Modern Rituals (7 page)

The tall man recognized Olivia’s British accent. His shoulders slackened.
 

“My name is Anthony. This is Tomas. How’d you get here?”
 

“Like I said, we don’t know,” James said. “It was like blinking—one second we were both in different places, and then…well, we were here. How did you get—”
 

“Why is it so quiet out here… Oh, my goodness! Who are these two?” A young woman appeared in the doorway. She assessed James first, throwing him a furtive smile, then studied Olivia, who drew less interest.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out," Tomas said.

James moved aside and allowed her to pass. As she did, her hand brushed against his leg. Innocent or not, the way it lingered caught him by surprise.
 

Another man emerged from the doorway, keeping himself outside arm’s reach of James and Olivia. His wide jaw and flat nose dominated a face chiseled from stone. He projected a calm demeanor that both reassured and frightened James. Tomas and Anthony regarded him with a glance. Everyone fell silent.

James cleared his throat.
 

“We’ve explored the area around here, too, and we overheard you saying that you came across the wall, or barrier, or whatever it is. So did we. It was bananas—hell, everything is bananas. The fact is, we’re trapped. And even worse, someone or something is after us," James said.

“What do you mean someone is after you?” Tomas said.

“Just before finding this building, we were almost attacked by…” James hesitated for a moment. “By a… I don’t know what it was, but it was ghastly. A girl of about twelve.”

Tomas chuckled.
 

“You were attacked by a girl? Hah! What are you some little um…how do you say…pussy?” Tomas said.
 

James let the insult bounce off him, though he took note of it, keeping it filed under
Remember to Kick the Shit Out Of
.

“Tomas, was it? I would love to see how you’d react to a murderous, decaying, half-dead, zombie girl, covered in filth, and…well,
wet
. She moved faster than anyone—any
thing
I’ve ever seen.” James shuddered. “Honestly, how Olivia and I got away from it is beyond me, but we ended up in here. That’s when we noticed the numbers on the lockers. They were similar to the numbers on the cards we’d found in our pockets.”

“You have cards, as well?” Anthony said.

“Yup, but it took us some time to uncover the numbers,” James said.

The group grew more and more intent on James’ every word as he relayed their experiences, the initial animosity diluted. Fear begets solidarity.

“The numbers led you to this room, right? B-12?” Anthony said.

James peered at the open door’s window and read
B-12
—plain as vanilla—though the letters and numbers appeared in reverse, now. It struck him that he and Olivia had been looking in the wrong place all along—not the lockers, but the classrooms.

“Oh, well, look at that,” he said. “Actually, no, we weren’t looking for this room—but now that we’re here, I feel like a dumbass. It’s pretty obvious.”
 

“Don’t feel too bad. We wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for Keto over there. He’s Japanese,” Anthony said, then lowered his head toward the severe man still in the doorway.

Keto—where do I know that name?

“Sorry, we haven’t met,” James said, nodding to Keto and the woman. “My name is James, and this is Olivia.”

Keto’s eyes, as unperturbed as a rock garden, calmly assessed James. He bowed his head once and then spoke.

“All of the signage I’ve seen thus far has been written in Kanji,” Keto said. The characters found on the cards refer to a classroom and the Japanese god Amida-Nyorai.”

“Japanese god? What kind of god are we talking about, here?” James said.

Keto’s expression grew apprehensive, then he said, “The god of death.”

2

“How comforting,” Olivia said.

“The god of death? What, like the grim reaper?” James said.

“No, not exactly. Buddhists would pray to Amida if a loved one fell ill, believing he had the power not only to take life but to return it,” Keto said.

“Oh, well, that isn’t so bad,” James said.

Keto opened his mouth and closed it without saying a word.

Tomas looked at James. “Is that it, then? You know nothing else?”
 

“For the most part, yes—oh wait, no! When Olivia and I checked the lockers, we found this.”

He retrieved the small book from his pocket and held it before the group.

“Turns out every locker has one,” James said.

“May I?” Anthony said, reaching his hand out.

