Earth Cult

by Trevor Hoyle

  Frank did so and gradually began to detect the odd word or phrase through the monotonous wailing… ‘and prevaileth forty days… corrupt… creeping thing…’

  ‘Is that the Bible they’re quoting?’

  ‘The Book of Genesis.’

  ‘Do they believe in the Christian God?’

  Cal Renfield, waddling along in his tartan dressing-gown, shook his head. ‘It’s a handy piece of Scripture to quote from, that’s all. Anything that talks about evil and corruption and predicts a cataclysmic end to the world is right up their street.’

  ‘What kind of deity do they worship?’

  Cal Renfield shrugged. ‘The Omniverse?’

  ‘More likely the Ultimate Void,’ Helen suggested dryly.

  They turned the corner and came in sight of the gathering – over a hundred strong, Frank estimated – grouped round a central figure which was raised above them on a dais of some description. Several of those nearest him carried flaming torches and the scene was at once reminiscent of a Ku Klux Klan meeting, except for the fact, Frank supposed, that none of them wore white pointed hoods.

  Yet the face of the leader – Cabel – did seem to be obscured in a way he couldn’t quite make out. The flickering torchlight made it difficult to see, and perhaps the hat the preacher wore kept most of his face in shadow, but even so it seemed that his face was covered and that only his eyes and mouth were visible.

  The chanting went on, low and intense, filling the air with sonorous vibrations. Cabel remained perfectly still and silent, a tall spare figure dressed in a garment that Frank could only liken to a black one-piece overall, similar to those he had seen technicians wearing in nuclear power plants. It seemed that he was meditating, disengaged from the proceedings, lost and far away and totally preoccupied by his own inner thoughts.

  ‘How long do they keep this up?’ Frank asked.

  ‘I’ve known them go on for several hours. Once they held a Prayer Meeting on the Mount of the Holy Cross and it didn’t finish till dawn. They came back half-frozen and that was in the middle of June.’ He said out of the corner of his mouth, ‘Shall we step inside and have a nightcap?’

  ‘I’d like to hear this,’ Frank said. ‘You go ahead if you want to.’

  Cal Renfield went up the steps to the hotel. ‘Are you coming in?’ he asked his daughter.

  ‘I’ll stay with Frank. See you later.’

  She put her arm inside his jacket and huddled close for warmth; there was a perceptible chill in the air now, the cold night air rolling down from the icy peaks. Frank was conscious of her soft warm breasts pressing against him through the thin material of her shirt. He kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘I know, I know,’ Helen said. ‘Don’t think that I don’t feel it too. Damn these Tellurians and their bloody earthquakes.’

  They listened as the same dirgelike phrases were repeated over and over again. It reminded Frank of a voodoo ceremony in which the participants have to generate a state of self-induced trance, entering into a kind of mindless limbo where the senses are suspended and divorced from reality. He was about to remark on this when for no apparent reason the chanting ceased; it died away to silence and the gathering stood motionless, the torchlight casting a dim smoky light over everything. Near the centre of the gathering he caught sight of a stetson, a pale blur in the flickering darkness.

  Cabel began to speak. At first his voice was toneless, empty of feeling, but as he went on it gathered force and stridency, the words echoing flatly from the fronts of the buildings surrounding the square. And as Cal Renfield had said, it was curiously hypnotic.

  ‘And V saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented him that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.

  ‘And V said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them.

  ‘And V looked upon the earth and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth. And V said, The end of all flesh income before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and behold, I will destroy them with the earth.

  ‘And, behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life, from under heaven; and every thing that is in the earth shall die.

  ‘And it came to pass after seven days that the waters of the flood were upon the earth. And the rain was upon the earth forty days and forty nights.

  ‘And the flood was forty days upon the earth; and the waters increased, and the waters prevailed exceedingly upon the earth; and all the high hills, that were under the whole heaven, were covered. Fifteen cubits upwards did the waters prevail; and the mountains were covered.

  ‘And all flesh died that moved upon the earth, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of beast, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth, and every man: All in whose nostrils was the breath of life, of all that was in the dry land, died.

