by Peter Laws
‘Earlier tonight, when you said Pastor Kissell had something in his hand. I … I looked. And I was ashamed to look, because I thought it showed doubt. In fact, I was worried my doubt might have caused all this to go wrong tonight.’
Matt stared at him. ‘You saw something in his hand. The device?’
He closed his eyes and nodded.
Nupa was on her feet. ‘Then why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I thought it was a trick of the Devil. An illusion …’ Perry shook his head. ‘So this is why tonight’s exorcism failed. Dear God … Kissell’s a fraud. And all these poor people. I should have known … when he said love was the aim of everything, and not God. I should have known he wasn’t holy …’ He looked at the body on the floor again. ‘My God, I was part of this. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘Where is he?’ Nupa said.
‘Upstairs somewhere,’ Perry said.
‘Well, listen. This is going to have to wait. If we see him on the way, fine. But for now, our focus is to get help here. Nupa, you said you know where the comms room is?’
She was staring at the box, not speaking.
‘Nupa? Can you take us there?’
For a second Matt thought she was so traumatised by all this that her brain had finally shut down at the horror of it all, but then he saw her eyes glance up to the camera, fixed to a high beam, and then back to the broken box again. He saw a sigh of relief on her lips.
‘Yeah, I’m sure that box smash was captured on film,’ Matt said. ‘Now can we go?’
They held each other’s gaze for a moment, then she looked away. She pointed to the smashed-open doors. ‘Come on.’
When Perry stepped down from the stage, he went to hold Claire’s hand, but Matt noticed her snap her fingers from his and step to the side.
‘I’m sorry,’ Perry pleaded with Claire and then he turned back to Matt. ‘I swear I thought I was helping. I swear, I’ve just been blind.’
‘Later …’ Matt said. ‘For now, we find this room. Make sure you bring those keys, Claire.’
‘We’re right with you, Matt,’ Perry said. He was like a sudden obedient soldier, ready to fall in line. They all headed for the doors, but Matt held back, just to catch Claire’s eye.
‘Are you okay?’ he whispered.
‘He isn’t blind. That’s not his problem.’
‘Then what is?’
‘He sees what he wants to see.’ She blinked, and when her lids came back up her eyes glistened with moisture. She sniffed and walked on.
Perry, oblivious to all this, was waiting at the door. He turned, seeking their approval. Voice slipping into what he might think sounded heroic. ‘Okay, we’re ready.’
Matt took one last look behind him, at the box shattered on the stage, and the upturned chairs. And the image he was so keen to forget. The large heap of body that lay on the carpet.
For a little bit there he’d forgotten that he might have just killed somebody.
His stomach dropped at the reminder, and maybe Claire heard it sink. Because she touched his arm and said, ‘You had to. Now come on.’
He felt the cold of her fingers as she pulled her hand back. Then he turned from the accusing glass eyes of Richie’s corpse and followed her out.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
When they finally got out into the corridor, they had to step over each body in turn. Two humans, who had now become just two silent bundles of cloth and bones. The security guard first, and Deron, who was thankfully now face down. Matt still checked them both for a pulse, just in case. Though he really didn’t want to touch them. They were both very dead, so neither he nor the others let themselves look at the guard too long. Seeing a man lying flat on his stomach, with his face pointing mostly upwards, was simply too much for the brain to bear.
So they all just kept their eyes up, holding their breath as they stepped across one, then the other. Shoes picking up blood and sleepless nights on the way. When it was his turn, Matt felt the curve of Deron’s lifeless finger stroke his shoe, and he had to swallow down something he’d rather not. When they finally reached the lobby, he was shocked to see how many of the sofas and lamps had been overturned. It looked like a tornado had torn through, and the sticky footprints, and long lines of dripping blood suggested that Richie had stomped through here in a mad frenzy, before finding them in the Ash Suite.
He headed straight for the disabled toilet and tapped out his signal with a knuckle. This had been his signature door knock ever since he was a teenager. A secret code his mum had worked out to show that it was her at his bedroom door, and not Matt’s dad, spitting out cruelty. Matt still used that knock on most doors, even today.
