Garden of Evil

by Graham Masterton

  ‘All right,’ said Jim. ‘I’m coming.’

  He looked back at the portrait of Father Michael and already he could see that it was beginning to change. The oil paint was thinning, and beginning to slide down the canvas, so Father Michael’s face appeared to sag at first, and then to melt.

  For a fraction of a nanosecond, Jim saw another face appear underneath it. A pale, ethereal face, quite oval, with the strangest olive-green eyes. It vanished instantly, but Jim stood in front of the easel, stunned, feeling as if he had been Tasered.

  He thought, I have seen God.

  In the corner, the red parakeet clawed noisily from side to side on its perch and screeched out, ‘Silence!’

  ‘Come on, Jim,’ Ricky urged him.

  ‘Yeah, sure. Sorry.’

  As he stepped out on to the balcony he took one last look back at the painting, but it had no face at all, only a brownish-gray smear of undercoat, waiting for the face of The Storyteller.

  Climbing the drainpipe back up to Jim’s apartment was a whole lot harder than climbing down, and it took them several attempts before they managed it, heaving and grunting and sliding halfway down again. DaJon Johnson and Al Alvarez leaned over to grab their shirts and drag them back on to the balcony.

  Once he had rolled over the balcony railing, Ricky immediately went through to the bedroom to give Nadine her insulin injection.

  Bethany came up to Jim and hugged him and said, ‘Daddy – you’re amazing!’ and his father clapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Well, done, son! That was some climb!’

  Jim gave them both a quick hug and then said, ‘Give me a minute. I just want to make sure that Nadine’s OK.’

  He went into the bedroom. Nadine was propped up on two pillows, and she had much more color in her cheeks. She gave Jim a weak smile as he came across to the bed.

  Ricky was sitting beside her, smoking one of his skinny Peruvian joints. ‘Thanks, Jim. You saved Nadine’s life, no question.’

  He offered the joint to Jim, but Jim shook his head.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nadine,’ he told her. ‘Ricky and I have to talk.’

  ‘That’s OK. I need to get some sleep now, anyhow.’

  Out in the hallway, with the bedroom door closed, Ricky said, ‘I know what this is all about, Jim, and I know what I have to do. Of course I don’t want to die, but what choice is there? Thousands more people getting killed? Or just me and Bethany and Santana and your dad – and your dad’s been dead for more than thirty years already.’

  ‘Ricky – you know that I can’t ask you do this.’

  ‘Too fuckin’ right you can’t. My dad had nightmares all his life about Nagasaki. Nobody asked of them Jap civilians whether they were willing to die or not. You know that Captain Chuck Sweeney dropped the bomb two-and-a-half clicks away from the intended dropping point, which meant that nearly half of the city was protected by the hills? That’s where the famous phrase, “You fucked up, didn’t you, Chuck!” came from. But my dad always used to wonder if Captain Sweeney did it on purpose.’

  Jim leaned against the wall. He could see himself in the mirror opposite, unshaven, with his hair all scruffed up and bags under his eyes. His pale blue denim shirt had gray and brown skid marks on it from climbing up and down the drainpipe. He thought: look at me. I can’t believe I’m holding the fate of the entire planet in my hands. It just doesn’t seem possible.

  Ricky said, ‘You won’t tell Bethany, will you, or your dad, or Santana? It’s better if they don’t know, believe me.’

  Jim’s eyes filled up with tears. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Ricky. I don’t want to lose any of you.’

  ‘I know that, buddy. But life’s a shit and then you die. And then you come to life again and it’s still a shit and then you die for a second time, sooner or later. I don’t want to die again, Jim, believe me, but what’s the alternative? Like I say, there is no alternative.’

  ‘You’re a brave man, Ricky.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m pragmatic, that’s all, and there’s a whole world of difference between bravery and pragmatism, believe me.’

  ‘Not from where I’m standing.’

  Ricky put his arm around him and said, ‘Come on, Jim. I’m reasonably high now so let’s go do it before I change my mind.’

  TWENTY-THREE

  Jim went through to the living room where everybody was gathered and raised his hands to catch their attention.

  ‘OK, everybody, listen up, please!’

