Chapter 21
The following morning, the three of them were sitting on the bed in the studio, looking outside the grate that served as window. They were tense. As time passed, the tenseness slowly turned into despair.
Samantha broke the silence. “Do you believe in God? In the afterlife?”
“They teach us in school that God’s existence is either unknown or impossible to demonstrate,” said Dylan.
“That’s the definition of agnosticism. I asked for your personal opinion.”
“That is what I believe. Human intellect can neither prove the existence nor non-existence of a god.”
“So if it cannot be proved, does that mean it does not exist?” asked Samantha?
“I believe,” piped up Nathan.
Nathan Green had not said a word until that moment, but he uttered those words unflinchingly, as if he wanted Dylan and Samantha to completely understand his sense of belief. Dylan was a bit surprised; he wouldn’t have pictured his friend as the religious type. On the contrary, he had all reasons to believe Nathan was an atheist.
Nathan Green went on, “Yes. I believe. I’ve always had this feeling that there is a God. I’ve probably been too selfish to show it—or perhaps too weak—being in the crowds I’ve been hanging out with, you had to hide your vulnerabilities. Here more than ever.”
“Believing in God makes you weak?”
“It does here. At least that’s what I think. Anyway, it does not matter anymore. Why do you ask, Samantha?”
“Because I believe, too. And now is the best time for praying prayer. So let’s pray.”
“Do you think it will help?” asked Dylan.
“I know it will.”
Dylan had nothing against it. After all, they were counting on Samantha’s help. They had to accept anything that would please her. Honestly, this praying thing did not seem to be that inappropriate. Dylan never had any role models who believed in God, or anybody close to him whose spiritual lifestyle inspired him.
He did dare to make one comment: “But wasn’t religion invented in order to keep the masses in check? To control them easier? Obey, do not rebel, or the gods themselves will punish you!”
“Faith in spiritual beings has always been present, way before slave labor came into being. Long before the rule of despotic leaders became an issue and they had to find a way to control the masses.”
“But isn’t this diversity of faiths and deities proof in itself that they’re all inventions of the human mind? If there really was a God, why didn’t He show Himself to all people in the same manner? For example, why did the Christian God choose the Israelite people to save?”
“You’ll have to find the answer to that in the Bible. Because it’s not the healthy who need a doctor.”
Dylan already started to regret his words. He decided not to argue with her and simply went with the flow. She probably asked herself the same question at some point, and this answer satisfied her. Whatever the case, he had to drop it because their situation was desperate.
Dylan tried to fix things. “Then let’s go talk to a priest.”
“There are no churches here. Where would we find a priest?” Samantha asked, confused.
“There’s a place in New Hope where you can find almost anything you want. The market!”
And that was true. Even though there were no churches, mosques, or temples, at the market you could find people willing to help you understand or practice any type of religion. After all, what did they have to lose if they spoke to a priest? They had nothing better to do at the moment.
In an attempt to be as cautious as possible, they decided to travel to the adjacent area. Right in the middle of the market they found someone dressed in a black cassock. On the table in front of him was a large poster on which it was written: PRAY FOR YOUR SOULS. THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN AWAITS. That was exactly what they were looking for.
“Good afternoon,” said Dylan.
“Pray for your souls. The kingdom of heaven awaits.”
“We know how to read. It’s also written on the poster.”
“My brothers and sister, it’s within your power to save yourselves. Do not miss this opportunity. The end of the world is nigh. Repent and you will not die!”
“Look. We’ve come to you because we need help.”
“You’re just in time, my brothers. There is still hope.”
“Are you a priest or just a fanatic?”
“I am a priest.”
“Catholic?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“A priest is a servant of God. And that is precisely who I am.”
“Well, yeah, but of what faith?”
“It does not matter, my brothers. Catholics, Protestants, Orthodox. Before God, we are all the same.”
“So you’re a priest because you call yourself a priest. You weren’t anointed a priest.”
“The important thing is that I can help you not to burn in hell.”
Dylan did not continue the dialogue. He remembered the decision he had made. He wasn’t there to prove anything anyway. More than that, he had to humor his friends. As there was no other Christian priest or minister at the market, this one had to do. So, all four of them traveled to the studio of the so-called priest. Funny enough, none of them even considered the possibility that this could be a trap. Just as Dylan expected, inside they found icons, crucifixes, and ritualistic objects.
“How come you haven’t asked for money?” asked Dylan. Or is that still on the agenda?”
“If I did this for money, how would I save my soul? How would I respond during the last, terrifying testament? No, my brothers and sister, I will not charge you. I do this for your own well-being—so that you never know the great pain of the eternal flames.”
The priest seated them on his bed. He stood in front of them and took out a book from which he started reading. He sometimes sang, and then he sometimes asked them to repeat after him. Dylan—absentminded—was looking out the window’s grate. He did try to fake some sort of involvement, though. If this helped his friends, then he would not wish for them any doubt.
