A Weaving of Ancient Evil

by SIMS, MAYNARD

  Standing, he turned and ran, forcing his exhausted mind to fight back. He suddenly saw an elegant ballroom, with couples dancing, a piano playing. ‘Party seems to be going well.’ It was Walt Whitney, but with the body of a frog. A woman was approaching, she was naked and her body shimmered with a coating of oil. It was Zoë. ‘Sugar and spice.’

  The black cloud was forming a web around his thoughts, and he was being drawn into it. He had to resist, had to escape or he would be sentenced to an eternity of mind travel, caught in limbo above the vast plain, forever watching events unfold beneath him but powerless to intervene.

  He struggled against the power of the web, pushed his mind down, forcing it back towards his body. The cloud chased him, howling like a pack of hunting dogs, filling his mind with confusion, but he stayed strong. He swam through freezing waters, and jumped over fissures in the ground.

  There was a woman in a bath and she was soaping her soft dark shining skin. It was Nicole Norris, her nipples distended, black and angry, long and firm. A man entered the bathroom; Bob Keating. ‘Place is like a maze.’

  Frank fought back, and directly ahead he saw the tunnel. He plunged in. The tunnel lurched as if was a snake, and bucked violently; a fairground ride of plummeting and breath stopping speed. Then the tunnel disappeared and he was over the lab, watching the familiar figures scurrying about, panic uppermost in their actions.

  He was back inside the room where his body lay. As he prepared to re-enter it a face materialised in his vision. ‘Well it seems like a man but the edges keep blurring.’ It was a handsome face, black hair swept grandly back from a high unlined forehead, the eyes were blue, startlingly blue. Though he hadn’t seen the face for years he recognised it immediately from his childhood; it was his brother Michael.

  As his mind re-entered his body he was terrifyingly aware that he wasn’t alone. Michael was with him.

  Zoë pulled at the microphone. “Frank, can you hear me?”

  There was no answer and as Chad showed her the current readings from the monitors the print feed began to churn out page after page of paper. The lab began to vibrate; chairs fell over tables began to shake, all the computers switched off, then on again. The EEG began to billow smoke across the room, the TV screen began to flash random images. In some of the pictures Frank’s body continued to twitch and jerk as if a massive electrical current was passing through him. The blood was drying on his nose but his face was contorted in pain.

  “Strain gauges have snapped,” Chad reported.

  Zoë tried to keep professionally detached but it was impossible. All the recording equipment was acting as if a huge surge of energy was flowing through it. Telephones were ringing, lights were flashing on and off. She felt a sudden chill search her body, and goose bumps rose on her skin.

  Chad watched in amazement as two of the assistants suddenly rushed from the room as their bowels and bladders opened in uncontrollable action.

  Overhead sprinklers started and water rained onto their heads, falling into the machines causing tiny sparks and explosions as water and electricity mixed violently.

  “We’re barely getting a visual on Frank now,” Zoë said. “Chad you’re going to have to go in there and check he’s okay.”

  The TV screen suddenly cleared. It was silent in the lab as the telephones and computers stopped; even the water sprinklers had switched off.

  “Thank God,” Chad said. “Listen. I’ll go and check on Frank, but let’s make sure we can monitor him first.”

  They adjusted the controls, and the screen remained open but the sound was gone.

  Chad left the lab and they watched on the screen as he entered Frank’s room. It was like a silent movie as he looked up at the TV camera in the corner. The room was so cold that even with shirt and jeans under his white lab coat Chad began to shiver. Frank was lying completely still but the closer Chad got to him the more intense was the cold.

  On the TV screen in the lab the picture began to roll over and over, images flashed brightly and then the screen went blank. “Switch to the auxiliary,” Zoë said.

  Chad had never known such cold before. He touched Frank’s shoulder; it was hot, burning hot. Frank’s hand came up in a reflex movement and gripped Chad’s. Slowly Frank sat up; both his arms went around Chad’s body.

