Modern Rituals

by J. S. Leonard

  “Wisconsin, eh?” James said.

  “Yeah, you been?” Trevor said.

  “No.”

  James leaned over to Olivia and whispered, “He seems harmless—should we take him back?”

  Olivia looked Trevor up and down.

  “Come on, pretty boy,” she said. We’re in danger and we think we found a safe place.”

  11

  On the way back to the classroom, James peered into the night sky. It lacked stars—lacked vitality. This did not surprise him. This place, with its demons poised in the shadows, forsook these things.

  “Jesus! What happened here?” Trevor said, stepping over a broken desk in the classroom.

  “You don’t want to know,” James said. “Follow us.”

  James felt along the wall, found the hidden handle and turned it. The passage door slid open.

  “Whoa—didn’t expect that,” Trevor said.

  James’ legs wobbled with each step down to the altar room. His stomach grumbled. His head swam. He wondered how many hours it had been since they arrived—instinct told him a quarter day or so, but his body hollered weeks.

  “Careful, the passage narrows here,” Olivia said to Trevor midway.

  “Where’d these candles come from?” Trevor said.

  “You seem to think we have more information than you,” James said.

  The passage opened and the three collected in the now-familiar safe house.

  Horace sat upright against the wall, legs outstretched before him, his skin flushed, his breathing steady. Colette stood near Keto in one corner of the room. Tomas stopped pacing in the opposite corner, glancing at James and then at Trevor.

  Tomas bolted across the room. He grabbed Trevor’s shoulders, slammed him against the wall and shoved his elbow between Trevor’s jugular and jaw.

  “Who are you?” Tomas said.

  Trevor’s body tensed and his knuckles went white as he attempted to remove Tomas from him.

  “Hey, back off! I didn’t do anything,” Trevor said through clenched teeth. James thought Trevor might fight back, but instead he went limp.

  James dug his hands under Tomas’ shoulders, planted his feet and yanked. The bald man didn’t budge. Olivia joined in—Keto too.

  Tomas growled.

  At length, they managed to disentangle the two men. James wiped away a flood of sweat that stung his eyes.

  “Cool off man!” James said to Tomas. “This is Trevor—we found him outside. He’s just as confused as we are.”

  Trevor slid to the ground coughing, hugging himself with one hand and rubbing his neck with the other.

  “You better watch your friend—he nearly killed me,” Trevor said.

  Tomas spit. “You are dead if I decide it,” he said.

  James looked at Tomas. He had misread the man. Tomas was more than just an annoying twat. He was dangerous. James resolved to keep a close eye on him.

  “Tomas, we found Anthony,” James said. “What happened?”

  “Fuck you,” Tomas said as he prowled back and forth, staring at Trevor.

  “I get it. You’re pissed,” James said. “Just…please tell us what happened.”

  Tomas’ nostrils flared. He whirled in place and struck the wall, collapsing into it. He rested his forehead on the wall, anchoring himself with his fists.

  “We restored the power. I left him to console himself. When I came back, the girl had killed him,” Tomas said.

  “Console himself?” James said. “You saw the girl?”

  “Yes,” Tomas said. “He was going on about his wife—he killed the man who was fucking her. I saw the girl—she is mine now,” Tomas said.

  His now? Does he feel for Anthony or is he just batshit crazy?

  “Okay…did you see her kill him?” James said.

  “No,” Tomas said.

  An E-chord twanged in James’ gut—was his intuition amiss?

  “Tomas, are you upset about Anthony?” Olivia said.

  “Anthony? Fuck him, the whining cunt,” Tomas said, unwavering, his composure restored. “I want the girl—I do not like it when my prey evades me.”

  Olivia crossed her arms and frowned at Tomas.

  “What girl?” Trevor said.

  James’ face darkened. “Not sure it’s a girl, per se. More like a demon out of a movie. You know those scary films with the grimy, long-haired, wet girls that go around murdering people? That, but worse.”

  “Oh,” Trevor said, eyebrows slightly upturned in an otherwise blank face.

