A Weaving of Ancient Evil

by SIMS, MAYNARD

  “What are you smiling at?” Robert touched her arm.

  “Was I smiling? Just wondering how Daniel and Imogen are getting on.”

  At her name Robert felt an intense pain throb through the frontal lobe of his brain. He flinched.

  “Are you all right?” Rebecca was instantly concerned.

  Looking pale and shaken, Robert rubbed his forehead. The flash concerned him, because they were infrequent, but usually heralded trouble.

  Rebecca was speaking but he couldn’t really hear what she was saying. She started to walk away and he guessed she was going for help. He didn’t want a fuss, but at the same time he needed a few moments to see if he could locate the source of what had sent such a powerful psychic message to him.

  Zoë Mills made some adjustments to the Random Image Generator being set up for the Osis Experiment she and her colleagues were conducting later that morning with Frank Moreland. She was unaware that Frank’s mind had escaped during the night, and was currently being tracked down by a frantic Norris and Keating, but had she known she wouldn’t have been surprised. Moreland came with a few problems, the most inconvenient one as far as she was concerned being that he was a maverick.

  Zoë was a thirty two year old blonde whose looks could have provided her with a living as a fashion model or actress if she hadn’t dedicated her life to science. In fact she was so dedicated even Whitney was concerned she was becoming obsessive. Her performance profiles were all A-rated for her work but gave less flattering assessments of her personal qualities. She was popular, and fairly easy going, but she had a stubborn one track mind when it came to her work. When Moreland deviated from that line she left him with no doubt that he had annoyed her.

  In the computer room Norris breathed a sigh of relief when the computer readings gave a surge, revealing Moreland was whole again. He nodded to Keating who gave a sour look and bit into one of the doughnuts, dripping jelly down his chin.

  “Frank?” Norris spoke into the microphone on his desk. “You are there?”

  On the TV screen he watched as Frank’s body stirred under the covers. Frank’s eyes opened and he smiled. “Cold out there today.”

  Norris grinned. “You shouldn’t have been out there at all.”

  Frank sat up and peeled the electrode pads from his chest. “Had to check Zoë has got things organised.”

  Keating spoke, a little too loudly as he was some distance from the microphone. “Zoë will have your balls if she knows you’ve been on walkabout again.”

  Standing now, and stretching his limbs Frank smiled. “She looked fine, when I visited her in the shower this morning.”

  Keating’s mouth dropped. Norris shook his head. “He’s kidding you, Bob. Aren’t you, Frank – and no cracks about Nicole. Okay?”

  “I need to get dressed and you two don’t want to watch that. See you later.”

  Zoë was helping Chad Harley set up a projector in a metal box as part of the basic experiment. Chad grunted as he took the weight of the box and hoisted it onto the table. The ‘mind in the box’ experiment was a basic one, a variation on the stage illusionists and magicians idea of guessing the number someone was thinking of, or guess which playing card is yours.

  By the time Frank entered the room the whole set-up was ready.

  Whitney was already there and he hurried across to Frank, determined to make a fuss of his financial lifeline. “Frank, good night’s sleep?”

  Frank nodded. He thought Whitney was a pain, a necessary evil of the job, but a pain nonetheless. “Sure, very comfortable with wires sticking out of my ass.”

  Whitney winced. “Sticking out…”

  “He’s joking, Walt,” Zoë said, and punched Frank lightly on the shoulder. Then to Frank she said, “You are ready? No travels this morning?”

  Frank looked away but he was surprised Zoë knew about that. “Travels? Slept like a baby, Zoë. Feeling fit and well, and ready for today's little games.”

  Whitney made a sound between a snort and a disapproving sigh. “You wouldn’t call them ‘games’ if you had heard the negotiations I’ve just had to undergo to keep this place funded. ‘Games’? That was no game I can assure you.” He walked off to the sanctuary of his office.

  Zoë laughed. “How to win friends, Frank?”

  Frank sat on the high stool that was his first position for the initial experiment. “Let’s party.”

