Witnesses

by Anthony Watson

  Could the slaying be linked to the mall bombing? Some kind of warning perhaps? The idea seems ludicrous, the bombing was a statement, the perpetrators would want the world to know who they were otherwise their actions would be of no use, political or otherwise.

  So why the note then?

  You slump back into your chair and take a swig of coffee. The unending rain continues to hammer against the window of your office, the noise of it adding to your headache.

  This is, you realise, the beginning of something. The first step has been taken in contacting you. But by whom? And for what reason? More will follow, of this you are sure, and you pray to whichever god will listen to you that there will be more than simply a note bearing your name the next time.

  * * *

  Gritting his teeth against the pain, Church slammed his shoulder against the side of the pew. Another bolt of agony flared along the length of his arm; another erupted where the metal of the handcuffs bit into his wrist, scraping yet more skin from a laceration that already dripped blood. Tears sprang to his eyes. He’d been smashing into the unyielding wood since Dreschler had left, willing to suffer the pain if it meant he could escape from the church, from whatever fate the German had in store for him. He waited for the waves of pain to subside and then flung himself against the pew again.

  He heard two simultaneous cracks as his humerus broke along with the wood. He cried out with this new pain which surpassed anything he had ever experienced before, and grabbed his arm with his free hand, squeezing tightly. His cry echoed around the empty church and the tears spilt out of his eyes to drop onto the wooden seat to mingle with the blood from his tattered wrist.

  Slowly, he released the grip on his broken arm, felt another wave of pain radiate outwards as he did so, had to stop himself from vomiting. His head spun momentarily and he threatened to topple over but. deep breaths calmed the maelstrom. He used his free hand to wipe the tears away, to rub his eyes. As the minutes passed, the pain subsided to no more than a dull ache.

  “Oh, God,” he said. “What have I done?” Surely any attempt at escape was now impossible. Worse still, there was no way he could put up any kind of fight, any resistance at all to Dreschler with a broken arm. What were you thinking? The ache around the break was slowly spreading, his arm felt ten times heavier than it really was and impossible to move.

  He dropped his head back on his shoulders, closed his eyes and let out an anguished wail. Frying pan to fire… The stone Jesus hanging from the cross at the side of the altar stared down at him impassively, suffering was, after all, relative.

  He slowly opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times to remove the last of the saltiness his tears had caused. Tilting his head to one side, he looked at the end of the pew from which his useless arm hung. His arm was not the only thing to have broken, his efforts had not entirely been in vain. As the wood had cracked, a huge splinter had almost completely detached itself, the pale unstained wood beneath it clearly visible, a sharp point of wood attached only at its base. The damage, unfortunately, was nowhere near the point at which the handcuffs had been attached. Even if he were able to move his arm with enough force, dislodging the broken piece of wood would be of no benefit, he would still be bound to the pew. It was a start, though. Perhaps the break could be widened. The wooden side panel may have become weakened… Another flare of pain near his shoulder reminded him of the reality of the situation.

  How long had Dreschler been gone? Sunlight streamed in through the western window casting multi-coloured light over the church’s interior. It had still been dark when the German had left. Church jumped as his mental questioning was answered by the sound of the door swinging open. The movement sent another wave of pain through his arm and he drew air in through clenched teeth.

  “I’m back!” Dreschler’s voice seemed overly loud in the confines of the church. Shouting in a place of God? Sacrilegious surely. Church heard footsteps approaching from behind but did not turn – could not turn – to look at his captor. “I have food!” Dreschler said as he came into view, holding aloft a pair of rabbits by their back legs. “Breakfast!”

  Nausea roiled through Church’s stomach. He’d never enjoyed rabbit at the best of times, found the meat greasy and of a taste not to his liking. To consume the meat for breakfast was a prospect not worth considering.

  Dreschler stopped, stared at the damage done to the pew, and to Church. He tutted and shook his head. “Dominic! Oh, Dominic, what have you been doing?”

