The Doomsday Men

by J. B. Priestley

  He now looked across at the members, of whom there might have been about a hundred. There were both men and women, but not far more women than men, as he had expected to find; and he soon noticed that there were hardly any young people there. They were nearly all middle-aged or elderly, and a hard-faced lot, many of them with a strong weather-beaten look, not like city folks. But it was not easy to see most of their faces in that light. The ones he could see he did not much care for, for they had a beaky, bony, tight-mouthed look about them. The dozen or so people who were sharing the seats at the side with him were a nondescript collection, except the one person who was sitting on the same short row that he was in, actually only two chairs away. She looked all wrong in there, and, after a few glances, he had an idea that she felt all wrong too. She had a nice impudent little hat on, and was herself a nice but not impudent little woman, perhaps about forty, with a rather flushed soft face, very bright eyes, and, he thought, pretty greyish curls; altogether as nice, bright, perky, chirpy a little woman as he had seen for months. “You’re all right, you are,” he told her silently, after the third or fourth glance, “and I’ll bet any money this is both your first and last time here. Like me. Good luck to you!”

  She had been looking about her dubiously and had stolen one or two quick glances at Jimmy, who at last, after they had waited there for about ten minutes, ventured to give her a friendly grin. She did not look offended, so he leaned her way and whispered: “When do they start?”

  “I don’t know.” She had a nice clear little voice too, and the merriest inch of nose you could wish to see. A merry little tinker of a woman, no doubt about that, and worth a thousand of these long-faced psalm-singers in here. “I’ve never been before.”

  “Nor me either.”

  She seemed glad to be able to talk to somebody, and went on: “I overheard two women talking about it—so I thought I’d see what it was like.”

  “Doesn’t look much to me, so far,” said Jimmy, as if he was a great taster of sects and services.

  “No.” She drew that out as if she were dubious. “But——”

  “But what?”

  “Haven’t you noticed some of these folks, especially the ones in front?” Here she lowered her voice. “I may be fancying things—I don’t like it in here, anyhow—but they all look crazy to me, I mean, really crazy, mad people. Honestly, I mean it. You notice their faces. They have just that look. I wouldn’t be left alone with some of ’em, not for anything. Batty! Honestly! And not just nicely batty, like some people, but miserable, cruel batty. Oh!—they must be starting.” And she leaned back, and looked straight in front of her, like a good little girl.

  At first, only the organ growled and rumbled at them, as if it had had quite enough of this sort of thing. Then an elderly man with a long upper-lip and a grey chin-beard mounted the platform, and asked them to sing with him. Jimmy had the pleasure of sharing a book with the little woman, who sang a bit in a shy soprano; but Jimmy only grunted vaguely, and did not care for the hymn, which was all about blood, as if it had been composed in a slaughter-house. Then the elderly man, in an angry nasal voice, read a long piece from the Bible, all about angels standing at the four corners of the earth, and another angel telling them not to hurt the servants of God, who were sealed on their foreheads, and then a lot of stuff about tribes, of no great interest unless you were in the know, and then some pretty grim talk about washing people white in the blood of the Lamb.

  “‘They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more,’” the elderly man concluded, not sounding angry now but very loud and shrill, “‘neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat . . .’”

  And now from the rows of people in front there came surprising cries and groans and triumphant shouts, in fact all kinds of quite savage noises; and some of them raised their hands and shook them hard; and one woman made a gurgling sound and fell back, as if in a faint; and one man, a big chap with the voice of a bull, yelled Halleluyah!

  “You see!” Jimmy heard the little woman whisper urgently and with a slight quaver. “I don’t like this at all.”

  “Anybody can have it for me,” said Jimmy.

  Now they were all praying, led by a passionate skeleton of a man in a black coat much too large for him. He was, however, a most fluent and powerful leader of prayer. He asked Jehovah to look down on them, sealed in his service, and to abate his wrath a little while, until all who could be sealed were safe in the fold, and then to let go his wrath for all it was worth, fulfilling the most terrible prophecies, it seemed, with hail and fire and blood and darkness and wormwood for everybody except the faithful few. Punctuated as it was by groans and loud Amens, his long prayer, delivered with a terrible sincerity, with an outward force expressing an inward fury of impassioned conviction, began to have its effect even on Jimmy’s sceptical mind. Something stirred uneasily in the depths of his being. And he knew that the little woman, now rather closer than she had been, distinctly trembled once or twice.

  “It’s all right, y’know,” he told her, when it was all over, and they were about to sing again.

  “I know it is. I know it can’t happen,” she whispered confidingly. “But I just hate the way he wants it to happen. It’s the people that frighten me, not what they say. And I’ll be glad when it’s over, won’t you?”