  “Can’t get the auxiliary to work,” one of the assistants said.

  Keating and Norris ran into the lab. “Rasky, Johnson, Agomede, they’re all dead. All of them,” they said, naming all the other psychics currently housed at the centre.

  Frank squeezed Chad, the heat searing into Chad’s body, burning the flesh on his chest. After a few moments Frank laid back down. Chad fell to the floor, dead.

  In the lab the TV screen flicked on showing Frank lying motionless on the divan, Chad on the floor.

  Frank was resisting with all his strength because he had always known Michael was evil. Robert would never accept that three brothers, triplets born but a few seconds part could be so different, but frank had always understood, even as a boy.

  Not that he believed this was the Michael he had grown up with, the Michael he had shared a womb with. Somehow, somewhere along the route Michael had become something different.

  Frank knew he couldn’t hold him forever. He was tired already, and Michael was strong. Frank needed help. He was officially catatonic, his pulses normal, though slowing, deep respiratory action but no limb movement, no eyelid flutter. He was effectively in a trance, a deep sleep without dreams, his mind caught in neutral. His mind was active though, in constant battle to contain Michael, to prevent him from escaping. But he did need help, and he could only get help by calling for it.

  The dials monitoring Frank went crazy for five seconds; the EEG scratched massive signs of activity, the computers recorded brain activity, high pulse readings, heartbeat, breathing and blood pressure. For five seconds Frank was alive with hyper-activity, physically and mentally. Then he settled back down to his dormant battle.

  Uptown Manhattan simmered in the late afternoon heat. Streets were crowded with shoppers hurrying to beat the rush stream of traffic that would appear when the working day ended. Coffee shops and restaurants were switching table cloths and cutlery dirtied by the lunch time trade, readying themselves for the cocktail hour, and later still the evening diners, the after show eaters.

  That part of the city of New York was like an elegant lady caught unexpectedly in an embarrassing situation. She was slim, usually dignified, normally cool, but the heat that attacked her was vulgar, causing her to perspire, something not usually associated with her aloofness. She was wilting in the unaccustomed ferocity of the summer sun, the heat wave causing her attractive façade to come loose at the seams. Her inhabitants were crumpled, they were irritable and tempers that should have remained on the border’s edge of reasonable boiled over into argument. Sharp suited executives would quarrel where in better mood they would negotiate; bar owners once lugubrious were surly; cops moved traffic on almost before it had parked.

  The lady was hot but she remained a lady; where a lesser woman might fan her legs with her skirt, this lady kept herself above such displays. Her appearance remained as outwardly calm as ever, as full of charm as always. She never forgot she was not only a lady, but also money and power, and these scents were as seductive in the heat of the day as in the cool of the night.

  Julia Lopez reached the restaurant early, which was her intention, and allowed the waiter to escort her to the corner table she’d selected and gave him her order for a vodka martini. As she sipped the drink, waiting for Lewis Darcy to arrive, she went through the ideas she had considered for the evening.

  She was the executive in charge of a new product launch, a perfume that Darcy's company were manufacturing and which Julia’s firm, Ryder and Stern was promoting. Julia was wining and dining Darcy this evening to help smooth the transaction. Her side of the campaign had as much to do with public relations as it did with advertising slogans. She had a bottle
of the perfume in her purse but she wouldn’t spray any onto her skin until later; for the moment she wore no scent, just the smell of the herbal soap she had used in the shower.

  The waiter hovered with the menu but she waved him away If she had summed up Darcy correctly he’d prefer to choose the meal himself, select the wine, lead the way as some men needed to do. Julia would play along until it suited her to take the upper hand. Just then Darcy entered the restaurant and he was brought across to the table, where Julia and he said the meaningless greetings that people did in situations like these.

  “You found the place easily?” Julia asked him, and ordered another drink.

  “I’ll have a Glenfiddich neat please.” Darcy said. “Sure, no problem.” He looked around at the other tables; a little after nine the restaurant was full. “Nice place. Come here a lot?”

