Severed

by Peter Laws

They did as they were told.

  They all knelt together, as hands grabbed hands. The circle filled with the sounds Ever didn’t much care for. The moans, the grunts, the whispers, the ancient language that he couldn’t understand. But at least they prayed for something he longed for more than ever.

  The end of God and heaven.

  CHAPTER TEN

  He’s in there, Matt thought; he’s in there, somewhere.

  He and Bowland were sat in the high-backed chairs of the intensive care unit at Stoke Mandeville, staring silently at Rev. David East. Here was a minister who only hours ago had offered the blood of Jesus to his congregation. He wound up giving them buckets of his own instead. He was surrounded by what looked like four different IV drips, along with a chaotic mix of monitors and gizmos bolted to stands. Some of the machines looked modern and slick-looking, with sharp screens of numbers and lights that beat in slow, rhythmic sequence. But some of the tech looked decidedly vintage. Like something you’d use to pump old car tyres up with in the 1960s. Or measure radiation.

  There was a face amongst it all … though it was almost impossible to find it under all the stuff they’d stuck to him. A huge white plastic breathing piece was strapped to his face, winding off him like a kooky elephant’s trunk. Most of his head was wrapped in thick bandages and dressings. It was almost, almost funny. The obligatory comedy sketch of a ‘man in traction’. But actually, it wasn’t funny. Not one bit.

  Matt broke the silence. ‘They tied those dressings really tight, didn’t they?’

  ‘Once they stapled his scalp and skull together, they had to.’ Bowland crossed her legs and reached for her phone. ‘Let’s just hope it’ll hold.’

  An image flicked across Matt’s brain. Of the good reverend’s head exploding like a watermelon and both he and Bowland having to duck. He sighed and looked to the floor. Then, he did more than sigh. He shuddered. Some cruel little voice pointed out that this particular explosion image wasn’t something he’d made up. It was actually a very real memory from a few hours earlier, when the same thing happened to this man’s son. Just before Matt’s maddeningly slow eyelashes shut it out.

  He shook his head. Best to pretend that he hadn’t just seen a teenager explode. Nah. That was just a silly memory from an old zombie movie he’d seen once. An old Monty Python sketch. His stomach lurched. His heart too.

  ‘You okay?’ Bowland said.

  He reached into his reserves and pulled out a smile. He was always good at that. Acting okay when he wasn’t sure if he actually was okay. When you’re a church minister you perfect those skills. ‘I’m fine. I just had a crazy morning before I met you.’

  ‘It was crazy before?’

  He told her about the duck. She gradually started to laugh. He liked the sound of it, and the warmth in her face as she did it. He decided that if he’d met Jill Bowland in the street he’d figure she was a photographer or a clothes designer. Not a policewoman. Welcoming the distraction, she skipped going back to the case for a while. They talked about her only daughter who’d moved to Taiwan, and how Skype calls to her grandchild were never quite the same as the real thing. And how she’d been a policewoman for forty years and that her late husband was one too. The mention of him made her glance at the clock and she snapped out of the break. She started checking over the case notes on her phone instead.

  Now that her jacket was off, he noticed how large and stiff her white shirt collar was. It fired from her like spikes. With her free hand, she rolled a bead of her home-made bracelet between her fingertips. ‘So just to clarify …’

  ‘Again?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, again. To clarify … when Micah grabbed you, you’re absolutely sure he said nothing else than what’s here?’

  ‘That’s all he said. I told him his dad was still alive. I figured that’d be good news, but it wasn’t. He panicked. Then he thought I was some sort of demon and wouldn’t look at me properly. Explains why he carved all those magazine faces up … he wasn’t into eye contact. The only thing I didn’t hear properly was what he shouted out before the train hit.’

  ‘You, and everybody else. That train was loud.’

  The room vanished.

  Thud.

  Squelch.

  Trainer laces, whistling through the air.

  ‘Matt?’

  He smiled again. ‘Yup?’

  ‘Are you sure there’s nothing else you remember?’

  He shook his head. ‘Just that I didn’t see the axe.’

