an arm and pointed it at Jenny.
Nothing.
He tried again. Did all he could to enter her mind, but for some reason, he was blocked.
“What?” he exclaimed. “How can you…”
“How about you come join me for a coffee?” she proposed. “And I’ll tell you about all the many people like you I’ve met – and how you can join them, actually do something good with this gift.”
32
An army. They were raising an army.
And he was to be part of it.
Cameron Goliath felt like a child in a sweet shop. So many opportunities, so many ways to go, decisions to make. This was his dream.
To use his gift to help the world.
To this day, it had been a tragic curse. A hellish hobby he’d had forced on him.
It was as if he had an overbearing parent, insistent that he was to learn a musical instrument. He did not want to learn it, but he was given no choice – he had strict, domineering parents who told him he had an ability he needed to use.
After all, if someone has a talent, it is their responsibility to use it.
It’s just that most people’s talents were things like playing musical instruments. Or drawing. Or painting. Or sewing.
Oh, how he’d love to be a sewing master.
Instead, heaven bestowed on him the powers of telepathy. The ability to enter and manipulate someone else’s mind. It may sound like a brilliant gift – but honestly, would you want to befriend someone who could, unbeknownst to you, enter your mind and twist your thoughts to their wishes?
“I will get the next plane to London,” Cameron told a friendly man named Derek on the phone.
Placing the phone down, he paused.
Smiled.
Finally, he was part of something bigger.
Then he heard it. Inside his head.
You think you are meant for something greater?
He dropped to the floor, shooting his eyes around the room, examining every crevasse and corner. There was nothing. He was alone.
Except, in his head, he wasn’t.
How could this be?
Normally he was the one inside someone else’s head.
Only this time, someone had penetrated his.
“Who is this?”
Cameron Goliath, I am giving you an option.
“Where are you? Show yourself!”
Give yourself up and I will make this less painful than it need be.
“Go to hell.”
Laughter boomed against the corners of his mind.
Only if you come with me.
The wall to his house ripped apart in a sudden, drastic motion.
The last thing he saw was a raised claw dripping with blood.
33
18 Feb 2003
Martin couldn’t deny it – the buzz in the air was electrifying.
The hall was filled with roughly twenty esteemed and accomplished soon-to-be warriors. Paranormal experts, exorcists, psychics, telekinetics, clairvoyants – you name it, they were there.
And it was all down to him, Jenny, and Derek.
He had played his part. He had recruited a third of these people. Within two weeks, he had tracked down and brought home the essential experts from his portion of the list. All nationalities, all cultures, all languages. The common cause overruled whatever background they had come from.
They were there together, and they understood why.
Martin weaved in and out of the lively gathering, deliriously marvelling at the variation of powers. Some people were enthusiastically chatting, whilst the more introverted were against the walls sipping coffee. Some people knew what was being said to them before it was said, some knew more about the person they were talking to than that person did, and some just made themselves a drink without having to touch a spoon or a cup.
It was remarkable.
It was a world he had never been privy to, one he never thought existed.
Despite the impossible challenge, it left him with a tinge of hope. So many people willing to fight. So many people putting their powers to a good cause.
And he would be leading them.
He was less powerful than most of them, yes, but Derek had assured him that, in time, that would change. These people would see what he could do and would be astounded. People who could move a brick with their mind would see him conjure fire out of nothing and their jaws would drop.
Hush abruptly swept through the room, people halting their conversations, and turning to a raised platform at the front.
Derek stood upon the platform, gazing into the sea of faces that gazed back.
Everyone stared at him. Attentive, listening, ready for what he had to say.
Derek didn’t speak straight away. Instead, he moved his eyes in awe over the crowd eagerly staring back. The extraordinary image of experts of every creed and colour, turning to him for his guidance.
He couldn’t help but grin.
“Friends. Men, women. Black, white, brown… purple even. Psychics, clairvoyants, exorcists, priests, every known role within the world of the supernatural. Europeans, Americans, South Americans, Asians, Australians. I welcome you to the United Kingdom. I welcome you, to the stand against hell!”
He lifted his arms and shouted his final words and every single person in the room cheered.
Martin’s spirits uplifted. He felt high, his heart rising to his throat, a head fluttering with wondrous excitement. His arms tingled, his head buzzed, his exhilaration grew overwhelming.
He clocked Jenny across the room, looking back at him. He could tell she was feeling the same.
“We have gathered you,” Derek continued, speaking with a grand, booming voice, “from all corners of the world. For one common purpose. The one common enemy. For one united army.
“The world looks to us. We rally together in secret, but we will go down in untold history as the people who stood up to hell. As the people who stood up to the devil.”
Cheers rang out again.
“Whatever your powers, your gift, or your purpose. Whatever your motivation, your reason, or your history. We are now one, an army together, ready to rise, ready to say no to the destroyer of humanity.
“There will be casualties. There will be times without hope. There will be battles lost, lives gone and hopeless, shattered remains.
“But I know, with all that everyone here has already accomplished in their respective fields, that we will not be dismayed. That we will not back down. That we will not give in.
“I ask each of you now, together, to turn to the person on your left. Now turn to the person on your right. Now turn to every soul around you in the room, make eye contact, shake hands, take an unspoken vow; that you will stand by them as brothers and sisters. That you will join with them together.
“That you will swear an oath.
“That today we stand together.
“That together, we will face this evil… And we will win!”
Cries of jubilation and exhilaration reverberated around the room.
Derek stood down from his podium, immediately greeted with various shaking hands, nods, and congratulations.
He greeted e
veryone in turn, ensuring he paid due respect to every person who had stopped their lives and joined them.
Martin couldn’t help but watch on with grateful warmth.
Everyone was looking to him to lead them.
But in truth, Derek was his true saviour.
34
19 Feb 2003
Light was an absent memory to Cameron Goliath. His speech had gone; his screams had taken his hoarse voice from him. His wrists were bleeding through the tightness of restraints and his naked body grew weary under the burns and wounds inflicted upon him.
He opened his eyes, realising he had passed out again. This time he found himself atop a mountain, clouds beneath him, snow furiously pounding his body.
He was frozen cold, his body violently shaking. His open wounds grew sore as the cold flakes of snow snuck into their crevices.
In the distance, beyond the thrashing snow, was a silhouette. It was still, motionless, but Cameron had no doubt it was looking at him.
It took him a few minutes to realise this silhouette was not of a man. There were hooves, claws, horns, all faded into the vague visible creature. Its snarls carried across on the wind. Cameron’s pain grew even more excruciating.
“You have been contacted by a Derek Lansdale, have you not?” boomed a voice mixed with the snarls.
Cameron frantically nodded.
“Yes! Yes! I have!”
“Why?” echoed a long, drawn-out syllable.
Cameron looked around himself, darting his eyes to the distant nothingness surrounding his torment. His pain grew agonising, his temperament faltered and he prayed that, whatever it took, he could find a way out of this unbearable moment.
“I don’t know…” he moaned. “He said something about recruiting me or something…”
“Recruiting you? Recruiting for what?”
“I don’t know!”
He was not lying, he wouldn’t dare lie. He felt cowardly, but it was too much. At the end of a man’s pain threshold was when he would reveal who he truly was. But, in that moment, Cameron didn’t care.