The Beasts Of Valhalla m-4

by George C. Chesbro

  "Mike said you didn't know about the hundred and forty-four thousand!"

  "Obviously, we do."

  "'And I heard a voice from heaven,'" Garth intoned as his own memories were stirred, " 'as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of a great thunder.'"

  "Why were you sent here?"

  "That was not revealed to us, Reverend," I said, then quoted some more Scripture. "'And they sung a new song before the throne, and before the four beasts and the elders, and no man could learn that song but the hundred and forty-four thousand, which were redeemed from the earth.' We're two of the four beasts, Reverend; we represent Father's truth. You have been chosen to receive us. Will you hear our lesson, or is Father to send us somewhere else?"

  "What is your lesson?"

  "We must wait until it is revealed to us; or Father may wish us to discover it for ourselves. I think we should reason together. Don't you agree, Billy?"

  "I certainly do, Boris," Garth said, giving me a pat of encouragement on the leg. "Reverend, you'd do well to listen to my brother. I think you should take that phone off the hook so there'll be no interruptions, and then we should try to work this out."

  Reverend Ezra slumped forward in his chair, rested his head in his hands, and kneaded his temples with the ends of his long, bony fingers. He didn't take the phone off the hook. "It doesn't make sense," he said at last.

  "What doesn't make sense?" Garth asked.

  The Reverend slowly put his hands down on the desk, fixed his gaze on me. "That Father should mark two men to send us a lesson, and that one of those men would be a dwarf."

  "What the he-uh, what do you have against dwarfs?"

  "The choice of a dwarf would seem to mock everything Father has promised and taught us. The Great Time is very near at hand. Satan knows this, and it is to be expected that his armies are on the march. How can I be certain that the two of you weren't sent here by Satan?"

  "Father would prevent it," Garth said with a broad gesture of dismissal. "If we were servants of Satan, Father would strike us dead."

  Reverend Ezra thought about it, shook his head. "Father may have marked your bodies to show that you serve Satan, then sent you to us as a challenge to see if we are worthy of His trust and teachings. If that's true, and we accept you into our family, none of us will live to see the Great Time. I need guidance."

  "Who gives you guidance?" I asked. "Father?"

  "Of course," the Reverend answered in a somewhat distant tone. "But Father is not always of this world. Now I must rely on the son… and the son is not Father."

  Beside me, I felt Garth tense with excitement. I sat up straighter, concentrated on keeping my face impassive and my voice even. The Reverend's words seemed to suggest that it would be Siegfried Loge, not Siegmund, who would be on the other end of the line if the phone rang. If so, it would confirm a link between Project Valhalla and the communes of Siegmund Loge-a link that, up to now, only Lippitt had been absolutely convinced of.

  "Where is the son?" I ventured.

  The question seemed to echo in the prolonged silence that followed. One question. If the Reverend answered it, he could stop worrying about his phone call; he'd be taking a nap while Garth and I were taking our leave.

  "Don't you know?" Reverend Ezra was no longer making much of an effort to hide his suspicion.

  "It was Father who appeared to us," I replied, "not the son."

  Suddenly the telephone rang, startling all three of us. The Reverend snatched up the receiver.

  "Yes?" Reverend Ezra said, his voice nervous and high-pitched.

  Garth, with disarming casualness, inched forward to the edge of the sofa and planted both feet firmly on the floor; at the first sign of distress on the part of the Reverend, the man would be even more distressed to find Garth's hands wrapped around his throat. Out of the corner of my eye I watched the front door, which had been left partially ajar. Given the element of surprise, I was confident that I could take out one of the big guards quickly and silently; taking out both of them, without raising a ruckus that could summon Mike Leviticus and his gun, was a problem of considerably greater magnitude.

  Fortunately, the problem appeared to become academic when the Reverend hung up the phone and did nothing more than absently stare at the receiver. His expression displayed no signs of fear or alarm-only disappointment.

  "So, what does Siegfried Loge have to say?" Garth asked in a flat tone as he leaned back in the sofa and crossed his legs.

  "He's unavailable," the Reverend mumbled with obvious distaste.

  "For how long?"

  "They won't say."

  "Why is he unavailable?"

