by Peter Laws
They wanted the show to be balanced, yes, but the event itself? The core event of this show? Nope. Yes, the show would have clips of the rational point of view, to counter the crazy claims of demonism. Nupa didn’t want to be accused of being one-sided. But now she already had her Matt Hunter footage. All those side shots of him expressing his thoughts and cautions. And his crappy set of tests, let’s not forget those. There was plenty to edit in, to keep this from being skewed, because unbalanced shows don’t get awards.
But the event itself, the mass exorcism? That was where balance got boring. That’s when she wanted TV.
He felt, and it was a very real and humiliating feeling, like the old Matt Hunter, all of a sudden. The naive teenager in a church concert hall. Who straight up believed that what the shiny adults told him about heaven and hell and holiness was true. After all, they were such experts and he’d had no exposure to any other world view. He ached at the sheer gullibility. The thought of him being so naive again didn’t just embarrass him. It depressed him. It scared him. It made his fingers tremble.
‘I’m an idiot,’ he said.
‘Don’t say that. You’re vital to this.’
‘Then call it all off. Before someone gets hurt.’
‘Matt, you’re overreacting, and I really need to get on.’ She finally went to stand. ‘And hey, if it fails, then at least the world will see all your footage of you warning us. You can be Chief Brody, and I’ll be the Mayor of Amity.’
Something clicked. He glanced at the whispering crew, hovering by the AV desk, then he looked up at the fixed cameras around the room. For the first time since he’d arrived, they had no red lights on them. He turned back to Nupa. He couldn’t be certain, but he was sure he saw it. A smirk, lurking on her lips. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Matt.’
He watched her turn back to the carpet, and so he did what felt like the most natural option. He slid his phone from his pocket, clicked it into video mode, and held it up high.
Her smile stopped. ‘What are you doing?’
He manoeuvred, so he could get both him and Nupa in shot. It felt a little juvenile to do it, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. He cleared his throat and spoke.
‘This is the late afternoon of The Reed event, it’s …’ he flicked his watch to check, ‘just turned 5.14 p.m., and I’m recording this little extra footage, this bonus feature, to make it absolutely clear,’ he raised his voice so everybody could hear, ‘that I think upping the numbers of this event from around four to twenty is dangerous and irresponsible, and it should have been kept low, which I said from the very beginning. I have only just heard about this number increase and I have strongly advised the show against it. Thank you.’
He clicked it off and turned to her.
‘Try and calm down, Matt.’ She strolled towards him, arms folded. ‘It’d be a shame to lose you, at this stage.’ She looked at him for a long moment. ‘Especially when I can’t spare anyone to take you back.’
He bit the inside of his mouth and couldn’t think of what to say. So he just walked out. He thought he’d just head straight for his room to think. Perhaps he could gather up his things, and his stupid new toothbrush (why did it embarrass him so much, buying that especially for this?) and just get back home somehow. Maybe he could message Wren to pick him up. If they ever gave him the Wi-Fi code. If she could ever find this bloody place, this planet.
But he had to pass through the lounge on the way to the lift and that was where he found all these extra clients filling up the plush couches and chairs. They didn’t look particularly possessed. They weren’t hanging from the chandeliers singing Black Sabbath backwards. They weren’t chewing chunks from the sofas with rapidly revolving heads. Some were laughing and sharing tea. Others were cricking their necks to look at the trees that were oh so close to the glass outside. And some were nervously sitting alone, hands folded on their laps like nerds at the dance, wondering what on earth they’d been talked into, just like Matt was wondering himself.
Two of them were hugging, patting each other on the back like this was a pre-op good-luck party. Twenty people, who for one reason or another were no longer sure their body was their own. And yet they had all stumbled across Pastor Kissell on some late-night Internet search. The click had brought them here. Where they could be scared, confused and perhaps even hopeful. Together.
