Absence of Faith (24 page)

"He was a good friend. I knew him
most of my life," Stokes said softly.

"I'm sorry," Hillgren
added.

Stokes started to close the zipper
when he noticed that the esophagus and jugular vein had been torn.
He unzipped the body bag all the way and examined the rest of the
body. He spotted the remains of ripped skin, muscle and bone in the
right forearm.

"Has there been a determination on
the cause of death," he yelled to the young intern.

"Nothing has been done. We're
waiting for the dental records for a positive ID. We got only a
preliminary identification from the police," the intern yelled
back.

* * *

Stokes left the medical center and
drove to Graber's house. Graber's daughter, Melissa, opened the
door - her eyes rimmed in red.

"I'm so sorry, Melissa," Stokes
said and hugged her.

He entered the living room. Helen
sat in a rocker in the corner staring out of the window.

"I'm sorry, Helen. We all loved
him," he said taking her hand.

The older woman looked up with
watery eyes.

"Thank you," she
whispered.

"I know this isn't a good time, but
I'd like an autopsy on Henry. I was at the morgue and I don't think
the accident killed him," Stokes said.

"Oh no!" Helen said and burst out
in tears.

"I'm sorry. I’ll call you
tomorrow."

Stokes left with watery eyes. He
went home and poured himself a glass of Remy Martin VSOP that he
brought out only during the holidays. He took a large gulp and
swallowed slowly letting the cognac coat his throat as it went
down. The experience reminded him of better times, of holidays, and
of good friends, and warm homes with crackling fires in their
fireplaces. It eased some of the pain in his chest and forced his
tense body to relax despite the agony in his heart and mind. Stokes
put his head back and pushed the lounge chair into a reclining
position. The tired springs and levers creaked. In a few minutes,
he was asleep free from his sadness, his fear, and his sense of
impending doom that seemed to swallow him.

K
yle lay on
a white beach with Chantress next to him. Another woman lay on the
other side, but he couldn't quite see her face. He thought it was
strange that they had no towels or blanket to lie on and the warm
sand did not stick to his body. The surf was violent like an angry,
wild animal struggling to reach them, but always falling short and
being swallowed by the white sand. Kyle shuddered with fear at the
water - it was as if it were alive. Kyle knew if the water reached
them, they would be burned. The water was bad; the ocean was bad.
The sun was very bright, but its light was cold. Kyle wanted to
leave because the sunlight made his skin cold. He knew that
Chantress was mad at him because the other woman was there, but
Kyle didn't know how she had gotten there - he didn't know who she
was or where he was. Suddenly, a man dressed in army fatigues
walked up to them.

"Kyle! Look at yourself! You're
naked to the world now! How will you cover up?" the man said. His
face was dark by the shadow cast from his floppy-brimmed hat that
dripped beads of water. "What will become of you, now that everyone
can see you?"

Kyle looked down at his body and
saw he was naked. Chantress laughed at him, but the other woman
smiled at him seductively. He wanted to run away. He did run, and
then stopped and turned to look at Chantress. She was still
laughing and she was still close to him. He ran, but he went
nowhere. He moved behind the other woman holding on to her waist.
She moved like a snake in his hands - an evil smile broke across
her face. She was nude like him.

"You can't hide behind her, Kyle,"
the army man said. He lifted his hat and the sun lit his face. His
face was a dark tan, ruddy, unshaven. Kyle's jaw dropped. It was
the man he saw earlier in his dreams, who had appeared at the
restaurant and in his apartment.

"Kyle, you must stop what you are
doing. I'm telling you this because I'm your father - the father
you never knew. I'm telling you because I love you. You are my only
son and what you are doing is wrong. Please believe me," the man
explained.

The woman pulled away from Kyle and
headed towards Kyle's father. She grabbed him and thrust her hands
into his chest one at a time piercing the skin and entering the rib
cage. The man screamed in agony. The woman moved her hands around,
and then pulled them out holding his heart. The man collapsed. The
clump moved in the woman's hand. She turned and thrust it towards
Kyle.