When the makeshift priest paused and poured himself a glass of water, Samantha said, “I’d like to confess my sins.”
“You have no idea how much that will help. Confess your sins and they will be forgiven. We’re born sinners.”
Dylan and Nathan Green had no choice but to wait outside. That sacrament was strictly a two-person deal.
“What did you think?” Dylan asked Nathan.
“It was…how should I put it? Something else…”
“Did it help?”
“Yes, it did. I feel I did something good.”
“Don’t you want to confess your sins, too?”
“No, it’s not my time. I don’t feel that spiritual impulse anymore. But it surprised me that Samantha wanted to confess. She doesn’t seem the type to have that many sins. Do you think she’s scared of what might happen?”
“Maybe confessing helps her feel better.”
“Maybe.”
After about fifteen minutes, Samantha rejoined them.
“Took you long enough. Are you sure you didn’t forget anything?” said Nathan.
“It didn’t take that long. But I asked him to tell me a little about himself, about his life here. How he gets by. Then I gave him $30.”
“What? Didn’t he say he does this for free? That he’s does this to get on the Mighty’s good side?”
“He didn’t ask me for money. I chose to give it him. It was the right thing to do. If somebody helps you, you help them back. If you can.”
The important thing was that Samantha felt better and regained her confidence. They could now return to her studio and think of the future. They didn’t mentioned their current situation to the priest. It was better if he didn’t know. The fewer people who knew, the fewer chances of being discovered. They were outlaws, after all.
After they returned to Samantha’s studio,
they ate lunch. Somehow, they managed to finish off all her stored food and water. It was imperative that they get more food, and even more urgent to starting thinking of a solution to their situation. Dylan knew that as time went by they would be overwhelmed by doubt and despair. He was thankful that the priest had calmed his friends down a little. As Dylan thought about the priest, he got an idea.
“I think I know what we can do. You might find it strange, but it could work. Listen.”
Dylan’s last command was basically pointless. Of course the others were listening. They were even curious to hear this new revelation.
“Samantha was right to take us to that priest. It helped her. It helped all of us. And do you know why? Because deep inside, we all feel doubt, superstition, or an undefined emotion. An inner voice telling us What if. These feelings get amplified for people dealing with issues. But what if there is a God, an afterlife, a divine scheme that includes all of us? If these exist, then foretelling is, indeed, possible.
“If these events are not random, then why couldn’t someone have that gift within them—the ability to see beyond the present and into the future? Well, here, in New Hope, we can find those people—because there are no laws to qualify them as frauds or sentence them for deceit. All we have to do is find such a person and convince him to look ahead. Then we will know what we have to do. Actually, we will know exactly what we will do.”
“I think you are taking this too far,” said Samantha. “We are desperate, yes but that does not mean we should be irrational.”
“How could you say that? You’re the most faithful of us all. Isn’t there a book in the Bible a book named Revelation? How could such a book be written unless by someone who knew the future?”
“This is completely different. That was through divine intervention. Indeed, God knows the future. But that does not mean any mortal can see it as well.”
“Okay, I don’t want to contradict you. Maybe that is true. What do we have to lose? We have no idea what to do right now anyway. Let’s return to the market and look for someone who might help us. Even if we can’t discover the future, we might still come up with an idea. Do you prefer waiting here for the sheriffs or even Krugar? They will come, sooner or later.”
“It could be fun,” said Nathan. “It would be a new life experience. You’ll have another story to share about New Hope.”
Nathan Green was trying to convince Samantha, who was still leery. Nathan liked Dylan’s open-mindedness. Dylan didn’t sound ridiculous to Nathan. Yeah, going to a fortune-teller was pure madness, but what if that in itself helped them think of a plan? They all suffered from a mental block and couldn’t find their way out. Something needed to be done. So why not try this?
In the market was the same quiet to-and-fro as before, giving the impression people were meeting to socialize, not purchase anything. And for some, that was true.
They found a booth displaying tarot cards and drawings representing mediaeval pictographs. A middle-aged woman, with a massive, disgusting mole on her left cheek was reading them by placing her hands on the table. At least five amulets of different sizes were hanging from her neck. She was just what they needed.
“Shouldn’t you have a crystal globe?” said Dylan.
“What for?” asked the woman.
“Fortune-telling. Isn’t that what you are doing?”
“No. The future only presents itself for the chosen.”
“I see. So then what do you do?”
“Spiritualism. I can make the souls of the departed return and be in the same room with you.”
“Yeah…interesting…but we are looking for someone who can tell us the future. We are looking for someone chosen, as you put it.”
The three of them walked away. They covered the entire market. They found a gypsy who gave palm readings. She could have told Samantha when she’d get married, how many children she’d have and if she would be happy. But that was all. She couldn’t read the near future. They circled back to the woman with the mole who practices spiritualism.
“You won’t find what you are looking for,” she told them, “but I can help you.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t foretell the future,” said Dylan.