  ‘That’s because you wouldn’t have. We found it in a field, rammed into a tree.’ She tapped her phone off. ‘Right, well I better get on then …’

  ‘What’s next?’

  ‘Next, we drill down into Micah’s computer and talk to his friends and teachers. Try to figure out his motive.’

  ‘And the upturned crosses, the urinating on the altar …?’

  ‘We’ll look into all of that, but that might all be academic now.’

  ‘But all that talk about devil worship and covens?’

  ‘That was when I didn’t have a clue where he was. I thought if he was part of some group, it might help us track him down … but hey, we tracked him down anyway …’ She trailed off and looked back at the robo-vicar, wheezing and beeping across the room. ‘But all this talk of demons and eyes and paranoia … I reckon it’s just a messed-up kid. Like you said, it’s probably not part of some wider group. In which case we’ll peg this as domestic violence and we won’t need to pass this on to SOCU.’

  ‘Wow, you guys love your acronyms. What’s SOCU?’

  ‘Serious and Organised Crime Unit. I reckon this might not be for them.’

  ‘I’d class this as a pretty serious crime …’ He noticed she wasn’t listening. ‘Um … hello?’

  ‘One sec …’ Bowland pushed herself from the chair and walked towards the door where a straggle of blonde hair vanished from the small square of glass. Bowland pushed it open and Matt got up. He saw a woman standing in the corridor with two hands wrapped around a white pot, pressed to her belly. A single white orchid swayed from the pot. She’d tucked her blonde hair behind both ears.

  Bowland smiled. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I don’t mean to intrude, but the clock says it’s visiting hours.’

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘I’m Miriam Aimes, from the church.’ She held the plant awkwardly in one hand and held out the other to shake. ‘David was in my arms when the ambulance arrived.’

  Bowland’s shoulders relaxed. ‘That’s fine. We’re just trying to keep the press out of here. They’re going in pretty hard on this case.’

  ‘I know. There’s a few of them in the car park outside. Vultures, every one.’

  Bowland waited. ‘Have you been with the church long?’

  ‘Not really. Just a few months.’

  ‘Does that mean three, four, five?’

  She bit her lip, ‘Three, I’d say.’

  ‘And you know Reverend East well?’

  ‘A fair bit, yes.’

  ‘And Micah? Would you say you knew him very well?’

  She shook her head, ‘He didn’t come to the services … Wait … you are the police, right?’

  Bowland pulled out her ID. ‘Miriam, can I ask a few questions, please?’

  She looked down at the flowers. ‘Can I put these in the room first? I think the smell might brighten him up.’

  ‘Be my guest.’ Bowland stepped aside and let her through.

  Miriam nodded politely at Matt as he stepped aside, then he watched her walk towards the bed. The sight of East made her hover mid-step, then she seemed to sway unsteadily.

  She slid a hand across her mouth. ‘Oh, dear Jesus.’

  ‘Whoa, let me take that,’ Matt slipped his hand around the white pot, just before it toppled. ‘Take a seat.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She sank into the chair, eyes brimming. ‘Can we touch him? Can we hold his hand?’

  ‘Best not,’ Bowland said
.

  Miriam just stared at his hand, wrapped in bandages like a little kid’s mitten. She put her hands together to pray but pushed them against her face instead.

  Matt mouthed to Bowland, Shall we give her a minute?

  Bowland just sniffed and said, ‘Can you describe what happened in the service this morning?’

  ‘I gave a statement already.’

  ‘It’d be helpful to hear it again.’

  She wiped her eyes. ‘It was absolutely horrendous. Like something from hell. David led Communion and Micah just jumped out from behind the curtain. I had no idea he was there. None of us did.’

  ‘And we’re told Micah spoke before he attacked.’

  ‘Yes. It sounded like gobbledy-gook to me. Nobody could make it out.’ She moved her gaze back to David, tilted her head, then a tear came again. ‘Do you want to know the most heartbreaking part? It’s that Dave was so pleased to see him there. He thought it was … was a miracle. That Micah was finally back in church. To be honest, I thought so too.’

  Matt spoke up. ‘Do you know why Micah stopped attending in the first place?’