  “Horace, were you here the whole time?” James said.

  “Why, yes,” Horace said. “Do I strike you as mobile? The best I can manage is a sad hobble.”

  James furrowed his brow.

  “All right, well, we need to think through some new information,” James said. “Keto found an expensive computer cable in the garden that has no business being here.” He refrained from explaining the cable’s origin. “And we found another statue. I’m not sure how to explain this, but I believe someone (or something) is trying to help us. Olivia and I have been…” he paused. “…seeing things.”

  “What kind of things?” Trevor said.

  Olivia and James hesitated.

  “Writing. Words out of nowhere,” Olivia said.

  “Writing? Has anyone else seen this?” Trevor said.

  “No—no one else can,” James said. “It’s been helpful so far, but now we’re stuck.”

  “Stuck?” Trevor said.

  “Yeah. The last bit didn’t offer much on finding the next statue,” James said.

  “Statue?” Trevor said.

  James handed Trevor the wooden figures.

  “Wow, these are depressing. Any idea what they’re for?” Trevor said.

  “Not sure,” James said.

  “We found one in this room and another in the garden,” Colette said.

  Trevor locked onto Colette. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced. My name is Trevor—Trevor Banks. And you are…?” Trevor said, his lustrous teeth positively beaming between full, smiling lips.

  Colette blushed across the room. It smacked James as it passed him by, stinging slightly.

  “Colette Anderson. A pleasure,” she said and playfully waved Trevor away.

  Trevor’s eyes moved to the altar. His eyebrows lifted.

  “Is that a butsudan?” Trevor said.

  “Yeah, how’d you know?” James said.

  “I spent some time in Japan,” Trevor said. “A bit shoddy, isn’t it?”

  “There’s a keyed switch underneath—it triggers a trap door that drops beneath the room. Olivia and I spent some time down there; that’s where we first saw the writing,” James said.

  “I apologize profusely, but I’ve been out of the loop,” Horace said. “All this talk of cables and statues and writing has me flummoxed. What are you suggesting James?”

  “I’m not sure, but I had an epiphany while we were searching the garden,” James said. “All this seems too perfect—a bit artificial, you know? For one, we’re the only people here. Also, has anyone felt a breeze? And what’s up with the invisible wall and finding that ridiculously expensive cable?”

  Trevor chuckled.

  “Are you suggesting this is some elaborate arena designed by an elitist organization for the purpose of killing people with ghosts?” Trevor said.

  “Um, no,” James said. “But now that you mention it…”

  “Maybe you are crazy,” Trevor said. “Well, if it’s ghosts and statues you want, I saw a strange, cult-looking symbol painted on the gym roof—that’s where I first arrived. I didn’t think much of it because I wasn’t thinking—I was so out of my mind. Now, it seems like it might be important. Should we check it out?”

  James considered it. Thus far they hadn’t encountered anything conspicuous—the altar room and the Buddha statue’s secret compartment hid themselves from onlookers. A painted symbol practically announced itself.

  “It’s worth checking o
ut, though maybe we should wait until morning when the sun comes up,” James said.

  “What if there isn’t a morning?” Olivia said.

  James remembered Anthony hanging from the power box.

  “Well, it seems like we’re safe here,” James said.

  “That isn’t a guarantee,” Olivia said. “Look, these cryptic messages—they don’t feel like part of all this. Something is trying to push us toward collecting these statues, and we need to listen.”

  “Not that I have any say, but I’m with Olivia,” Trevor said. “I don’t want to be here another second longer. I’m going. Who’s with me?”

  “Me,” Olivia said.

  Colette glanced at Keto, whose gaze stayed locked on Trevor.

  “I’ll go,” Keto said.

  “I’m coming,” Tomas said.

  “Count me in,” Colette said.

  “Looks like you have the consensus Olivia,” James said. “I’m in.”

  “Don’t forget about me,” Horace said. Every eye turned toward him.

  “Come again?” James said.

