Unspeakable Secrets of the Aro Valley

by Danyl McLauchlan

  Stasia trailed off. She stared into space, adrift in the immensity of her loss. Danyl reached across the table, speared one of her beetroot with his fork and ate it. She did not notice. He cleared his throat. ‘What did the letter say?’

  She started and gave a shy smile. ‘It said— No.’ She closed her eyes and set her jaw. ‘I cannot tell you. I will not make same mistake again.’

  ‘What mistake? Does this have something to do with Campbell?’

  ‘You are clever, Mister Danyl,’ Stasia replied. ‘You see many things. The letter contained secrets. Secrets that common people like yourself should never know. This is all I can reveal. But it was the secret wisdom in the letter from the starets that bought me here, to Aro Valley. There is something I must do here. Something important. I can tell you this one thing.’ She reached across the table and touched his hand. ‘The final thing the letter said was that when I arrived in Te Aro a man would help me—but that this man is lost in darkness, and that I must first help him. So after long journey I am come to this valley. I have no friend. No money. I know no one. All I have with me is my gift. So I eat little. I sleep in park under trees. I walk. I think. I ponder why fate has bought me to this strange place.

  ‘One evening, a year ago, on summer night like this, I find old abandoned road at end of Aro Park. I follow it and soon I hear sobbing sound through trees. I come to clearing and find it is man crying. He wears strange green surgical smock, like doctors who tormented my grandmother, and he sits beneath tree with head in his hands, tears streaming down his face.

  ‘I sit beside this man and ask him why he cries. He tells me that he is the Campbell Walker, and that he had a dream, a great plan called DoorWay Project, but that two men, one of them called ‘Bard’, betrayed him, and this dream was destroyed. Now he has nothing left to live for.

  ‘I tell this sad, ugly man that I am a healer and that I will cure his sadness. He replies with mockery and speaks many cruel things—but I do not heed them. Instead, when he is finished I place my hands on his head and abandon myself to the power of the gift. I feel that this man, this Campbell, is melancholy, that his life is cast in shadows. I have seen this before. Sometimes the soul is dolorous, other times there is an imbalance of neurotransmitters cause clinical depression. My gift can heal this malady, so I let it pour into the Campbell Walker. But as I heal him I sense something strange inside him—something alien, something I have never felt before. But then it is gone, and the Campbell cries out and falls into a deep sleep. I leave him lying on carpet of leaves, a smile of peace on his ugly face, and continue on my way.

  ‘The next evening I walk along this same abandoned road. I am lost in thought, thinking about the starets and the terrible task he laid upon me and wondering how I can hope to achieve it. When I reach the clearing the Campbell Walker is waiting for me. He tells me he is cured, and I am glad. But then he says he is in love with me. He falls to his knees and begs me to go with him and live with him in his great concrete fortress.

  ‘I refuse. I have no time for boys—I must dedicate myself to task set by starets—so I continue along path. The Campbell follows me. He tells me he is rich, that he will give me reward. I tell him my gift is not for sale. He offers me money, a house, anything I want. I grow angry and tell him I will only listen to him again if he needs to be healed. But still he follows me, down the path, through the park, along the streets. Finally I turn on him. I threaten to take back my gift, give him back his sadness and leave him sobbing, despairing, lost in shadows, and he is afraid by this, and at last he leaves me.

  ‘The next evening I walk back along the abandoned path again, still preoccupied with my troubles, and as I near the clearing I hear voices. I steal through the trees, and I come across the Campbell Walker. But he is not alone. A man stands beside him, bent with age, with tangled white hair and a cane. The man whispers to Campbell, who attends his every word. I cannot hear what he says, but something about this old man fills me with fear, and I slip away.

  ‘That night I cannot sleep, for I am overcome with shame for my failure to carry out the duties laid upon me by the starets. Then, as dawn touches the sky, I feel his presence, and peace finds me. I know that a great change is coming and that my time is nigh. I spend all day walking the streets of the valley, waiting for a sign. But night comes and I am still no nearer to my goal. I find myself walking down the path through the trees, and once again the Campbell Walker awaits me.