  ‘The same reason millions have stopped … he didn’t believe it any more. That’s all. He’s not some devil worshipper, anyway.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because that’s what Gwen’s telling everybody. She reckons he was in league with Satan cos he wore dark jeans, but I think it’s a lot less dramatic than that. Micah just fell for the lie.’

  ‘And what lie is that?

  ‘That every church is a crooked church.’ She looked up at him for a long moment. ‘Even the wisest of men fall for it.’

  Matt waited. ‘So did Micah turn from Christianity altogether or did he find an alternative?’

  For the first time, her sweet face turned to a scowl. ‘Alternative?’

  ‘I mean did he find another faith, or did he turn his back on all religion?’

  ‘Another faith? An alternative? That’s nonsense. There is no alternative to Christianity. Jesus is the only route to heaven. That’s not me talking, it’s there in black and white. If Micah did choose another faith, then he might as well have chosen no faith at all.’

  Bowland’s voice was like a soothing balm on the tension. ‘Tell us about the mother.’

  She shrugged. ‘There’s not much to say.’

  ‘But you’ve met her?’

  ‘Once, I think, though she didn’t say much. She didn’t come to church, so there wasn’t any chance to know her. Kept herself to herself, as they say, so I wanted to respect that. She went off travelling anyway … Have you found out where she is yet?’

  ‘We’re working on it.’

  ‘Good, because she should be here, by his side.’ She paused, and her face grew tight with worry. ‘And Dave? Is he going to pull through?’

  ‘The doctors aren’t hopeful.’

  ‘There’s always hope,’ she said. ‘Because there’s always prayer.’

  ‘Miriam,’ Matt said. ‘Why do you think Micah did this? I mean, lots of people lose faith, but they don’t take an axe …’ He trailed off.

  She shrugged. ‘How could I even begin to guess?’

  ‘Not even a theory?’

  She stared at the floor for a long moment. ‘Maybe he just didn’t like his dad.’

  The door suddenly opened and a gaggle of three pensioners (if that was the collective noun) came bustling into the room. They were laden with fruit, drinks and snacks, the likes of which David East would probably never be able to eat for a month. Maybe never. And a banana too. Try stuffing that down his food tube, Matt thought. Their chatter turned into groans and gasps when they saw their vicar splayed out on the bed. A nurse heard the commotion and swung her head in. She saw the crowd and boggled her eyes. ‘Do not overcrowd this room. A few of you need to step out for a bit. Take it in turns. You can go two at a time.’

  One of the old ladies muttered, ‘Like the ark.’

  The nurse put a hand on her hip, waiting for someone to comply. Bowland did. ‘Well, thank you for your input.’ She handed Miriam a card. ‘Perhaps when you’re done, I’ll chat to you and the other ladies some more. But I’ll give you time to pray first.’

  Miriam nodded. ‘We appreciate that.’

  Bowland led Matt outside and tugged him down the corridor a little. They stopped by a window overlooking the car park.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ she said.

  ‘Well, there’s clearly more going on here than Micah just losing his Christian faith. He wasn’t ambivalent towards it, he was rabid against it,’ Matt said. ‘Plus, there’s all the stuff he said when he had me at knifepoint.’

  Her eyebrow shot up. ‘Erm, ballpoint.’

  ‘Okay, ballpoint.’ Matt ran a hand through his hair and looked down the corridor. ‘I just wish we could hear this language that Micah said, before the attack. Someone must have heard a snippet. Big echoey room like that, someone must have picked it up somehow …’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll dig into that …’ She glanced at her watch. ‘But look, I think for now you might as well … hey, where are you going? Hey!’

  Matt heard her call after him, but he didn’t turn. He was already heading back up the corridor, pushing through the door to East’s room.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  They prayed on the lounge floor for an hour. Until Ever’s trembling kneecaps burnt. The only time they stopped was when something utterly bizarre, and more than a little terrifying, happened. Prosper went to the corner of the room, and with his penknife he prised one of the boards up.

  ‘What’s he—’

  ‘Shhhh.’ Dust put a finger against Ever’s lip.

  Prosper pulled out a metal box, and inside was a small bundle, wrapped in a hand towel. When he started unwrapping it, the others started praying even harder, but Ever kept watching as the towel fell open. The little black thing appeared, with buttons and numbers on it.