He saw Abby just then. She caught his eye and pushed herself up on tiptoes to wave him over. Wearing jeans and a cool-looking woollen sweater, thick and baggy, she was, as ever, Instagram-ready. Yet her face looked as lost as ever. She was sitting at a table with Deron and Pavel. All the gang. All the big names. She frowned at Matt, confused at why he was just standing there across the room in a trance. She pulled out a chair and jabbed a finger into the centre of the table. She smiled at him. He saw a plate of chocolate biscuits stacked high.
The lift doors were behind him, and that was where sanity was, he supposed. Abby, and everybody else, was in front of him. And that was where all the human beings were, right now. People who were, perhaps, no more naive than he was. What was he going to do? Walk out, and leave them? Was it wise to allow Kissell and Perry … and Nupa, to be the only voices to be heard in this place? Wasn’t that the most naive idea of all?
Twenty … he said to himself and let out a long, jittery sigh. And shaking his head, he trudged towards Abby’s table.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
‘Oh, Matt.’ She threw a hug around him, and he felt her bones. ‘I was worried you might have skipped it.’
‘Nope. Still here.’ He smiled and took a seat, nodding a polite hello at the others. ‘And how are you all feeling about … all this?’
Deron tapped his temple. ‘A little nervous, but to be honest … I’m ready to evict this loser.’ To anyone else, it’d look like he was being hard on himself. But he wasn’t. He was being hard on the foreign invader, lurking somewhere underneath that Afro. Which looked wet and glistening today.
‘And you, Pavel?’
‘We all just want this to be over, Professor.’ Pavel shrugged and scratched his arm under his T-shirt. ‘But listen. I think we’d all like to say … thank you for trying yesterday. With the tests, I mean. It was worth a … how do you say it … worth a shot?’ He raised his Dr Pepper in a toast. The others did the same. ‘You said to consider all angles. Tonight is part of that, no?’
Matt smiled at him, then turned back to Abby. ‘And are you still sure about being here?’
She opened her mouth, but a voice spoke for her.
‘She’s even more sure, now.’
They turned to see Bernie Kissell, standing by a pot plant. He was sucking lemonade through a ridiculously long straw. Perry was with him, drink-less. ‘May we join you?’
Abby nodded. Pavel twitched. Deron stayed silent.
The pastors sat.
‘And why is Abby even more sure, now?’ Matt asked.
‘Because she knows about the test results, Matt,’ Perry said. ‘We all do.’
Yippeee. The tests! ‘So … Nupa told you already?’
‘She did,’ Abby scooped up her long hair into a super-tight ponytail. ‘So I guess you’ve proved it. It’s not just in my head. I can detect hidden holy water at twenty paces.’ She tried to laugh.
‘Yeah, about that. I’ve figured out why your test went that way, Abby. I specifically told my students to standardise the temperature of the water. But I—’
‘Matt, Matt, Matt …’ Kissell shook his head with a smirk.
‘But I think the holy water could have been just that little bit warmer than the—’
‘You’re reaching.’
‘—warmer than the unblessed water and I take full responsibility. But I think you may have been able to tell the difference, even subconsciously—’
‘Matt.’ Kissell snapped it this time. ‘This stunning young lady here is scared and confused … don’t make it more muddy for her.’
‘I’m sorry, that is not my intention. I�
��m embarrassed, but I still think those results can be ex—’
‘Well, hey,’ Kissell said. ‘Let’s not dwell on it now. We’re here at this wonderful place. Abby, Pavel and Deron need my help. And so do all these other beautiful people.’
‘All twenty of them …’ Matt’s voice was more like a grunt.
‘Cheer up, man. It’s still not exactly the multitudes is it, and look …’ He opened his palms. ‘Nothing up my sleeve.’ He pulled his hands back.
Matt stared at him, shaking his head.
‘No hard feelings, about yesterday,’ Kissell said. ‘I forgive you.’
‘And I’m sorry too,’ Perry said, suddenly. ‘I’ve been tetchy with you, and I think unkind too. I’m not proud of that, Matt.’
Matt sat there wondering if this was a genuine connection here or if it was some sort of spiritual detox. A clearing out of any bitterness or resentment, so he’d be match-ready for an exorcism. He caught Perry’s eye and something told him that he might actually mean this.