  "I don't like to even imagine. There are rumors about that place- " Suddenly the Reverend's head came up, and he looked startled. "How do you know of Dr. Loge, Brother Billy?"

  "The vision," Brother Boris answered. Garth had always been the more patient of the two of us, and Brother Boris was starting to get pissed. Somewhere under Reverend Ezra's frizzy curls was an address or a telephone number that could save Garth's and my life, and I had a growing urge to start banging the man's head on the desk top, or against a wall behind one of the two closed doors, to see what answers might drop out. "Father told us who the son is, but not where he is. That's what you're supposed to tell us."

  "If Father didn't tell you, I don't think I should."

  "Father forgot. He's got a lot of things on his mind these days, and everybody knows how distracting appearing to people in visions can be."

  "Father never forgets anything," Garth interrupted quickly. "It's Brother Boris whose mind occasionally gets muddled these days; it's the remembered ecstasy of the vision. However, Father did say that you would tell us anything we wanted to know, Reverend."

  Again, there was a prolonged silence while the Reverend pondered whatever it was he was pondering. Now fear moved across his face-but I somehow sensed that it was not fear of us. "I don't understand why you want to know about Dr. Loge," he said at last. "He's not a member of our family. He is of… them."

  "Who?" Garth asked carefully.

  "Warriors of Father. Dr. Loge leads them."

  "Men like Mike Leviticus?"

  Reverend Ezra nodded. "Mike is a Warrior, but he is also a member of our family. That's why he was assigned to guard us."

  "If Siegfried Loge doesn't have anything to do with your-our-family, why do you have to check with him?"

  "Dr. Loge is our… supervisor. Father has told us that we must follow His son's instructions."

  "Father marked us, Reverend," I said softly. "We are Father's emissaries, so you have nothing to hide from us. Where did that telephone call come from?"

  "I… I just can't tell you, Brother Boris. Not without permission."

  "Really? In that case, maybe it's time for Brother Billy and myself to do some marking of our- "

  Instantly, Garth was on his feet and pulling me to mine by the collar of my robe. "Don't pay any attention to Brother Boris, Reverend; he hasn't had his supper, and he gets cranky. Uh, would it be possible for us to meet some of the others while you wait for your phone call? We're anxious to meet the people who will be our companions in the Great Time."

  The Reverend thought about it as he fiddled with the telephone receiver, then finally nodded his head. "There's a Halloween party in the commons building, and I guess there's no harm in your waiting there. Brother Amos and Brother Joshua will show you the way."

  "Maybe we should have jumped him, Mongo," Garth said in a low, uncertain voice as we followed the two hulking Children of Father along a narrow path on the edge of a cliff overlooking Lake Superior. "I'm starting to have second thoughts."

  "Don't. You were right. With these two waiting outside, it would have been too risky. I wonder why he's letting us mingle with the others?"

  "You call this mingling? Observe that these guys' instructions don't include being too chummy with us. We make the good Reverend decidedly uncomfortable, so he figured he'd let the others keep
an eye on us for a while."

  "Well, we'll hang out at the party until one of us gets a chance to slip away and go back for a serious discussion with the Reverend."

  Garth nodded. His mouth was set in a grim line. "We'd best be quick about it-and careful."

  "What did you smell on the Reverend?"

  "Doubt."

  20

  With his gloves off, Mike Leviticus could peel an apple with the side of his hand. He was too far away, and the light in the commons building meeting hall too dim, for me to see precisely how he did it, but it was a neat trick.

  Standing off in a corner, feeling warm enough but rather silly in my robe and slippers, I watched as the girl from the fruit and dairy stand came into my field of vision. With her was a tall, very thin young man who, like most of the others, looked to be in his early twenties. The girl said something to him, then pointed to me. He shook his head. She grabbed his hand, pulled him across the room to me. Even with her mouse ears and pasted-on whiskers, she looked just as gorgeous as when I'd seen her earlier. I hoped I was in for some hugging and kissing.

  "Everyone's afraid of you," the girl said to me in a bright, clear voice.

  Pretending to react to unexpectedly hearing a voice in my face, I started slightly, then cocked my head and fixed my gaze on a spot just between the two of them. "Obviously, you're not. Father love you."