James handed it to him. Anthony inspected the front and back covers.

“The character on the front of this book looks familiar. Isn’t that the same as on our cards?” Anthony said, tossing the book to Keto.

Keto caught the book effortlessly and examined the front cover.

“Yes, it is the same,” he said, then opened the book and skimmed the pages.

He ran his fingers down each page, his eyes tracking his hand. When he reached the halfway point, he looked up.

“This is a prayer book, and these are devotional readings. It has been heavily used—especially this page,” Keto said.

“What’s on the page?” Olivia said.

“A single prayer. Would you like me to translate it?” Keto said.

James bobbed his head and saw Olivia and Colette do the same. Tomas and Anthony simply stared.

“Very well. I will do my best.” Keto took a breath and began.

Before thee I sit,

Unbeknownst to the known,

Banish me from your side.

My flesh, my soul, tear them apart.

For I would rather exist not,

Than to remain by your side.

I offer my blood: drink.

I offer my mind: break.

I offer my soul: shatter.

Take these—cast me away.

“All right then—creepy…” James said and shrugged.

“Most of the passages are equally grave.” Keto leafed through the book. “Many more are faded or smudged.”

James tried to move his lips but they resisted him. He glanced at Olivia and wondered what would transpire. He trusted her for reasons he couldn’t explain. New faces surrounded him now—whether they could be trusted, time would tell. For the time being, he strapped himself into the roller coaster.

“Did you find anything in the room?” Olivia said.

“We’ve been searching the room for an hour now and haven't found anything, hon,” Colette said in a southern drawl.

James considered Colette. She bore the same school-girl outfit as Olivia, though the top of her blouse remained unbuttoned: where Olivia chose modesty, Colette pursued the provocative, leaving not two, but four or five buttons undone. Cleavage burst out of her shirt—lace bra protruded from the bulge. Her wavy, blonde hair fell around her shoulders, outlining flawless, milky skin garnished by rosy cheeks and lips. As she opened her mouth to speak, she pierced James with startling blue eyes. His cheeks burned.

Her eyes dazzled, her voice melted—she sounded terribly exciting. James’ loins stirred, and he pleaded with himself to wait for another place and time. He cleared his throat.

“Mind if we have a look?” he said.

“Go for it, but don't get your hopes up,” Tomas said.

Olivia entered the classroom before James and noticed floor-to-ceiling windows, but otherwise found the room typical. A grid of desks faced the entrance’s wall, on which a wide, blank whiteboard ran from end to end. A series of bookshelves sat against the sidewall farthest from them—these held a multicolored array of books, which caught James’ attention. He crossed to the shelves while Olivia inspected the far wall, which contained a few pin-up boards and a teacher’s desk. From the ceiling dangled unlit halogen light canisters suspended from thin wires. James considered the soft glow filtering through the large windows and wondered why the sun hadn’t set.

 
James perused the catalogue of books on the top shelf and discovered textbook hardcovers, many softcovers, some tall, some wide, all in Japanese, except for a narrow selection of English literature books.

“Huh,
Brave New World
… I love this book.” James said.

He moved to the second shelf, then the third, and so on, until there wasn’t a book left to investigate. Nothing struck him as conspicuous, though a peculiar gap existed within a set of tightly packed books on the bottom shelf. He withdrew the book beside the gap, leafed through ten thin pages and returned it.

“That’s odd. Hey…um…Keto? Can you come here for a sec?” James said.

Keto, who had been observing them from the doorway, crossed the room and crouched beside James.

“What kind of books are these?” James said, pointing to the gapped set.

Keto pulled one of the books from the shelf and peered at the cover. He repeated this with another, then looked at James.

“These are prayer books for gods within Shinto Buddhism,” he said.

“Is the Amida book among them?”
 

“I do not see it.”
 

“Thought so—can you return the Amida book to me please?” James said.

Keto obliged. James placed the books on the shelf in the order they had been in initially and then slid the Amida book from the locker into the vacancy.
 

Click.