  ‘And every living substance was destroyed which was upon the face of the ground, both man, and cattle, and the creeping things, and the fowls of the heaven; and they were destroyed from the earth.

  ‘And the waters prevailed upon the earth a hundred and fifty days.’

  There was something about his voice, a certain quality, which disturbed Frank. In an odd way it was similar to the feeling of déjà vu – the sudden shock of recognition that one has lived through the same experience before when it is plainly impossible for this to have happened. Perhaps it was the words themselves that were familiar. And yet there was something more than that… something at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite bring into focus.

  He said to Helen, ‘Who is this man Cabel? Where is he from?’

  ‘Take your pick,’ Helen said. ‘I’ve heard at least five different versions of who he is and where he comes from. Some people say he used to work the Telluride Mine all on his own before the Project moved in, which is why he preaches against it. Then there’s the story that he was one of the construction engineers on the Great Eagle Dam who received a vision from the Ultimate Void that it was evil and would one day be destroyed. Walt Stringer believes him to be the embodiment of the spirit that lives in the mountain – a spirit of the living Earth in human form. Some of the people round here really believe in such things. Maybe it’s a leftover from the old Indian legends, the belief in ancient spirits inhabiting rocks and caves and rivers.’

  ‘Which version gets your vote?’

  ‘I’ve never thought about it.’ Her hand tightened around his waist. ‘I prefer real flesh and blood to ancient spirits.’

  Cabel was saying, ‘We have warned them, brethren. We have said that the Earth will cast them out and seal up its secret places. They do not listen. We have said that the desecration of the holy mountain will bring death and destruction on to their own heads and all their profane works. Still they refuse to listen. But now the Earth speaks for us with a tongue of lightning and a voice of thunder, and in the depths of the Earth the power of the Ultimate Void moves and shakes the puny works of man, and there is no man who does not feel its anger and know fear in his heart.’

  ‘Does he write his own material?’ Frank said.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Helen warned him. ‘The members of the Faith can get a bit touchy if they hear you mocking their leader.’

  ‘And they really believe all this?’

  ‘If someone prophesies disaster and it looks like coming true, then naturally the people start listening to him and taking notice of what he says. Cabel was spouting this stuff long before the storms and the tremors began. At first everyone thought he was a raving madman but then things started to happen just the way he predicted – and it doesn’t take many freak thunderstorms and earth tremors to change people’s views.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Fra
nk asked. ‘Did he actually predict the freak weather conditions before they began?’

  ‘Over two years ago.’

  ‘About the time the Project started up.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘… but the time is nigh, brethren, when the unbelievers shall reap the seeds of their unbelief. Even now as I speak the power of the Ultimate Void is stirring in the depths of the holy mountain. We have all felt its warning; we know that soon, very soon, its wrath will be unleashed, and then will come the final day of reckoning when the flood waters will rise up and sweep away forever these heathens who commit sacrilege in the name of science against the sacred Omniverse. They seek to learn its secrets, to comprehend the elemental forces which span the Cosmos, but they are as ignorant fools, no better than mischievous children, tampering with a structure beyond their conception.

  ‘We of the Telluric Faith – the only true and faithful inhabitants of this planet, the only true believers in this sentient Earth – we, the Tellurians, are witness to the folly and greed and blind stupidity of that species of creeping thing which creepeth upon the face of the ground and is not worthy of the living Earth. They have ignored our preaching, as even now they ignore the warning of the Ultimate Void, and it is upon them and their children that the waters of heaven will descend, and bear them away, and the breath of life will be taken from them, and they will be destroyed from the living Earth for evermore.… ’

  ‘I can understand how he gets them going,’ Frank said. ‘Another ten minutes of this and I’ll be asking to join.’

  ‘Have you heard enough?’

  ‘I reckon so, country girl. Take me to your boudoir.’

  They turned to mount the steps of the hotel and somebody was standing in the shadow of the porch, barring their way. A large hand the colour and consistency of red sandstone spread itself across Frank’s chest as he tried to step forward, halting him in mid-stride. It was as though he’d walked into a barn door.