"Now you won't have to worry about
him anymore. We have his heart!" she screamed her eyes fiery like
her hair.

Kyle recognized her - it was the
woman with the red ponytail from the cult.

"Nooooooooooo!" Kyle
screamed.

He ran along the beach not looking
back. Then he heard a loud ringing that stopped and started several
times. He opened his eyes and squinted at the bare bulb hanging in
the center of his bedroom. He reached over and grabbed the
receiver. He had kicked off his covers during the night and his
skin was cold.

"Hello," he said.

A fog seemed to swirl in his mind
and he had to make an effort to concentrate. His eyes would not
focus.

"Hermes," the man's voice said.
"There will be a special meeting in one hour. Make sure you're
there. You know where."

"What? Now?" Kyle
protested.

The dial tone blared. Kyle dropped
the phone back in its cradle and rubbed his eyes. He walked over to
a chest of drawers and searched for his watch among piles of dirty
socks, underwear and scraps of paper. He found it under one of his
socks. His eyes slowly focused on the dial - it was 3:04 a.m. He
walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped in.
Black mold had formed on the bottom of the curtain, but he hadn’t
noticed. The water grumbled on its way out of the showerhead as if
it didn't want to come out. It instantly covered his body with a
warm heat and washed away his drowsiness and the chill that had
penetrated to his bones. As he washed, he wondered why the Magus
would have a meeting at four in the morning. He dressed quickly and
left.

* * *

When he pulled up to the white
clapboard house, the street was filled with cars and he had to park
several houses away. The air was cool, but smelled stale, as if
there were a pollutant hanging in the air. Kyle knocked on the door
firmly. The woman with the red ponytail opened the door and smiled
her familiar seductive smile. Kyle stepped back.

"Come in, Hermes. What's the
matter? Did I scare you?" she said seductively with a slight
Southern accent.

"Oh, no. You just answered the door
so fast. I didn’t expect it to open right away," Kyle lied, the
nightmare replaying in his mind.

"Oh. Well come in. We have a lot to
talk about," she said smiling.

"Sure," Kyle said.

He hesitated and then entered the
foyer.

"In case the Magus never told you,
my name is Nidal," she beamed.

"Hi."

"Hi," she said and grabbed his arm.
Her touch made his groin tingle.

She led him down the steps to the
basement. Red candles were placed on each step instead of the usual
black ones. The room was also lit with red candles and Kyle could
see the anxious faces of the people standing there waiting for him
and Nidal. Their eyes sparkled in the dim light. Kyle had never
seen such a look. She led Kyle to a front row seat and stood in
front of the group. She took a deep breath.

"The Magus is dead. He has joined
our savior and we must choose another among the high priests.
According to the Book of Procurements we must cast secret ballots,"
Nidal told the group. "I will pass out the ballots. Please write
your vote down and hold it until we pass the opinion
box."

Nidal picked up a steno pad and a
pencil and handed it to a thin woman with stringy gray hair in the
first row. The woman wrote on the pad, then ripped off the page and
handled the pad and pencil to the person next to her. When they had
all written their votes, Nidal handed a cardboard box to the thin
woman. She stuffed her ballot in the slit in the top of the box,
and passed it to the next person. When the box was returned to
Nidal, she opened each ballot and read the names. Then she placed
the ballots in separate piles representing the three high priests.
At the end, she counted the number of votes in each pile out
loud.

"Hermes is the new Magus," she said
and bowed to him. The others applauded and chanted. Kyle felt a
rush of adrenaline speed through his body.

"Hermes! Hermes! Hermes!" the crowd
chanted.

Nidal took out a golden chalice out
of a box on the altar and emptied a hospital bag of human blood
into it.

