Authors: Louise Voss
There was no way out of that window. Even if by some miracle she managed to remove the bars and get the thick glass out of the frame, it would be too small for her to squeeze through. Kate turned and surveyed the room from her vantage point. Just the bathroom off to the right, no lock on the door, and no window in there. Nothing she could use as a weapon … Wait – the mop and bucket! Kate jumped off the bed and moved them out of sight behind the bathroom door. Perhaps the women would forget she had them. Perhaps she could fill the bucket with hot water and throw it in one of their faces, then poke the end of the mop in their eyes? She shook her head. It would hardly be as effective as the liquid nitrogen.
A key turned in the lock, and Angelica re-entered the room. Kate flushed the toilet and walked casually back to the bed, automatically checking to see if Angelica was holding a gun, feeling the same frisson of fear in the pit of her stomach that she did every time the door opened.
But all Angelica brought with her was a waft of the sort of perfume that cost a small fortune, and two cups of steaming green tea. Kate caught a very brief glimpse of the corridor outside, decorated in shades of terracotta and burnt orange, as tasteful and opulent as a five-star hotel in contrast to their simple room.
‘Not a lot to see out back, is there?’ Angelica commented, taking in the bed under the window. She handed Kate one of the cups.
‘I wanted to look at something beyond these walls. See the sun,’ Kate said. ‘I get claustrophobic.’
‘I want to talk to you,’ Angelica continued, her voice soft and dreamy, as if Kate hadn’t spoken. She pulled the bed back into place and sat down on the edge of it.
Kate decided to go along with her, clutching at the straw of hope that she was worth more to them alive than dead, if Angelica had somehow become convinced that she was ‘one of them’. She sat down obediently next to her.
‘Do you believe in God?’ Angelica asked, seemingly apropos nothing.
‘Kind of, I suppose,’ said Kate. ‘I don’t belong to any specific religion though. Do you? Believe in God?’
Without a beat, Angelica said, ‘It’s true that there is a design to the universe, and an omnipotent ruler, but it’s not Jesus, or a prophet like Mohammed, as many think. Because of the ridiculous myths surrounding these deities and notions of heaven and hell perpetuated throughout history by the ruling classes to suppress the workers, few have ever come close to the truth. The Ancient Egyptians did, at the start of the Cycle, as did the Mayans. A few groups in India understood elements of the truth. But most of Earth’s population were not privy to the real facts.’
Kate was taken aback by Angelica’s answer. ‘Cycle?’
‘The Golden Age. The entire history of the world is contained within a five-thousand-year cycle, that goes around and around for eternity. You and I have had this conversation innumerable times, in this room, using these words, with these events unfolding around us like the endless reflections in a room of mirrors. We are at the very close of this particular cycle. Time is almost up.’
‘Yes.’ Kate decided it was probably best to humour her. ‘I remember hearing that the Mayan calendar ended in 2012. Funny how we’re still here.’
Angelica smiled. ‘A very minor miscalculation; a few months, that’s all.’
Kate had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. ‘But one of your colleagues mentioned Sekhmet earlier – wasn’t she an Egyptian deity, one of many? If you don’t mind my saying, your philosophies seem a bit … pick’n’mix. What makes you think this Sekhmet is so important?’
Anger flashed on Angelica’s face. ‘You speak as though this is some kind of fantasy. This is not a trivial whim, an embroidered story like those in your Bible, evolving over the years from what their authors wanted them to be until they became little more than Chinese whispers … This is the truth, and I know it because I am the one Sekhmet chose to tell.’
Kate glanced over at Junko, who now seemed to be sleeping more peacefully. ‘How could a mythical being from thousands of years ago tell you anything?’
Angelica smiled. ‘She is not mythical. She exists, but in a different sphere to this earthly one. She came to me in a vision. I will explain more, but first I want you to understand how it feels. I have a gift to give you. Would you do me the courtesy of meditating with me?’
Kate almost laughed. ‘You want courtesy, after you’ve killed all my colleagues and taken us prisoner?’
‘It’s the only way you can begin to receive a taste of what is to come.’
Kate thought she had better go along with it, considering the alternative might well be a bullet through her forehead. This ‘peace and love’ philosophy was at complete odds with the women’s behaviour so far – but she needed to try and understand what was going on here, and what they thought their mission was …
She shrugged. ‘OK then.’