  ‘You shouldn’t mock what you don’t understand,’ Chuck Strang said. His immaculate white stetson was tipped forward so that his narrow squinting eyes looked down on them from beneath the curling brim. He had plenty of opportunity to look down on them, standing six feet six in his cowboy boots, and the uncomfortable thought passed through Frank’s mind that even without them he must have been a good three inches above six feet.

  ‘You shouldn’t talk so loud,’ Chuck Strang admonished him. ‘You never know who might be listening. For somebody who’s a stranger in this town you sure do have a big mouth.’

  Frank didn’t think it wise to correct him on such a small item of physical description; after all, he reasoned, perhaps he did have a big mouth.

  Helen said, ‘I thought I’d mentioned it before, Strang. The part of John Wayne’s saddle-bag has already been cast.’ She turned to Frank apologetically, ‘You’ll have to excuse him, we had the bolt in his neck tightened yesterday.’

  ‘Is that meant to be humorous?’ Chuck Strang inquired.

  ‘Be careful there, Chuck, that was a three-syllable word you used. Next thing we know you’ll be learning to read without moving your lips.’

  Frank wished she wouldn’t do all the tough talking for him. In fact he wished she wouldn’t do any talking at all. A man built like a bear who spent his leisure moments hogtying Brahman bulls wouldn’t need to expend much effort dealing with a soft-living city-boy who just got callouses from sitting around all day.

  He said, intending it seriously, ‘If I offended your religious feelings, I apologize. What you choose to believe is your business. I’m only sorry that you overheard me.’

  ‘I bet you are,’ Chuck Strang said. He nodded slowly but he wasn’t smiling. ‘And I guess you think that makes everything all right. You say your little piece, as if that makes everything sweet and easy, and then hustle Little Miss Hot-Ass into the hotel for a quick lay. Is that the idea? Is that what you had in mind?’

  Frank felt that he ought to object to Chuck Strang’s implication and the slur it cast on Helen, but he was rather circumspect in the way he should set about expressing it. He didn’t want to rile the man.

  Helen folded her arms defiantly and faced the tall sunburnt rancher in the white stetson and silver spurs. ‘Why don’t you get it off your chest, Strang, and tell him that this town isn’t big enough for the both of you? Then we’ll say good night and leave you with the rest of these—’

  ‘Helen!’ said Frank warningly. ‘He’s entitled to his religious beliefs.’

  ‘Is that what they are?’ she responded caustically. ‘Looks to me more like grown men trying to whip up enough Dutch courage to form a lynching party.’

  Frank groaned inwardly.

  ‘The trouble is, Strang,’ Helen went relentlessly on, ‘we’ve all seen the same B movie at least a million times. And the plot still stinks.’

  ‘I think we’ll just be on our way,’ Frank said, making as if to move into the hotel.

  ‘I think maybe you won’t,’ said Chuck Strang, standing in his way. ‘I also think the members of the Faith might like to know we have a real living scientist right here in our midst.’ For no reason he pushed Frank hard in the chest.

  It was the first indication that this wasn’t just plain bravura after all; Chuck Strang wasn’t play acting, he was in deadly earnest, and Frank began to get the unwelcome feeling that he would have to do some fast talking or even faster running to extricate himself from what was becoming a tense situation. Helen’s diplomatic remark about a lynching party hung in his mind, like a Ku Klux Klan cross burning vividly against a black night sky.

  He said, somewhat wearily, ‘You’ve got it wrong, Strang. I’m not a scientist. I’m a journalist. I write for a science magazine.’

  ‘You’re connected with that thing over on the mountain.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Mr Cabel.’

  Frank stared at him. He almost smiled. ‘The preacher told you that?’ he said, bewildered. ‘He doesn’t know anything about me.’

  ‘He knows you right enough. He says you’re connected with the Project. He told us all, the night of the storm.’

