Modern Rituals (21 page)

“Let’s not go that far,” Olivia said.

“Kidding,” James said. “Okay, well I guess that’s a plan of sorts—a shitty plan, but a plan nonetheless.”

“Got any better ideas?” Olivia said.

“Nope!” James said.

“What was that?” Olivia said, spinning around.

Silence.

“What did you—” A menacing series of scratches interrupted him from behind them.

“Shhhh,” James said.

The scratches amplified into squeaks and tears. A hint of smoked wood wafted by James reminding him of a lumber mill. James and Olivia leapt to their feet.

“Is that a bear?” James said, hushed.

Colette frowned. Keto folded his hands and watched James.
 

Olivia’s eyes, wide and terrified, followed the sound. She crouched in preparation to run.

“What are you two doing?” Colette said.

“Shhhh! Can’t you hear that? It’s getting louder! We need to get out of here,” James said.

James hesitated, awaiting Keto and Colette’s reaction.
 

“Are we doing it again?” James said.

“Yup,” Colette said.

“You can’t hear it?” Olivia said.

“Nope,” Colette said.

“Fuck me…” James said.

The tearing sound shrank away into a tenuous tapping and then was gone.

“Can you still hear it?” James said to Olivia.

“No,” she said. “But it came from over there. Let’s go check it out.”

Keto stood and helped Colette to her feet. James led them to the noise’s source and discovered a gargantuan oak tree. Its trunk flared beyond James’ outstretched arms and its thick roots clawed their way into the earth like serpents.
 

“Big tree. Wasn’t expecting this,” James said. While James wasn’t a tree expert, he guessed this tree belonged in a fairytale rather than here: it stood out starkly amongst its tall, thin brethren—birches or the like, James thought.

A layer of fog poured into the woods, rising to their ankles. It licked their legs as they walked around the tree to looking for the source of the noise. James and Olivia split, moving in opposite directions around the trunk. They met again—having traversed the tree’s circumference between them—in front of a message carved into the tree’s bark.

“Another?” James said.

Colette and Keto watched from a few yards behind them—they seemed to be getting used to not being invited to the party.

“What does it say?” Colette said.

James and Olivia studied the message and did not answer her.

“Hello? Guys? What are you looking at?” Colette said.

The tree bled glowing violet sap where the letters lay etched in frayed bark.
 

JAMES AND OLIVIA

SEEK TREVOR

SEEK THE GYM

COUNCIL THE STATUES

MAKE HASTE

“Our names…” James said.

“Are written here,” Olivia said.

“What does it say?” Colette said.

“Sorry—we need to find Trevor and go to the gym. Now,” James said.

“You sure we can trust this?” Colette said.

“You have any other ideas?” Olivia said.

“No…” Colette said, sighing.

“Whatever happens, we need to stick together. Got that?” James said.

They nodded.

James retraced their steps, returning to the initial path, and followed it back. He found it difficult to shake the overwhelming hopelessness around the situation, though having a goal eased his despair. Olivia, however, walked with a spark in her step that reassured him.

She sure seems collected for being in such shit circumstances.

They exited the forest and came into a clearing that butted against a large set of basketball courts. James squinted.

“Is that someone over there?” he said.

Olivia stood next to him.

“I think that’s Trevor,” she said. “What’s he doing?”

A Trevor-ish shape crouched near the high fence encompassing the courts. Olivia ran to the basketball courts. The Trevor-shape looked at the group and jumped to his feet. He waved his arms in wide arcs, almost taking flight.
 

“Help! Over here! Help!”

“He’s in trouble!” Colette said.

They ran faster. Colette was first to arrive. She gasped and covered her mouth.

“Oh, God!” she said. “What happened?”

Tomas’ headless body lay on the ground near the fence, blood leeching into a drain of some sort. Trevor stood over him.
 

“Trevor, are you all right?” James said.

“Yeah, thanks. I just found him like this,” Trevor said.

Olivia made her way to the nearest entrance and stepped onto the court. She examined Tomas’ body, then walked to Tomas’ decapitated head.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Colette said then fell to her knees and dry heaved. Keto rubbed her back and put an arm around her shoulder.

