Stalker

by Dave Dykema

  MELISSA: Do you have a religious background? Did you break away from another denomination?

  REV. STONE: Yes. My family in California is Baptist. I did a lot of the usual things: sang in the junior choir, attended Sunday school, went to youth groups. I think I was somewhat resentful of all that because I hated going. My parents had very strong beliefs and felt it was their duty to see that their son made it to Heaven.

  MELISSA: That doesn’t sound too bad. It’s better than them not caring about your afterlife, isn’t it?

  REV. STONE: But they could have been more moderate about it. Their fanaticism killed all hope of me following in their religious footsteps.

  MELISSA: How old were you when you left?

  REV. STONE: Eighteen or nineteen, I guess. Most others my age had broken away from church long before then, if they ever went to begin with. It took a lot of guts to stand up to my parents and refuse to go with them.

  MELISSA: Why’d you do it?

  REV. STONE: Typical youth rebellion. I was tired of being ordered around. My friends stayed out and partied on Saturday nights. I was always home early so I wouldn’t get too tired the next morning trying to hold my eyes open during the sermon.

  MELISSA: So then it had nothing to do with your current beliefs in the forces of crystals?

  REV. STONE: No. That came much later.

  MELISSA: How does your family feel about your beliefs now? They sound pretty strict and by the book.

  REV. STONE: I don’t really know. I haven’t talked to them in years, but I can’t imagine them being too enthused about any of this.

  MELISSA: I’m sorry. That must be tough on you. Did this fallout occur solely over religious issues?

  REV. STONE: That’s part of it. At the time I was a Satanist, but I think I practiced Satanism more to shock them than for my own personal benefits. They’ve never forgiven me.

  MELISSA: Satanism? That’s pretty shocking for a, shall I say, man of the cloth to admit to practicing...

  REV. STONE: Yes and no. The religion I preach doesn’t deal with deities and Gods. It’s more practical in its approach, almost elemental. The Satanism is just the pendulum swung all the way in the other direction. I settled on a place in the middle.

  MELISSA: We’ll get to that later. For now, why did you leave California?

  REV. STONE: I didn’t like the weather. Too hot.

  MELISSA: Why come here?

  REV. STONE: Because it’s far away from there. That’d be the only reason. There was no great guidance or plan. I was tired, and it looked like a good place to stop.

  MELISSA: How did you get started here? How was your message first spread?

  REV. STONE: Very slowly in the beginning, but I was always confident true believers would come to me. Some of my most faithful came out with me; my disciples you might say (laughs), and helped me spread the word.

  MELISSA: How many followers initially?

  REV. STONE: I don’t understand. In the very beginning or when I first came here?

  MELISSA: Both.

  REV. STONE: At first there was only me (laughs). Later a few friends hooked up with me, but it was so gradual. I would have never garnered enough attention to make the news (laughs again)! By the time I left California, about a hundred people were interested in what I had to say. Roughly a fifth of them came with me.

  MELISSA: How many do you have now?

  REV. STONE: About five hundred have come in the doors, and maybe one hundred have stayed. Those hundred are at different levels of training and instruction.

  MELISSA: One hundred. That doesn’t sound like a lot.

  REV. STONE: I’m a patient man. I can wait.

  MELISSA: What can you offer them?

  *3*

  Stone raised a hand. “I’m sorry, but I’m getting thirsty with all this talk.”

  He got up, stretching. Dan quickly rushed over to attend to the mic clipped to his tie.

  “Careful. We don’t want you to snag anything,” Dan said as he removed it.

  “I forgot that was on. I bet a lot of people get up and walk away with these things still attached to them.”

  “More than you’ll ever know,” Dan grimaced.

  “Would either of you care for some punch?” Stone asked as he poured himself a cup from a bowl in the corner.

  “No thanks,” Dan replied.

  “None for me either,” Melissa said, “but you sure love it. It’s always around. What’s in it?”

  “Secret recipe,” Stone answered, trying to be coy. He had gotten along so far under fire, although he had to lie a couple of times. There were about twice as many people with an active interest in him and his teachings than he said. And then there were the twenty or so people that met later in the back room behind the ropes that even Kim didn’t know about.

  “Ready to continue?” Melissa asked.

  He sat down. Dan clipped the mic back on.

  “Shoot.”

  *4*

  MELISSA: Where were we? Oh, yes. What is it that you offer your followers?

  REV. STONE: Strength. Guidance. Companionship in an ever increasingly complicated world.

  MELISSA: What can you give them that they can’t get on their own?

  REV. STONE: What do you mean?

  MELISSA: So far the things you’ve named can be found in a number of ways: through friends, lovers, mates, co-workers, neighbors... What can you offer them spiritually that they couldn’t find at the local church on the corner?

  REV. STONE: I know you’re asking me these questions pretending ignorance, playing the role of the common man on the street. Through your own experience you know that this is no ordinary church. It’s a collection of people who feel the same way about things. I provide a common roof over their heads so they can meet in safety and comfort.

  Before you ask if they couldn’t get this elsewhere meeting at someone’s home, let’s say: I don’t think so. I provide the answers to questions members might have, as well as establishing guidelines and exercises for them to perform.