  Frank recalled the meeting that had been held in the square the night the power had failed. But what was all this about Cabel telling the members of the Faith that he was a scientist working on the Project? He’d never met the man, and as far as he knew Cabel didn’t even know that somebody called Frank Kersh existed. Unless Stringer had told him. That must be it, Frank guessed, unable to understand how else it could have happened. The hotel manager had taken him for a scientist and passed the word along to Cabel. Nothing else made sense; and yet he was still uneasy. Why should Cabel single him out and think it worth telling the members of the Telluric Faith that he was actively engaged on the Project? He wasn’t a threat to them, and there was no earthly reason why Cabel should think him worthy of special attention.

  He became aware that the preacher’s sermon had ended and that close behind him a silent watching group had formed. The only sound was the soft crackling flare of the torches.

  Helen said, ‘This is stupid. Are you going to let us through Strang?’

  Chuck Strang said, ‘What’s the rush, Helen, can’t you wait to get in the sack with this heretic?’

  ‘My, how your vocabulary has improved. Two months ago you’d have thought heretic was some rare form of cattle disease.’ She stood, arms folded, one hip thrust out, in the manner of a schoolteacher having to deal with a particularly dull and recalcitrant pupil.

  Frank was beginning to wish he’d kept up with his karate lessons.

  Then Chuck Strang said in a low intense voice, ‘You’d better tell your friends, Kersh, that next time the mountain won’t be content with only four human sacrifices. That was just a gentle warning. Next time it’s going to take all of you, every last one. You think the mountain is a heap of dead rock but that’s where you’re mistaken. The mountain is part of the living Earth, just as Mr Cabel says, and it’s waiting for you, bid
ing its time. Tell them people up there that if they don’t clear out the mountain is going to split clean in half and swallow them and their Project whole.’

  His eyes had the depth and fixed intensity of a madman’s stare. He had gone beyond the point where reasoned argument would have made the slightest difference; Frank knew that anything he might say would never get through that solid, impenetrable wall of fervent religious conviction. Chuck Strang believed in the doctrine Cabel preached: the scales had fallen from his eyes and he was a true and passionate believer in the living reality of the Ultimate Void.

  ‘Is that the message you want me to pass on to them?’ Frank said.

  ‘They’ve got forty-eight hours. Either they leave for good or they stay there – forever.’

  ‘Amen,’ Helen said boredly.

  FIVE

  The compound was deserted and there was a strangely subdued air about the place, as if, Frank thought, last night’s tremor had shocked them into silence and inactivity. He wondered whether more damage had been caused to the underground installation. In many ways this could be even more dangerous than the flooding of the lower level – weakening the support structures so that a relatively minor disturbance could block the tunnels and shaft, sealing the men below the ground in a granite tomb.

  As he was parking the Toronado Helen remarked on how quiet everything was, adding, ‘Perhaps they’ve heeded Chuck Strang’s warning and cleared out.’

  ‘I doubt it. Neither Friedmann nor Leach seems to give a hang about what the local people think. Their sole interest is in conducting scientific research; anything else doesn’t rate a mention.’

  ‘Is it really beyond all possible doubt that the experiments are completely harmless? Isn’t it just feasible that they’ve triggered off something in the atmosphere – some kind of weird side-effect the scientists never expected and are totally unaware of?’

  Frank meditated for a moment, pressing his fingertips against his closed eyelids. He said, ‘When I arrived in Gypsum I could have answered those questions without a second’s hesitation. There was absolutely no shadow of a doubt in my mind. Now I’m not at all sure. After what I’ve seen and heard these past three days it’s pretty obvious that something – I don’t know what the hell it is – that something connected with the Deep Hole Project is going seriously wrong.’ He turned to look at her. ‘As far as my knowledge of astrophysics goes, Helen, there is no known particle reaching the Earth from outer space that has any kind of adverse effect, either on animals, plants, human beings, the Earth itself. We’re being bombarded with literally billions of particles every second of the day and night and as far as we know they either interact with other particles and are absorbed, or else they pass harmlessly through the Earth – through us too – as if we weren’t here.’