“I am still saying the same thing. But there is a chance; if you have someone close to you on the other side, they might tell you what they know of the future. They might know more than you realize.”
“Would they know who killed them? Or more importantly, why?”
“They would certainly know that.”
It was Nathan Green who had asked the last questions, but the Dylan and Samantha understood his meaning. If they could speak to Jeremy Phillips, he might be able to tell them something useful. And since they find nothing else of use, that would have to do.
Dylan, however, was skeptical. “So please clarify this for me. Aren’t tarot cards used for foretelling? Then how come you can’t foretell?”
“Tarot cards have many uses. You are one of the few people who realized what they actually are. Most people think they are ritualistic objects, like the amulets around my neck. But I don’t want to fool you and take your money for nothing. I am explaining clearly what my gift is.”
“The world is full of honest people. How come they all end up in New Hope?” Dylan tried to be sarcastic.
“Is this a gift?”
“Yes. Not anyone can summon the dead,” said the woman. “It’s not enough being initiated in the business. Your spirit needs to prepare for it. And be strong enough.”
“How much will this cost?”
“A ritual costs one thousand dollars.”
“Wow, that’s expensive. That gypsy woman would have read our palms for five dollars.”
“She has no gift. She’s does this for the money. She’s a fraud.”
“And you’re not?”
“You’ll see during the ritual.”
“No I won’t. I wouldn’t even pay two hundred dollars.”
“For two hundred dollars, I can give you a shorter ritual, for fifteen minutes.”
They had heard more than enough. As much as they may have wanted to, they wouldn’t have time to converse with the dead: no time to ask Jeremy how it was out there, if he was okay, if he liked his new dwelling. No. They needed to quickly get the information they needed: who contacted the sheriffs and why. And most importantly, how they could defeat Krugar.
The psychic’s studio did not disappoint them. On every wall were dark drapes and mystical-looking drawings. Folding chairs waited for visitors. The woman didn’t completely shut the door. Maybe she was taking precautions in case she had to protect herself. She may have friends nearby ready to help in case an argument got potentially violent. However, people came to her with a variety of problems, which tended to make her feel somewhat confident. Once inside the studio, Dylan, Nathan, and Samantha all sat in a circle, and the woman sat on the bed with a tambour in her hand. She took down a black towel from the wall and revealed a mirror hanging above the table.
“The mirror is a gate. Did you know that?”
Dylan was about to laugh. If he looked through this mirror, would he see himself or another who wants to pass through the gate? But he remained silent. He needed to be serious.
The rhythmical beats of the tambour and of the incantations made him think of one thing: hypnosis. It was not the psychic who needed to enter a trance in order for this to work; it was them who needed help in perceiving the phenomenon. Once Dylan realized that, the rhythmic sounds he was hearing stopped feeling like a magical formula and suddenly turned deceiving, especially since their charlatan witch was performing so poorly.
On the table was something that looked like an Ouija board, but half was red and half was black. The conjured spirits would respond with a yes or no by moving the needle on the planchette across the board toward one or the other half. If the answer was NO, the needle moved to the black side and if YES, to the red side. Obviously, the woman had no trouble bringing Jeremy
Phillips into the room. However, they assumed the spirit would be able to speak freely; they didn’t expect to have to ask the questions.
They thought that would be extremely simple, something like Jeremy, what should we do? And Jeremy would answer them. Now they took turns at asking questions, but none of them had a specific target. Samantha asked him if she’d die in New Hope. The answer was NO. Dylan was already satisfied. That was one more reason for her to regain her confidence and offer Nathan and him the support they needed. Dylan asked if they had to avenge him and kill Krugar. The answer was NO once more. Basically, the fake psychic, who worked a button underneath the table with her leg in order to move the needle in the desired direction, tried to provide the answers she thought they wanted to hear, while maintaining a pacifist attitude.
However, they didn’t consider the soon-ending day as a failure. They hadn’t given in to despair. Another night would pass, they would gain some peace of mind, and maybe an idea would finally occur to them. The following day, they would also decide if returning to find the woman who hid them under her bed was a good idea.
Chapter 22
Samantha Rogers returned from a friend’s studio in the same building. She had news and was eager to share with the Dylan and Nathan.
“It looks like we got lucky. A friend of mine knows someone who knows someone… anyway… there’s a chance we can get to Super Life and ask them if they’d consider making a reality show about you.”
“Super Life? The Super Life? One of the five biggest media trusts?” Nathan showed enthusiasm but Dylan tried to calm him.
“Hold on,” said Dylan. “Don’t get too excited. Did you forget who we’re dealing with? If they find out, they’ll finish us off in a second. The idea with the media coverage is good. That is what I thought of, too. But not as a reality show. It all needs to be made public when we gather enough evidence. But we have no solid proof at the moment. It’s our word against theirs.”
“What proof? We don’t have any.”
“I know. You are right. We need to focus on that right away.”
The Free City Page 15