  “I would have thought that was obvious,” Church replied, wincing as he did.

  “You weren’t thinking of… escaping? Were you?” Dreschler’s voice was humorous, mocking.

  “Of course I was – am. God’s sake, I’m an officer in the British Army – what do you expect? That I simply sit here meekly and do whatever you say?”

  Dreschler laughed. “You have spirit, that is for sure! And yes, I would expect nothing less of you. I must repeat to you, though, that any attempt to escape is futile.” The steely glint in the German’s eyes efficiently emphasised the point. “You understand?” Church grunted. “Good. And now,” he once more hoisted the rabbits aloft, “I must prepare our food.”

  If Church had felt Dreschler’s shouting in church had been sacrilegious, that concern paled into insignificance as he watched the man skin and gut the animals on the altar. The sight did little to ease the feeling of nausea he was experiencing, but he was surprised to feel his stomach rumbling once Dreschler had the carcasses on spits above a fire he had constructed. Smells of cooking filled the church, despite the door having been opened by the German to allow the smoke from the fire out of the building. By the time the meat was cooked, burnt black on the outside, Church was salivating.

  Dreschler used his bayonet to scrape the cooked rabbit off the spit and onto a metal plate. He cut the meat into chunks and handed the plate, along with a fork, to Church. Using his left hand, Church shovelled the food into his mouth greedily. Dreschler filled his own plate with meat and sat down next to Church. Both men ate in silence, and soon both plates were empty, the only evidence that there had once been food on them streaks of grease on their surfaces.

  “Good, no?” Dreschler asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and belching noisily. Church nodded in agreement. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “It is good that you enjoyed it, Dominic – given that it will be your last meal ever.”

  The words were said so calmly that, for a moment, Church could not believe that that was what he had actually said. Except he had, he had heard them clearly enough.

  “I… I’m not sure I understand you…”

  Dreschler reached out a hand and placed it on Church’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Your death will not be in vain!” at which he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  The greasy meat in Church’s stomach suddenly felt like a lead weight and he felt the burn of acid reflux. He had to breathe deeply to prevent himself from being sick. “What do you mean?” He was surprised at how calmly he had said the words; perhaps the situation – what Dreschler had just said – was so surreal that his own mind could not fathom the correct response, had instead defaulted to a complete lack of emotion.

  Dreschler’s laughter stopped abruptly and he rose from the pew. Head bowed, arms folded behind his back, he walked up onto the altar. He turned slowly to once again face Church, the light shining through the west window silhouetting him, casting a corona around his outline where – in every other human being except the German, at least in Church’s eyes – his aura would have been.

  He began to speak.

  “We are the witnesses, Dominic, and today we will fulfil our destiny. Today is the beginning of the new world order. Today a sequence of events will unfold which will lead to the greatest battle of all time, and we are the key to those events. my friend. Today Armageddon will commence…”

  Dear God, the man has lost his mind.

  The thought ran through Churc
h’s head, and yet at the same time something within him, something buried deep within him, rejected it, knew that what Dreschler was saying was true.

  And, oh, how he spoke that truth. Passion emanated from him, his eyes shone with manic glee, his mouth formed a huge grin every time he paused in what he was saying. “You can feel it can’t you, Dominic? Knowledge buried for all these years, your whole life – knowledge of who you really are, of what you really are!”

  Yes, yes – I can feel it…

  “The dead are rising from their graves, preparing to choose sides – you’ve seen them, I know you have, and that’s because you’re special, Dominic. You are the chosen one, just as I am!”

  Church’s senses whirled, his mind trying to keep pace with what Dreschler was saying. Emotion flooded him and an overwhelming desire to cry arose within him. The pain from his broken arm was gone, such was the feeling of joy that filled him. His destiny…

  Dreschler strode back and forth across the altar, his footsteps echoing through the church along with his words. “The final battle between Good and Evil is about to begin after centuries of waiting, and it is our sacrifice which will bring this about. Where others have failed, we will succeed. Ours is to be the glory!”