  “I’m coming along, like it or not,” Horace said. “I don’t want to be left alone here any longer. I’m feeling much better. Here—“ He pressed his hands against the wall, pushing upward by degrees, pausing after each movement. Once upright, he placed a modest amount of weight on his damaged ankle.

  “Oh dear God!” He said, between a whimper and scream.

  “You’d better keep off that, or you’ll make it worse,” Olivia said.

  “Yes—I believe you are right,” Horace said. “James, can you fetch me something to use as a crutch in the room upstairs? I recall having a mop that worked reasonably well.”

  Who was James to argue? He made his way out of the room, up the stairs and into the classroom. He surveyed the wreckage and spotted a long, wooden plank—likely a piece of shelf—that sported a hand-sized hole in the center. He retrieved it and then found a thick book and folded it over the wooden board’s splintered end. He secured it by slamming the book against the wall, driving the board into the book’s spine: a crude armpit cushion. Chintzy but functional.

  He went back downstairs and handed Horace the makeshift crutch. Horace thanked him and set himself on the board, book in armpit. He took a few steps across the room.

  “Ah, much better. Shall we be on our way?” Horace said.

  “Are you sure Horace? If that thing shows up again, you won’t be able to run,” Olivia said.

  “And none of us will help you,” Tomas said.

  “As reassuring as you both are…I’m coming,” Horace said.

  “Let’s move then,” James said.

  12

  Trevor led them to the gym roof. A pang stabbed his conscience—these were good people.

  Hell, under different circumstances, I’d probably be having a drink with folks like this.

  He recalled a failed ritual’s consequences.

  They’re just pawns. Dammit all to hell.

  13

  Theo leaned back in his contoured, fiber-mesh chair and placed one hand on his head.

  I can count on Trevor.

  He prepared himself for what was about to happen.

  Purgatory 8’s doors unlatched and a procession of decorated officials filtered into the monitoring facility, General Holmes at the helm. Holmes proceeded to Theo’s workstation, obstructing his view of the room.

  “Theo, what are you playing at?” Holmes said.

  “I’m sorry, what do you mean?” Theo said.

  Theo felt the room’s attention on them.

  “Inserting Trevor into the ritual? You know how dangerous that is! What were you thinking?” Holmes said.

  “Oh, that?” Theo said. “Yes, well, I have substantial evidence that an unknown entity is interfering with the ritual.”

  “Explain,” Holmes said.

  “Better to show you,” Theo said.

  Susan, prepared as always, tapped her screen, sending a series of camera feeds coupled with spectrographs and timelines to HULK. Holmes focused upon it.

  “Susan, scrub to 23:47:22.2. Yep, there. Good. Okay, see these four standing in front of Buddha? Watch Feed B as Part Five makes her way to the rear of the statue—Susan, slow it to .25x speed—okay, just as she rounds the rear…there! See it? Susan, zoom into Feed D—get in real close to Buddha’s back,” Theo said.

  “Theo, I don’t see anything but bronze,” Holmes said.

  “We didn’t either, but watch what she does. Susan, keep Part Five in Feed B while showing the zoomed Feed D,” Theo said.

  Come look at this, Olivia said. She read the hidden message aloud and the feed ended.

  “Theo, you and I both know this is impossible. Perhaps she imagined it? The stress of the ritual getting to her?” Holmes said.

  “I thought that too. Susan performed every analysis: spectral, ecto, kinetic, thermal, magnetic, nuclear, dark matter—you name it, we checked for it. Nothing. But, Part Four and Five’s brainwaves indicated that they were, in fact, seeing something—well, not just something but the exact same thing. Then I had an idea. You know that new tech I’ve been tinkering around with—the Occipital Interrupt?” Theo said.

  Holmes nodded.

  Theo had fielded a bio-sensor research and development project a few years back. Its purpose was to address a growing concern over the fragility of monitoring rituals simply from camera feeds and basic bio-analytics. Magnus desired more information—more insight. Among the research’s products was the Occipital Interrupt, a small organic sensor designed to sit between the eye and optical nerve, and relay the brain’s visual signals. It had showed promise during trials, but never got past the alphaware stage as it produced noisy data. Theo insisted that the OI be installed in participants to help work out the kinks. Now he was glad he did.