  ‘But he is changed. He no longer wears his green doctor gown. Now he is clad in a heavy black robe with hood over his face. When he sees me he smiles. He does not say word, but takes a long silver knife from the pocket of his robe. I see blade gleam in moonlight, then he closes his other hand around it and slices open his own palm. Cut is deep, through radial artery. The Campbell holds up hand while blood pumps from wound, and tells me that now he is in need of healing, so I must heed his words. I walk towards him, determined to stop this madness—but he holds blade of knife to his own throat and gives me horrible, inviting grin. I have no choice. I must stay and hear his story. He bids me sit and begins.

  ‘The last night, after I spurned him, he said, he walked the streets of the Aro Valley lost in thought. In the dead hours after midnight he found himself back on the path through the trees, and he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see a person approaching, a man walking with a cane, a hat low over his head. He calls to Campbell by name, and he speaks in a voice that fills Campbell with dread. He wants to run, to flee from this terrible old man, but something makes him stay and listen.

  ‘The old man spoke to him for many hours, Campbell told me, and he did not have enough blood in his veins to take time to repeat everything the old man said. But his final message was this. Campbell must do good. He must atone for past sins and repent of his earlier plans for greatness. He must give something back to the world. And he has decided to start with me.

  ‘At this I interrupt and plead for Campbell to let me heal hand. He has lost too much blood—his face is pale and he weave back and forth on feet; like glass of wine on edge of unbalance table nudge by dog. But still the Campbell refuse.

  ‘He has a request to make of me first. As first part of new, virtuous life, he wishes to establish healing centre in Aro Valley. He has bought building for this, an old doctors’ clinic, and I can live and work there. In this way the people of the valley will be healed and I can bestow my gift upon them. To live like this is my dream but still I am reluctant. I sense there is something odd about the Campbell Walker and his story of the mysterious old man. I promise to consider his request and I beg him to let me heal hand, but still he refuse. He must have answer now, he whispers, his voice faint as life drains from him. And then he says, “Were you not promised that a man lost in darkness would help you on your journey?”

  ‘I remember the words of the starets in the letter he sent to me, and I see that the face of the Campbell Walker is blue. I feel I have no choice. I accept his offer. He held out his bloody hand and I took it and gave to him my gift. Again.’

  Danyl said, ‘So Campbell owns the EZ Wellness Heal U Centre?’

  ‘Don’t speak.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Danyl knocked back the dregs of his green tea in rainwater and listened.

  ‘Campbell took me to clinic once owned by pothead doctor. He explain that he will organise business and deal with regulation and tax issues. I move in straight away, and soon sick and wounded are come to me and I heal them. This is very happy time in my life, so happy that I concentrate on my work and to my shame I neglect the mission entrusted to me by the starets.

  ‘But even in my happiness some things trouble me. When I meet Campbell he is alone in giant tower in fortified compound. But soon he draws followers. They live with him and wear black robes. He tells me that they are serving mankind but this I am not believing.

  ‘Then he builds hidden pathway between his tower building and my healing centre,
and installs security cameras in my building. He says this is for my safety. But sometimes I see his followers in their black robes walking along secret path. Other times I think they follow my patients when they leave. Why would they do this? I do not know. But Campbell is good to me, so I ignore my suspicions.

  ‘Then, early morning two days ago, everything change. That is the morning you came to me with mild injury to left ankle. I take you into Wellness Chamber but before I can heal, Campbell knock on chamber door.’

  ‘I knew it.’ Danyl picked up his knife and made a gutting motion with it. ‘Campbell was the voice in the hall. He told you to get rid of me. He must have seen me on the camera.’

  ‘Don’t speak. Yes. He say I must not help you, that you are traitor who betray him. I protest. I tell him you are slightly hurt and I must heal. But Campbell reminds me that he owns clinic and orders me to expel you because you are evil, dangerous man.’

  ‘Evil? Hardly. Dangerous?’ Danyl gave a crooked smile ‘Maybe a little.’

