The Girl Clay

by Amy Cross

  “Look at me, Clay,” he says finally. “Look at me and let me see your face. You've grown so much since the first time I met you. Do you remember that day?”

  I can't look at him. Not now, not ever.

  “Look at me, Clay,” he says again. “You know you have to, so why delay the inevitable? There's nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. This is the moment you've been dreading for ten years, so let's just get it over with, shall we? Don't cower like this, it's unbecoming. I remember you having much more fight in your soul.”

  “Please,” I whisper.

  “Please what?”

  “Please leave me alone.”

  “Impossible. You know why, Clay. You're special.”

  “I'm not,” I blurt out. “I'm really not.”

  “Look at me,” he says again. “You've done such a good job, Clay. Ten years of running, ten years of keeping on the move, never stopping, never relaxing, never failing to look over your shoulder. I've actually grown to admire you, can you believe that? From that compound to this police station, you ran like no-one has run before, but now the time has come to stop and accept your fate. Now the time has come to let me take your hand.”

  Sniffing back the tears, I try to summon enough strength to look up at him. All I want is to disappear, to blink out of existence, but I know I'm only delaying the inevitable. Slowly, I raise my head and open my eyes, and finally I take a sudden deep breath as I see his face for the first time in a decade.

  “Hello, Clay,” Attaroth says with a smile. “The time has come to finish what we started together.”

  Ten years ago

  “I'm disappointed in you,” Mr. Kenseth says as he locks the door and turns to face me. “You had a chance to prove your loyalty to Attaroth back there, and you failed. Have I taught you nothing, Clay?”

  Staring at him, all I can think about is the sight of the soldier's terrified eyes and then, a moment later, the image of his head exploding. I keep replaying the moment over and over again, even as I look down at my blood-soaked legs. I remember the way his skull seems to shatter, and I swear he let out the faintest of sounds: less like a cry of pain, and more like a grunt, almost a normal, everyday sound. I don't think he had much time to register what was happening to him, and I guess that's a good thing.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Mr. Kenseth shouts, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me violently. “Attaroth saw what you did back there, or rather what you didn't do. He felt the weakness in your soul, Clay, and it shocked him. He thought you were better than that, and so did I.” He pauses for a moment, staring at me with a scowl, as if he suddenly disapproves of me. “You've got a lot to make up for, girl, if you want to get back in Attaroth's good books. Trust me, I've seen and heard plenty about people who displeased him, and you really don't want to know what he does to them. He's scrupulously fair, but if you cross him it's not always possible to make amends. He's struck people down dead for less.” He leans closer. “You want to see your mother again, don't you?”

  “Where is she?”

  “She's with Attaroth. She did as she was ordered, unlike some.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. I feel as if, ever since the gunshot, my ears are filled with a kind of faint ringing sound, while the fear in my gut is rising and rising. If I speak, the whole world is going to come crashing down and I'll scream. All I want is to find Mom, to somehow make everything okay.

  “Clay, stay with me,” Mr. Kenseth continues, shaking me again. “No zoning out, it's time to grow the fuck up!”

  “Please, I just want to -”

  “Clay!” he shouts, pushing me against the wall so hard that I let out an involuntary gasp. “Man up, girl! This isn't a game! This is real life!”

  “Please,” I whimper, with tears streaming down my face, “I don't want to be here...”

  “Attaroth commands it,” he replies. “Those pig-headed idiots are coming for us now, Clay, but we're better than them and we're smarter. When they open the door, we'll be long gone. It'll be like... Their pathetic, unbelieving little minds just won't be able to cope with the concept. Maybe then, finally, they'll break through their brainwashing and start to understand that the world they think they know is a lie! Attaroth is forgiving and he will let them enter paradise if he can see that their conversion is genuine.”

  “Are we...” I look up at the ceiling. “Are we going up to Attaroth? That's where my mother is, isn't it?”