Perry came close. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Suzy’s in there.’
Nupa’s mouth dropped. She rushed forward and hammered her fist at the door. ‘Suz, it’s me, Nupa. Open up.’
‘Not so loud.’ Matt listened for the locks to start sliding. When they didn’t, he pulled at the handle. It wasn’t locked. That was odd. He felt his spine tense as the door swung slowly open and he prepped his eyelids for a speedy shut. But the room was empty.
Matt stared at the toilet floor and thankfully found no blood. He scanned the lobby again, then froze when he saw Perry way over on the other side of the room. He was peering through the glass, hands cupped over his eyes.
Matt rushed over in a crouch. ‘Stay away from the windows. With these lights on, they’ll see us.’
‘Oh, of course, sorry …’ Perry instantly shrank back. ‘Just looking for signs of life.’
‘And was there any?’
‘I see shadows moving in the woods, lots of them …’ He turned to his wife. ‘And you’re sure you locked all the doors, Claire?’
‘Don’t you raise your voice at me.’ She glared at him.
Perry seemed genuinely shocked at this. ‘Don’t be like that, love.’
‘Don’t you patroni—’
‘Children, please.’ Nupa put a hand between them. ‘Save the domestics till later. Let’s just get upstairs and find that room.’
Matt nodded. ‘She’s right.’
‘Then at least give me those keys.’ Perry snatched them from Claire’s hand, and slipped them into his pockets. ‘It’ll be best if I have them.’
Claire shook her head in what looked like despair. ‘How could you possibly know what is best for anybody?’
Matt looked at them both in turn, confused by this sudden frostiness, but then Nupa pushed between them and said, ‘Come on … Just grab a weapon and move.’
They quickly scrabbled through the debris of the lobby, scooping up metal ornaments mostly. There were so many of those at The Reed. Matt found a tall, pricey-looking floor lamp. He snapped off the chrome pole from its moorings and prised off the light from the top. It felt strangely satisfying to wreck something expensive, even tonight, and he was left with a long pole, with a sharp, jagged edge. In an action movie, he’d have thrown this like a javelin and hit a demon right between the eyes from across the room. But he reckoned he’d just do some swinging and jabbing with this, if it came to that. He bobbed the pole in his hand a little, checking the weight. Everyone was doing that with their weapons. Passing them from hand to hand. It may have looked a little dumb, but it was reassuring all the same.
‘Ready?’ Matt turned to the little troupe, all tooled up. Nupa held, of all things, a large glass coffee pot, shaped like a fishbowl. She’d poured out the trickling contents onto the floor, and for the briefest of moments, Matt’s nostrils caught a whiff of heaven. ‘Wish you’d poured that into my mouth.’
She smiled. ‘When we get out of here, I’ll buy you a thousand lattes.’
‘Noted.’ They started to move. ‘Okay, so we’ll try the second then the third floor.’
They all nodded at each other: a kind of silent, tactical vocabulary that was starting to grow between them all. Then they trotted out through a door that led to the staircase, as silent as they c
ould move.
They skipped the lift. Being trapped in a metal box did not sound like the healthy option right now. Not when it might, at any time, drop downwards to the ground floor and open its doors to the outside. He had a mental image of all those possessed people shuffling through the trees and stooping past hedges. Slowly turning their heads as the lift door pinged to the world that it was dinner time.
So they found the staircase instead. It was enclosed and windowless, and they crept up it in single file. Nupa pushed Matt into the front, and Claire insisted she watch from the rear. There were motivational posters on the wall. One of them showed a blank diary lying on a desk, with the ominous slogan, You will never have this day again, so make it count.
They reached the plain, windowless door that led to the first floor. His corridor and his room were beyond that. But they stayed in the stairwell, tiptoeing past it. When they got to an identical-looking door on the second floor, he pressed a finger to his lips to shush them all. He pulled the door handle back very, very gently indeed. A tiny crack opened, like the thinnest of lips. He pressed an eyeball at the gap and saw an empty corridor. There was no blood on the walls. No broken glass or smashed mirrors. All the lamps and pictures seemed to be in place, too. It felt like a good sign.