  ‘I must obey the Campbell’s commands,’ Stasia said. ‘I banish you from Centre. But not to heal you is a sin, so after I leave I tell Campbell I will heal you outside Wellness Centre, where he has no power over me. This sends him into terrible rage, but I must do what is right. I find you on street and give to you note—but while I am gone the Campbell Walker commits terrible crime. He violates my Wellness Chamber and steals from me my most precious possession.’

  ‘Possession?’

  ‘The letter from the starets.’ Tears assembled amidst the vastness of Stasia’s eyes. ‘This letter is filled with wisdom, with secrets that mundane humans like Campbell and yourself should never even glimpse. Because it is so precious to me I hide it in small silver jewellery box concealed in desk in Wellness Chamber—but somehow Campbell found it and stole it. The next day he comes to me and warns me that if I heal your ankle I will never see letter from the starets again.

  ‘My rage is terrible. We have argument in reception area of Wellness Centre, and then, in my fury, I do something I have never before done. Something the starets warned me not to do. My memory of this thing fills me with great shame.’

  ‘What? What?’

  Stasia said in a trembling voice, ‘I took back my gift from Campbell. As I do this he screams in agony. The wound in his hand, healed for a whole year, opens up before my eyes, and blood soaks cheap acrylic carpet of Wellness Centre. And the depression, the darkness, that hung about the Campbell before I healed him returned with full force. I saw his eyes fill with shadows, and he stumbled from Wellness Centre, bawling, and ran towards park. I knew he was returning to clearing on path where I found him one year earlier.

  ‘I instantly regret my rash deed. But then I remember the letter from starets and remind myself to be strong. I will give the Campbell one day of misery, I decide, then offer to heal him in exchange for return of letter and genuine apology. But something happen to Campbell in that clearing, something I do not understand. Somehow he vanquished his depression. He returns to his tower and does not reply to my texts or emails. I have no power over him—no way to regain letter from the starets. This, then, Danyl, is your secret task.’

  Stasia reached across the table and took Danyl’s hand again. Her touch was warm: the gentle heat radiated up his arm. ‘You have lived in the tower. You know the passages through the darkness. You must penetrate and make your way to his chambers high atop it and rescue for me my letter from the Campbell Walker. Will you do this?’

  Danyl had seen this coming, and he shook his head. ‘I don’t—’

  Stasia raised her hand, holding up an index finger, and leaned forward. Her silk shirt yawned open, giving him visibility of eighty per cent of her unconstrained breasts including the upper sectors of her aureoles.

  Danyl swallowed. ‘That is, I—’

  Stasia leaned further forward and kissed him, her tongue pressing against his lips. Danyl’s penis responded instantly and there was a dull roaring in his ears as blood pounded through his circulatory system with staggering speed and force. Her tongue was inside his mouth now. He closed his eyes, head spinning, waves of lust beating down on him. Then it was over.

  She sat back and smiled at him across the table, and said, ‘I know that you will do this brave thing for me. I will be so very grateful.’

  ‘Grateful?’

  ‘Very,’ she assured him. ‘It is decided. You must go tonight. Now!’

  18

  Biology vs will

  Danyl stood at the urinal, desperate to relieve himself but thwarted by his erection. His mind raced. The task! The kiss! He needed to stop, think things through, process all this new information. But he was too distracted to urinate, let alone reason.

  He wasn’t going to raid Campbell’s tower tonight. How could he, when his only pair of dry pants fell down around his ankles when he wasn’t holding them up? He had made this clear to Stasia, explaining that logistical problems prevented him from undertaking any dangerous quests for another twenty-four hours. He had bought himself some time.

  A man entered the bathroom and stood beside Danyl, glanced down at Danyl’s engorged penis and shuffled to the far side of the platform.

  Danyl coughed. Awkward. He shifted on his feet. The man began to pee while Danyl stood, still visibly aroused, holding his penis in his hand.