  “Well, I grabbed a slice of their optic impulses while they were reading aloud—terrible quality, noisy as all hell—and wrote a custom Kalman algorithm to clean it up. Got a relatively shitty image of what their eyes were seeing and laid it over the feed. Check it out,” Theo said, and nodded at Susan.

  She scrubbed to the beginning and replayed it. This time, however, a grainy, jumpy picture lay translucent over the original feed of Buddha’s back. Holmes sat down at a temporarily empty workstation, placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. The feed showed Olivia rounding the statue. When her eyes fell on Buddha, Feed D displayed words written, as if by finger, in luminescent ink.

  “What in God’s name? How is this possible? Is Part Four’s optic scan the same?” Holmes said.

  “Exactly the same. As for possibilities? Not to get all doomsday on you, but we might have a problem even this facility cannot handle,” Theo said.

  “Go on,” Homes said, his face solid steel.

  “I believe we are dealing with an entity who possesses the power of a God,” Theo said, reflecting on Magnus’ great achievement: the confinement of all seven Gods to blood chambers. “The seven’s blood readings were benign at the time of the ritual hijack. However, to our knowledge, only a God is capable of conjuring mental imagery in a participant without releasing some form of identifiable energy.”

  “Are you telling me we have another God on the loose?” Holmes said.

  “That is the only likely scenario at this point. There are some positive factors however. If there is a free-roaming God, then the world should already be down shit creek—the fact that we’re still sitting here is a good sign. Why, though? Maybe the God doesn’t have all of its power? Maybe it needs the ritual to fail? I’m really not sure. What I do know is that we need one more sacrifice if we’re going to keep Amida at bay. He’s thirsty though—it might require more,” Theo said.

  “And we only have one sacrifice thus far, with eight more hours to go?” Holmes said.

  “About that. Tim, can you confirm?” Theo said.

  Tim, sitting off in the corner, tapped away on his screen. He jumped at the mention of his name.

&n
bsp; “Sir—checking now! We have exactly seven hours and forty-eight minutes remaining before Amida’s plasma-lock releases,” Tim said.

  Theo wheeled around in his chair to face Holmes and let his head fall to his chest. He then raised his eyes and stared at the general.

  “Now, do we have a problem regarding Trevor?” Theo said.

  Holmes face reddened.

  “Theo, your brilliance is unparalleled—I get that. But if you keep another secret like this from me again, consider yourself nixed from this op. We are watching you,” Holmes stood and turned to the room. “All of you.”

  14

  They moved from building to building. Each corridor and outdoor passage alternated emergency red to dusk to red again and watered James’ vision. In college, he’d elected to take an analog photography class and had despised every second spent in the dark room—the chemicals and bloodshot light left him ill—now he fared no better. Trevor led them to a hallway between the gym and multipurpose room.

  “Let’s see, I came through here,” Trevor said, leading them down the hall. “…and I was—ah! Here we go.”

  A pair of open doors at the end of the hallway led to a stairwell that climbed a few stories. A wire-caged canister lamp illuminated the stairs, casting crimson shadows onto the steps, blending them into a dark, daunting obstacle course.

  “Watch your step,” Trevor said to Colette.

  Trevor hopped two steps as he climbed, reaching the second and third floors ahead of them. James heard the echo of a door opening above him. When he reached the last flight, Trevor stood outside pointing to a large, white symbol painted on the ground.

  A low wall enclosed a football-field-sized roof. Trevor stood at its center surrounded by air conditioning units and fenced power boxes. He circled the symbol, walking its wide circumference. James joined him.

  “This looks like a gate,” James said. One by one the others appeared.

  “It is a gate—more specifically, a torii,” Keto said, arriving last.

  The torii, painted in white as if by an immense sumi brush, sprawled ten feet in diameter. It exhibited a stacked, curved roof supported by two columns, disclosed with masterfully articulated strokes—it captivated James.