  “She is,” he replies. “She's in paradise, where she belongs, after serving Attaroth so well. We're not going there quite yet, though. We're going down, down to the other tunnel, and from there we're going to make our way to freedom, and then we're going to travel the country, maybe even the world, preaching the truth about Attaroth. We'll counter every lie they tell, every piece of propaganda, every foul hate-filled drop of venom that falls from their lips. By the time we're done, the whole world will know the glory of Attaroth and we'll be able to ascend to take our rightful place in paradise.” He starts pulling up a panel from the floor, before turning to me. “You want to see your mother again, don't you?”

  I nod.

  “This is the only way, Clay. If you really love your mother and you want to be reunited with her in paradise, you'll do exactly what I tell you. You need to show Attaroth that you're sorry for disobeying him just now. It has to be genuine remorse, too. He can see into your heart. Is your heart pure?”

  “I... I think so.”

  “You need to do better than that. You need to believe in Attaroth with all your soul. Can you do that?”

  I nod, even though I don't really know what he means.

  “There's hope for you yet,” he continues, tucking my hair behind my ears. “You're a very smart little girl, Clay, and oh so very pretty.” He pauses, as if he might be about to touch me, but then he hurries over to the far side of the room, while muttering something under his breath.

  Wiping more tears from my face, I think back to all the times Mom told me to trust Mr. Kenseth. Sometimes I think she was wrong about everything, but I guess I just have to keep reminding myself that she was always much smarter than me. I'm just a kid, and Mom said it's natural for me not to understand the world. I have to trust adults instead.

  “Clay, for your mother's sake, get over here.”

  Stepping over to join Mr. Kenseth, I look down again at my blood-soaked legs.

  “That soldier was an infidel,” he mutters, pulling the panel away to reveal a ladder that leads down into a dark tunnel. “He was the first of many infidels who are going to learn the hard way that the age of Attaroth is here. Next time, Clay, you're going to be the one who pulls the trigger. Trust me, you'll feel so much better once you start doing Attaroth's work. You'll be filled with his divine spirit, and with his eternal gratitude for your willingness to make a stand.” He leans closer, until his face is almost touching mine. “He will reward you in the next life, when it really matters.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask, trying not to let him hear that I'm scared.

  “To freedom,” he replies, “and then paradise, and then -”

  He stops suddenly, as we both hear voices from down in the tunnel. It sounds like soldiers, lots of them, and they're coming closer from all directions, as if they're starting to surround the building. I can hear the helicopter above, and seconds later there are footsteps on the ceiling, as if more soldiers have landed on the roof.

  “No,” Mr. Kenseth whispers, his face filled with shock, “they can't... How the hell did they get into the tunnels, they're not even supposed to know about them!” He turns to me, and it's clear that this isn't part of his plan. Grabbing the panel, he puts it back in place and then sits back, as if his mind is racing with fear. In all the time I've ever spent around Mr. Kenseth, both in the main auditorium and in his private chamber, I've never seen him like this before.

  “Now what are we going to do?” I ask.

  “I...” He stares at me, before looking over at the do
or. In the distance, more voices are shouting. “They're coming,” he whispers finally. “They've got us surrounded. Fuck. Oh fuck, oh God...” He starts drumming his fingers against the side of his head, as if he's trying to get his mind to work better. “Jesus Christ, what is this madness?”

  “But -”

  “Shut up!” he screams. “Just...”

  I wait for him to continue, but he's just staring into space now, saying “fuck” over and over again as if he's losing his mind.

  “Are we going where my mother went now?” I ask finally, hearing more and more shouting in the corridor outside the room. I feel like I want to burst into tears, but at the same time I'm certain that Attaroth wouldn't be pleased. Still, the though of being with Mom – wherever she is, and whatever kind of bodies we have – is the only thing that gives me any hope at all.

  Slowly, Mr. Kenseth turns to me.