‘Just, be careful tonight,’ Matt said. ‘Especially with all these extra bodies.’
‘We do care. Very much.’ Kissell said. ‘In fact, that’s the backbeat of all of this. Love … that’s all that matters in the end. Psychology, culture, religion, history, that’s all well and good … but it’s love, isn’t it? That’s the pure goal of all things. That’s what we’re doing here. We’re loving people.’
Perry frowned, ‘Um … don’t you mean God? Isn’t God the pure goal of all things?’
Kissell rolled his eyes, for an awkward moment. Then he bit his lip. ‘Simon … love is the goal of all.’
‘Yeah but God is more important than love.’
‘God is love. Remember? 1 John, 4:8.’ With a laugh, Kissell put his hand on Perry’s arm, ‘Gentleman. It’s a little late for a theological debate. So, if you’ll excuse us. Simon and I need some prayer sleep before we begin. See you all in the Ash Suite at 3 a.m. sharp.’
‘Why 3 a.m.?’ Abby said.
‘Because Jesus died at three in the afternoon,’ Perry said, ‘which makes three in the morning a prime time for Satan to surface.’
Matt tried not to snort. The logic of these people was off the charts.
‘I suggest you all get some rest too.’ Kissell rubbed his palms together and stood. ‘Three sharp. And just you wait to see the smiles this time tomorrow, wait till you see the love. Night, y’all.’
Matt watched the two men cross the room, Kissell whispering into Perry’s ear all the way to the lift.
Deron leant into Matt. ‘I think you’re too hard on the pastors.’
Matt turned back. ‘I don’t mean to be.’
‘Don’t you?’ Pavel laughed. ‘This machine in Kissel’s hand … must have been your imagination, no?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Deron spoke again, ‘How could Kissell not care, after what happened to Sandra?’
‘Sandra …’ Matt said. ‘That’s his wife, right?’
‘It is … and do you know how she died, Matt?’
‘An accident. Hit and run.’
Pavel folded his arms and shook his head. ‘It was no accident.’
Deron’s voice dropped so low, it pumped an ominous throb into everything he said. ‘She walked out in the road on purpose.’
‘He told you this?’
Pavel nodded. ‘Right into the motorway and blam. The truck didn’t even see her. It hit her dead on. His poor wife … murdered.’
‘You mean suicide …’
‘Aren’t you listening to us, Professor? Can’t you hear what we’re saying?’ Pavel said.
He shook his head, ‘No, I can’t.’
‘Then listen … she was possessed, just like us, and her demon killed her. Why do you think I’m so desperate to get this monster out of me … what if I do something I regret one day? I know you care, Professor, in your own way. Kissell cares in his. How could he not, when his wife became a victim of the devil?’
Abby murmured something. It was the first time he’d realised how quiet she’d been these last few minutes. They all looked at her and heard the dull cracking of bones. They looked down at her hands. She was methodically tugging hard at her own fingers.
Click. Click. Click. One by one by one.
‘Abby?’ Matt said.
Click.
‘Abby.’ Deron reached for her hand. ‘You okay, girl?’
Click. She was staring into the bright bulb of a nearby lamp. ‘Right out into the road. Headlights comin’…’ A low chuckle rolled against her lips.
‘Hey!’ Deron squeezed her hand, and she finally looked back at them.
‘Sorry, what?’ she said.
Deron looked at Matt and Pavel and whistled. ‘Roll on 3 a.m., right boys?’
Matt leant into Abby. ‘Hey. You’re still on your meds, aren’t you?’ He waited. ‘Abby?’
She frowned.
‘I said you’re still taking your medication, aren’t you?’
‘What time is it?’ she said.
Pavel checked his wrist. ‘About 8.15 p.m.’
‘Then I better go to bed. We all should.’ She went to stand. The others too.
‘Are you taking your pills?’
‘Not any more.’
‘What?’ he stared at her. ‘Why not?’
‘I want to be clear-headed, for tonight.’
