Severed

by Peter Laws

  The little boy.

  Jesus Christ.

  She could hear that little boy, crying out.

  She ran towards the church, but she’d avoid the front doors. She moved around the building, looking for a safer entrance. She quickly found another door at the back. It was closed, but she saw light shining from underneath. Petrified that Miriam might suddenly rise from the mud, she pushed through.

  When she got inside, she saw someone else instead.

  A man with long hair was lying on the carpet of what looked like a vestry room. His face bulged and bled from a very fresh beating, his glasses lay smashed by his head. Another victim, she thought, just like the boy. He moaned through the gag in his mouth, asking her to set him free.

  No time to think.

  No strength to think it.

  So she dropped to her knees, and quickly undid the rope.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  When the knife came plummeting down the tip of it wedged hard into the wood of the Communion table. Any closer and it would have buried into his shoulder. He’d managed to heave himself to the left at the very last second with a Hulk-level burst of latent energy (fuelled by desperation and the sheer terror of death), but something else had helped too. It was the boy, Ever. He’d slipped on the way down because he’d been distracted by something.

  A man’s voice calling his name from across the church.

  Locked in position by all those hands, Matt couldn’t see who was shouting, but he did see all their faces spasm in shock when they looked up.

  ‘Don’t do it, son,’ the voice said. ‘Don’t kill him.’

  It was the man, the one they called Dust, though his voice sounded very different to before. Now it was strange and spluttery. Prosper eased his hand off Matt’s forehead in pure surprise, which meant that for a while, Matt could look too. Dust was slouching in the far end of the middle aisle, keeping himself upright by gripping the back pew. His smashed face dripped blood and loose teeth seemed to slide down his slimy hair, but it was who stood just behind him that made Matt explode into life, so he might wrench himself free.

  Wren.

  She was standing by the vestry door, drenched with rain and smeared with mud. Her eyes were wide and both hands covered her mouth, because that’s the sort of reaction wives have when they see their husband tied on his knees behind a church altar, with tape across his mouth. In the sudden, gaunt quiet, Matt yanked his chest from the altar and somehow pulled free from Prosper’s hand, but Milton helped shove Matt down, harder than ever. The two men swooped to each side, using all their strength to stop him throwing them off again. He writhed like a mad asylum inmate.

  ‘Get off him!’ Wren called out and started to come forward, but Matt shook his head, desperately trying to warn her off. She saw the sheer fright in his eyes and slowed down.

  ‘This isn’t the way, Ever.’ Dust staggered to the next pew. ‘You have to put the knife down.’

  Prosper immediately leant close. ‘Look at him. They’ve turned him Hollow. See how awful he looks. Hear his voice? Just like the one in the car.’

  Dust took a shambling, zombie-step forward.

  ‘The monster’s coming through, it’s splitting the skin.’ Prosper yanked the knife out from the wood. ‘So Ever, try again. No distractions this time.’

  ‘They did this to me,’ Dust shouted, in a voice so loud it shook the entire church. ‘And Ever, they killed Zara and lied about—’

  ‘Dammit, Dust, that’s enough. Zara tried to stop Micah from doing this,’ Prosper shouted in desperation. ‘… Just like you’re trying to stop it now.’

  ‘You said lies were for Hollows …’ Dust took another shambling step forward and almost fell. ‘How can we trust you with anything?’

  Matt couldn’t hold it any longer. He called out to Wren, with a groaning plea against the tape, ‘Run!’ he shouted, though it sounded little more than a muffled roar. ‘Please. Go.’

  He saw her wipe tears from her face, which were instantly replaced with new ones. Then she shook her head at him, refusing to leave. Instead, she darted her gaze around the church, looking, he assumed, for a weapon. And through it all, his wrists were burning because those damn—

  He blinked.

  He tilted his head. Blinked again.

  Something clicked into place. A moment that his old self might have called miraculous while his new self simply called it physics. He felt the heat from the candles.

  The candles.

  Holy shit, Matt thought. The candles!