  “Are we going with Attaroth?” I add. Suddenly the thought of going up to paradise doesn't feel so bad, not if Mom is already there waiting for me. She told me to believe everything Mr. Kenseth says, so I guess I just need to trust him this one final time.

  “Attaroth?” he asks, before turning to look back across the room.

  “He's here, isn't he?” I continue, as more and more voices start shouting on the other side of the door. “Can he take me back to my mother? It's the only thing I want in the whole world, I just want to be with her...”

  “And you will be,” he replies, turning to me. “You will be, Clay, just...” He pauses for a moment. “You angered Attaroth earlier. That's why this is all happening, you brought this new test down upon us.”

  I shake my head.

  “You did anger him,” he continues, lunging at me and grabbing me by the shoulders. “When you refused to shoot that soldier and made me do it instead, you went against Attaroth's will. This is all your fault, child! Do you think he'll let you into his paradise now so you can be with your mother?”

  “That's all I want,” I tell him, with tears in my eyes.

  “Then you'll have to earn it,” he sneers, grabbing my gun and putting it firmly in my hands before turning me to face the door. “When you see anyone who isn't me, you know what to do.”

  “Please...”

  “You shoot them, Clay! You kill as many of the infidels as possible and then, and only then, Attaroth might actually reconsider and decide to let you join your mother in paradise. Do you understand? This is the only way.”

  “I don't want to shoot anyone,” I whisper, as the tears rolls down my cheeks and onto my lips. “Please, don't make me.”

  “Prove your loyalty to Attaroth!” he hisses, taking a step back. “Trust me, Clay. Your mother always told you to listen to me, didn't she? She was a very wise woman, and in turn she recognized my wisdom.””

  I nod.

  “She was a brave and wise woman,” he continues, “and she knew that Attaroth doesn't give third chances. When those infidels launch their -”

  Before he can finish, there's a blast over by the door, blowing it clean off its hinges and sending scraps of wood flying into the room. The whole floor shakes, almost knocking me down. Within a couple of seconds, smoke is everywhere and I can see several figures hurrying toward us with guns raised, while voices scream orders at us.

  “Stop!” Mr. Kenseth shouts, standing just behind me. “The child! She's the one!”

  “Put the gun down!” one of the soldiers shouts, as a red light from his weapon shines straight at me, constantly catching my eyes. Looking down at my chest, I see a couple more red lights dancing across the fabric of my dress.

  “You want to see your mother again, don't you?” Mr. Kenseth whispers to me.

  “That's all I want,” I reply, my hands trembling as I continue to hold the gun.

  “Then you know what to do,” he continues, taking a step back and putting his hands in the air. “The child is the one!” he shouts at the soldiers. “They're all insane! All those women, they were in charge! They forced me to stay here! They were all calling the shots, and I was just following them and hoping to find a way out, but the child is the one they brainwashed the most!”

  “Put the gun down!” the soldier screams at me, as several others take up position next to him, all pointing their guns at me and Mr. Kenseth. Smoke is continuing to fill the room, with the red laser sights from the guns criss-crossing the space between us. All those fingers on all those triggers, all aiming straight at Mr. Kenseth and me.

  “I want to see my mother,” I whisper, with my wobbling gun still aimed at the nearest soldier.

  “She's the one!” Mr. Kenseth screams. “She's the leader of the cult!”

  “No!” I shout. “I'm not, I just -”

  “Put it down!” the soldier yells.

  “It was all them!” Mr. Kenseth continues. “They made me do everything! Those women are insane!”

  “I want to see my Mom again,” I whisper, as I spot a dark figure standing in the smoke. I know immediately that it's Attaroth: he's watching me, waiting for me to prove to him that I deserve to go to paradise and be with Mom again, which means that Mr. Kenseth is right and I have to do this. Adjusting my finger on the trigger, I take a moment to make sure my aim is right and then -

  Before I can do anything, the nearest soldier fires once, shooting me straight between the eyes and blowing out the back of my skull with such force that I'm thrown down onto the floor, landing in a pool of my own blood and brain matter.

