Possessed

by Peter Laws

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘One hundred per cent positive, court-of-law style, on-your-kids-lives kinda sure? It was hectic in there.’

  ‘I’m ninety per cent.’ He saw her eyes roll. ‘Which is pretty darn high, Nupa. It’s just a shame he was so quick. Like he’s good at sleight of hand.’

  ‘Like a magician?’

  He watched the van up front and nodded. ‘That little flick back of his wrist. That was a practised move, you could tell.’

  ‘You could ninety per cent tell …’

  ‘Still pretty high.’ He turned to the window where the motorway fields were now churning by in a blurred, yellow fuzz.

  ‘Well listen, we’re watching him,’ Nupa said. ‘And at The Reed we’ll be really watching him. So if he slips up, we’ll see it from all angles. Until then, I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘Isn’t that what this show is lacking … doubt?’ He started drumming a rhythm on his knees.

  ‘Don’t forget Abby’s still unsure. She has doubts.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You brought her results, didn’t you? She’s the only one who wants to hear them.’

  He stopped drumming.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell her them yesterday?’

  ‘There was too much commotion with Richie. I left it.’

  ‘Well … go on, then … how did she do?’

  He sighed, then opened up his bag. He handed her the sheet and waited patiently for the word ‘wow’ to come.

  It did, quicker and louder than he expected.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘There it is.’

  ‘She did way better than the others.’

  ‘On one test. I’ve got a theory on how she might have done so well. Just looking into it.’

  ‘Yeah, well …’ She clearly wasn’t interested in his theory. She flipped open her laptop and stuck her phone back to her ear. ‘These results are fascinating,’ and just like that she was gone again, deep in conversation with one of her team.

  The car came off the slip road and stopped at a junction. As he settled back into his seat, he saw a cow in a field nearby. It was chewing and blinking so lazily, it was like God had specifically created it not to give a shit about anything. He felt insanely envious of that cow, right now.

  They hit some long country roads, with fewer and fewer houses. Then the buildings disappeared completely and were replaced by what seemed like a billion trees. In time, as they turned up a single narrow lane, he saw the pulse of signs begin to appear. the reed centre, in thin and elegant fonts.

  Ferns and branches were now squeaking against the car doors. The woods were close now, and so thick. His reception icon had zero bars.

  ‘This place really puts the “retreat” in retreat centre,’ Matt said. ‘How on earth did you get the camera trucks up here?’

  ‘With difficulty, but they got through. When The Reed was a rehab place, it was supposed to make patients feel like they were stepping away from the world.’

  ‘Feels like we’re stepping away from the planet. I assume they have Wi-Fi? If we need to get in touch with earth, I mean?’

  She laughed. ‘Course they do.’

  He looked out at dense forest. ‘Feels a bit too isolated. A bit … vulnerable.’

  She put a hand on his knee; it was the first time she’d done anything like that. She patted it, like calming a nervous puppy. ‘You worry too much.’

  ‘You don’t worry enough.’

  ‘That’s not what my ex tells me … listen … just try and relax. And remember we’ve planned this to the nth degree.’

  ‘Nupa, the whole idea for this only came up four days ago.’

  She started laughing. ‘We’re always prepared in TV.’

  Suddenly they both had to grab at the ceiling handles as the bumpy road started rocking them up and down. She laughed like she was on a rollercoaster. Then the road opened up again, and gravel was crunching under their tyres. They both leant forward to see something new. A fountain. A random, modern-looking fountain made of concrete. It looked like a giant concrete teardrop trickling out water from the top. And on the stone were thick metal letters, in brushed gold.

  the reed centre – Where Peace Lives.

  Nupa tapped the back of the driver’s seat. ‘Why are we slowing down?’

  Ray jabbed a gloved finger towards the windscreen. ‘The van’s stopping.’

  Matt and Nupa almost bumped heads as they leant together to look. Sure enough, the van was slowing to a stop. Then it just sat there, idling its engine near the fountain.

  ‘What are they doing?’ Matt said.

  ‘Crap.’ She grabbed her phone. ‘Maybe they’re having second thoughts.’