  Rebecca felt lost and alone, even though the party was in full swing again, now that the band had started up. She was worried about Robert, and wanted to find the host so she could get Robert to a side room, and order a paramedic if necessary. He wouldn’t like it but she had seen that look on his face before, usually preceding a blackout.

  Four young women were seated at a table near the entrance hall, they were talking animatedly, laughing, gossiping. Rebecca looked at them enviously; they didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

  The women looked across at her, curious, not staring, casually watching another party guest. Rebecca noticed their clothes, expensive and elegant, the latest designer fashion. Their hair was perfectly done, their jewellery discreet and tasteful. Then she noticed their eyes. Each of them seemed to have perfectly blue eyes. Rebecca smiled inwardly; they must have been wearing contact lenses to match each other, what a conceit.

  The red headed one then stood and came over to Rebecca. “You look a little lost. Can we help?” Her voice was soft and gentle, reassuring and helpful.

  “I’m Rebecca Moreland. My husband, Robert, he’s not feeling too well. Do you know where our host is? I need some help.”

  The other women had joined them now. “Sure,” the blonde one said. “We’ll take you to him.”

  Two of them took hold of Rebecca’s arms and guided her towards a door. Rebecca tried to pull away but the grip on her was tight. Their eyes were all around her, she was drowning in them. Everywhere she looked the blueness was there, like the sea and the sky merged into one. She felt her mind start to swim, feeling faint. The eyes, the blue, and then an appalling stench, like a zoo. Her head started to pound, and her movements felt muffled, jerky and uncertain.

  She knew she was till inside the house, still within the entrance hall, but everything seemed so unclear. There were so many doors, and the sound of music, laughter, and glasses clinking. There was a vast room, and the women led her into it. A crystal chandelier suspended like a web from a ceiling covered in heavy bas-relief gilt work. People, countless people, sipping drinks, talking and dancing. Tables laden with food, buckets of ice. Somewhere a piano was playing ‘Moonlight’. ‘They’ve brought me back to the party.’ Rebecca thought, and she turned to the women but they had gone.

  The music started to get louder, stopping her thoughts, deafening her. Surely the other people didn’t appreciate it this loud? She asked a couple standing next to her. The dewy blonde sniffed. “Have fun.”

  People were laughing and talking so loudly now that they competed with piano. “Stop!” Rebecca shouted. “Let me sleep.” A face came close to hers, a fat florid face. “Eat drink and be merry,” the face said, then it was gone, replaced by the face of a frog.

  “You look funny,” Rebecca giggled, then caught herself. This wasn’t funny at all. Words came into her head but she couldn’t make them reach her mouth. The music was becoming unbearable. If only she could find Robert, he’d make the music stop and the faces go away.

  She pushed to the centre of the dance floor and people moved aside to let her pass. When she got there she was confused, why was she here? Swaying slightly, perspiration prickling out all over her body, eyes blinking rapidly. She looked down at herself, at her cleavage, her breasts. Her nipples stood hard and erect. She threw her arms across her chest, but everyone was laughing.

  “Drunken whore,” someone called out. “Just like her mother.”

  “No,” Rebecca said softly, still swaying, shaking her head from side to side, denying the words, trying to clear her mind.

  “Just like her
mother, just like her mother.”

  A thin gaunt woman in a lilac dress with hair dyed to match came up and pinched her on the arm. “Wake up, Rebecca, you’re dreaming,” she said kindly.

  Rebecca smiled. “Oh, am I?”

  The woman forced her face to within an inch of Rebecca’s, her breath fetid. “No. It’s real, all of it, real!” she screamed at her.

  “Please stop.” Rebecca was crying, sobbing silent tears. “Please I don’t want to play anymore.”

  The crowd of faces slowly backed away, but she felt tired, as if she wanted to sleep. Her eyelids flickered teasingly; wouldn’t it be nice to lie back and fall asleep? She felt herself falling, drifting down, as light as a feather, floating, and a medley of song appeared in her mind, Sinatra, and she called for Robert.