  “Others?” Dreschler’s use of the word had jolted Church from the oratory. “What do you mean, others?”

  “Ah, Dominic!” Dreschler stopped his frantic pacing and took his seat again next to Church. When he next spoke, his voice was much quieter, calmer, almost a whisper. “We are not the first witnesses, Dominic. Many have trodden this path before us, but all to no avail.”

  Church shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  Dreschler smiled and continued. “As with all things, so it is with the battle to end all battles. Criteria must be fulfilled before Armageddon can commence.” He patted the bible sitting beside Church on the pew. “It’s all in here, Dominic! As prophesied, a specific sequence of events will occur which will culminate in the final battle. And that, my friend, is where we come in.”

  “By our… sacrifice?”

  Dreschler nodded. “Indeed, Dominic, indeed. We are the witnesses to Armageddon, a representative from either side, brought together in a specific place, at a specific time in order to carry out the last of those events.”

  “But these others you mentioned? I still don’t understand.”

  Dreschler got to his feet once more, began to walk slowly down the aisle of the church, speaking as he went. Church tried to turn around to watch the German, but a sharp flaring of pain from his arm stopped his movement, forcing him to listen to the Hauptmann with his back turned to him.

  “You and I are special, Dominic, drawn from the angelic horde and yet encased in human bodies, and therefore prey to all the frailties such a condition brings with it.” He stopped walking, his boots scuffing the stone floor, and turned to face Church. “Such it is that fate plays its part in the sequence of events. The two witnesses must be at a precise location at the designated time or all else will fail. The dead will return to their graves and the battle will not take place.”

  “So, others like us have tried before and failed? They haven’t made it to the location?”

  Dreschler nodded. “Every generation has a pair of witnesses, such is the cyclical nature of things. Failure by the witnesses – for whatever reason – means a renewal of the cycle. You should be proud, Dominic. After all these centuries of failure, we have done it. We are here!”

  Again, Church’s mind was awash with information, struggling to keep up with it all. “But how did I not know of this? I’m one of the witnesses, how is it I knew nothing of this until now, until you brought me here?”

  “Aye, there’s the rub. I mentioned rules, and there are many. Of the two witnesses, only one knows of their true nature from birth. Their role is to locate the other and bring them to the place of sacrifice. By whatever means—”

  “Sacrifice, you say?” Church interrupted the German’s flow, shaking his head as if that would somehow aid his understanding of what he’d just heard. “What do you mean, sacrifice?”

  There was a pause as Dreschler stopped and turned to walk past Church, back to the altar. Grinning, he made his way to the lectern and stood behind it, gripping both sides of the plinth as if he were about to give a sermon. When he spoke, he did so in a deep, sonorous voice that sent a shiver down Church’s spine.

  “And when they shall have finished their testimony, the beast that ascendeth out of the bottomless pit shall make war against them, and shall overcome them, and kill them.”

  Church’s mouth was once again suddenly dry, making it difficult to speak. “I… I don’t know what you mean…”

  Dreschler jumped off the altar, ran to Church, took him by the shoulders. “The Beast, Dominic!” He laughed as he spoke, a mad gleam in his eyes. “Today we sacrifice ourselves to The Beast – the first step in unleashing Armageddon!”

  Pain flared in Church’s arm at the other man’s grip, but the adrenalin flooding his system dulled it into insignificance. “What do you mean, man? What is this beast?”

  Dreschler released his grip and slowly stood up. “Today is a great day, my friend.” The manic gleam in his eyes remained, but the smile that played across his lips was a gentle one. “Today we die.”

  * * *

  “You’re fucking kidding. Right?”