“This is an extremely clean cut. I’ve seen beheadings before while on a training tour in the Middle East. They were nothing like this. There are generally signs of tearing, since most are performed with a large knife,” Olivia said, almost to herself. “This is perfectly clean.”
 

Colette gagged then dry heaved again.

“Olivia—save the details,” James said. “Keto, can you take Colette over there?”
 

Keto nodded and led Colette away.
 

“Thanks,” James said. “Trevor, where were you?”
 

Trevor shrugged.

“I lost my cool, man. When that girl appeared—I…I dunno what happened. I guess I just ran. Next thing I know, I’m back in that classroom…the safe place. I waited there a bit and realized you all weren’t coming. Then I panicked again, kicking myself for not staying to help. When I went back to the roof, you all were gone, girl included. Then I just wandered around—” Trevor said.

“Did you see Horace?” James said.

“No, why?”
 

“He fell. Colette said it was pretty bad,” James said.

“Did you see his body?” Trevor said.

“No and we don’t have time to check right now,” James said. “We received another message.”

“A what?” Trevor said lifting his eyebrows.

“Wish we could explain it,” James said. “Can’t. It said we needed to find you and that we should head to the gym.”

The ground softened beneath Trevor’s feet and he caught himself, realizing it was instead his knees that had lost their strength.

“Find me? The message mentioned me? Really?” Trevor said, gritting his teeth.

“Yeah, and me and Olivia,” James said, cooly observing Trevor. “It’s gotta be someone trying to help us. Maybe lead us to these statues—they’re the key to this.”

Olivia paused her medical examination and glanced at Trevor.

“We figure they’re related to the girl,” she said. “Maybe they can help us stop her.”

“Really? That’s great! A bit of a leap—but great,” Trevor said, feigning surprise.

Quite the conclusion—well done. But what the hell is going on? Where are these messages coming from?’

“How did you receive the message?” Trevor said.

“It was carved into an old oak tree. Had the same look and feel as the rest,” James said.

“Oak tree? Huh,” Trevor said. Facility 7 possessed no oak trees.
 

“Hey! Tomas had the flashlight on him,” Olivia said.

“He did?” Trevor said

That bastard would have caved my head in, had I let him.

“When did he get the flashlight…?”James said. “Whatever. Man—not to speak ill of the dead, but he creeped me out.”

“I don’t think you are alone there,” Olivia said.

“All right, let’s go,” James said. “Keto! Colette! Come on—we’re getting the hell out of Dodge.”

4

Trevor had done it.

Susan began clapping, and others joined in, though unenthusiastically.

Theo’s shoulders melted. His neck softened. An unbearable weight lifted from his body.

Minimum requirement met. All we need is one more—two, tops—for 100% fulfillment.

“Show’s not over, everyone. Yes, our averages just stabilized, but there’s still the risk that this won’t satisfy Amida. Our focus should be the Succubus and the final Fool. Susan, where are we with hormones?” Theo said.

“We’ve been pushing them hard, sir,” she said. “Any more will most likely cause suspicion.”
 

“This ritual’s signature is irregular as it is,” Theo said. “I doubt an increase in hormonal activity will cause any problems. Get the MINIMITE rolling—jack up all their dopamine and gender-related hormones. Oh, and give the Succubus a massive dose of luteinizing hormone—Amida was always one for a peep show, the sick bastard.”

“Yes, sir—hormones are increasing as we speak,” Susan said.

Theo sunk into his chair and rested his chin on his hands. Perhaps his fears were unfounded—maybe they would pull it out. Having achieved the minimum sacrifices, the ritual stood at a solid 97.543% success rate—it would remain there, locked tight—and every additional sacrifice nudged it roughly one more percent. This was good. Very good. Hours hung on the clock—not mere minutes. Trevor had entered the ritual without disturbing the blood. As far as Amida was concerned, this ritual was taking place in a younger Japan and was playing out as he preferred.
 

Theo sighed. The escape of air drowned out all the taps and shifts and idiosyncratic hubbub within the room—when the last molecule of carbon dioxide left his lungs, however, the sound continued. As serendipity would have it, his exhale had synchronized with the opening of Purgatory 8’s door.

