by Gary Starta
“It’s not what is stopping you, but who is stopping you.”
This time, Hainsworth’s words fell flat with no melodious overtones.
“You need to understand who is behind the plan, before you can appreciate the sacrifices of your friends.”
Dudek blotted his wound with his jacket, ignoring Hainsworth’s latest tactic.
Hainsworth almost let his voice rise with anger at Dudek’s insolence, but in that split second, the force that commanded his body now assumed control.
“I would like to introduce myself, Dudek. My name is Aleister Crowley. When I roamed the Earth as a mortal, I was dubbed the wickedest man alive. Fools called me that, incapable of understanding my ultimate desire, to give every human being the chance to hold the keys to heaven’s gates in his or her hands. I imagine the same ignorance and tolerance would face me today, if I were alive in human form. Nevertheless, I’ve made the first step of ascension. I have become an incarnate spirit, housing my soul in the vessel you see before you, a man you despised over the years, a man you believe wrongfully took your promotion away from you.”
“I—don’t know what kind of mind games you’re playing, but I don’t just hate you because of power or salary. I hate you because you’re hypocrisy itself. You swear to uphold justice, yet you don’t.”
The being, whose voice was richer in tone than Hainsworth’s and tinged with a British accent, laughed in response to Dudek’s whimpering. Dudek began to speak again, this time his voice shook and quavered from an icy jolt of pain.
“You admitted to killing innocent Americans, including my friends Geoffrey McAllister and Greg Salinger. I don’t care what name you call yourself. You sssooonnn...” Dudek fought to regain control over his speech center but could not. “I’m going to see that you pay for your crimes. You have no higher purpose. Your agenda is no different than other madman or psychopathic killer my agents ever convicted. I’ll see you burn in hell.”
“What an interesting choice of words.” The British voice now conveyed an air of intrigue, allowing Dudek, his prey, to squirm for a few more seconds if only to service his amusement.
“I must say,” the British-accented voice continued, “you humans might very well be regressing in an evolutionary sense. Other than technology and material gain, you walk and talk much like the small animals that sickened me when I was alive some fifty odd years ago. Now, if you’re willing to listen, good chap, I do have good reason for the deaths. I know you may or may not have time to listen to me.”
Dudek knew what the voice was referring to. He was bleeding out from a stomach wound. It could take hours to die, or it could take minutes.
The voice began again. “I pity you, Dudek. If you possessed your will, you might even swear at me right now. In jolly old England, one might scream out, bullocks to you! You know, humans spend way too much time inventing curse words. Because of this, I will be succinct. You only have to understand one word to absolve you from all pain regarding your friend’s ill demise. The word is sacrifice. Your friends were sacrificed so humankind will not be condemned to spend their lives in futility.
“Take human forms of employment for example. Some blokes spend all their lives writing rules, enforcing guidelines. You might call them shit givers. Other folks, like the ones driving a sanitation truck or managing a sewage waste facility, well, they might be looked upon as those who take shit. And you, my friend, Dudek, you’re kind of caught in between. Because no matter how many years you spend trying to enforce your rules, or give people crap with your laws, you’ll only end up taking crap in the end, much like the sanitation workers. You must have come to this realization long ago. You will never be able to arrest or convict all the world’s criminals. And even if you could, it would start all over again, the disease of crime would again take root in the next generation.
“So you see the futility. Now take my good friend here, Connah, the vessel that’s allowing me to speak through him right now, he understood my logic from the get go. That’s why he willingly became the fox in the hen house. Sure, he began his career with intentions of stamping out crime, making the world a better place for his family and all that rubbish, but he quickly learned to reinvent his role in society. He found by helping to bring humanity to the brink of its existence, it would spare generations from pain and suffering. I had high hopes nine eleven would be our ticket to Armageddon. But that is the past. Fret not. I have another plan in place right now, ready to bring about the end of the world.