"Tonight, we drink to Hermes, our
new Magus," she said holding up the chalice. She handed the cup to
Kyle and he looked at her intently. She nodded to him and he sipped
the cool blood. It tasted metallic and sour. He handed the cup back
to her and she sipped the blood, and then handed the cup to the
woman in the first row. After the chalice had reached everyone,
Nidal took it from the woman and handed it to Kyle.

"Raise it over your head, holding
it with both hands," she told him. Kyle obeyed. The small crowd
fell to their knees and bowed their heads in unison. Kyle looked
from person to person and soaked in the power that was flowing from
each one, the power that was forming in his head, the power he had
over these individuals. Nidal tapped Kyle on the arm and motioned
for him to lower the chalice.

"It is done. Hermes, you are our
new Magus. May you lead us true," she said to Kyle. The members
slowly stood to their feet and began to leave. As they left, some
patted Kyle on the arm, others shook his hand. All were silent.
After the last person ascended the stairway, Nidal
spoke.

"Congratulations," she said
smiling. "I'll fill you in on the details at my place. Follow me in
your car," she said her eyes on fire.

She turned and emptied the
remaining blood in the chalice into a utility sink near the washer
and dryer. Then she blew out the red candles one by one working her
way around the room toward the stairway. She grabbed hold of Kyle's
arm and walked with him up the stairway. She blew out candles as
she approached them casting darkness in her wake.

Kyle followed her gray BMW into a
dirt driveway that cut through a thickly wooded area. The bumpy,
forgotten driveway turned to gravel and led to a clearing. Set back
in the clearing was a small white Victorian house, lit only by the
lights from the cars. The once white house was faded with many
layers of paint chipped off revealing the naked wood beneath. Kyle
stepped out into the cool darkness and stood near the opened door
of his car. Tall blades of grass tickled his pants. Several wild
dogs howled in the distance, their ominous, haunting pain echoed
through the darkness.

"Is this your house?" Kyle
asked.

"No, I rent it. Come on in," she
said, switching on a small penlight attached to her key
chain.

"Why don't you leave a light on?"
Kyle asked.

"I do, but the bulbs keep burning
out and I forget to replace them," she explained.

She used the tiny flashlight to
illuminate the doorknob, stuck a brass key in, and turned. The door
opened with a swish and the two entered the house. She flipped a
switch and tiny table lamp with Tiffany shade came to life. All of
the furniture, the sofa, and the gents chair, were Victorian. The
gents chair had been re-upholstered with a blue and red floral
print. The room was neat and well kept. A faint trace of incense
filled the air and reminded Kyle of a flower shop. The room was
small, comfortable, and well decorated.

"Sit down. Would you like something
to drink?" she asked.

"A beer would be nice if you have
one."

"I think I have some."

She left and came back several
minutes later wearing only a smile. She handed him the beer and
there seemed to be a glow surrounding her.

Kyle stared at her taking in her
radiating beauty and innocent vulnerability. His eyes moved up and
down her slender, perfectly shaped body.

"Remember the last time we made
love...well that really wasn't part of the ceremony. I asked the
Magus if I could...I hope you didn't mind?"

"Oh no, not at all," Kyle said
gently pushing the aluminum tab on the can. The escaping air seemed
to interrupt the quiet mood of the moment. Nidal didn't
notice.

"Well, I had to have you from the
first time I saw you. I think you have the most beautiful
eyes..."

Kyle pulled her close to him and
placed his hands on her small, supple breasts. She unbuttoned his
shirt and helped him take off the rest of his clothes. She pushed
him down gently and crawled on top of him. Her long, silky red hair
fell into his face like flowing water. She reached her climax first
and then fell all over him like a limp doll after he reached his.
She drifted off to a peaceful sleep and Kyle lay there with his
eyes open staring at the ornate white ceiling. Maybe it was the
memory of the dream, maybe it was her position in the cult, he
thought. He was uncomfortable with the feeling. She awoke and
walked over to a stereo unit by the wall. There was a soft click.
Billy Joel's "In the Middle of the Night," filled the tiny room.
Even her music was dated.