  Julia shook her head. Her hair was black; it wasn’t brown, dark brown or any such variant, it was pure night black, and natural, no colourings. Her eyes provided the stars, lightly speckled brown dancing with warmth. Her skin was smooth, faintly enhanced with a minimum of cosmetics. Her body under her simple white dress was stunning. Darcy hardly heard a word of her answer.

  “Would you like to order for us, Lewis?” Julia could see from his face that the trouble she had taken to look good had been worth it.

  He motioned for the waiter and began to peruse the menu. Julia knew he was pleased she had asked him to choose the meal; it played to his masculine instincts and he was flattered. When their drinks arrived he raised his glass in a salute. “Here’s to a successful evening.”

  Julia paused before she sipped her drink. “I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time, Lewis.”

  “So what do you think of the campaign?”

  Julia laughed softly. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  “I guess so, but I’d like your opinion.”

  Julia pretended to consider a reply for a moment, giving herself time to think. She guessed he would prefer an honest opinion, but at the same time he was a hard-headed businessman and would already have considered most of the angles. “I think it’s a good product…”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s got an originality about it that I like; the name’s good, the packaging is good.” She laughed. “And the advertising is terrific.”

  Darcy laughed with her and Julia hoped she had chosen the right level of pitch. The food arrived for the first course and they began to eat. Darcy tasted the wine and nodded his approval. He must have been fifty or so, but the steel grey threading through his hair was distinguished looking. The lines in his face were full of character not age, and his clothes were immaculate.

  When the first course was cleared away three waiters brought the main dishes. Julia was having British beef, and as she pressed her fork into the meat red blood oozed onto the plate.

  “So, what do you do with yourself on your nights off, Julia?”

  He was beginning to flirt with her as she had predicted he would. She forked a mouthful of meat from the plate and allowed it to hover tantalisingly in front of her lips. “I like to enjoy myself, like now…I enjoy my work.” She closed her lips around the fork.

  Darcy drank some wine and Julia watched him carefully. She had to play the game very skilfully, keep him hooked, let him think she was available without letting him land her.

  “Do you have a regular boyfriend?”

  Julia smiled. “I’m twenty nine next birthday, Lewis, boys hold little interest any more; I prefer a man to take me out…tell me…are you attached?”

  A slight hesitation, and then. “Yes, yes I am.”

  “Are you faithful to her?”

  He looked down at his plate. “I…I am.”

  Julia ran her tongue over her lips, tasting the blood there. “You’re an attractive man, Lewis, how are you enjoying your meal?”

  “Fine, just fine, how’s your beef?”

  Julia placed another piece of meat in her mouth, and as she couldn’t immediately speak she placed her hand over his on top of the table. He didn’t try to pull away and when her mouth was clear she took her hand away.

  “It’s delicious, your choice was perfect.” She placed her hand back onto the table top near to Darcy's but his hand drew back. Julia smiled at him, and sipped her wine. It didn’t come naturally to her to play the tease, it wasn’t a part of the job that she enjoyed, but it was a part of the job. Darcy was a little nervous of her now and she liked that. Julia thought he would have imagined himself seducing her and now he wasn't so sure, and she began to calculate ways to say goodnight without letting him feel rebuffed.

  “What have you chosen for dessert?”

  The waiter brought along a huge bowl of fresh raspberries and Julia and Darcy laughed together. “I guess there’s the answer.”

  “Here try one.” Darcy spooned a single raspberry and offered it to Julia. She lightly held his hand as she took the ripe succulent fruit into her mouth.

  “I love the taste on my tongue.” Next moment she was choking as the fruit was swallowed awkwardly.

  Darcy stood to help her but she fumbled in her purse for a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. As she pulled out the handkerchief two photographs fluttered to the floor. “I feel such a fool.” She didn’t notice the photographs.

  Darcy bent down to retrieve them. “Think nothing of it. So long as you’re okay.”

  She drank some water. “I’m fine now. What have you got there?”