Holmes stormed into the room, displaying a fresh gusto new to Theo. His retinue was equally unfamiliar. Three guards dressed in black fatigues, each decorated with a red star on one shoulder, followed Holmes in a crisp line, their steps coordinated, their faces grim. General Holmes stopped before the command desk and signaled the three guards to surround Theo.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Theo said.

“Theo Watson, you are under arrest for the attempt to sabotage ritual 429A,” General Holmes said. “You are hereby ordered to remain within Una Corda detention pending a final verdict.”
 

Theo stared, dumbfounded. He mustered precisely two blinks before saying, “Are you out of your mind? That’s the ritual taking place now—it hasn’t reached completion! How can you arrest me?”

“I’m taking over the operation from here,” Holmes said, turning to his companions. “Remove Theo Watson from Purgatory 8 and place him within a holding cell until further notice.”

“This is ridiculous. On what grounds?” Theo said as the three guards pulled him to his feet and tied his hands. “Show me the evidence!”
 

“You’ll see the evidence soon enough,” Holmes said waving the guards away.

“Holmes, you vengeful bastard! This is about Trevor isn’t it? You got nothing on me! Nothing!” Theo said.

You are going to regret this. If not for the ritual failing, then for my wrath.

“Careful Theo, you wouldn’t want to say anything you’d regret,” Holmes said.

The guards looped their arms underneath Theo’s and proceeded to carry him from his desk. Theo didn’t resist nor did he get up—they dragged him several feet.

“This is bullshit! The executive minister will hear of this,” Theo said.

“Do what you will. I have all the grounds I require. Remove him,” Holmes said.

The guards drug Theo past Susan’s desk. She stared at him, eyes wide with shock and dismay, mouth agape. He looked around and saw the same expression on every face.
 

Theo closed his eyes.

Think.

From Purgatory 8’s open doors, just before he was out of earshot, Theo said, “Tim, Schrödinger’s cat is dead.” Tim glanced around as though unsure the message was meant for him. He opened his mouth to reply when Holmes interrupted.

“Enough of this nonsense,” he said, then to the guards: “Take Tim and interrogate him.”

Sorry, Tim.

Susan, on the other hand, had heard Theo loud and clear. She placed her right hand under her desk and pressed a minuscule, red button. It clicked into a depressed state. Next to it a tiny LED blinked.

A tedious twenty minutes lumbered by and Theo’s heels slid idly across the ground, and the guards huffed, sweat staining their tight shirts. He decided he’d give them a break, and pushed himself to his feet. He heard a sigh of relief from one of the guards.
 

“I’m not that heavy fellas—what gives?” Theo said. “Aren’t you supposed to be stronger than the best SWAT or SEAL?”

The men ignored Theo’s remark, though one guard shot him a spiteful glare.

“There’s some spirit!” Theo said. “Are we almost there? You must be tired. I feel sorry for you, I really do.”

One guard muttered a vulgarity under his breath.

“What was that?” Theo said. “And here I thought me
walking
was a kind gesture. No respect!” Theo said

“Sir, you know better than anyone that we are following orders,” the guard said.

“Ah, yes, I suppose you are. But have you asked yourselves whether those orders are correct and just?”
 

“Not for us to decide,” the other guard said. “Now stay quiet.”
 

“If there’s an act that I am incapable of performing, it is staying quiet,” Theo said.

The guards sighed in unison.

Theo continued to verbally aggravate the guards as he thought through his plan of attack.

I’ve got one or two hours before the marshal interrogates me—hopefully less. They will then notify the executive minister, whom I can hopefully persuade to release me. Shit—what evidence does Holmes have against me? I need to prepare myself for either being framed or charged with something inconclusive. Worst case, I’m stuck in detention for the next few days, and that won’t do. There’s got to be a way out—I need to get back to the ritual before it ends—Holmes has no idea what he’s up against.

The light filtered from the hallways as they neared the detention center—a tactic to numb prisoners’ sense of direction, as if the confusing matrix of myriad passages and tunnels in Una Corda weren’t enough. Theo watched the light overhead diminish in a slow cadence, replaced by dim floor beacons that lined the edges of the hallway. Soon, these beacons administered the only light, like dashed “cut here” lines or airport runway guides, stretching into the distance, outlines to an infinite hallway. Vertigo beset Theo. His feet vanished from under him, his body became a blob swimming in a channel of dots. Darkness enclosed him.