“And I do this with a sane mind, filled with logic. You see. If one were to wipe out humanity, there would be no more vessels left for souls to inhabit. Humanity must then either perish entirely or find a means to forcefully open up the gates of Heaven so every man, woman and child can then lay claim to godhood! I fondly look upon the gate as the Golden Mean Spiral , the place of perfect balance, my Nirvana. It is a place that will free me from serving another sentence as a reincarnated soul. Who knows, Dudek, you might survive long enough to experience the ascension and make that glorious journey to godhood with me.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re willfully bringing a catastrophic event upon humanity so everybody dies. Then, because souls will have no place to go, they will find their way into Heaven ?”
“Well, that’s the abridged version. I possess the magic to open the gate to the spiral. It’s not the Heaven history books describe. One doesn’t go there to sing with angels. Nor do they go there to experience a wild orgy with the opposite sex. But all will be explained in time. At this point in time, you simply need to realize one truth. At the time of everyone’s demise, I will bring as many souls as possible over the threshold.”
“And what if you can’t open this gate?”
“I think I should let Connah explain this part.” The British accent disappeared.
“Because we accidentally discovered Agent Diggs possesses a power equal in strength to the Egyptian Goddess Isis, she will be left with a very hard choice upon her death, a choice I think she will be forced to make for the transcendence of all human beings. And all this time, I spent years believing Diggs to be a thorn in my side, someone I should have expended much like Geoffrey McAllister. Yet, to my astonishment, Agent Diggs, or should I say Goddess Diggs, is the key to ascension. She will assure my Master’s plan is failsafe. If Master Crowley is unable to open the gate, she will.”
“And why would she assist your plan?”
“Oh, there’s much Agent Diggs has not told you.”
The voice now resumed as Crowley.
“I had a lovely chat with Agent Diggs the other night. She is becoming quite aware of her gifts. Did you know she has the ability to see visions in her sleep? Or even read people’s emotions? I’m betting she never told you. Here’s the reason why. She feared Hainsworth would find out. She wanted to protect you, Andrew, even after you played an unwitting part in getting her boyfriend murdered. That considered, I’m banking on Diggs’s morality to come to the forefront again, to compel her to protect others.”
“What do you mean, protect?” Dudek’s words slurred together.
“As the precious seconds begin to wane after every human body on this planet dies a horrible death, she must decide to use her powers to open the gate. If she doesn’t, humanity ceases to exist in any form. If people’s souls no longer have the hope of reincarnation, they must adapt. Diggs will see to this. Humans must seek the higher ground, to ascend into a kingdom where there is no crime, hate or even war to find a place where everyone is a god. We will all benefit from the sacrifices I talked about earlier. Those sacrifices are all part of the plan to force the end time. And because Diggs is a moral person, she will see the light within her as a key to granting every human the key to godhood, to honor those sacrificed for the cause.”
“How about the attacks on Salinger and the military—you mean they’re all going to culminate into something worse?”
“Not worse. Merely a transition phase, if you will.”
; “Why are you telling me this? I will use every last ounce of my life to stop your plan. I’m not going to convert, despite your attempts to sweet talk me.”
“It’s too late to stop the final phase. It’s in motion as we speak.”
“I don’t see where you’re helping humanity, Crowley—if that’s who you really are. I see a delusional being trying to escape another cycle of mundane life, trapped in the confining body of a human being. If you’ve hijacked Hainsworth’s body to do your dirty work, I might find it in my heart to forgive him. I see he’s your hostage, bowing to a superior’s orders.” Dudek’s voice dripped with cynicism.
“I don’t believe you, Dudek. You would never forgive Hainsworth. You think you can employ human psychology on me? I want you to die knowing Connah Hainsworth played a willing part in all of this.”
“What about Hainsworth’s family?”
Crowley’s tone segued from rage into sympathy.
“They’ll hopefully make the ascension into the golden spiral with him. Hainsworth forgives his family for abandoning him. He realizes most humans aren’t capable of perceiving the fourth order of consciousness, but once you step over the threshold of the Golden Mean Spiral , it will all make perfect sense.”