  At the end of this hymn, the elderly man with the chin-beard announced that their local leader, Brother Kaydick, would talk to them. Brother Kaydick, a tall, rather imposing figure, came out through the door at the back. At first, Jimmy thought he must have seen him before somewhere, and it was not until Brother Kaydick had begun talking, in a deep resonant voice, that he remembered. This was undoubtedly the man that Phil had described as Lincoln with a squint. It was a very good description. This man had Lincoln’s lean height and long dark face, but the face lacked the statesman’s noble breadth and the eyes were wrong. He looked like a squashed-in, not quite sane Lincoln. And suddenly, for no reason that he was immediately aware of, Jimmy’s scepticism left him. It was not simply because Phil had described a man who now appeared: that proved nothing, except that Phil had probably attended one or two of these meetings. No, it was not that; yet now he suddenly felt certain that he had been wrong and Rushy had been right, that Phil had guessed there was something really queer, menacing, about these people, who had somehow discovered that he knew too much. He did not reason about it at all. The conviction came in a flash. Meanwhile, Brother Kaydick was talking to them, and being listened to with profound respect.

  He began by making various announcements, mostly relating to special services, and also by giving some brief news of the Brotherhood’s activities in the three other centres. Then, after quoting by heart a text or two from the Book of Revelation, with growing fervour he addressed them, asking them to remember what the greatest and wisest of the Old Testament prophets had said, what was to be found in the Book of Revelation, which must be regarded as the keystone of the Bible, and to look about them, to reflect upon the present condition of the world, and to ask themselves if all things were not working together for the end so long and gloriously prophesied. What was the whole world now, into which children were still being born, but the spectacle of that woman arrayed in purple and scarlet, seated upon the seven-headed beast with its names of blasphemy, carrying her gold cup filled with abominations and filthiness of her fornications? The beast had seven heads—yes, and what were now the great powers of the world? They too were seven—the United States, Britain, Russia, France, Germany, Italy, and Japan. Where were the blasphemies? They were everywhere. The whole earth was now Babylon, drenched in the blood of saints and martyrs. Did not every power in the world make war with the Lamb, as the Bible said they would; and shall not the Lamb overcome them, as also it was said? Had not all nations drunk of the wine of the wrath of the fornications of Babylon? Were they not more besodden with them every day? Were the most terri
ble words of the ancient prophets thus to be mocked? Had not a voice from Heaven, as it was prophesied it would, already spoken to them, and was not that why they were gathered together, the brothers and sisters of the Judgment? The Judgment was certain, nor could it come too early, but they who were already sealed in the service of Heaven must be prepared not only to welcome but also to serve the Judgment, for Heaven worked in mysterious ways and its servants were abroad on the earth even now, a faithful few, as they were in the olden time. And there was much more in this vein, delivered with great fervour and with something like real oratory.

  Jimmy listened with growing uneasiness. There was something here, behind the words, though they were strong enough, that he did not understand. The man was a crazy fanatic, like many of them there, but there was about him a sense of certainty that could not easily be laughed away. He knew something, and though that something might be explained here in terms of Bible prophecies and the like, Jimmy could not help feeling that there was more to it than that. Somehow, listening to him and looking at him, you could not dismiss his talk to some vague crazy vision of Babylon and old Jewish prophets.

  Finally, Brother Kaydick announced triumphantly, while his listeners made enthusiastic sounds: “I have a message for you from our beloved leader, Father John. It arrived this very evening. Father John commands me to tell you, brothers and sisters of the Judgment, that out there, in his lodge in the wilderness, he is praying, and there are signs of an answer to his prayers, that he is seeing visions, and that soon, very soon, what he sees in these visions will come to pass, so that the Word may be fulfilled. He asks for the even deeper devotion and service of those who are sealed, and for the thankful prayers of all members. To-night’s public service is ended, except for the singing of the usual hymn. Will Servers Eight, Eleven, Fifteen and Twenty-three, join me in the small room?”

  It was then, while Brother Kaydick was making for the door at the back and the elderly man was reading the first lines of the hymn, that Jimmy came to a decision. As the organ began, he found himself sharing the book again with the little woman.

  Jehovah said “Vengeance is mine”

  The sinful could not flee,

  they sang lustily.

  “Listen,” whispered Jimmy urgently. “You don’t know me and you mustn’t think I’m crazy. This is serious. I’m going round to the back in a minute.”

  “Oh!” cried the little woman, in dismay. “You’re not going to join them, are you?”

  “Not me. But I have to know more about ’em, and I’m going to try something on.”

  When Pharaoh and his hosts were drowned

  In the Red devouring sea

  the others roared happily.

  She looked up at him, her delightful little round face puckered with bewilderment and doubt. Certainly her curls were grey—or greyish—but they were very charming, only making her eyes seem brighter. Even at that moment he could not help wondering—and it came in a flash—if by any possible miraculous chance she would like his pictures. “I thought you were the one person who was all right,” she said, dubiously, rather reproachfully. “And now you’re talking queer.”

  “No, I’m not. Can’t explain now. But my name’s Jimmy Edlin, and I’m staying at the Clay-Adams. Are you on the end of a telephone?”

