That caught him off guard. “You sure. Not busy?”
“Will be for the rest of the week. This thing in the sky is causing a lot of discussion and meetings, and it’s something that interests me.”
“The thing in the sky? Do you mean that orange dot?” He’d completely forgotten about that. “What are people saying?”
“Lots of different things. I know you don’t like the religious stuff, but they’re saying this is a supernatural happening. And, of course, the sceptics have other theories.” There was a sense of excitement in Erica’s voice.
A sense of gloom came over Jack. He was in the sceptic’s camp. Dinner didn’t seem so inviting now. “You sure about tonight?” Maybe she’d change her mind.
“Yes, love. Sorry, I sense your apprehension. I won’t bore you with religious talk. Johnny would love to see you. Six-thirty?”
“Six-thirty it is. See you then.” Well, that was done.
He stared again at his phone’s wallpaper. When was the picture taken? A Christmas tree was reflected in a mirror behind Erica. A couple of Christmases ago. The round decorations on the tree reminded him of the dot in the sky. Was it supernatural? Maybe the continued talk of getting Christ out of the festive season and Easter celebrations had stirred up the gods. Maybe that should be singular. Well, the God strategy could work. When fear takes over, people go running to the Church as the last hope of mankind.
Or was the orange spot just another disaster, like a comet? A comet hitting the planet would solidify the ‘rock of atheism’. That’s the issue—why does an all-powerful God allow so much suffering in the world? Jack saw it every day.
Would he get another chance?
The question forced its way into Jack’s mind. Another chance at what?
6 - Dark passageways
Thomas Wiley entered the dark stairwell lit by a low wattage light bulb dangling high above the staircase. Neon lights flashed outside, enticing those wishing to be entertained in the adults only entertainment joint. Wiley passed a large old portrait of a lady dressed in leather tights. Occasional strips of coloured light flashed on her black leather outfit.
He made his way up to his room, pausing at the stained and chipped door. Two deadlocks, two keys. More secure. He liked to believe that, although his head kept telling him they would kick the door down anyway. But Wiley wanted to believe keys served a purpose. He was big on purpose. That was why he wanted to kill people, but only the amber people. A red reflection from the neon sign flickered across the door. He smiled. Red people didn’t matter. He sensed the presence of his invisible guide and turned slightly. He smirked. Was that a test?
He entered, pushed the door closed behind him, and decided to leave the room in semi-darkness. The room had a single large window that faced the street below. It had been left slightly open, and the sheer white curtains were moving slowly, trance-like, in the slight breeze. They looked like ghosts. Although Wiley had never seen a ghost, so what would he know. The ‘theys’ of this world told him many things, even what ghosts look like. Wiley’s invisible guides had never appeared to him, so he didn’t believe in ghosts. Just in unseen things. Maybe it was just thoughts.
Even Jesus was mistaken for a ghost when he walked on the water. But ‘they’ who saw him also wrote the Bible. He’d read the whole Bible, many times over, looking for … he didn’t know what he was looking for. They, the writers of the books, kept getting in the way. They planted seeds of doubt in his mind.
He took his cap off and pushed his fingers through his hair, giving his scalp a brief massage. He placed the cap on the coffee table near the window and dropped his backpack to the floor near the shoebox that he needed to get rid of. The top zipper of the backpack was open, and he caught a glimpse of his glasses, so he reached for them.
Holding his glasses in his right hand, he parted one of the dancing ghosts with his left. The outside mall was busy. He looked over towards King George Square. It wasn’t too far away, and he was sure CCTV would trace him back to this place. He’d need to leave in the morning because they’d come looking.
He put on his glasses and looked down at people rushing to and fro. There were lots of red people. The types of shops located below him attracted the red people. Ambers had one leg in the darkness and the other in the light, and there were only a few of them. They were the ones he needed to get rid of, to kill. If he didn’t, Jesus was coming back, and he didn’t want that. That book he’d read said Jesus was coming back. He wondered if the writers believed what they wrote. Maybe they did.
Placard man sat on a bench with his signs resting next to him. His aura was green. Of course. They said faith generates energy that gives a state of wellbeing, a supernatural wellbeing. People stood around placard man; their auras also green. All turned towards the red battlefield. Wiley’s turf.
Jesus returning was discussed at a recent group meeting. One man said humanity needed Jesus to come back so the dragon could be unleashed. That started a good argument, and the man was led out of the meeting. Wiley didn’t want Jesus to come back. That would bring judgement and he didn’t want to be judged because he’d been bad, very bad. But it wasn’t his fault.
He’d convinced the group Jesus would return when the number of non-Jews becoming believers was reached, the last gentile, as they referred to it. He didn’t know the number, but the group embraced his strategy and were determined to delay the last gentile. He was happy to oblige and happy that he’d found like-minded people.
Jesus frightened Thomas Wiley and he didn’t want Jesus to come back.
He took off the glasses, placed them back in the backpack, and said goodbye to the crowds and the ghosts. He had a meeting to attend.
Another dark passageway but Wiley could see light coming from under the doorway. He remembered the first time he came here. After he entered that door, they put a blindfold over his head and escorted him through other doorways and up some stairs. Everything needed to be in secret. They needed to be sure Wiley wasn’t part of the forces out there wanting to discredit them.
He built relationships with the group through attending regular meetings and had won their confidence. Now he walked the corridors and stairways with eyes uncovered and wide open. He reached the door and entered the code. It unlatched and he entered.
Just a few of them were seated at the table today. Behind the table hung a hefty tapestry with a large black inverted cross against a white background. He wasn’t sure of the history behind selecting the logo, but it showed some of the shallowness of the group. The logo had been made popular in many exorcism and satanic-type movies and by a few heavy metal bands, past and present. They’d probably jumped on the bandwagon.
As he understood, the logo was originally a Christian symbol as the apostle Peter asked to be crucified upside down—something to do with not being worthy of the same sacrifice as his leader. Wiley didn’t want anything to do with Christianity, so the symbol bugged him, but he put up with it because it offended some Christians.
Wiley belonged with this group because they shared his animosity towards Christians.
The Great Leader sat with one of his sergeants. He hadn’t seen this man before, but knew he was a sergeant because of the bib he wore. Wiley wanted to become a sergeant, then take over from the Great Leader.
“Hello, Thomas. Thank you for getting here on short notice,” the Great Leader said.
“My priority, sir.” Not from the heart but needed to be said.
“This is Sergeant Jones.”
Wiley gave him a nod. It wasn’t the man’s real name. He was most probably a police officer—had that look about him. Wiley played their games.
“We’ve had a little mishap with one of our members.” The leader pushed a tablet device towards Wiley. “We should have seen it coming, as he started getting back into the crystal.”
Crystal meth. Wiley had tried it once, and it scared him. He looked down at the news story on the tablet. It was his comrade. Yep, he’d gone off the rails. Wiley would miss stargazing with his friend. But what could he do when something evil takes control of the mind? He wanted to feel sad, but wouldn’t allow himself the weakness. Sadness served no purpose. There was nothing he could do. His friend would be wandering among the stars now.
“He killed a girl,” the leader said.
So had Wiley, he hoped, and maybe more. “Was she an amber person?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what’s the problem?”
