The Otherworld

by Mercedes Lackey

  But as he came closer, he sensed something different about the man. The sneer was a little more pronounced, smug. Luke stood in a particularly haughty pose, and there was dark laughter in his eyes.

  Something happened, Joe thought. He's talked with Father about last night, must have. Maybe it's too late for me to do anything about Jamie. He wanted to blame the weakness he felt in his knees just then on his lack of sleep, but it was fear, and he knew it.

  "Brother Joseph wants to speak with you right now," Luke said, and it sounded like he was suppressing laughter. With great difficulty. "Boy, kid, you sure have screwed up."

  "Where is he?" Joe replied, completely deadpan, as if Luke's words hadn't made any impression on him.

  "In his office," Luke said—a trap, since Joe knew "the office" could have meant any of three separate places.

  So he asked the right question instead of charging off by himself. "Which one?" he asked. "The one near the meeting hall, the security booth, or the conservatory?"

  "Near the security booth," Luke said brightly. "He knows everything."

  "No," Joe corrected, meeting Luke's eyes directly. "He doesn't. At least not yet. That can always change. Remember, I was only thirteen at the time. A little boy."

  This last statement actually seemed to frighten the man, as if it was a blow that had been completely unexpected. Luke blinked once, then stepped backwards. As if he forgot all about last night, Joe thought. I'll bet this isn't as bad as he's making it out to be.

  It was, however, an effort to keep from shaking. He had been called before Brother Joseph often, as he was a high ranking officer as well as his son, in that order. Each time in the past it had always been an experience with varying degrees of unpleasantness. But today—well, he'd rather have faced a root canal.

  What did Luke say to him?

  Joe realized that Luke was accompanying him. "Did he say to escort me?"

  "Why, no," Luke sneered. "We're just one big happy family. Got something to hide?"

  "No, I don't. But you are a soldier of the Chosen Ones." He gave Luke a level stare and felt a brief flush of success when the man couldn't meet his eyes for more than a second. "Seems to me you have duties. I just thought you might have more important things to do, like see to Jamie. Who do you have guarding him now?"

  "That's got nuthin' to do with you no more," Luke said. "You'll see."

  Joe shrugged and walked on, pushing the pace, not looking to see if Luke kept up. Short and stocky, the older man had to walk nearly double-time to keep up with him. They entered the dimness of the complex, accompanied by the familiar whirr, whirr of cameras panning across them as they passed. He's watching me, Joe thought, with certainty. They all are.

  They came to the main security station, the mother of the smaller one Joe had operated the evening before. Do they know I was there? he wondered, but he had no time to fabricate an excuse. Or—did he?

  They entered a room full of video screens much larger and more numerous than the little ones he'd used at the backup station. Along one wall was a variety of radio equipment, through which senior members of the Guard monitored police, emergency and aircraft transmissions. One officer was listening to a short-wave broadcast from Russia, another monitoring what sounded like an African station. Since neither of these were in English, Joe wondered why they had it piped through. No one in the Chosen Ones spoke a foreign language, or at least admitted to it, for fear of being labeled a spy or a witch.

  His father was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. He appeared to be displeased with everything around him, but then as far as Joe knew, he always looked that way.

  "Good afternoon, sir," Joe said, his voice cracking. The fear he was trying to hide came through anyway. He likes it when I'm scared, he reasoned. That way he knows I'm still under his thumb.

  Brother Joseph did not respond. He seemed to feign an interest in the screens, which displayed nothing particularly unusual; empty hallways, views of the grounds above. One showed the elementary school class, though Joe had no idea why. He cautiously looked for a screen with Jamie and saw none, although some were turned off. The silence continued, and Joe waited patiently for his father to acknowledge his presence.

  In his own time, he did. He picked up a computer printout, turned it around, and held it up to Joe.

  "This says you were in the auxiliary security station south this morning around two A.M. Care to tell me why, soldier?"