  Darcy handed the photographs to her; they were of a boy aged about eight or nine. “Nice boy.”

  Julia took the photographs and held them for a moment. She didn’t like anyone to see them but there was no way out now, and in any case the stupid choking had destroyed the foolishly constructed atmosphere of flirtation. “He’s my son.”

  “That’s great, he has your colouring. I didn’t realise you were married.”

  “I’m not.”

  “None of my business. “ He fished around in his jacket pocket. “Here, take a look at these.”

  His wife and three children were posed in a series of shots that spelt warmth, security and home comforts. She handed them back to him and noticed that he was laughing. She began to smile herself not knowing why. What had begun as a small chuckle was turning into uncontrollable laughter. People at nearby tables were turning, amused at the two of them.

  “Lewis…stop it… what is it?”

  Darcy made a visible effort to control himself. “It’s…I just didn’t see the evening turning out like this.” He took a long swallow of wine. “Sharing family snapshots. I thought I was going to have to spend the rest of the evening getting out of seducing you…oh, don’t get me wrong, Julia…you’re gorgeous, and I’d have enjoyed it, except…well, I am faithful to my wife.”

  Julia laughed out loud, throwing her head back, her hair shimmering in the subdued lighting. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I’ve upset you?”

  “Not at all. I thought the same as you. I wanted to keep you sweet so the campaign would go well...but I was trying to figure out how to let you down graciously when you came on strong later this evening.”

  As Darcy paid the check Julia hailed a cab. An evening she had been dreading had turned out fine; she had been herself for a moment and he had liked her that way far better than the role she had assumed for him.

  When they pulled up outside her brownstone overlooking Central Park Julia realised she was a little jealous of Darcy and his happy home life. He was the sort of man she always hoped she would meet for herself. He kissed her cheek and the cab was gone.

  Julia looked up at the apartment building and saw there was a light on in her apartment. Des Hooper would be awake and waiting for her, but she couldn’t face another argument; she was too tired and too hot. If she waited maybe he would fall asleep; it would only postpone his griping until the morning but that would have to do for now. She sat on the front step and fanned her face with her fingers.

 
; The three muggers were like sharks in a pool; they couldn’t see the woman but they felt the ripples of her presence. They were still but when they moved it was in slow circles through the shadowed waters. They were still but they could feel her nearby and were aware of even her slightest movement. They moved by instinct nearer to her, and were still again, sheltered in the trees and bushes of the park, their natural habitat.

  Julia sat quietly in the warm darkness, conscious of how ridiculous her actions were. She was well aware things weren’t working out with Des; it had been a mistake to ask him to share her apartment.

  The three sharks circled their prey and revealed themselves. Julia saw movement to the side of her and froze. A skinny youth dressed in denim moved away from the cover of bushes and stood motionless. Ahead of her a bulky figure appeared from the shadows, carrying a knife. Julia stood and noticed the third one, to the right and slightly behind her, tapping a stick against his leg with a soulful rhythm.

  “Give us the money,” one of the figures slurred.

  “Let’s take her.”

  “Let’s see her.”

  Julia was silent, her eyes starting to blur. For a second she felt as if she was going to pass out and then she felt as if she was sleep walking. She felt apart from her body, knowing from experience what was happening to her but lacking full control over it.

  The tall shark wrapped himself around her body and pinned her arms. The skinny underfed one pulled at her purse but couldn’t prise it loose. The bulky one grabbed the front of her dress and squeezed cruelly.

  Julia felt no pain, nor any fear. Her body went rigid and she felt a pulse beating in her brain.

  The bulky shark lifted in the air and flew backwards, propelled by an unseen force, thrown through the air and landing heavily against a fire hydrant, where he shouted out in pain as he felt his leg crack.

  The tall one cried out in sudden alarm as Julia’s body grew red hot beneath his hands, and the skin on his fingers blistered. He jerked his arms away and held his hands to his body to try to stem the spasm of burning.