  Dave stared incredulously at Dark, a look that had been there for quite some time now. They sat inside the church, on the front pew nearest the altar. They’d been there for nearly an hour now, during which time Dark had – as promised – explained why they were there. Except what he’d been saying had been so outlandish – so weird – that Dave was now more convinced than ever that he had been kidnapped by a madman. He absent-mindedly rubbed his arm. For some reason a dull ache had appeared in it, niggling rather than painful.

  Dark tilted his head slightly, raised his eyebrows. “It’s a lot to take in, I know, but – as difficult as it is to believe – it’s the truth.”

  Dave shook his head, raised his arms and dropped them, flapping like a huge bird attempting lift-off. “You’re telling me that I’m – that we – are, are… angels and that we’ve come all the way out here to sacrifice ourselves to some mythical beast so that the end of the world can begin?”

  Dark smiled. “In a nutshell…”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’ve never heard such a load of bollocks in my life! What? I’m the good angel and you work for the Devil?”

  Dark continued to smile.

  “You’re called Colin! What kind of name is that for the Devil’s envoy?” Despite himself, Dave began to laugh. He shook his head. “I can’t believe I just said that…”

  “You know,” Dark began, “I spent so long working out ways to tell you, seeing as how it’s all so… implausible, but then finally decided to just come out with it. Tell it like it is. To be brutally honest I don’t care if you believe it or not. Come the end of today, we’re both going to be dead anyway…”

  “Listen to yourself! Of course I don’t believe any of it – how could I? Shit, is that the best you could come up with? What are you? Some kind of religious nut? Watched too many serial killer films? Why don’t you just get on with what you’re going to do?” He hated the way his voice had begun to waver as he spoke, felt a flush of embarrassment at feeling his eyes begin to tear up.

  “You know what I am, Dave. And if you only gave it a chance, you’d know what – who – you are too. I’m not going to kill you. That would be counter-productive, wouldn’t it? Bringing you all the way out here and then ruining it all by killing you before The Beast could. That’s not how it works, Dave. Both witnesses have to give their lives in sacrifice, that’s why so many have failed before us. One or both were dead before the day of sacrifice. Weren’t you listening?”

  Dave rubbed the tears from his eyes vigorously. “Yeah, I was listening. Didn’t have much choice, did I?” He sniffed noisily. “Still bollocks.”
/>   Dark sighed. “Like I say, it doesn’t matter one way or another. Believe me or not, it’s up to you.”

  And, deep within him, Dave knew that what Dark was saying was true.

  “The curse of modernity,” Dark continued, “there’s no magic in the world anymore, no mystery. Everyone’s so fucking cynical.”

  “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was to convince the world he didn’t exist.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The Usual Suspects. Just seemed appropriate.”

  “Ah, right. The real problem is we’re too sophisticated these days to even countenance the existence of God, the Devil, good and evil. Everything’s explained away now, or so we like to think.”

  “Bloody science, eh? Making sense of the world, and all that.”

  Dark laughed. “There are theories for everything, I’ll give you that. Just theories, though, no absolute truths.”

  The surreal nature of his situation once again struck Dave. Dark was talking, though, and if he was talking he wasn’t… well, he wasn’t doing what he’d actually come here to do. Talking was good. The longer the conversation went on, the more time he had to work out a way of getting out of here. You can do that, he told himself, be just like being down the pub with…

  “Theories can never be proven, only disproven,” Dark continued. “Our knowledge of how the world works are simply our best guesses. Don’t make the mistake of putting absolute faith in what may or may not be reality.”

  “Yeah, much better to follow a religion, eh? Now they’ve got all the answers.”

  “Ha! Of course organised religion’s little better than science, but at least they acknowledge that some things are unknowable.”

  “I’m an atheist, myself. Little odd for an angel, I realise, but there you go.”

  “And isn’t atheism a belief system in its own right? Don’t you have your own tenets to adhere to?”

  Dave’s mouth opened but no words came out.

  “It’s not important, though it’s interesting why so many people still follow a religion. Why does that need to exist?”