He pushed the door open and they crept through. As they moved along the corridor, Nupa accidentally knocked her coffee pot against a radiator. The god-awful clanging sound was so harsh that it froze them all into an instant, pantomime pause. She mouthed, Sorry. They waited for a moment and then, with gritted teeth, set off again.
It was only as they turned the corner that he first heard the sound of muffled sobbing. It was coming from one of the doors, way down the corridor. He could already tell which it was. They shared nervous glances, then slowly approached it, more cautious than ever. At least their footsteps were lost in the silence of such thick carpet. When they reached it, Matt saw the word chapel etched into the door. There were bitter tears flowing in there. Was it a victim of the possessed, or one of the possessed themselves?
‘It’s him.’ Perry jostled himself through. ‘It’s Kissell.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘I’ve heard that man cry before.’ Perry reached the chapel door, but rather than knocking, he turned towards them and blocked it. ‘Listen. I’ve got this. You should go and find that Internet room thingy. Get us connected. That’s the top priority – am I right, Matt?’
‘Right,’ Matt said, awkwardly. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I’ll talk to Kissell. I’ll tell him the damage he’s done, working these people up. I’ll tell him he’s in the wrong.’
‘Oh, will you now?’ Claire said. Her eyes were glistening, and Matt heard her sniff.
Nupa shrugged. ‘Fine. Stay and give him a slap from me.’ She span from the door and started walking down the corridor. She paused halfway when she realised she was alone. ‘Hello? Matt? Claire? You coming?’
Matt didn’t move or speak. He just stood there, thinking. Eyes gliding back and forth between Perry and Claire. Trying to understand the tension there. The coldness.
‘Claire, Matt,’ Perry said, ‘you two need to go with Nupa. Those things could be crawling up the struts by now.’
Matt shook his head. ‘Let’s stick together.’
‘And let Kissell get away? I’ll keep him here. You go.’
Matt just stood there frowning. Thinking.
Nupa sighed. ‘Matt. You’re buffering. Now come on.’
‘Wait …’ Matt said. ‘Something’s not—’
The chapel door suddenly opened and everybody but Perry stepped back. They gripped their makeshift weapons – pole and coffee pot at the ready – but Perry’s ears were correct. This was no raging demon. It was Pastor Kissell, wet eyes puffed, with a damp comb-over. He poked his head through the gap, glasses so crooked he could have just escaped a comedy earthquake.
‘Told you,’ Perry said. ‘Now go on … shoo. Call the cavalry.’
‘Pastor Kissell?’ Matt said.
Kissell stared off into space.
‘Can you hear me? Are you hurt?’ Matt leant forward a little. ‘Bernie?’
His eyes flickered behind half-fogged lenses, then he turned his jerky gaze to Matt. ‘Professor … Matt … oh good. Are you … all right?’
‘We’re okay. You?’
‘I’m not hurt.’
‘Good. Then come with us. We’re going to get help.’
‘But,’ his eyes rolled towards the empty corridor, ‘I’m afraid …’
Perry shook his head, tutting loudly. Matt ignored him and reached a hand to Kissell. The door swung open, and he saw candles burning on the chapel altar.
Matt had to guide Kissell out because his footsteps were so unsteady. At times, he walked like a fawn, finding its way. His knees gave way at one point, and as Matt scooped him up, he noticed a thick and congealed gash under Kissell’s hair. He gripped Matt’s hand tighter.
They headed down the corridor, checking each room, and as they walked, Kissell sometimes mumbled things under his breath. Every time he did that, Matt noticed Perry’s face. He didn’t see irritation there. He saw something else. He saw fear.
‘Why do you keep staring at him?’ Matt whispered to Perry.
‘Because I think we should leave him in the chapel.’
‘Why?’