  “Well—yes,” she replied, still doubtful. “I’m at my cousin’s—only for a day or two—down here at Inglewood—”

  It rained for forty days and nights

  After that Ark was sealed

  they chanted triumphantly.

  Jimmy lowered his head a little, to speak close to her ear. “I asked because I want to give you a message later on to-night or early in the morning, to say I’m still all right. If a message doesn’t come through from me—and, don’t forget, Jimmy Edlin’s the name—say, by to-morrow morning at ten, send the police along here. Yes, I mean it.”

  “Gracious me! But couldn’t you——”

  “I want to get on with it now,” he continued, “and I believe I’m taking a chance. So you’ve got to help me. Don’t worry. It’ll probably be all right, but I’d like to be prepared. Do you mind giving me your name and telephone number, please?”

  Still bewildered, she gave them. Her name was Mrs. Atwood, and at once he hoped she was a widow. “I’ll ring up your husband if you’d prefer it,” he told her quickly.

  “I haven’t a husband any more. Haven’t had for five years. Now do you really mean this? It’s not some silly game, is it?”

  The walls of Jericho were strong

  But then the trumpet blew

  they proclaimed joyfully.

  “Do I look like a man who’d play a silly game with you?” he demanded.

  “Yes, you do,” she told him, coolly. “But I can see you’re serious now. Now, if you don’t ring up to say you’re all right by ten in the morning, you really want me to tell the police?”

  “That’s it.”

  “I never heard of such a thing! But I don’t think I’d mind seeing some of these folks get a crack over the head—with their blood and Babylon and miseries! Do some of ’em good! But what are you going to do, Mr. Edlin? And why do you think something might happen to you?”

  “Can’t tell you now.”

  “Then you’ll have to tell me when you telephone. Making me so curious! Else I’ll think you’re just a show-off. You’re not, are you?”

  “Sometimes.” He grinned. “But not this time, I give you my word.”

  The earth shall be our Promised Land

  And Satan reign no more

  they concluded confidently, and the organ rumbled on alone. Jimmy gave a final look of understanding at the nice little widow’s bright eyes; she nodded and smiled at him as she passed; he watched her trip down the aisle a moment; then he turned and went towards the door through which Brother Kaydick had disappeared. He had no proper plan, but he had often been content before to let instinct guide him, and now was willing to risk it again. The two large brethren, a tough pair at close quarters, were still doing duty, and now they promptly stopped him.

  “I want to see Brother Kaydick in there,” he explained. “It’s important.”

  “But you are not a member of our Brotherhood.”

  Now for it! “Yes, I am. Tell him I’ve just arrived from the centre

  —the Ark—in London.”

  “From London?”

  “Yes, and not only a member, my friend,” he continued, with an easy air of confidence he did not feel, “but also a Server. Number Nineteen—London. And, I tell you, it’s very important.”

  “I’ll tell Brother Kaydick,” said the older of the two, and left Jimmy with his colleague, a gloomy raw-boned chap who looked as if he had spent the first thirty-five years of his life behind a plough somewhere and had not enjoyed it. He continued to eye Jimmy, who knew only too well that his appearance was not in his favour. With his heart thumping a little, Jimmy could only hope that they would decide that a brother from London might be excused so worldly an appearance. Then the other returned and took him down a short corridor and into a small room, which might have served once as a vestry. On one wall was a large map, and on a desk in the far corner were files and piles of booklets and what looked uncomfortably like a couple of boxes of revolver ammunition. There were five men in there: the imposing Brother Kaydick, with his dark height and menacing squint; and the four Servers whose numbers had been called out, four hefty, big-boned, hairy-wristed fanatics, who looked a very tough proposition. This was no joke at all. He was in for it now. And under Brother Kaydick’s doubtful, searching look he felt more wildly unlike any possible Brother of the Judgment, from London or anywhere else, than he had done before. Unless he bluffed like blazes, he decided, this was not going to be a very healthy adventure.

  “Well, friends,” he said ingrati
atingly, as they continued to examine him as if he were a talking alligator, “I am very glad to be able to report to you—at last.”

  “You say you are from our ark at London?”

  “Yes,” replied Jimmy, hoping he did not sound too unsure of himself. It was not easy to meet Brother Kaydick’s pronounced squint. “I’m—er—Number Nineteen.”

  There was a look of surprise, still mixed darkly with doubt, on their five long faces. Perhaps the brethren in London didn’t have numbers. Perhaps, even if they did have numbers, there never had been a Nineteen. Perhaps——

  “Number Nineteen—from London,” Brother Kaydick was repeating slowly, and to Jimmy’s ear as if he did not like the sound of it at all. Then, very quietly and casually, he enquired: “When does the clock strike?”

  So that was it. Thank God he remembered!

  “You won’t hear it,” Jimmy told them all. And gave them a smile too.

  This certainly made a difference. Their faces were not the kind that clears easily, but undoubtedly they now cleared a little.

  “You are welcome, brother,” said Kaydick with grave politeness. “We were surprised because we had not been warned of your coming.”