  MELISSA: What do you ask of your followers in return?

  REV. STONE: Devotion only. Nothing monetary.

  MELISSA: How do you classify your religion as a “New Religion” different from the others?

  REV. STONE: First off, as I’ve said, it’s not really a religion, but a way of life. There is no deity that we pray to. We get our strength from within us, not from some omniscient corporal being floating about in the atmosphere.

  I believe conventional religion was created by man as a way to cope with his darkest fears and questions of the unknown. Who wants to die and have that be the end? It’s so final. Belief in an afterlife gave man hope for living during that otherwise hellish existence he was enduring. It was also handy for the early governments as a way of controlling their populations.

  We are stronger than that. We know that Earth is our mother, and our final home resides with her. If that is the end, so be it.

  MELISSA: So then there’s no afterlife for you or your followers?

  REV. STONE: That is an uncertainty. But even the most advanced scholars in any church can tell you that’s not a certainty. It’s a question of faith, and faith only.

  MELISSA: Explain what the crystals are supposed to do.

  REV. STONE: The crystals act as a conductor. Portions of our souls are constantly leaking out. You’ve heard of people who claim they can see auras around people? That is the soul permeating through our skin, like those infrared pictures of houses insulation companies like to use to show how much heat can escape. The crystal draws the soul back to its owner. Contact with the crystal gives its wearer strength and vigor.

  MELISSA: Most people might find that hard to believe. What do you say to them?

  REV. STONE: If they choose to disagree, that’s their business. I’d prefer them to believe, of course, but that would be in a perfect world, and as we all know, it is not, nor will it ever likely be.

  MELISSA: But doesn’t it bother you
that a sizeable portion of the audience disagrees with you? They probably think you’re an insane cult leader, placing you in the same category as Sun Myung Moon or Jim Jones...

  REV. STONE: I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. That’s part of the reason I consented to this interview: to get my point of view across.

  MELISSA: Do those who don’t believe you go to a type of Hell?

  REV. STONE: No.

  MELISSA: Do you consider yourself a modern prophet?

  REV. STONE: No. I’m just a man who teaches others what he believes.

  MELISSA: What type of person follows you?

  REV. STONE: All kinds, from every walk of life. My philosophy doesn’t exclude anyone. Like-minded people see that, and come to me. Members include a schoolteacher, two lawyers, a doctor, several college students, and many other professionals.

  MELISSA: How do their families react?

  REV. STONE: You’d have to ask their families that. I don’t know.

  MELISSA: Ever had anybody try to forcibly take a relative or friend from the church?

  REV. STONE: That type of thing happens with the Moonies, not here. Everyone is happy. Nobody is forced to do anything they’re not comfortable with.

  MELISSA: What about the stories I’ve heard that some people that go through your program are changed along the way. Are they true?

  REV. STONE: Where did you hear that?

  MELISSA: Never mind that. Is it true?

  REV. STONE: I’ll choose to look at your question in a positive light, though I’m offended that you would ask it in such a way.

  The people that come in are confused, seeking answers to universal questions. I show them how to unlock the potential within themselves, enabling them to accomplish great things. If that’s what you mean, I suppose people do change from how they were before, but it’s a change for the better.

  MELISSA: Why the long training sessions? Why the hierarchy?

  REV. STONE: Every large group must have some sort of organization. Without it, we’d be lost. The long training sessions are no different from any other church’s catechistic training. The process in itself is self-sorting, weeding out those who aren’t truly interested before they commit.

  MELISSA: What does total commitment mean?

  REV. STONE: That is a very personal step, and one I’m not going to share with your viewers. To be appreciated, it must be experienced.

  MELISSA: Sounds almost like some sort of hazing or pledging ritual...

  REV. STONE: I assure you, it’s nothing like that.

  MELISSA: What’s in the punch? Any influencing drugs?

  REV. STONE: Melissa! I can’t believe it!

  MELISSA: It’s always out. Why?

  REV. STONE: It’s called refreshments.

  MELISSA: Why is there a rope in front of one of the doors? What’s behind it?

  REV. STONE: Melissa, I’m afraid your last few questions are going beyond the subject matter we agreed upon.

  MELISSA: What’s a few curveballs? I’m only trying to play the devil’s advocate, asking you what the public wants to know. I thought you’d rather hear it from me than them.

  REV. STONE: They’re inappropriate, that’s what. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.

  MELISSA: Are you serious?

  REV. STONE: Yes. Please leave. Now.

  *5*

  Stone stood out in the parking lot until they left. After locking the entrance, he quickly hurried back to his office, where he shut the door behind him and locked it too. He was glad he had sent Cambridge on his way—solitude was foremost on Stone’s mind.

  He reached inside his shirt and pulled out his crystal, twirling like a ballerina on its chain. He cupped it in his hands and shut his eyes, closing himself off from the outside world, concentrating on feeling the strength surging through the crystalline veins and arteries of the stone. A natural pulse was inside the gem, but he couldn’t feel it.