  "And Father love you," she replied with a broad smile that revealed the predictable white, even teeth. She took my right hand in both of hers, squeezed it gently. She had a nice touch. "Can I get you something, Brother Boris? A cold drink? An apple?"

  "No, thank you."

  "I think it's terrible the way everyone's been avoiding you. I'm Sister Esther. Brother Luke is with me. Luke just joined our family two days ago."

  The man reached out to shake my hand. When I didn't react, he flushed with embarrassment and patted me tentatively on the shoulder. "Hi," he said tightly.

  "Hi."

  "Where's Brother Billy?" the girl asked.

  Off-I hoped-pounding on the Reverend, looking for an answer, our car, and our clothes. "I think he's in one of the other rooms, trying to circulate."

  "He shouldn't have left you alone."

  "I don't mind."

  "You two have created quite a stir around here, the way you just popped up. We know something happened on the road when Mike was bringing you back here, but Brother Mike won't say what it was-and we've been instructed not to ask. There's talk that a miracle occurred."

  "I thought miracles were what this place was all about," I said, studying Brother Luke. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, as if he wanted to bolt and run.

  "Oh, that's right," the girl replied cheerfully. "For sure."

  "Well, why not think of Billy and me as just two of your average, run-of-the-null mira- " I cut myself off in mid-sentence; without Garth around to edit me with a poke in the ribs or a pull on my robe, I was going to have to watch my mouth. Garth was absolutely right; I didn't understand these people at all. "Then why should Father's Children be afraid of us?"

  Sister Esther shrugged her magnificent shoulders. "I guess knowing that miracles happen and having one occur in your own backyard are two different things. Also, Reverend Ezra and Brother Mike are obviously nervous-and that makes everybody nervous. I'm not afraid because I sense you and Brother Billy have good hearts. Maybe it doesn't make any difference that you're a dwarf."

  "Why should a dwarf make you nervous?" I'd lost track of Mike Leviticus, and that made me nervous.

  "You don't know?"

  I shook my head.

  "Dwarfism is an infirmity," Brother Luke said, speaking for the first time. "There won't be any illness or people with infirmities in Great Time, the same as there won't be any niggers, kikes, spicks, chinks, japs, or Catholics-no people like that. No communists, either."

  Without moving my head, I swept my gaze around the room; I hadn't taken notice before, but now that Brother Luke had raised my consciousness, it struck me that everyone in the commune was white and WASPish-looking. "No kidding?" I said.

  The girl nodded agreeably. "In the beginning, Father-Who is God made flesh-created many different kinds of people. All were given a chance to accept Jesus as their Savior. Not everyone did. Father has been very patient, but now his wrath will descend on all nonbelievers. Armageddon is upon us. After Armageddon will come Great Time, in which Father and Jesus will reign supreme. Only one hundred and forty-four thousand of us will be left to enjoy it."

  "All white and Christian?"

  "No Catholics," Brother Luke mumbled. "They worship the Pope."

  "Uh, what about nonwhite Christians?"

  "Only whites can truly be Christians," the tall, thin young man explained to me. "Other races just don't have the moral strength."

  "It says this in the Bible?"

  "Father revealed it to us," the girl said. She hugged herself, shivered with ecstasy. "The whole world will be brand-new, and it will belong just to us. Won't it be wonderful?!"

  "It'll certainly do wonders for rush-hour traffic." The couple exchanged somewhat startled glances, and I quickly added: "Maybe Father has sent me here to tell you that he's having second thoughts."

  "No," Sister Esther declared emphatically. "It has all been promised."

  "Have you actually heard Father tell you these things?"

  "Not in person. Other Children of Father-leaders like Reverend Ezra-bring us the teachings. Only a very few people have actually seen Father since He revealed that He was God."

  "That must be very frustrating for you," I said in a neutral tone, glancing around the room. The girl no longer seemed quite so attractive to me, and I didn't need Garth's nose to smell her companion's paranoia. I was getting tired of these loonies, and was anxious to get on with the hunt for the Chief Loony; but there was still no sign of Garth-or of Mike Leviticus.