“Whoa! Did you hear that? Please tell me you heard that,” James said.

Keto nodded. James’ exclamations had attracted the rest of the group, who collected around them.
 

“What did you do?” Anthony said.

“I think the sound came from behind this bookshelf. Let’s try and move it,” James said.

He wrapped his hands around the bottom-rear of the bookshelf and pulled—the thick, dark wood resisted his efforts. Anthony gripped the bookshelf up higher and pulled with James.

“On three…” James said.
 

They pulled.
 

It awarded them a centimeter’s movement.

James started flinging books from the heavy shelves—the group joined him—and when the shelves were barren, Anthony and James resumed their labor, this time with Tomas and Keto assuming positions on the opposing side.

“Okay, we got this. On three…” James said.

After a flurry of passionate grunts and groans, the bookshelf surrendered, revealing a door. Not much of a door—more an inset, circular handle, flush with the wall.
 

“What the…” James said. “Is this some kind of hidden entrance? You can barely see an outline.”

“Whoever used it probably wanted it that way,” Olivia said.

Before James could respond, a blood-curdling scream echoed from the hall outside.

3

Theo’s head hung like a sunken ship. His fingers had left chilly impressions in his temples and the onset of a migraine bullied the backsides of his eyeballs—sullen stares from the room confirmed that his demeanor had infected the monitoring station.
 

“Susan, tell me we got something,” he said.

Susan’s furious expression remained locked on the touchscreen, her hands swiping and tapping like mad. An eternity passed.
 

“Sorry sir, Super-814N still hasn’t made an appearance, even with Coercive Protocol Three.”

A deep sigh slithered from Theo’s chest.
 

It’s been two hours…two hours! No deaths.

“What the hell is she thinking?” he said to himself.

A loud beep emanated from Susan’s terminal. She stilled, her arms and hands idling in mid-air. She frowned.

Oh dear God, what is it now?

“Susan, I can’t help but notice it when you see something you don’t like. What’s going on?”

She tapped the screen, then swiped toward the massive monitor in the front of the station, transferring the contents of her display to HULK, which stole the attention of the room’s 48 occupants.

Theo’s stomach seized—the constriction forced a wad of bile into his mouth. He chewed it back.

“You have gotta be kidding me. Spectral interference? Is Clayton sleeping on the job, or something?” Theo said.
 

“You know this isn’t Clayton’s fault,” Susan said, then realized she’d spoken out of turn, and tried to recover. “I…uh…yes, sir, perhaps he is.”

Theo’s eyes might have been X-rays for the stare he gave Susan in response to her retort.

HULK displayed a topographical map of the school grounds and surrounding area. Seven blue dots moved about: two moving quickly from the southern perimeter, the others paired in different enclosures. The school occupied the dead-center of the round map, surrounded by forest and beyond that, nothing. Three red blotches, representing spectral interference, floated here and there in the forest.

“We need cleanup ASAP on those specters,” Theo said.
How peculiar…and potentially disastrous.
“Get Trevor in here, now! Ugh, we gotta call this in.”

He turned to find General Ethan Holmes gone. He didn’t miss the antagonizing glare of disapproval at which Ethan was a pro, nor protecting his subordinates from its harassment—only a commanding officer could master such a stare.

Convenient time to step out… That cheeky, babysitting bastard. He’d better not be up to anything.

Next to Theo resided a tablet with a single purpose: to inform upstairs of anomalies discovered within a ritual. Theo detested the thing—it demonstrated weakness and also possessed the uncanny ability to freak out his superiors, who, when alarmed, could be dangerous—downright lethal, even.

He stroked the tablet’s aluminum bezel, then drew his pictorial password. The login screen animated into a big, red CALL button. The button’s simple and singular design infuriated Theo since he’d designed it for complete idiots.
 

He mashed his finger down on the button—establishing an instantaneous connection like a walkie-talkie—and then leaned into the tablet’s microphone.

“This is Purgatory 8 reporting. We have a Code 24 and are engaging a cleanup protocol. The situation is under control.”