“Now who’s employing human psychology on whom? You could give a rat’s ass about me and Agent Diggs. I understand why you didn’t harm her and that reason was greed. If she weren’t capable of opening your gate, I would have already attended her funeral.” Dudek stopped to wheeze. “And assuming this golden spiral even exists, how can everyone be a god? It sounds like the devil’s design to me.”
Dudek paused to glance at his phone. It still indicated the call was connected, but no response came. Instead, a gloom of fog rose up from the ice surface, impeding Dudek’s ability to see the Hainsworth-Crowley incarnation... Or anything else for that matter.
***
She had the location. The coordinates had to be correct. But it didn’t make much sense to Agent Diggs. What was Dudek doing at the Verizon Center?
She floored the Pontiac, weaving circles around cabs, cars, buses and SUVs. The arena was a mere mile away, but she had Saturday morning traffic to contend with. She desperately wished for the power to make it all disappear, unaware of the irony of her remark, or the dark consequences now conspiring to make that wish a reality.
Fifteen minutes later, Diggs scrambled from her car in a run toward the arena entrance. An icy feeling began to take grip that she was too late. Although one might perceive the pair of binoculars keeping a service door ajar as good fortune, it also might translate into a cry for help. Diggs knew the binoculars belong to Dudek. He had probably left them for the very purpose of allowing her access. It meant he had entered a venue where rules no longer mattered. And he had also entered that dangerous arena without any backup. If Dudek hadn’t emerged from the facility by now, it probably meant he was solely dependent upon her assistance to free him from a tight jam. Diggs burst through the door. She let instinct lead her to the ice rink.
***
For several seconds Dudek could see only gloom. The fog swirled up, around, and behind him, swallowing every tangible shape in its proximity. He could not see the stands or the ice. He winced, struggling to make out the steering wheel of the Zamboni located only a few inches before him. A strange sensation intervened, interrupting his focus.
From the corner of his eye, a metallic bird began to take shape. Dudek swore it was a Hainsworth-Crowley hybrid. Its flight pattern suggested it had materialized from the stands across the rink, exactly where Hainsworth was sitting only a few moments earlier. Dudek’s cellphone crackled. He attempted to hang up but found he could not. More magic. More tricks. More duplicity. If this bird was indeed Hainsworth, the director-turned-magician must be expending some huge amounts of energy to pull off this illusion.
Dudek turned his attention away from the phone. Maybe he could still find the will to retrieve the gun from his inside coat pocket. He reasoned there might be a small window of opportunity for him. While Hainsworth was busy performing tricks, Dudek surmised he might be able to wriggle out of the mental handcuffs the magician had bound him with. This ability Hainsworth possessed explained so much. He probably had used it to blind the people responsible for appointing him director. More recently, Dudek figured Hainsworth had probably also used this power to manipulate Geoffrey McAllister. The late agent must have had his doubts about volunteering for such a dangerous sting operation. Dudek was sure Hainsworth had removed those doubts by temporarily impairing McAllister’s will.
The bird squawked, breaking Dudek’s train of thought. Its shrill cry forced Andrew to fumble for his weapon. To his surprise, he retrieved the .38 from his holster with ease. When he attempted to take aim upon the fluttering bird his hands began shaking violently. He had lost a great deal of blood. His vision had blurred. The fog had made him dizzy with motion sickness. Dudek desperately needed a way to ground himself before vertigo set in. He realized the best way to achieve this means would be to take out the bird. He fired and missed. The falcon nose-dived to avoid the attack.
Swooping and shrilling, it went on the offensive, soaring right past Dudek’s ear. Dudek realized the bird had intentionally missed him. It circled the rink to instill even more fear in the wounded assistant director. Dudek was sure its next pass would bring about bodily harm. He took aim and squeezed the trigger. To his horror, the gun tumbled out of his hands, as if it had been coated in butter. He looked to his left. The tinkering sound upon the ice indicated the gun had fallen no more than a meter to the Zamboni’s side.