  Joe stared at the report that he hadn't expected for days, and at first could think of absolutely nothing to say. What was I doing in there at two A.M.? You see, Dad, I was just trying to liberate Jamie, see, and take him to the cops and tell them everything. No problem, okay? His eyes blurred momentarily. After that, I was helping put a fire out, he thought, and he seized upon that as an inspiration. His father couldn't possibly know the exact timing of everything that had happened last night. If he just rearranged events a little—

  "First, I had checked the storage area nearby because there were lights on down there, which there shouldn't have been at that hour. It was Luke and Billybob; they said they were guarding Jamie, so I started to leave, but there was a disturbance, and I smelled fire," Joe said calmly. "I was near the station. I entered it to examine the security cameras, to see if the detectors had picked up anything or if it was just someone sneaking a smoke. Once I was in there, I saw that there was a fire somewhere in the quadrant—and even more important, I saw that Jamie had been left unguarded, since Luke and Billybob had gone to neutralize the fire. It seemed to me that the fire might move into his room. In order to preserve our assets I took it upon myself to break him free and move him clear of the area, to somewhere secure and safe, where we could be found easily or get out if the fire started to spread."

  His father stared at him for a long time. His expression then was totally unreadable.

  After what seemed like an eternity he cleared his throat. "That's what Luke here tells me. I just wanted to hear it from you first. Remember next time, that whenever you enter a security station, you must fill out a report describing why you had to enter the station. File it promptly with the watch commander."

  "Yes, sir." Joe waited for something else to drop, but soon it became evident that nothing would. Other things seemed to be on Brother Joseph's mind, and Joe glanced over at Luke, who appeared to be disappointed.

  "I've been thinking about our new security branch," Brother Joseph finally said. "For some time now we have been lacking in some means to protect our organization from internal threats. I know, our admission standards are quite high, but there's no way to tell when Satan might infiltrate and sway one of our own. It's happened before. It will be an internal affairs matter, investigating and prosecuting those who veer from the one true path."

  Joe sighed inwardly. Now that he had escaped the trap Luke had set for him, all he could feel was—tired. Fine. He brought me all the way into the security booth to tell me that the position he once promised me is going to Luke. Swell. Anything else you'd care to rub into my face while I'm here? It'll save time and trouble to go ahead and get it over with now.

  "And it's been a tough decision, but I've narrowed it down to one." His eyes softened a bit and looked at Joe with what appeared to be admiration. "Son, how would you like to take the post? I've had you in mind all along, but I wanted to be fair to the rest of the officers. Luke here was a close second, but after hearing what you did last night, and the smart snap decisions you made, I've decided to make you the next head of Internal Security."

  Joe was speechless. From Luke, who was standing off to his right, he heard gurgling sounds. Then the noises turned to grunts, which further articulated to: "But—But—But—"

  Brother Joseph nodded with something approaching sympathy. "I know, Luke, this is a real disappointment. But I know you'll take this graciously. Like a man! You're still important. You're still in charge of that other little project we talked about."

  Other little project, Joe
thought briefly, but he was still too flabbergasted for it to really register. He's going to make me the head of Internal Security after all Luke must have been telling him. Does this mean he trusts me after all, or is this just another elaborate test? Look at him. He's handing me the post in front of witnesses, and if this is a trick, Luke doesn't know about it. Sounds like he's about to piss his pants!

  "But—" Luke said again, but Joe's father didn't seem to hear him.

  "Another thing," Brother Joseph said. "Any idea what caused all that ruckus last night? That little fire wasn't the only disturbance, as I'm sure you know."

  "No, I don't. Perhaps it was the work of Satan," Joe responded automatically, not certain if he believed the words or not. "From what I saw in the security room, it all seemed to happen at once, power failures, cameras going out, pipes breaking, fires—I was concerned with Jamie's well-being and safety. Maybe—I don't know, maybe Satan wants to get at him so we can't channel the Sacred Fire anymore."

  His father gave him a funny look at that. "Perhaps. Perhaps you're pushing that part of your responsibility a little too far there." He smiled benignly. "Since you are now a senior officer, let me show you your new quarters."