  He immediately leant back a touch. Just so his wrists grew closer to the flame. He heard the hair on his arms quietly crackle, but they were all too distracted to notice. He ground his teeth as the scorching pain began. Which was when the mother of all lightning bolts crashed outside. They all swung their heads at the side door, as if they might see the entire world on fire. What the lightning bolt had actually left behind was a figure, stumbling up the church path.

  Miriam.

  Wren screamed.

  The drenched, bleeding figure scrambled in from the rain; her hair was a writhing nest of wet, wild snakes. She looked across them all with disgust. ‘End it, come on!’ Then she threw a pointed finger at Wren. ‘Pax, Verity, keep her back.’

  The two women let go of Matt and ran to stop Wren, who was now running down to the altar. His arms felt lighter, but the two men still locked him in place. He leant back a little and jammed his teeth together at the pain in his wrists.

  Miriam hobbled over and tore the tape from Matt’s mouth, which felt so sharp and searing. Then she spat on him. ‘When we see you, we see the Father … but you can’t hurt us any more. All the hate and abuse you threw at us … it ends here …’

  He could see Wren struggling. Now his mouth was free he screamed at them. ‘Let her go.’

  Miriam leant closer. She was trembling. ‘You are the Father, and we reject you completely. We serve the Son who you tortured and killed on the cross …’

  ‘Jesus chose to go …’ Matt groaned. ‘… It wasn’t murder … it was love … it was the Trinity …’

  ‘Fuck the Trinity,’ she laughed. ‘That’s the biggest lie of all. There can only ever be one God. So, Father … it’s time you stepped down.’

  Matt stared at her. ‘You’re mad.’

  She pushed a hot, wet whisper directly into his ear. ‘Eloi, eloi … Lama kataltani,’ then she grabbed Ever’s hands and squeezed his palms around the knife handle.

  Aaaaand …

  She plunged Ever’s hands forward.

  The boy’s sobbing body jerked like a rag doll, without any sense of aim. She just went for anywhere on Matt’s body. He heard Wren scream for what felt an incredibly long time. Then the pain arrived, and he lost any sense of where the candle was at his wrist. He felt the bizarre presence of something cold inside his shoulder. A foreign invader. Then the sickening sensation of it slipping back out as a wet soak of blood spurted down his arm.

  Wren broke free, heaving Verity and Pax to the side.

  ‘Stop it!’ She scrambled down the slope ready to leap onto Miriam’s back, so now Milton had to let go of Matt too. He rushed towards Wren to stop her. At the exact same moment, a loud and wild crashing sound came from the side wall, near the door. A few panels from the stained-glass window had blown in.

  ‘It’s working, see? It’s working,’ Miriam shouted, ‘but you have to get his neck, Ever, his neck!’

  Prosper splayed Matt’s head back and yanked open the collar of his shirt, so his throat was clearer. He had a horrible look in his freakish face. He looked lost and confused, and when he looked at Miriam, deeply afraid.

  ‘End’s coming.’ Miriam was laughing as she slammed Ever’s hands, and the knife, down. ‘End’s come!’

  Snap.

  Matt heard it. He actually heard the tiny pop of the cable tie. Over all this commotion, the candle flame had burnt all the way through the multiple threads of plastic and half into his skin.

  Just a
little snap, and everything changed.

  People were too shocked to even comprehend it. Their faces just twitched in surprise, almost in awe, when Matt suddenly rose. It was one of those flickering moments from a dream, where his hands sprang apart and the cable ties split in two. He moved fast enough and with enough deliberate aim to aim his opening hand for the black metal cross that sat upturned on the table. Just as he’d been planning for what seemed like months now, he grabbed that cross on the upswing. He saw it out the corner of his eye as if another arm and another hand was doing it. The muscles in his shoulders and forearms screamed in pain, but he welcomed the agony because with it he saw the black cross rise in his fist, soaked in ash. He even saw a line of soot shed itself through space, as he sliced it hard through the air.

  Crack.

  When it smashed against Miriam’s temple, at the very sharpest edge, the impact shook every bone in his arm. He saw her eyes widen, that was all, then she whispered something inaudible as she keeled over to the side. It was like the slow-motion felling of a tree, which everybody stopped to watch. The thinnest jet of blood fountained from her temple and traced a perfect arc through the air as she fell.