  “Rebecca? It’s all right, I’m over here.”

  She opened her eyes and through the crowd of people she could see double doors, and they were open. The people formed into two rows facing each other, and she could see a figure standing just inside the double doors.

  “Come on, Rebecca, over here.”

  “Party seems to be going well,” a voice from the rows of people said.

  “She’s just a whore, like her mother.”

  Rebecca ran, but the more she ran the further away the figure seemed to be. She pumped her legs but it was as if she was running in deep swirling water. Faces turned to her but they weren’t faces at all, just flat parchment expanses of white skin; no eyes, no mouths, no hair, nothing human.

  Around her a soft sibilant chant. “…whore…whore…whore.”

  She tried to block out the voices but as she ran the faceless people reached out, long spindly fingers catching the material of her dress, scoring and tearing it. It was impossible to run any faster but the double doors seemed just as far away now. Her vision faded, then cleared, then faded again. The figure beyond the doors was walking away. It was Robert, she knew it was. Running faster, not minding who she knocked out of the way, she elbowed people to get to the doors, and she pitched herself forwards and she was through them.

  It was a long passageway, with a flight of stairs at the end. The figure of the man, of Robert was ascending the stairs. At the top was another passageway, darker, save for a single shaft of light coming from a half opened door. She went into the room.

  “Robert?”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her, a long lingering kiss of people no longer strangers to one another. His tongue flicked out and hers responded, so grateful for his strength. Delving deeper into the velvet smoothness of his mouth she relished the sweetness of his comfort. She wanted to tell him she loved him and how they should never be apart again, for whatever reason, but no words came. She felt a hardness press against her and she moaned softly in her throat, returning the pressure, flattening her breasts against his firm chest. As her mind wondered how she could be so wanton, her body answered.

  The kiss seemed to last forever, effortless and passionate. His hands stroked her back, caressing her skin through the thin material of the dress, and she felt his fingers reach for the clasp. The zip was pulled down, slowly and warm dry hands slipped inside and began stroking her shoulders. The dress fell to the floor and she stepped out of it as they edged towards the bed. Carefully she undid the buttons of his shirt, slid her hands onto his chest, as he removed the clip that held her hair.

  His lips travelled downwards and she thrilled as they settled in the angle between her neck and her shoulders. His hands began to tease her legs, along and between them, bringing her arousal to a scream of passion. She unzipped his trousers and thrust her hand inside. He reached beneath her and drew away her flimsy clothing, touching her lightly before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking hard.

  As she raised her legs she first noticed the faint animal smell and gave a seconds thought about their surroundings. It had a familiar smell to it, and made her think of blue eyes. Then another wave of pleasure swept over her and she forgot everything else.

  Their movements together were slow and lazy, as if there was all the time in the world. The earlier urgency had passed, and she was content to lay back and let his hands roam across her body, searching out sensitive places, lingering for long moments before letting her float back down again.

  She gave a gasp of pain as something rough brushed over her breast. The animal smell was becoming intense, and for the first time she started to feel a flicker of unease nudging at the back of her mind. Her thoughts were blurred, but suddenly she knew something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he spoken? Robert always spoke to her as they made love.

  Rebecca tried to say his name but he rolled on top of her and she grunted at the weight of him. The animal musk was overpowering, sweet and corrupt. She encircled his body with her arms, but his body was covered with thick bristling hair, rough and coarse. This wasn’t right; Robert’s back was virtually hairless.

  She opened her eyes, and at first couldn’t see anything, just darkness. Then she could just make out, very faintly above her, two pinpricks of cold blue light. She was being kissed again but the tongue filled her mouth, huge and swollen as the hard lips tried to push hers into her face. His teeth sank deep into her lower lip and as blood poured into her mouth she screamed in pain and shock.

  Through the coverlet of darkness in the room she could faintly make out the face of the figure on top of her. The blue eyes blinded her but even so she recognised the sneering face although she hadn’t seen him for years.