  Joe had little to say as they walked a long corridor to the adjacent quadrant, then went up one floor to a wide, carpeted hallway that announced, with flamboyance and no subtlety at all, rank. At the end of the hallway was a set of flags, one American, the other, a little larger and taller, of the Sacred Heart. Not the Flag, that one stayed in the Meeting Hall; this was a copy. Brother Joseph unlocked a huge oak door, one of several along the hallway. Slowly, majestically, it swung open, like the gate to a castle.

  Joe realized, on entering, that he hadn't really known how well the officers of the Guard lived. Now he did, and he was amazed at the luxury and opulence he saw here. Carpeting, track lighting, a computer terminal, presumably one directly linked to the main computer, and a big screen TV stood against one wall. In the corner was a small kitchen, with every modern convenience including a microwave. The place looked and smelled newly remodeled.

  Luke was standing in the doorway. "But you promised me this one!" he wailed, but his words apparently went unheard.

  "In here you have an added feature that the others don't," Brother Joseph said, leading him to the bathroom. Or that's what he thought it would be; when he turned the lights on, it looked like something out of ancient Rome. "A Jacuzzi, just a bit smaller than my own." And indeed it was, rising out of the middle of the room on a pedestal, surrounded by plants and Roman columns. "But no hanky panky," his father said, winking. "This is for you alone. After a long day of drill, it's good for your muscles. It'll help you keep in shape."

  They walked back into the bedroom, where they found a huge antique bed with a canopy. "This was your bed in Atlanta, father," Joe protested, but his objections were a bit feeble. He couldn't deny that he had wanted digs like these all along, but never thought his father would consider him worthy enough. Within a few minutes, all that had changed.

  "I will have a few privates in the Guard help you move," Brother Joseph said, watching him with an odd expression on his face. As if even this gave him power over his son.

  That was too much. "No, please, father. Let me get some help from my Junior Guard battalion. . . ."

  "You will not do that," Brother Joseph said fiercely. "They are no longer your responsibility. You are an officer now, with full rank of lieutenant."

  "Lieutenant?" Joe said, confused. That was jumping rank, something that just didn't happen. "But why?"

  "Because you are my son," his father replied. "And you will be treated as such. Provided, of course, you remember where you stand in the organization." He turned to leave the room, then said, as much to Luke as to Joe, "I have the power to appoint and promote whomever I wish. The Chosen Ones belong to me first, and God second. Do not ever forget that. That applies to both of you." He hesitated at the doorway, then said, "There's something else I must show you. Come."

  * * *

  As Brother Joseph led them to yet another surprise, somewhere deep within the bowels of the underground, Joe tried to cope with his world turning upside down. He didn't think much about where they were being led. All his attention was taken up by these latest changes—not only unexpected, but unprecedented.

  What got into him? Shoot. An hour ago I was thinking about running away, but with all this, who could? Head of Internal Security . . .

  Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even qualified for something like that. He was just a foot soldier. It was so unlikely that it roused his suspicions. . . .

  But his father had said that it would be an easy post, more figurehead than anything, unless a situation came up that would need his special attention. Maybe it wasn't so unlikely. After all, Brother Joseph was going to put Luke in charge, and Luke didn't know shit from shampoo.

  Nevertheless, figurehead or not, this new job meant rank. It meant being promoted over Luke's head. And the room! It's amazing! Joe's present room was little more than a cubicle in a dormitory, with a simple bed on an unfinished wooden floor, a table, a lamp and a dresser. A little more than most of the Chosen Ones had, but still pretty basic. I think I could get used to this. . . .

  But Jamie—

  He tried to keep Jamie, and Jamie's danger, in the front of his mind, but with the sudden change in his status, it was becoming more difficult. He had a taste of the things that only the elite enjoyed. For a moment he was dismayed at how easily he had been manipulated—

  But it was a short-lived dismay.