Angelica pointed to a framed picture on the wall, the only decoration in the room. Kate had noticed it earlier; an abstract painting of a white dot surrounded by red and white light rays fanning out around it.
‘Don’t close your eyes. You need to stay alert to the world around you, whilst losing yourself in the power of the Goddess … Look at the picture, focus on the pure light, the energy of Sekhmet condensed into something stronger than anything in the universe … pure energy, pure goodness and justice, pure creation and destruction, pure Knowledge …
Om Shanti
, Sister Kate,
Om Shanti
.’
Om Shanti
, thought Kate, remembering hearing those words once in a yoga class. They meant ‘Peace be with you’, or ‘I am a peaceful soul’ – something like that. She almost laughed. ‘Peaceful’ was the last word she would ever use to describe Angelica’s actions …
Angelica’s voice dropped to a low, comforting hum. Kate turned her body on the bed so that she was facing the picture too, and copied Angelica by sitting cross-legged. She stared at the dot. After a few moments she found herself mesmerised by it – it was beautiful. But she couldn’t still her mind, nor rise above the stress of
the situation. Plus she had no desire to lose her wits in
the presence of this woman. Above the sound of Angelica’s voice, Kate could still hear Junko’s laboured breathing. She sat completely still, trying to ignore the pain in her arm, and pretended that she was as lost in the meditation as Angelica was.
After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Angelica stopped speaking, shook herself slightly, and turned to Kate, a beatific smile on her face.
‘Well?’
Kate cleared her throat. ‘Well. Yes, um, very restful.’
The smile vanished in an instant. ‘You think I am insane, don’t you?’
Kate kept her face blank as Angelica continued.
‘What you need to … assimilate, is that I am speaking the truth. There is no debate. And you, Dr Maddox, do not have a choice. Sekhmet told me you can be one of the chosen ones. If you accept this, and pass the trial, you will take your place alongside us.’
Kate absorbed this. A trial? What did that mean? ‘And if I don’t …?’
‘The Prophecy foretells a great cleansing of the earth: plague, pestilence, fires, war … scorching the planet, razing civilisation in one hundred and one days. And from the smoking wreckage of the world seven women will arise who will rebuild civilisation, sculpting a new world in the image of the Goddess, Sekhmet. If you choose not to join us, then so be it. You will join Dr Larter in Hell.’
Jack almost immediately began to feel queasy in their hiding place – the built-in closet in the Airstream’s bedroom. It was really bumpy on the road, and every time Riley drove round a corner, Jack felt as if the Airstream was about to detach from its hook-up and swing loose, and he’d be left behind. Having nothing to hold on to except Bradley didn’t help either as, with each turn, he got bashed by his hard-sided suitcase, which was in there with him. Plus, the closet was baking hot, and smelled of Riley’s armpits. The boys had giggled a lot at first, but after about half an hour Jack could bear it no longer.
‘Brad,’ he said, in a needless whisper, ‘Riley’s driving, which means he can’t see us. We don’t have to stay in here the whole time, only when he stops.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Bradley replied, giggling again. ‘I didn’t think of that. Let’s get out of here.’
They emerged gratefully from the closet and flopped down on the bed, breathing in the very slightly fresher air. There was an odd, stale, sweet smell to Riley’s grimy bedclothes, but Jack didn’t care – he was just happy to be out of the cupboard.
As he lay spread-eagled on the bed, partly to keep his balance in the rocking motion of the trailer and partly to stretch out his cramped limbs, Jack wondered when his dad would get back and find the note. Shirley had got so sick the night before that his daddy had taken her to the emergency room. It was great though, that Gina had invited him for a sleepover – it had made stowing away so much easier. Bradley had woken them up at five a.m., leaving pillows humped under the duvet on his bed and on the blow-up mattress on the floor Jack had slept on. Then they had hidden in the garage until they saw Riley emerge to get supplies from Gina’s kitchen, which had been their cue to sneak themselves and their suitcases into the Airstream.