‘Just in case …’ Perry quickly said. ‘I mean, what if he’s possessed now, too?’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
They guided Kissell round a curve in the corridor and immediately spotted Nupa. She span around with a huge smile and jabbed a finger at a small half-flight of stairs to her left. The one that had all the cables and wires on when he was exploring yesterday. She vanished up them. Matt tugged Kissell along, helping him lift his shaky legs up the steps. At the top, they finally found the room they were looking for.
The glass door said hub.
‘Stop the clock. We’ve found it,’ Nupa jabbed a code into a keypad. It glowed a dull blue in the dim light, then turned green. Something clicked, and within seconds she’d vanished inside. Matt watched her through the glass, flicking switches and frantically trying out possible passwords and figuring out the backup system. Her hasty fingers kept mistyping. It was the first time he’d noticed how much she was trembling. At one point, she smacked a fist off the desk with frustration. Then she’d take a breath and try again.
While all this happened, Matt, Perry, Claire and Kissell just stood waiting on the staircase outside. Matt kept staring at the bottom of the stairs, where the corridor was. Dreading the flicker of a shadow.
‘Bernie …’ Perry said suddenly.
Kissell looked up. ‘Mmmmmm?’
‘I have a question and I’d appreciate a straight answer. Did you have a machine in your hand tonight or not?’
There was no hesitation. ‘Yes.’
Perry’s lips tightened. ‘And have you always used one of those gizmos, or was that just for—’
‘Always.’
The anger in Perry’s face seemed to fall away. Matt saw pain there instead. Shame, even. ‘But why? We all trusted you. You’ve lied to the whole world …’
‘Perhaps … but what was the alternative, Simon?’ Kissell leant a shoulder against the wall. ‘When a mental health case doesn’t respond to medicine, or counselling. Do we leave them alone in the dark? Or do we offer them something old? Something ancient. Exorcism − no matter what you think of it − has a genuine psychological power … but they have to believe it for it to work. The thing in my hand … it helped them have faith in the treatment.’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’ Perry looked away. ‘You’re mad.’
‘No, not mad. I’ve seen people puke their negativity into a bucket, and God help me, they’re better. Placebo or not, they’re free at the end.’ He bit his lip hard. ‘And I will not apologise for giving people hope. And for telling them they’re not alone. If I’d maybe done the same for Sandra
, then …’ His words caught in his throat and he winced.
‘Your wife?’ Matt said.
Perry groaned in frustration.
Kissell caught Matt’s eye, ‘She always said he sounded very polite and kindly spoken.’
‘Who was?’ Matt said.
‘Satan. She said he called her on the phone and told her he’d live inside her for a while. That he hoped she didn’t mind, but it was for her own good. Told her to cut her hair, her clothes, her wrists. And I’d find her crying with the phone in her hand, and she’d ask me to drive her to the church and of course, being a good atheist I refu—’
‘You’re an atheist?’ Perry grabbed a handrail to steady himself.
‘I was … till tonight.’ Kissell stared at the carpet.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Matt said.
‘It means I refused to take her to church even though she wanted me to. She’d take the pills and I’d rock her to sleep. And when those pills didn’t work, I tried new ones, and when they didn’t work, we’d try more. But the calls from hell kept coming, she heard them, even when I yanked the cord out. I’d find her curled up in the corner, with that damn phone at her ear, listening to him persuade her. And she kept asking for an exorcism. Course, I said that would be dangerous and I kept on refusing. Just as I’m sure you would have done, Matt, if it was for your wife, or your child. You think there’s a higher ground, don’t you … but listen to me … what if the better way is to give people therapy that makes sense to them. That plugs in to their hope, and their fear? What if the truly rational thing is to allow the irrational its moment in the sun.’
‘Bernie.’ Claire’s eyes were glistening. ‘What happened to your wife?’
‘I kept on refusing to take her to a priest … and I said I’d cure her with medicine. And one morning we stopped for gas and they still had one of those public telephones. It was ringing. She answered it while I was paying and then I heard the tyres soon after. The screams of the other drivers. When I looked back, she was out on the highway. Standing with her arms out.’ He stared at his palm. ‘She didn’t last long.’