  He instinctively started to head for his urn, but then realized he had emptied it as a precaution before the interview. He felt weak. The power of the stone simply wasn’t enough. He needed the blood.

  For a brief moment he started to panic. Now was not the time for another sacrifice. He thought he could go longer without recharging his energies, but the interview had gone badly. His heart was palpitating and his breath was short, passing over his dry lips in audible husks. His eyes darted wildly about, seeking an alternative. They fell on the punch bowl.

  He let out a gasp of relief as he rushed to the bowl, dipping his crystal under the liquid. Though it was diluted, there still might be enough blood in the punch to do the job. The seconds he left it submerged seemed like eons until he could wait no longer and pulled it out, clasping it tightly next to his heart. He didn’t mind that sticky red fruit juice dribbled down his suit, staining it badly. He had plenty of suits, and cleanliness was the last thing on his mind.

  Besides, he had already made a mess of things when he bellowed at Dan and Melissa to get off his property. They were in the parking lot trying to tape some B-roll.

  Melissa tried to smooth the situation. “We’re really sorry if we offended you. Please understand that I was only trying to do my job. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You can consider yourself stripped of your novitiate ranking,” he said, turning on Melissa, red-faced. “I never want to see you again, you backstabbing bitch!”

  He regretted pursuing them and his choice of words. No doubt the young man caught it all on tape and soon the whole town would be privy to his act of rage. It was not the impression he wanted to parlay when he agreed to the interview. His goal was to come across as a man of strength, intellect, and caring. He laid bare more of his soul than he meant to because he felt it would help Melissa see him favorably. And it was very necessary for her to see him that way. A negative report might bring a flood of media interest. He wasn’t naïve to the fact that the only reason she was around was to get her story.

  At least he had managed to keep certain things from her. His delving into Satanism had a stronger influence than he let on. He never truly believed in Lucifer and eternal damnation, but the power and the ritual enraptured him. He was heavily into it when he first heard of the power of the crystals. He tried to follow that train of thinking for a while, but its peaceful message conflicted too much with rituals he had already participated in and enjoyed. Rejecting both, he fused the Old World Satanic rituals with New Age philosophies, and came up with his own agenda: a New Order for a New Age.

  But now Melissa knew of the violence that he was capable of. She would try to delve into his background, he knew, but suspected she wouldn’t find much. California was all she had to go on, and he didn’t think her feature merited that kind of research. This was, after all, a feature to be shown once and then forgotten on a local station, not a 60 Minutes exposé. Still, the thought caused him some concern, and he began to think of ways to handle her if the need arose.

  *6*

  They were at Dan’s apartment, relaxing after work.

  “Do you think we could’ve gotten more out of him?” asked Mel.

  “I don’t think so. He wasn’t about to put up with your line of questioning.”

  Melissa looked down at her shoes. “I suppose you’re right. I should be glad I got him to speak at all.”

  “Don’t you think your piece will still be good?”

  She drew lines in the carpet with her feet. “It won’t be the story I set out to do.”

  “We’ve got tons of good shit, and there’s all the stuff from the other churches. I admit the interview with Stone was disappointing. What about talking to Kim?”

  “She doesn’t know much.”

  “Then it’s over.”

  “Is it?” Mel wondered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s hiding something.”

  “That much is obvious.”

  “But there’s more. There’s something about him, Dan. Something evil. Couldn’t you
feel it when you were with him?”

  “You know I never liked him.”

  She desperately wanted him to feel the urgency in her statement. She wanted him to experience the moment of fear she felt when Stone called her a “backstabbing bitch.” For once he let his guard down, his cool façade cracking, hinting at the true persona beneath—a seething demeanor burning with rage and hatred.

  “When he was threatening us, waving his fists, throwing us off his property…I’ve never seen him like that before. It was eerie.”

  “He’s always in control isn’t he? You must have touched a nerve.”

  She looked off, not answering. He wondered what she was thinking about. Weeks of legwork were over, the footage shot—the hard part was over. What remained was the shifting through facts, sorting out continuity, and writing a narrative. To some that was the most challenging part, but Melissa breezed easily through the closing moments before putting a project to bed.

  Dan saw she was looking at his Stalker poster. When that revelation came out earlier in the day, he felt like he was caught with his pants down. He felt embarrassed, humiliated, afraid, and ashamed. They hadn’t talked about it all day. He assumed she was thinking about him and stalkers.

  That kind of thing is nothing new to anyone on television. Letters to anchors and reporters at a local station often fluttered in, revealing threats or obsessive love when opened. Sometimes the writer offered gifts, from something as seemingly innocent as a new scarf or tie to vacation getaways for two. Dan remembered one anchor that was always getting letters written in crayon on a monthly basis from someone who wanted to “Cut her hair,” whatever that meant. The implications were chilling.

  Melissa was still fairly new in town, but that hadn’t stopped her from receiving her share of odd fan mail. It was easy to laugh off and dismiss, but Mel didn’t like to walk to her car alone when leaving the building in fear of people who might approach her. Nine out of ten times the solicitor had nothing but kind words—but who knows what the tenth person might do? Everyone who works in TV receives death threats. The practice is more commonplace than most people might think.