  Now I can help Jamie more, if I can sneak behind around my father's back. That makes more sense than running off. It would be different if he hadn't promoted me, but that changes everything. And the more he thought about it, he knew he couldn't run away. What would he have on the outside? Nothing. He didn't even have a high school diploma, at least not one this state would consider valid. There were no assurances that anyone would even listen to him out there, and given the Chosen Ones' security, he knew he wouldn't be able to change his mind once he defected. They would know, immediately, what he had done. In fact, they would probably assign someone to "eliminate" him. They had done it before, killing a former member who knew too much about the organization. And the man they'd killed wasn't even an officer.

  Shoot, they killed Sarah's parents, just 'cause they tried to run off. I wouldn't have a chance.

  He would have to contend with Luke as best he could. It would be easier to evade Luke than the entire army. Besides, with this new and unexpected change in status, he doubted Luke would come near him now.

  In fact, Luke wasn't even a real threat—no matter what he'd promised before. In order to rationalize killing him, Luke had depended on proving some questionable, if not treasonous, behavior. Now that Joe was head of Internal Security, that would be more difficult, if not impossible, to do. The game had turned completely around, this time in Joe's favor.

  Why screw everything up by running away?

  As he thought these things over, he had paid little attention to where his father was leading them, or what Luke was doing. Now Joe glanced over at him, walking a few feet behind his father, and saw the characteristic smug grin on the man's face. Whatever was up now, it was going to be nasty enough to revive Luke's spirits entirely.

  Now what? Joe thought, but had no time to puzzle over his expression. They had apparently arrived at their destination.

  His father turned toward him with a sanctimoniously sober expression. "What you're about to see, Joe, is going to be hard to take. But just remember, it's God's will. To interfere with God's will is to do the will of Satan. And that we cannot have."

  Then, from behind a set of double doors, he heard the whimpering of a child in terrible fear.

  Jamie?

  The doors opened, as if by themselves. Then he saw a disheveled, drunken man holding the door open by a crossbar.

  "It's been nearly thirty minutes," the man said, visibly swayin
g as he struggled to stand up. Joe recognized him as Jamie's father. "Should we let him out now?"

  Joe could barely see into the darkness of the room, which he now saw was a large storage facility, one of the newer ones. He smelled the damp odor of the fresh plaster and caulking. He hesitated before stepping inside, knowing that he really wasn't going to like what he saw. If Brother Joseph had warned him—it was going to be bad, real bad.

  Behind him, Luke laughed. Brother Joseph stood in the doorway and beckoned all of them to enter.

  The room was dark, except for a few Coleman lanterns sitting on the floor, illuminating two regular Guards who stood at attention. Something that appeared to be a huge box was standing in the middle of the large storeroom. But there was a dark object in the box, and when the whimpering came from it, he knew who it was.

  "Jamie?" Joe asked, but he was more confused than afraid, since he couldn't quite see the boy or what was happening to him. Then his eyes adjusted, and the darkness retreated.

  Jamie lay in the box—or at least, Joe figured he was lying in the box, though all he could see was part of the boy's head. Just the mouth and nose. The rest was covered with an enormous helmet. And the kid's body, from the neck down, was buried in some kind of white substance that looked soft.

  Held this way, Jamie could breath, but he couldn't hear, see, or feel anything. If they'd blocked his nostrils with nose-plugs, and they might well have, he wouldn't be able to smell anything, either.

  A sensory deprivation box—Joe recognized it from a PBS documentary. It was cruder than the one he'd seen; this one used foam or something, rather than gel or warm water. It didn't look cruel—but it was. Grownups had trouble in the sensory deprivation box. How could a little kid cope with it?

  Joe immediately went for the box, but the two Guards stood in his way, holding him back with their assault weapons, denying passage.

  Joe shook his head violently. This didn't make sense! Why were they doing this to the kid?

  "It was God's wish," Brother Joseph said simply, walking closer, staring down at the suffering child the way anyone else would look at a tree that needed pruning. "I wouldn't worry. God will take care of him, if that is His will."