  “Michael.” She spoke the name of Robert’s brother, and tried hard to encapsulate all the disgust she felt for him. “Is this your way of paying Robert back? By raping his wife?”

  She attempted to lift herself from the bed, but his weight pinned her there, and worse he was forcing her backwards, causing her legs to open as though in invitation. Inhumanly huge it entered her, thrusting and she felt herself tear, with pain beyond expression. Her eyes closed involuntarily but before they did she saw the figure she thought to be her husband’s brother, and it had more the appearance of a beast, large, covered in hair, with burning blue eyes, and additional limbs hanging loosely from its bloated body.

  In her mind she saw Imogen’s face. ‘He’s hurt me Imogen.’ ‘I know.’ ‘Is it bad?’ Imogen nodded slowly. ‘Am I going to die?’ ‘Yes you are.’ Tears welled up in Rebecca’s eyes. ‘They said I was a whore like mother, but she wasn’t was she?’ Imogen shook her head and smiled. ‘Sugar and spice just like you.’

  Something huge towered over her, something ancient and evil, and hot animal breath fanned her face. Cold blue eyes bore into Rebecca's, and she became aware of four other shapes in the room.

  “Is she dead yet?” the brown haired woman asked.

  The beast shifted and wrenched free.

  “She is now,” the red headed one giggled.

  Frank Moreland wasn’t yet aware that something was about to go wrong. The experiments he was taking part in were routine, something he had done in one form or another since he had first arrived at the research centre about three months ago.

  He wasn’t yet aware that he was soon to be reunited with his two brothers, neither of whom he had seen, through choice, for more than ten years.

  As soon as he realised what powers he shared with them he upped and left. About a year after that the headaches began. Often during the attacks he would get a strange floating feeling, as if he was away from his body looking at it from above. He checked into a local hospital where they scanned his brain for tumours, gave him an all clear and some pills to ease the headaches. The headaches didn’t stop and the pain grew worse, until he found the only way to ease it was to allow himself to give in to the floating feeling, and let it carry him away. If he fought it the headaches continued and intensified. It wasn’t long before he found he could travel with his mind, predict things, hear and see things he didn’t want to see or hear, or experience at all. Then the nightmares started.

  He dreamed about being in a pit, and about heari
ng an awful lot of screaming coming from a bamboo hut on the other side of a clearing. He dreamed a lot about the bamboo hut. Sometime the black shirted guards would pull him from the pit and drag him towards the hut, and he’d fight them, hear the screams as usual, only this time they were his own. Then he’d wake, sweating and terrified but never knowing what there was in the hut to be afraid of. The thing that frightened him the most was that every time he dreamed about it the hut came a little nearer.

  It was then that he sought help. He tried an analyst but that did no good, so drink was next. Climbing inside a bottle like an alcoholic genie was a good escape, because once he’d drunk himself into a stupor he could sleep without dreaming. That treatment lasted for almost three years but before those three years were through he was out of a job, and the only way he could continue to live was to sell his house. With the money raised from that he found there were other ways to conquer his dream. He headed for New York where people minded their own business but where it was easy to find a cloak for his troubles.

  That was where Chad Harley found him, at a drug rehabilitation centre in Brooklyn. The woman who ran the centre was a retired doctor called Iris Monkton, and as she weaned him off heroin she took a particular interest in the floating feeling Frank described. At one of their sessions Chad Harley was present, and Monkton told Frank it was Chad he should be speaking with.

  At the research centre they began mutual experiments about the extent of Frank’s abilities, and the root cause of the nightmares.

  Zoë made a final adjustment to the monitors and pulled the microphone down to the level of her mouth.

  “Can you hear me, Frank?”

  “Loud and clear.” He was in an adjacent room. His head was connected to electrodes that fed into a metal box, monitored by an EEG, and leading into the RIG. The idea was that he would throw his mind into the metal box and read the images that appeared.