  The phone.

  Ever groaned. This was a bad sign. They shouldn’t have had to use it.

  ‘There’s a plug for it,’ Dust said. ‘It’s in the study—’

  ‘I know where it is.’ Prosper let the metal box crash to the floor. Then he took the phone to the study and they waited some more. Through the window, the sky had turned almost black with rain.

  Mum saw Ever gawping at Prosper’s door and put a hand on the back of his head. She pushed it downwards. ‘Pray. Don’t look, pray.’

  Strange noises came from the study. A sort of buzz and weird beep. Then a long stretch of horrible silence. But nothing was as bad as the sound that came next. A screech of despair and the boom of crashing furniture. Ever, on instinct, leapt to his feet.

  He gasped. ‘There must be Hollows in the house.’

  Dust shook his head. ‘That wasn’t them screaming.’

  When Ever looked again Prosper was at the door. His face was white and the dome of his bald head was white too, and his knuckles were dripping blood.

  ‘So?’ Dust stood up. ‘Was there a message?’

  ‘Hope says …’ he whispered into the air.

  Pax looked up at the sound of her mother’s name.

  ‘Says what?’ Dust asked.

  ‘He failed …’

  Mum put a hand to her mouth. ‘What do you mean, he failed?’

  ‘You mean Micah?’ Ever said. ‘Is he okay?’

  Prosper didn’t answer. He just stomped towards the fireplace as if he might throw himself into the flames. He slammed both fists against the mantelpiece, which made a glass vase spin into a perfect circle. His mum’s dried flowers were in it, and Ever watched them tip off the edge and crash to the floor.

  As well as those cheekbones of his, Prosper had rather large eyes, and whenever he closed them, the lids bulged in a terribly circular way. Like two ping-pong balls, ready to burst out. Not a pleasant look from a man with no hair. They did that now. As Prosper prayed, his eyes heaved against his closed lids. When he finally spoke again, it was through
a terrifying wall of clenched teeth. ‘Damn this world,’ he whispered. Then he opened his ball-eyes and looked with disgust at the watch on his wrist. He tore it off and flung it to the floor. ‘Damn this filthy fucking pit. Damn every stinking pig and piglet in this entire fucking cruel, sadistic …’

  He went on and on and on like this. Spitting out his furious petitions to the fire. By now, Ever was shivering, so it was good to feel his uncle’s arm slip around his shoulder again. Even better when his lips pressed close to his ear, risking a whisper, even though everybody in the family knew that when Prosper prayed like this, they all had to be totally silent. But Dust was shivering too, and he said the words anyway. It looked like the fire was going out.

  ‘Don’t be scared, Ever,’ Dust said. ‘I’m here.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Matt held the door open so the women in both the room and the corridor could listen. ‘Ladies, I’m very sorry to interrupt you. But do you record the sermons at your church?’

  One of them screwed up her face. ‘Record? Like a tally?’

  ‘No.’ He tried not to groan. ‘I mean how churches often record the audio of the sermon or homily so they can put it online or they—’

  ‘We don’t have a website,’ Miriam laughed. ‘We’re not that modern.’

  ‘… Or they record it for members of the congregation who are housebound. Don’t you ever do that?’

  ‘We don’t. Sorry.’

  Miriam smiled, ‘So, if you’ll let us get back to praying …’

  One of the old ladies put her hand in the air, and it stopped everybody talking. She pushed her tongue into her cheek. Probably more than her tongue, actually. Her dentures might have dislodged as she pondered it. Either way a large bulge appeared, and then quickly vanished and Matt heard a click. Face symmetrical again, she lowered her hand. ‘Malcolm tapes it, sometimes.’

  ‘No, you’re wrong,’ one of them said, ‘he just switches all the speakers and doo-dahs on. Though the old coot barely knows what he’s doing with those, to be honest.’

  Denture woman shook her head. ‘No, I’m sure he used to put stuff on a little tape machine for Phyllis Packman. She’s stuck up in The Meadows. I’m sure he used to do that. He was there this morning.’