  Tibbles looked up at him from Hunni Robards’ lap and he had seen that expression on Tibbles’ face before: those narrowed eyes, those sloped-back ears. Tibbles could sense that something serious was about to happen. Something supernatural and scary.

  Jim wondered: Even if I give up my psychic sensitivity – will Tibbles keep something of his?

  Bethany came up to him and took hold of his arm and smiled up at him proudly and lovingly. Jesus, he thought, why don’t you just stick a knife in my heart?

  But he said, loudly, ‘Special Class Two – everybody – I think I’ve found a way to send these dead-alive people back to their graves or their mausoleums or wherever they came from. It’s a simple chant – but it’s what exorcists call a dismissal. I have no idea if it’s going to work, but right now I think anything is worth a try before any more innocent people get killed – before we get killed.’

  ‘Sku me, how do we know this ain’t goin’ to make things worse?’ asked DaJon Johnson. ‘Last ritual we did was s’pose to give us Paradise but what did we get instead? We got Day of the Dead, that’s what we got, with extra zombies to go!’

  Jim said, ‘I can’t give you any guarantees, DaJon, but this ritual was passed on to me from somebody that a whole lot of people put their trust in.’

  ‘We ought to try it, sir,’ said Rebecca Teitelbaum. She hadn’t brushed her hair since they had escaped from West Grove College, and it was looking spectacularly frizzy. ‘You know what it says in the Talmud. “Whoever destroys a single life is as guilty as if he had destroyed the whole world, but he who saves a single life earns as much merit as if he had saved the whole world.”’

  ‘Yeah, whatever that means,’ said Rudy Cascarelli. ‘Right now I’m thinking we’re all going to hell in a handcart!’

  ‘Well, you Italians, you know all about handcarts,’ said Al Alvarez. ‘“Get your tutsi-frutsi ice-cream!”’

  Rudy Cascarelli gave him a shove. ‘How’d you like some broken teeth, dude?’

  Jim said, ‘That’s enough. We’ve got enough to worry about without losing our tempers with each other. Now, please – can everybody hold hands in a circle, the same way we did back at the campus.’

  Self-consciously, everybody stood up and held hands. Rudy Cascarelli gave Al Alvarez another shove and Al Alvarez shoved him back.

  Jim was holding Bethany’s hand on one side and his father’s on the other. William Rook turned to him and said, ‘Whatever happens, Jim, you know that I’m real proud of you, don’t you? And that I’m sorry for leaving you on the beach the way I did.’

  Ricky was standing on the opposite side of the circle, between Jesmeka Watson and Joe Chang. He gave Jim a wink and a nod, as if to reassure him that everything was going to work out, and that he didn’t feel resentful about the way that things had turned out. Jim didn’t need Ricky to blame him – he felt guilty enough already.

  ‘OK, then – say after me –“Ba’al be gone, Sammael be gone, Lilith be gone.” We have to say this three times.’

  They recited the words – ‘Ba’al be gone, Sammael be gone, Lilith be gone.’

  When they had done so, they all stood looking at each other.

  ‘Anything happened?’ asked Kyle Baxter.

  Joe Chang pulled a face and shrugged. ‘Nothing, dude – not so far as I can tell.’

  ‘Maybe we should say them again, sir,’ Rebecca Teitelbaum suggested.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Jim told her. ‘I have one more thing that I’m supposed to say, and
I think that kind of completes the ritual.’

  He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning up the strength to lose Bethany and his father and Ricky and Santana. When he opened them again, Ricky was staring at him fiercely and mouthing the words, ‘Go on, Jim! Go on! For fuck’s sake, say it!’

  Jim cleared his throat, and said, ‘May my eyes . . . may my eyes be closed—’

  ‘NO!’ screamed a voice. ‘NO!’

  A dazzling crackle of lightning lit up the center of their circle, brighter and noisier than a thousand firecrackers. It was so bright that it left a blotchy red after-image floating in front of Jim’s eyes, like a map of the world. It was only when he blinked, and blinked again, that he gradually began to see what had happened.

  The Reverend John Silence was standing in front of them, with both of his fists raised up in fury. But this wasn’t really the Reverend John Silence; this was Sammael, the Angel of Death, with his distorted, demonic face. His forked tongue flicked repeatedly out from between his lips as if he had a snake coiled up in his mouth, and of course he did. His son, Simon, who had tempted Eve, and Jim, too.