  ‘God, I hope so.’

  The van door opened, and he saw Kissell and Perry step out, stretching their backs and swinging their arms. Kissell was back in his blue polo shirt today, only now he’d added cream golfing trousers. Perry had gone more formal. Grey trousers and a tailored white shirt, neatly tucked. His outfit had a flash of the Mormon about him. Perry took off his blazer jacket and flung it over his shoulder as the two men started walking towards the fountain. ‘What are they doing?’

  They both plunged their hands into the bubbling water. Then Matt heard Perry call out to the van, curling a beckoning arm. Perry’s wife Claire slid out. She hurried towards him, head down.

  He groaned inwardly. ‘I bet they’re going to pray before going in.’

  ‘Wrong.’ She started laughing. ‘Ha. They’re taking selfies.’

  Perry and Kissell smiled as Claire took various shots of them. At one point, Perry insisted Kissell stand by himself with his hands on his hips, looking valiant. The cynical Matt wanted to tut and shake his head, but the human part thought … you know what, fair enough. No matter what they might believe, this is a big moment for them. The sympathy was short-lived. He saw Kissell rake his comb-over into place with the palm of his hand and Matt thought of that device. Ninety per cent was pretty damn high.

  ‘You should have been filming this bit,’ Matt said.

  ‘We are.’ She lifted a finger towards the trees. A couple of wooden boxes stood by the road.

  ‘I thought those were litter bins.’

  ‘They are … with cameras inside them. Gotta catch ’em all.’

  Matt shook his head as the pastors climbed back into the van. ‘Should I skip showers this weekend?’

  ‘Yep. And toilets for sure.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re kidding.’

  She burst into laughter, then slapped the headrest. ‘Drive.’

  The engine rumbled again, and as they set off they heard a dull thud from the boot. Tom Riley’s wooden box must have slipped from its strap and was sliding about in there.

  ‘Careful up front,’ she said. ‘Important cargo back here.’

  Ray stuck up a thumb and turned the curve more gently, and before them they saw the forest opening up. Splitting to each side to prepare the wide and open way for them. Like Moses slamming his staff down and revealing the watery passage to the Promised Land.

  ‘Welcome to The Reed Institute,’ she said.

  And in a whisper, Matt said, ‘Holy shit.’

  CHAPTER FORTY

  It looked like a giant, concrete mushroom.

  That was the first thing he thought of when he first clapped eyes on it. He saw this huge concrete column thrusting up like a single tree trunk from the ground, which eventually started to lean out, with hefty concrete struts open like mighty hands. Held in those thick, grey fingers, three storeys up, was the main building itself. A pyramid of glass and boxes, teetering on top of the column. It was widest at the lowest floor. Smaller for the second, and again for the third. There was a small box at the central tip that looked small enough to be one room. Yep. A giant mushroom made of concrete and glass.

  ‘I’ve seen something like this before,’ he said. ‘There’s a library in California … the erm …’ he started clicking his
fingers, to jog his memory, ‘Geisel. That looks like The Geisel.’

  She shrugged. ‘Whatever it is, it looks fabulous on camera.’

  The closer the car got, the more The Reed seemed to be sprouting slowly from the ground. It looked like a multi-storey car park with a futuristic hotel on top, planted within landscape gardens that looked golf-course-lovely and golf-course-fake. Those gardens made the surrounding forest itself look fake. Like the ancient woods were just a modern accessory. An indulgent flourish.

  Their eyes were forced upward, the closer they got.

  He stepped out to the sound of trickling fountains and birdsong, though he saw no birds. The flurry of tweeting was so busy, clear and constant, that he wondered if there might be hidden speakers somewhere, creating an unreal, retreat centre feel. Maybe he’d hear the flutter of a cheeky pan pipe next, or the solemn cry of a new-age whale—

  As soon as he thought that, Tom’s stupid box knocked against something again, and Matt span to see that the driver had accidentally clipped it, pulling it from the boot.

  ‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ the driver said, to all the gawping faces. He carefully passed the box to two waiting crew members and a cameraman. They shared nervous looks and deep breaths before walking it off with annoying looks of reverence. I should have smashed it open when I had the chance, Matt thought.

  They all watched Baal-Berith glide towards the mushroom, just as the clouds seemed to slow. He heard a cough, so he turned. Nupa stood with a backpack over her shoulder and a case in her hand. She was absolutely beaming. ‘Showtime!’

  They walked together up the long, landscaped path. The trundle of her wheeled case rattled the ground. Up ahead he saw Kissell, Perry and Claire. They were already standing by the concrete stalk of the mushroom itself. Suddenly, some doors opened, and Matt realised that the stalk was actually a lift shaft. Kissell and the others stepped inside, laughing, then the doors shut over and swallowed them whole.

  They reached the shaft and waited for the lift. Somewhere he heard a speaker playing ‘Amazing Grace’ on a saxophone. Classy. The doors opened and they stepped in. There were mirrors on every side. He looked left and waved his hand. Infinite Matt Hunters waved back, with infinite nervous smiles. He stopped waving when he spotted a small white camera tucked up in a high corner.

  The lift rumbled up, then it finally opened up into the main building itself. The ground floor − and largest floor − looked like a huge 1980s hotel lobby, with masses of thick red carpet, and gold-chrome floor lamps arched over big-leafed pot plants. A few doors led off into other parts of the building, but most of the walls in here were glass. The place was absolutely swamped with sunlight, yet the low, humming air con made the place feel cool. Or rather, cold, actually. The Reed felt cold.

  The demon-possessed hadn’t arrived yet, but there were various crew, milling around. They were all dressed in black T-shirts, and most had clipboards and head mics. Every one of them, it seemed, held a little cardboard coffee cup in hand, steam wisping up like ghosts.

  Then Ethan appeared in a red lumberjack shirt and big Caterpillar boots at the end of his skinny legs. Jeans turned up at the ankle.

  ‘Hey, Matt, good to see you,’ he said. ‘Is Abby here yet?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  He sighed, ‘Oh well. Let me show you to your room.’

  The signs said the lobby was on the ground floor, which felt a little odd seeing as all the views showed them in line with the treetops. His room was on the next floor up, the first. As they headed up in the lift, he assumed his room was going to be jaw-dropping. Some sort of glass-lined platform, worthy of a Bond villain. In fact, he already had his finger on the button of his phone camera, ready to make Wren and the kids jealous with a shot of his luxury lifestyle. But when Ethan opened the door, he didn’t bother. The rooms looked like student digs. Simple and nondescript with a green sink in the corner and bricked walls painted yellow.

  ‘Make yourself at home,’ Ethan said, then he spun away for other duties.

  Matt dumped his bag. Stuck his new toothbrush in the glass by the sink, but he didn’t unwrap it. Then after the customary bum bounce on the bed, he had a wander through the claustrophobic corridors that ended with full glass walls overlooking the deep forest. The next floor up, the second, felt a bit smaller, which made sense considering the design. He found a corridor with a few rooms running off it. A storeroom, a toilet, and around the corner, a small chapel. He swung his head in and his nostrils immediately filled with the smell of anointing oil. Anointing folks with oil was an old biblical tradition that was making a comeback these days. He tried it himself once, early in his career, though the bride-to-be had a slight reaction to it. Turns out olive oil was the wrong stuff to use. After cringing at the wedding photographs, Matt had vowed it would be a mistake he would only make once.

  The lights in the chapel were off. Just a circle of cushions on the floor, around an unlit candle. He closed the chapel door with a sturdy, two handed pull and found another half set of stairs that didn’t lead to another floor, but to an unseen room, halfway up. He didn’t go up, though. The steps were too swamped with hundreds of black worms and grey snakes. Cables and wires, ready to be plugged somewhere. He found the final set of full stairs and trotted up to what must be the top floor, the third, though it could barely be called a floor.

  This was the peak of the concrete pyramid, and so it was naturally the smallest. He found only one single door with a glowing keypad. The door said roof. It was locked.