Dudek reasoned he could tumble out of his seat and retrieve the gun from the ice, if his wound allowed him to see his plan to fruition. The fog might even shield him. However, it also might prevent him from finding the weapon. What if it had slid underneath the Zamboni? Dudek had to come up with another plan, and fast. As the bird descended from the rink’s rafters, Dudek decided it was best to go to Plan B while he still had a small window of opportunity.
To his relief, the bird no longer presented itself as a projectile weapon. Instead, it descended from the air gently, landing directly on the front end of the Zamboni. Dudek stared at its mocking black eyes, struggling to keep a poker face as the pain in his gut intensified. He dared not tip the creature off. He turned a key to start the Zamboni’s engine, masking his actions with a loud groan. If his plan was to work, the bird needed to transform itself back into human shape once more. As if the bird heard his thoughts, it toppled off the Zamboni onto the ice. Rainbow arcs of light blasted upwards, dissipating the fog with its presence. The form of Hainsworth’s body began to take shape. He stood before the Zamboni, arms outstretched, laughing as his purple robe fluttered from an unnatural breeze. Dudek tried not to look down. He must appear totally helpless to his nemesis. He decided to keep his enemy off balance with small talk.
“So you never answered my question. How can everyone be a god?”
“You won’t spoil my jubilation, Dudek. As I told you before, you must enter the fourth order of consciousness to comprehend this state. Why fight it? You can join us. I won’t inflict any more harm upon you, despite your lame attempt to shoot me. Dare to become a god.”
Hainsworth flung off his robe. It landed atop the Zamboni. He laughed maniacally. And in a voice Dudek could no longer distinguish as belonging distinctly to either Hainsworth or Crowley, the man in the charcoal suit—the one who appeared to be another bureaucratic “yes man”—began to show his true colors.
He babbled, frothing at the mouth. Dudek struggled to decipher a string of incoherent words. It sounded like the portly, gray haired man was summoning the gods.
“Oh, pour forth, the brilliant light from the Golden Dawn. Lead us all in chariots to rightfully take our place among you. Let the extreme liquidation of humanity be my sacrifice to you.”
Dudek planted his right foot upon the gas pedal, relieved he opted not to jump out of the vehicle. The motor purred quietly to Dudek’s
benefit.
Still apparently unaware of Dudek’s plan, the evil man stood before him, arms reaching up into the dark and foggy recesses of the arena. To Dudek, he represented the folly of so many misdirected human beings who had come before him, clinging to a notion that Heaven could be yours for the taking if you were simply willing to sacrifice flesh and blood for it. He continued to babble, speaking incoherently, talking of prophecy.
Hainsworth again manipulated his form. This time he stood as a crowned king. Jewels of light cast majestic shards of light through the gloom. Dudek reasoned Hainsworth was expending a whole lot of energy to take this form, much as he did when he appeared as the falcon. His body tensed, preparing for an opportunity. He doubted if Hainsworth could simultaneously shape shift and keep a stranglehold over his will. The madman stood there as if on a pulpit, ready to expound upon his forthcoming greatness for his captive audience of one. He spoke.
“Look upon me now. See my worthiness. The time has come. Prepare to unlock the golden gates so the most worthy of men may enter into the king—”
And the Zamboni lurched forward at that moment, rudely interrupting the madman’s speech. Hainsworth gasped in surprise as it nudged into his backside. He attempted to turn and face his enemy, but it was too late. The force sent him careening downwards. He landed face first on the ice. Dudek pushed the accelerator harder, screaming in pain from his injury as he did so. And although Dudek could not see if the Zamboni’s forward trajectory would indeed send it trampling over the fallen would-be god, he somehow sensed his plan had succeeded.
In another few seconds, the gruesome sound of popping bones confirmed the imminent death of Connah Hainsworth below him. Dudek had no time to ponder if the gruesome death would also exterminate the reincarnated soul Hainsworth had willingly carried. He heard a woman shouting. She was shouting, “Dudek.” It echoed throughout the arena. The assistant director responded, his answer sounding like both a laugh and a cry.