  In panic, Prosper, Pax and Milton threw out arms to catch her, as she toppled onto the steps. All three fell with her, crashing in a heap on the stone floor. Milton still had the axe in his hand. The only sound was the clank of metal as Ever dropped the Stanley knife and after that, the sound of his little feet pounding on the stone as he ran to Dust, who had now completely collapsed and lay wheezing on the floor.

  Matt grabbed the knife and liberated his feet with one sharp cut.

  The lightning flashed again, only it was now a completely different colour than before. It was blue, which was when Milton dropped the axe too. For a silent moment, every single person just stared at the light. They watched the stone arches flicker and Pax started laughing as she stroked Miriam’s hair. She talked about angels, swooping to ‘rescue her mummy’. Ever was the only one to speak. His jaw dropped at the bright-blue miracle and with tears in his eyes, he said, ‘Dust, look … it’s working. Jesus is coming …’

  The sirens grew loud enough to sting the ear, and Matt noticed Verity was crying at the lights. It meant Wren was able to wriggle from her grip with relative ease. She rushed over and scooped her hand under Matt’s armpit and they both turned to the open church door. The world outside was a flashing disco of colour and each long shadow turned, like a time-lapse sundial. Yet the police cars were still too far away, struggling to get up the hill, which by now was a gauntlet of sliding mud. And in those moments when he and Wren slouched to the door, Matt kept looking back at the people’s faces. He didn’t see the chaos of criminals caught in the act. Or the fury of fighters, ready to stand. He saw the horribly silent phenomenon of many hearts breaking, all at the same time. The dawn of a bleak reality: that the world, or at least their world, truly was at its end after all. End’s coming … end’s come.

  It was strangely hypnotic, to watch them like this, until he saw something that broke the moment completely. Miriam was crawling along the floor towards them, glaring at Wren with her gore-soaked eye.

  He grabbed her hand. ‘Move.’

  He was losing blood of his own, but he could still walk straight, just about. Thank God the kid was a crap aim, though he wondered if Ever had deliberately swayed to the side, on those early blows. As they staggered to the side door they both noticed a gut-wrenching sight. The little girl he saw earlier was cowering behind the curtain, by the door. When Matt looked at her, she covered their eyes and looked away. ‘Please! Please, don’t eat me.’

  He grabbed the girl’s hand and after a nod to Wren she grabbed the other hand. They pulled her through the side door, out into the dark, wet world, and the sky filled with the screams of an abducted child. It was only when they’d cleared the door and stumbled onto the gravel that Matt hugged a shell-shocked Wren and gave her Merit’s other hand. He went to turn back to the church. She stared at him, jaw dropping. ‘Wait … what … what are you doing?’

  ‘The boy,’ Matt said. ‘Ever.’

  ‘Matt, the police … they’ll get him …’

  It came out as a desperate gasp. ‘There’s no time.’ He nodded to the police lights. They were still making their laboured rescue up the hill. Even from here, he heard wheels spinning in the mud, and for a moment he was back in his lecture in Berlin yet here at the same time. And those images of Guyana and Waco were being projected against the rain, reminding him of how these stories tend to end. He just knew it, as sure as the sky was flashing and the blood was seeping. That Wren was wrong. There was no time.

  She had to keep this little kid out here to stop her running back into the church to her family. If she did that, she’d be lost too. And it had to be Wren that stayed out here, because he’d struggle to hold on to the girl, what with this damn pain blazing in his shoulder. It was him or nothing, because the old man had said something earlier, that there was ‘another path’. He saw Wren stare at him, mouthing desperate words.

  ‘He’ll die …’ Matt said, because he knew it was true.

  She winced and shook her head. Tears fell.

  He touched her arm and thought of Sean Ashton, bleeding by the tree, and Micah exploding in a boom of thunder, and Ever on some future lecture screen, and he told Wren with his eyes … If I don’t go back he’ll be one of my slides one day. And I can’t bear the thought of it, Wren. I can’t.