  His clothing gave off an eerie, crawling fluorescence, and his shirt flapped and fluttered in a wind that Jim couldn’t feel. He lit up all of the students’ faces, and made their eyes glitter, so that they looked like demons, too, Sammael’s minions.

  ‘You are about to break your bargain!’ said the Reverend Silence. ‘If you speak those words, you will lose your loved ones forever!’

  Bethany gripped Jim’s hand tightly and said, ‘Daddy?’

  ‘Has he not told you, little girl? If he completes this ritual, you will die for a second time! I was prepared to sacrifice you, for the sake of Ba’al, but so is your own father!’

  ‘Daddy?’

  Jim swallowed, and swallowed, but couldn’t speak. William Rook turned to him now and said, ‘Jim? Is this true? You were going to give up on us?’

  Shining and hurricane-blown, with his hair flying upward, the Reverend Silence came so close to Jim that their noses were almost touching, and grinned at him.

  ‘Here is a man with no principles! Here is a man who is willing to betray the people who love him the most! Here is a man who betrayed the whole world!’

  Jim could feel the Reverend Silence’s spit flying against his face, and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. He took several deep breaths, and then he said, ‘Get thee behind me, Sammael. You cheated me. You lied to me. You tempted me. I was weak, I admit it. But not any more.’

  ‘Daddy!’ begged Bethany. ‘Daddy, please don’t! Daddy!’

  ‘May my eyes be closed to the world of spirits—’

  ‘Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!’

  ‘NO!’ roared the Reverend Silence, and seized Jim by the shoulders. His black fingernails were as sharp as claws, and they pierced his shirt and crunched into his shoulder muscles.

  Jim shouted out in pain. The Reverend Silence shook him so violently that he lost his grip on Bethany and William Rook and dropped to his knees on to the floor.

  ‘I would have protected you!’ the Reverend Silence shouted at him. ‘I would have protected you and your loved ones for ever! These children of Lilith outside, they would have taken everybody else – but they would never have taken you! You made a bargain! You made a bargain with Ba’al!’

  Jim raised his head. The room was suddenly silent, except for the sound of Bethany sobbing. He looked at her, and she was so young and so beautiful, and she looked so much like her mother. She had been killed once, but now she had all of her life ahead of her. What he could no longer ignore, though, was that Bethany’s life, like his father’s, and Ricky’s, and Santana’s, had all been granted as a favor by the most evil being on earth.

  Until the day they died a second time, they would always be indebted to the King of Lies and the Angel of Death. They would owe their existence to the massacre of thousands, and what kind of life would that be?

  ‘No,’ whispered the Reverend Silence. ‘No.’

  ‘May my eyes be closed to the world of spirits for ever,’ said Jim.

  For a few long seconds, nothing happened, although the Reverend Silence was staring at Jim aghast. His forked tongue flickered and flickered, but he didn’t speak, or couldn’t. Jim had never seen anybody look so terrified, living or dead or demon, ever.

  Suddenly, the Reverend Silence began to change. His demonic features softened and rearranged themselves – faster and faster, like a speeded-up movie run backward. His skin-color flushed pink. His eyes widened. Once again, he appeared in the guise which he had adopted so that he could enroll Simon Silence into Special Class Two. He must have stolen this appearance from somebody human, and now that human appearance was all that Jim could see.

  His students were milling around and jostling each other in confusion. Summer was standing in the middle of the room with the foils still in her hair, her fingertips pressed to her lips, blinking in bewilderment. He looked for Bethany, but he couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see his father, either, nor Ricky, nor Santana. He took hold of the arm of the chair next to him, and pulled himself painfully up on to his feet. The Reverend Silence was still staring at him, but as Jim stood up he slowly backed away.

  ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’ he said. ‘Do you know what you’ve done!’

  Jim took no notice of him and shouted out, ‘Bethany!’ but just as he did so the whole apartment was shaken by a thunderous explosion. His students screamed and shouted as the living room ceiling collapsed on top of them. Huge lumps of plasterboard crashed to the floor, followed by splintered wooden rafters and showers of shattered green tiles. Within seconds the entire apartment was choking with plaster dust.