Jack had left a note in his dad’s mailbox:
DEaR DAD, I’M GOING TO
KALLY KAFIL
CALLIFHORNiA TO SEE MUMMY. SORY THAT ARNTIE SHIRLEY IS SO ILL bUT NOW YOU WILL HAVE MoRE TIME TO LooK AFTER HER. DON’T WORY IM SAFE WITH RILEY AND Bradley – THEY ARe GOING TO SEE THERE DADDY SO IF I CAN’T FIND MUM ILL GO WITH THEM TOO. LOVE YOU, JACK XXXX
That should be OK, Jack thought. He did feel nervous, though. This had to be by far the naughtiest thing he had ever done. He wondered if his mum would send him back to Dad’s straight away when he got there, or if she would let him (and Bradley of course) stay for a few days? Riley would most likely go off on another trip – he’d probably be fed up with them by then.
Jack had already told Bradley that his mum would let them come in and look around the lab, like she had done one day in Oxford. He’d examined a drop of his blood through a microscope; it had been really cool. He had tried to get the address out of her on the phone yesterday evening, but all she had said was that it was on top of a mountain. Never mind, he could call her …
The rocking motion of the trailer began to make him woozy, and after a while both boys turned on to their sides, curled their knees up to their chests and fell asleep.
Jack awoke some time later, and noticed that something felt different. At first he couldn’t figure out what, but then he realised: the trailer had stopped moving.
‘Brad, quick, hide!’
He shook Bradley awake, jumped off the bed and bolted back into his hiding place, followed closely by a wide-eyed Bradley, sliding the door closed just as the main trailer door opened. Bradley had told him that Riley said it took a whole day to drive five hundred miles, so they shouldn’t come out of the wardrobe till it was dark, by which time Riley would have gone too far to turn round and take them home.
‘Is California
more
than five hundred miles away?’ Jack had asked incredulously.
Bradley nodded. ‘It’s, like, maybe seven or ten hundred miles?’
Jack felt absolutely terrified about what Riley would say when he saw him, but Bradley had been confident it wouldn’t be a problem. ‘We’ll say your mom has the injection to fix my dad’s flu, then Riley will be, like, totally happy we’re there,’ he’d said. ‘We just got to make sure he don’t see us too soon, otherwise he prob’ly will take us home – and he’ll be pissed about it.’
Jack crouched in the closet with his arms wrapped round his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. He didn’t want to go back to his dad’s.
‘Be totally quiet – Riley’s in the bathroom,’ hissed Bradley.
The toilet flushed and the boys sat as still as rocks. Jack heard Riley come out, then the sharp crack of a ring-pull, some gulping, and a very loud belch, but he was too scared to giggle.
Once the car started, with the Airstream juddering away behind it, the boys emerged again. Bradley went straight for the refrigerator and helped himself to a dewy-cold can of Coke, handing Jack one of his very own (he wasn’t allowed Coke at home) – and three slices of processed cheese, which he peeled out of their clear plastic sleeves and wrapped into cigar-shapes before eating them. They demolished a Twinkie bar Bradley found in the cupboard, and half a packet of cookies.
‘Let’s watch TV,’ Bradley said, clicking on a small wall-mounted television in the living area. There was some boring news programme on, everyone wearing white masks like Michael Jackson in the YouTube videos that Paul had once showed Jack. Even the man on the screen was talking into his microphone through a mask. Then the picture changed to a huge building full of rows and rows of beds with sick people in them. Weird, Jack thought. It looked like a basketball stadium – but how could there be beds in there?
‘Aren’t there any cartoons on?’ he asked, and Bradley flicked the channel button until he found some. The boys settled down on the cushioned shelf that passed for a sofa, Jack’s finger working into a small brown cigarette burn in the dirty flowered fabric.
Three hours later when Riley next came back to use the toilet, he found them in the same spot, both curled up like commas on the cushions, fast asleep.
‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE, ASSWIPES?’ he roared.
They woke up and both burst into tears.
The sound of Isaac’s name from Angelica’s mouth made Kate go cold. Anger bubbled up inside her. She became aware of her own breath changing rhythm, becoming steadier, deeper. Involuntarily, she clenched her fists. The anger felt good. She needed to hold on to it, use it.
‘Don’t say his name,’ she said.
Angelica raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘He was a weak man. You should have seen him, how desperate he was to be praised, taking me into his room. The way his eyes ran up and down my body. So weak. Like all men.’