  She was about to speak, but she looked back over his shoulder first, staring at the broken window into the chancel. She wailed in horror. ‘Oh, Jesus.’ Whatever she’d seen was a revelation because she looked at him, nodded and handed him something. The Stanley knife. She must have grabbed it from the floor. The little girl struggled against her, yanking her little arms so hard they almost dislodged from the sockets. But Wren didn’t try to stop him any more. When she spoke again, it came out as a gulping sob of despair, but she said it anyway.

  ‘Go,’ she said. ‘Go.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Ever rushed to Uncle Dust on the floor, while Prosper dragged the heavy ropes out from under the altar. Milton flung them over the beam, each in turn.

  ‘Close the door, please,’ Prosper said. ‘And block it. Use anything you can find.’

  Ever turned to the doorway and saw the woman Hollow staring back from outside. She was covered in flashing blue light and horizontal rain. Then she vanished as the wood rattled shut.

  Hope was back on her feet now. She took a staggering step towards the altar. Steady rivulets of blood were pulsing from her head. It made her stumble. ‘Ever?’ she said. ‘Where are you?’ She ran her eyes across the church, until they locked on him. ‘Ahhh … there. Can you hear him? Can you hear Jesus singing?’ She tilted her head to listen and blood poured from the hole. It made her eyes flicker. ‘Verity … can you collect him, please?’

  Mum nodded and came to him. She put a hand on Ever’s shoulder, and they both watched Milton throw the final rope over.

  Prosper counted them up. ‘Thanks Milton. Looks like we’re ready.’

  Milton nodded quietly, and the two men shook hands, cupping a hand over each other’s shoulder.

  ‘Wait,’ Ever stabbed a finger at the other rope, coiled under the table, ‘Isn’t that for Merit? Shouldn’t we get her back?’

  ‘No time,’ Prosper saw Ever’s panic and he smiled, ‘but Jesus … he’ll reach her. We’ll just have to meet her on the other side, that’s all.’

  Now that the ropes were out, people were being polite. Ever liked that, and he knew the reason was simple. The Hollows were gone. It meant they could finally be themselves again, but he still found himself chewing through his lip, staring at Uncle Dust on the floor.

  Mum dropped to his level. ‘It’s time, Ever.’

  ‘But …’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘He said Hope lied. He said her and Prosper hurt him.’

  Mum placed a single fingertip against his lips. ‘T
hat’s impossible. The Hollows must have tricked him.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing, Ever. The Hollows lie. That’s their language.’ She saw him staring at the blue flashing ceiling. ‘And those lights aren’t angels. It’s them. It’s another trick. So, it’s time, okay? Time for the other path.’ She leant towards him, eyes brimming, hands trembling. ‘And we have to hurry, cos I can’t be in heaven without you. And if we stay, they’ll take you away from me. They’ll put Mummy in a cage.’

  His face started to crumple. Hers too. ‘I messed it all up, I got scared.’

  ‘You were brave, you tried …’ She straightened his hair. ‘But it’s okay, cos if Jesus isn’t coming to us, then we can go to him … right? Just like we always said.’

  She went to stand, so he stood with her, but he held onto Dust’s hand. He looked down at him. ‘What if they get inside and kill him?’

  ‘Baby, he’s already gone.’ She tugged their hands apart and his uncle’s arm dropped like a stone. ‘So how about we find Dust and Merit again? Let’s meet them on the other side of the stream. He’ll—’

  They both jumped.

  Someone was hammering on the church door, trying to get in.

  ‘Come on,’ Prosper said. ‘Hurry.’

  The six dangling ropes had stopped swinging and, in the stillness, Ever heard the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. It was Pax, starting to sing. She sounded so … so normal.

  ‘Jesus’s hands were kind hands … doing good to all …’ She was the first one to climb up on the altar. ‘Healing pain and sickness, blessing children small.’

  Prosper lifted his voice too, as Pax helped him up. Then Milton joined in. ‘Washing tired feet and saving those who fall.’

  There was a surprising, and yet very unsurprising, peace about it all. Even with the church doors hammering. Even with the flashing blue lights and the thundering of his heart, Ever felt peace. Milton put his big fat thumb up and winked at him. ‘Chin up, all right? We’re gonna be grand. You’ve proved your faith tonight. Hell, we all have, and he’s seen every bit of it. We still get a happy ending, okay, Big Man?’