  The Reverend Silence’s face was like a clown’s mask, with sooty black eyes and a dragged-down mouth. He looked up to the torn-open ceiling and let out a long moan of despair, which gradually rose higher and higher into a scream.

  Jim was no longer capable of seeing what came through the ceiling and seized the Reverend Silence. But he was lifted bodily off his feet and dragged through the jagged rafters and into the evening sky, still screaming.

  His screams continued long after he had been carried away, but at last there was silence.

  Jim looked around the living room, and at all of their dusty faces and clothes. Without a word, he clambered over the broken pieces of plasterboard and made his way to the front door. He opened it, and stepped outside on to the landing.

  Briarcliff Road was deserted. Not a single white-robed figure in sight. The fires were still burning all across the city, but when he listened he could hear no more screaming, and no more breaking glass.

  After a few minutes he heard sirens, and the sound of a helicopter.

  Summer came out and put her arm around him. The shoulders of his shirt were still darkly stained with blood, and he winced.

  ‘I want to tell you something, Jim.’

  ‘What’s that, Summer?’

  ‘I think you’re incredible, Jimmy. I really do.’

  ‘I don’t know why.’

  Summer nodded, with a serious expression on her face. ‘I don’t know why, either. I didn’t understand any of that. Like, who was that guy with all the fireworks? Where did he come from? And why was he so pissed?’

  ‘It really doesn’t matter. It’s all over now, I promise you. At least I hope it is.’

  ‘But your ceiling fell down! And where did that guy go? He, like, flew!’

  ‘He didn’t fly, Summer,’ said Jim. ‘Something came crashing through the ceiling and took him.’

  He paused, and then he said, ‘That’s what happens when you let down demons. They’re a bit like the Mafia. Not very forgiving.’

  ‘A demon took him? A demon, you mean like a devil? I didn’t see no demon.’

  Jim gave her a tight, bitter smile. ‘You know something? Neither did I.’

  They were still standing there when they heard somebody trudging up the steps from the landing below.

&nb
sp; Jim said, ‘Jesus.’

  Ricky appeared, looking as if he had just woken up.

  ‘Ricky!’ said Jim. ‘You’re still with us!’

  Ricky came up to them, rotating his head as if he had a crick in his neck. ‘Think I must have been sleeping in a draft.’

  He peered inside Jim’s apartment. The air was still thick with dust, and Special Class Two were still climbing around the living room, trying to drag aside the debris.

  ‘What the hell happened? Looks like your ceiling fell down.’

  Jim was overwhelmed. He pressed his hand over his mouth and there were tears in his eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, man? You don’t have to get all weepy about it. I know a good plasterer, fix that up at cost.’

  ‘Thanks, Ricky. That’s great.’

  Ricky sniffed and said, ‘You seen Nadine? Is she up here with you? I have to remind her to take her insulin shot.’

  Jim stared at him. ‘Don’t you remember anything at all?’

  ‘What do you mean? What am I supposed to remember? You know me. I’d forget my ass if it wasn’t screwed on.’

  ‘Nothing, Ricky. It doesn’t matter. But I think that somebody’s given me a reward that I don’t really deserve.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? Who’s that, then? What did they give you?’

  Jim thought of the face that he had seen on Ricky’s canvas, in that nanosecond after the image of Father Michael had melted away. He could never know for sure. Maybe it had been nothing more than an optical illusion, a trick of the light, or wishful thinking. But he laid his hand on Ricky’s shoulder and Ricky was real and solid and alive and smelled of turpentine and Peruvian grass and he had never felt such gratitude in his life.

  He made his way back into his apartment, high-stepping over the rubble. As he did so, Rebecca Teitelbaum held up her cell and waved it and said, ‘The signal’s back! I’m just calling my grandparents!’

  ‘Hey, mine’s back, too!’ said DaJon Johnson. ‘I can call Na shortly, make sure she’s still in one pee-ass!’

  All of Special Class Two took out their cells and started furiously prodding at them. Jim stood and watched them, partly in fond amusement but mostly in pain. Bethany wasn’t among them, and neither was his father, nor Santana.