  Very awkward. Should he say something to the man? Apologise? God no, that would just make it worse. He coughed again and glanced at the man, who was looking straight at Danyl.

  The man was in his mid-fifties, tall and bald with a neat red beard. Danyl had seen him in the restaurant, sitting alone at a distant table. He gave him a weak smile and rocked back and forward on his feet. The man’s eyes flicked from Danyl’s face to his crotch and back, and then he turned his attention to his own affairs.

  Danyl forgot about the man and concentrated on his bladder. Come on! It was bursting, but the ancient—and no doubt practical—internal systems preventing urination while erect were unyielding. He needed to distract himself, to think about something other than Stasia’s mouth, her ardent tongue, her buttocks, which were small but round with a distinct— No! He pounded the wall in frustration and the man at the other end flinched. Danyl said, ‘Sorry.’ The man did not reply.

  Danyl took a breath and closed his eyes. Distraction. Think about something else. Something deflating. Painful. Humiliating. He cast his mind back to that morning: the SSS attack, when he lay prone on the ground, whimpering, surrounded by black-robed nerds jeering and raining blows upon him. Yes, it was definitely working. His penis began to wilt. His mind drifted to thoughts of Campbell’s fortress, a dark labyrinth teeming with SSS cultists. And Stasia wanted him to break into it. Madness! Even with the secret path getting him past the wall and into the rear courtyard, Danyl brooded, his penis drooping further, the only way up from the basement was via the elevator—a slow, noisy, rickety steel cage, that opened onto the foyer of each floor, where he would be clearly visible to any SSS goons who glanced his way. And even if he made it past them—up one of the two stairways running up the opposite sides of the building, say—he could never enter Campbell’s inner lair, a penthouse apartment on the top floor, the entrance to which could only be unlocked by a special white key that Campbell kept with him at all times. No, he concluded glumly, it didn’t matter if Stasia was willing to be grateful or even very grateful—his mind skipped over the sensual delights hinted at by the word ‘very’—the secret task was impossible.

  And with that realisation the mysterious seal deep within his loins opened, and urine the colour of sunlight sprayed forth, splashing and dancing across the stainless steel trough. Yes! He fought his urge to sing ‘The Danyl Song’—it would only frighten the man at the end of the urinal. Instead he sighed and took simple pleasure in the act of relief.

  Afterwards he washed his hands and examined his face in the bathroom mirror. Ugh. He was unsha
ven and sallow, his face bruised and swollen. There were ugly cuts on his lips and eyebrows. No wonder Pearl had been afraid of him.

  Yet Stasia kissed him.

  Strange, now that he thought about it. Why was she attracted to him? She could have any man she wanted, yet here she was, dining with him, throwing herself at him across the table. Why?

  He dried his hands with a disposable towel.

  The answer was simple. She was manipulating him. He saw that now. Beguiling him into doing her bidding. Well, maybe a girl like that was worth a little casual manipulation. But he had to be prudent: he had to think. For all her talk, all her revelations, he still knew very little about Stasia. How did she heal him? Why did she come to the valley? What was the secret task her imprisoned starets entrusted to her? And what was in the campervan hidden in the darkness beneath Campbell’s tower? Stasia knew, obviously, but she had talked her way around the question. ‘Some secrets are best left secret.’

  Well, Danyl resolved, we’ll see about that. He screwed up the paper towel, slowly and with determination. Her plan for him to break into Campbell’s apartment was impossible—but he didn’t have to refuse her outright. So long as she thought he would do her bidding she would be grateful, pliant. When he returned to the table he would probe her for information. The manipulator would become the manipulated.

  He walked back to the dining area, keeping his hands in his pockets to prevent his stolen, over-sized trousers from falling down, and mentally rehearsed his interrogation. What questions should he ask? How should he react if Stasia tried to distract him again? What if she kissed him a second time, or even invited him back to her bed? Problematic. He would sleep with her if necessary, he decided, but his primary goal was intelligence-gathering.

  He quickened his pace, eager to begin his mission, but when he returned to the candlelit garden, Stasia was gone.