‘Tonight is precisely when you should take them. Do you have them with you?’
She bit her lip and nodded, eyes drifting.
‘Take them. Please.’
‘I’ll take them, if you do me a favour …’ She put her hand over his and leant her face closer. ‘Don’t do the thing that you really want to do.’
‘Which is?’
‘To leave. To go back to your family … please stay?’ She squeezed his hand softly. ‘Goodnight.’
He watched her and the others walking out and noticed some of the crew and other clients stepping aside to let her through. Perhaps word of her test results had done the rounds. People certainly looked at her with a nervous kind of awe. And in her wake, others were getting up too, checking their watches and forcing a yawn. Abby stopped at the lift door and turned to face him, then she waved and mouthed, Don’t leave.
She turned and collided straight into Ethan, who was swinging around the corner with a headset on. Matt watched them both crash into each other, and Ethan seemed to wobble on his thick white Nikes, but he was grinning from ear to ear. She burst into a teenager’s laugh and helped him pick up his clipboard. They seemed to look at each other for a moment, smiling. Then she giggled again and vanished behind the sliding, mirrored door. And yet when she turned back, her smiling face was that same blank mask again.
Alone now, Matt hopped up to help Ethan with the rest of his stuff.
‘She’s very pretty, isn’t she?’ Ethan said, staring as the lift doors closed. ‘For a demon, anyway.’
‘I’m worried about her.’
He stood. ‘Yeah, well it’ll be over soon. You should get some sleep.’
‘Have you got the Wi-Fi password?’
He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a tiny card. Matt snapped a shot of it on his phone.
‘See you later, alligator,’ Ethan headed off with a wave.
Matt suddenly found himself alone in the huge lobby, and the only real movement came from all the frantic trees waving at the windows. They looked like they were eager to join the party in here. At least he thought he was alone, until he walked towards the lift and passed an armchair. From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure sitting in it, as silent as a shadow.
He was about to blink it away as usual. Just another old dead friend come to say hi, but just as he walked on the shadow spoke.
‘Do you like me, Professor?’
Matt spun, and his face crunched in confusion. ‘What are you doing here?’
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
It was Mr Muscle. Richie Gregor, sitting there in a black tracksuit, man-s
preading with both of his hands plunged into a hoody. He was watching Matt from under the rim of his baseball cap. Lips wet. Matt wondered why.
‘Richie, I don’t understand.’
‘What don’t you understand?’
‘Why are you here … I thought you were better?’
‘Better how?’
‘The exorcism in the university?’
He blinked slowly, pecs bulging.
‘In the toilets, remember? You said you were cured?’
He started to nod. ‘I was.’
Matt looked left and right; the lobby seemed much, much bigger when it was empty. ‘So why are you here?’
Richie sat up a little straighter. His Viking chest filled with air. ‘My demon came back. The pastors said I need a little more work. That’s all.’
Matt sighed. ‘And I’m afraid it’ll keep coming back, until you get proper help.’
‘This is proper help.’ He slid those hulk hands of his out from his hoodie and placed them on his knees. He could probably crush boulders with those.
Matt figured it’d be best to not be alone with him. ‘Well if this doesn’t work out, call me. I’ll get you that counselling I mentioned. But I better get going, okay?’
‘Do you like me?’
‘Pardon?’
‘I said, do you like me?’
‘Um … I don’t really know you.’
‘Do you like me now?’ He smiled very widely, and Matt wished he would stop. He looked around again, still empty, still just him and Richie. ‘You didn’t like me at the TV studio, Professor. You didn’t like me at the test but—’
‘I never said I didn’t like—’
‘But do you like me, now?’ Lips started to peel further back. Showing more teeth than any sane smile should.
Matt swallowed. ‘Yeah, you’re great.’
Richie’s thick face bloomed, like a strongman who’d found a pretty flower. For the first time, he looked normal again. And pleasant with it. But then he lifted his fingers to his nose and smelt the tips for a few seconds. ‘I’m glad you like me.’
Matt smiled, or at least he tried to. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me.’