  And then everything goes black.

  PART FIVE

  Ten years ago

  “Hello, are you -”

  Before I can finish, the nurse slips past me, brushing my shoulder with her hand as she goes. She glances back for a brief second, not quite making eye contact, as if she's vaguely aware that she touched something but she can't quite see what. She soon carries on, heading into one of the nearby rooms, leaving me standing alone in the corridor.

  “Doctor Shaughnessy to room fifteen,” says a voice over the speakers. “Doctor Shaughnessy to room fifteen.”

  At the far end of the corridor, a man in a white suit emerges from a room and heads this way. He looks to be in a hurry, but I position myself in front of him, determined to make sure that he sees me. It's been a few minutes since I woke up here in some kind of emergency room, but so far no-one has even acknowledged my presence. As the doctor gets closer, I start hurrying toward him, and this time there's no way I'm going to be ignored.

  “Hello,” I say as he gets to me, “my name's Clay and -”

  I let out a gasp as he walks straight into me. I don't know exactly what happens, but when I turn around I see that he's already heading toward one of the nearby rooms. There's no way he can have walked around me, but at the same time he can't have walked through me either, so I don't understand what happened. Looking back along the corridor, I see more nurses coming this way, pushing a trolley. This time I step back, watching as they come past, and I spot a soldier on the trolley: he's wearing the same uniform as the men who came after Mr. Kenseth, but one of his arms has been torn off at the shoulder, leaving a messy, torn scrap of fabric and skin. He's quickly wheeled into one of the other rooms, and then the door is pushed shut.

  “Official sources have refused to go on record with a number,” says a reporter on a TV in the corner, “but unofficially we're hearing that there might be as many as seventy-five victims inside the compound. Jacob Kenseth had gathered a kind of harem, filled with women who acted as his wives, but when the siege began they seem to have been willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. How one man could have so much influence over so many people is, frankly, something that police are still investigating.”

  Making my way over to the TV, I stare in horror at an aerial shot of the compound, where most of the buildings look to have been completely destroyed.

  “As well as the victims from the cult,” the reporter continues, “we believe there are as many as twenty-two military casualties, some of whom have been tran
sported to local hospitals with life-threatening injuries. One source, speaking on condition of anonymity, told this station that Jacob Kenseth had booby-trapped many of the doors and windows at the compound, resulting in grievous injury to law enforcement officials who were attempting to gain entry. It's believed that one possibility being discussed is leveling the entire site in order to ensure that there are no more devices. One thing is becoming very clear, however. The compound of the Cult of Attaroth is looking set to become the scene of one of the worst atrocities in living memory, with as many as -”

  “That's enough of that,” says a nurse, switching the TV off at the wall. She turns to one of her colleagues. “I can't listen to it anymore, it's just too horrific.”

  “Please,” I say, hurrying over to her, “can you hear me?”

  I look up at her, but she simply walks away.

  “Please!” I call after her. “I'm right here!”

  At the far end of the corridor, there's a man standing by a door with a faint smile on his face. For a moment, he glances in my direction and makes eye contact with me, but then he turns and walks away. Part of me wants to run after him, but at the same time I'm filled with an overwhelming sense of fear, as if some deeper part of my mind is warning me to stay away. Even though he's gone, I feel as if he's still watching me.

  Today

  Climbing over the rubble that has accumulated in the police station's doorway, I emerge squinting into the early morning light. When I reach the steps, I find that the station is located on a rural road, with no other buildings to be seen in any direction. I limp down the steps and stop, feeling slightly dazed but also shocked by the peacefulness of the scene. Something about this whole situation just feels so surreal.

  Behind me, there's the sound of footsteps emerging from the station.

  “It's beautiful, isn't it?” Attaroth asks finally. “When you scrape away all the concrete and plastic that humans coat the planet with, there's some real beauty left in the world.”