  Satisfied to have scoped the place, he hopped in the lift and headed back down to the main lobby again, which felt enormous in comparison. He grabbed a passing crew guy and asked where the exorcisms would take place. He was led through some glass doors into a corridor with wires trailing into a set of wooden doors. He stepped over them to find The Ash Suite. A mid-sized auditorium with a stage and a lectern. The huge glass windows had been covered with black screens. Guess they didn’t want to let the squirrels, or other prying eyes, see the devilish action taking place in here in a few hours.

  He spotted Kissell stepping up on the stage too, squinting up into the stage lights. This was while Perry was nervously watching two guys place Tom’s wooden box on a special plinth in the very centre of the stage. As soon as it was in place, a spotlight from above clicked on. The wooden box lit up.

  What next? Would Baal-Berith get his own little theme song?

  His smile dropped a little, as Lucy came to mind. Maybe he had one already.

  Hush little baby, don’t say a word …

  ‘Impressive venue, isn’t it?’ It was Nupa, striding up behind him. She was holding a silver flight case.

  ‘It’s bigger than I expected. Especially for just a few clients.’ Which is when she went quiet and picked up her phone from her pocket, even though it wasn’t ringing. ‘Excuse me.’ She put it to her head, lugging the case towards the stage.

  He should have realised then, but for some reason he didn’t. He only really understood the crooked smile, when the sun started falling behind the trees. He was sitting alone, back in the lobby area, having an iced tea. He was waiting for the other cars to arrive and had perched himself very near the lift doors. He wanted to be ready to meet Pavel Basa, and Deron Johnson and of course Abby Linh from yesterday. He’d smile and grab them all a drink. He’d ask how they were feeling and he’d make sure they weren’t overwhelmed by all of this. But then the lift opened and a complete stranger stepped out. She was holding a little suitcase. Another crew member perhaps? Someone from the press? But then he saw another and another. He kept counting. It was twenty minutes by the time Matt saw someone from his test group yesterday. It was Deron and Pavel, yet they had two strangers with them.

  Deron and Pavel waved at Matt, and he waved back awkwardly. But when more started pouring from the lift, Matt slammed his drink down and marched back to the Ash Suite. He found Nupa on all fours in the aisle, pressing a cross of white tape to the carpet.

&nb
sp; Matt stared at her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You lied to me.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  She looked up, tape in her mouth. ‘What is it now?’

  He felt an eyebrow shoot up. ‘You said the numbers would be low.’

  She set the tape aside, then did something odd. She looked across at a crew guy and closed her fingers shut, like she was catching a fly in the air. Then without getting up she said, ‘Okay, so we upped the numbers yesterday. I’m sorry you weren’t informed, but it’s been a busy twenty-four hours. But don’t worry, we’re well prepared.’

  ‘We agreed that numbers would be low.’

  ‘No.’ She raised a finger, and her voice. ‘We heard your advice. And we heard Pastor Kissell’s advice too. We came to a compromise between those two approaches.’

  Matt opened his hands. ‘Which is?’

  ‘Remember he had a long waiting list of clients.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ve tripled our security team and—’

  ‘Tripled?’ He made the sort of groan ill people make; he pressed a hand against the back of his neck. ‘Nupa, how many exorcisms are going to happen here tonight?’

  She sighed and glanced back at her work. ‘Twenty, all right?’

  His hand dropped to his side.

  ‘Which we can manage. So can I please get back to it?’

  ‘Twenty?’ He waited. Took the figure in. ‘Twenty is way too many.’

  ‘Like I said, we’ve tripled—’

  ‘Why?’ He threw his hands in the air, and noticed some of the crew looking over, and whispering. ‘Why do you even have me here, Nupa? If you’re not going to take my advice?’

  ‘I told you, the show needs balance.’

  ‘Exactly. And call me old-fashioned, but my balanced opinion is that the last thing the Titanic needed was an extra sixteen fucking icebergs. I mean, come on.’

  ‘I said the show needs balance.’

  ‘Which is precisely why …’ He trailed off because the realisation sank in. He felt his shoulders drop, with a slow and dawning clarity.