  "Oh, it is," the girl said with a solemn nod. "What were you before you came here, Brother Boris?"

  "A dwarf, Sister Esther. What were you?"

  "An X-ray technician," she answered hesitantly, after a pause. I could see that I was beginning to make her nervous, too, but I didn't really care. "One of Father's Children found me, looked into my heart, and saw my need. I was invited to come here, and it changed my life. Now I know there are others who believe as I do, and we were right all the time."

  "That must be a great comfort. So, now all of you are just kind of hanging around here and waiting to have a Great Time?"

  That was pushing it. Sister Esther frowned, glanced uncertainly at her companion, then looked back at me. "You seem to have a strange attitude for someone who claims to have been sent here by Father, Brother Boris," she said softly.

  "Sorry. It's just my manner of speaking. Dwarfism does that to some people."

  "Well, we certainly haven't simply been 'hanging around,'" the girl said, a touch of pique in her tone. "Since our founding less than two years ago, we've had seven marriages. Those marriages have produced five babies, who are now with Father."

  "They're where?"

  "With Father. Our babies don't have time to make the necessary choices, and so Father personally molds their souls in preparation for Great Time."

  "You send your babies off to this-to Father?"

  "Of course," Sister Esther said, obviously taken aback by my open astonishment. "It is the only way our babies can be saved. In the meantime, we wait for Father's Treasure."

  "Father's Treasure?"

  "I don't think I should discuss that," the girl said softly.

  No discussion was necessary. No matter what these people believed, "Father's Treasure" had to be Lot 57-the next generation of genetic juice that was tearing up Garth and me. If Lippitt's information was correct, Siegmund Loge had dozens of communes like this one, ringing the world, providing him not only with infants for direct human experimentation, but with a huge test population when Lot 57 was ready. Loge was going to show these people a great time, all right, but I knew
that trying to warn them of the danger would have about as much chance of success as trying to convince them that Siegmund Loge wasn't really God. Garth and I had wandered into what amounted to no more than a breeding pen for test animals, and the realization made me nauseous.

  Where was Garth?

  "What did you do before you came here, Brother Luke?" I asked, quite content to change the subject.

  "I was a metallurgist," the young man replied tersely.

  "Oh, you're being very modest, Brother Luke," Sister Esther said, smiling coquettishly at him. "He was an exceptionally gifted metallurgist, Brother Boris, a member of an elite society of knifemakers called the Anvil Ring. In fact," she added proudly, "he was the youngest person ever invited to join."

  "That's nice." I was becoming increasingly distracted and wished the two Children of Father would just go away. If Garth didn't show up in another ten minutes, I was going to go looking for him.

  But Brother Luke's accomplishments were obviously a subject Sister Esther enjoyed talking about. "Tell Brother Boris about Whisper," she continued. "Tell him how it was made."

  Brother Luke frowned. "It's a secret, Sister Esther."

  "Oh, come on!" the girl said, pinching his cheek playfully. "You're with Father now, so there's no need for secrets like that. Share your triumph." She turned to me. "Whisper is one of the most remarkable achievements in the history of personal arms," she said primly.

  "The members of our society collaborated over a period of years to create her," the young man said reluctantly.

  "This 'Whisper,' I take it, is a knife?" I asked.

  Brother Luke nodded. "Yes-named for the sound she makes when she's unsheathed. Whisper's made of Damascus steel, and there's no other blade like her-hasn't been for centuries. Do you know anything about knives or steelmaking, Brother Boris?"

  "Not really." Five minutes. If Sister Esther and Brother Luke weren't going to go away, I was going to have to figure out a way to get rid of them.

  Now Brother Luke was warming to his subject, and his eyes had taken on a strange glow. "Damascus steel was made by a secret process thought lost forever in the Middle Ages, and it's a formula I will share with Father, if he so desires. Alexander the Great had swords of Damascus steel, and the finest samurai swords were made of it. A blade made of Damascus steel can split a feather in midair, yet cut through hardwood for hours without losing its edge. Damascus steel is at once incredibly flexible and incredibly strong. Anyway, members of my group rediscovered the secret process, and Whisper is the result. When I was invited to become one of Father's Children, I knew I had to bring Whisper as my offering to Father."