Scarecrow Gods (36 page)

Don’t think when you look. It’s the thinking that gets your eyes to hurting. You expect a house to be there, so you look for a house. By looking for it, you create it. You expect to see grass and trees and rocks, just like in your own backyard. So you invent them. The problem is that you’re not in your own backyard.

Danny was beginning to understand. He was finding it difficult to concentrate, however, because of the increasing sensation of electricity coursing along his body. It was as if someone, somewhere, had their hand on a rheostat and was slowly turning it up.

So imagine nothing. Expect nothing. Do you get it?

Danny nodded. The feeling was beginning to be uncomfortable, spiders and centipedes danced along his body. He knew they weren’t real. He wanted desperately to turn away, but the compulsion to stare was just too much.

Danny, do you get it?

From far away he heard a voice. He heard his name. Then suddenly he was pushed, and as he was pushed the focus of his vision shifted from the Dark Sun to the quicksilver face of Maxom.

Pay attention, boy. Do you understand what I’m saying?

The voice spoke but there was no mouth to move. He remembered. This was just a representation of his mind’s place in
The Land
, it wasn’t real, but an interpretation. Like his house and everything he’d seen that’d hurt his eyes.

Pretend it isn’t there?

If that works, then do that. But it’s not about pretending. It’s all about being. It isn’t there. If another traveler was to come here and look in upon your mother, all he or she would see is a life pad. No house, no yard. Nothing. And that’s only because they’d have no point of reference. No memory of the waking world’s concrete image to guide their mind in the seeing of it.

So it’s me that makes it look like that.

Exactly. There are times when you want to see things as they are and times you don’t. Mostly, you don’t.
Maxom turned around and winked out of existence for a second as his molecular thin side was proffered to Danny.
So look around, why don’t you—and try to
not
see so you
can
see.

It’d taken a while, but slowly the intrusiveness of the waking world’s structures and geometry had faded from his sight leaving him with the unique landscape of
The Land
—a landscape in which differing shades of light and darkness detailed the existence of life. Some places were completely dark, void of life and the brightness it brought to the land. Others were shimmering oceans of brilliance where to look necessitated concentration.

Where the Dark Sun was an enigmatic void shedding nothing upon
The Land
, it was the inhabitants, or their reflections that cast the illumination. For the overwhelming majority of life pads didn’t know of
The Land’s
existence, much less their singular effect upon it.

Danny, under the tutelage of Maxom, had learned to distinguish between some of the life forms as well. He knew the difference between the long, dull brightness of the fish compared to the winking darts that were the birds. Even the household pets were easy to distinguish. Where a dog had a tint of gold, a cat’s brilliance pulsed to a steady beat as if it were an illuminated metronome. Humans were the brightest.

But that was where it ended. The squirrel and the chipmunk might as well have been the same creature as the turtle or the raccoon. Their life pads were so similar his only way to discern between them was to flash his vision back to the waking world—a negative image, correct in reverse detail.

At first, it’d been very hard for him to switch back and forth. But it became easier with practice and soon he was as proficient in using the vision as Maxom. When confused, Danny merely had to switch his view to the negative, see the point of light for what it really was, then switch back. For a while it’d been a game as he moved through the landscape, trying to guess the true nature of the lights. More often than not he was wrong, but the challenge and the newness and the awesome fantasticness of it all never ceased to make it fun.

The first time Danny asked about the real dangers of
The Land
, Maxom had become angry.
You don’t wanna go there, boy. You just listen to old Maxom and let him show you the way. Better to have an old cripple be your guide dog than have the ghosts lead you on. You do something bad and you’ll sure enough learn where goose bumps come from.

The idea of other creatures haunting
The Land
both tantalized and frightened Danny. Were they ghosts like Grandpa and George Washington? Or were they ghosts like blood-sucking fiends from the comic books? Danny felt it was important to clarify the definition of a ghost in Maxom’s lexicon. After all, the difference wore fangs. A nagging thought disturbed Danny’s mind.

What if both possibilities were true?

The entire idea of a blood-sucking grandpa with fangs put a squash on his curiosity like no amount of warnings and orders ever could. He’d listen to Maxom and follow his directions. After all, the man had been doing this since Vietnam, and that was a long, long time.

CHAPTER 17

Thursday—June 28th

Paradise Valley, Arizona

The ATF Agent was bracketed by a dozen deputy sheriffs, each with their heads on a swivel as they moved briskly up the walk. They opened the door to the cafeteria and stepped inside. A Hispanic deputy pointed to a man in the back of the large room and made a bee-line towards him. The ATF agent and one other deputy fell in step behind him. The others moved around the room and took up position.

“Are you the man known as John the New Baptist?”

John stood, surrounded by several of his young girls. Mr. Adams and another man dressed in Arizona casual stood, the glossiness of his Crocodile loafers not missed by the deputy.

“I am. Why the intrusion? Is it now against the law to practice religion in America? Have we come to this?”

“We have a warrant here to search the premises.”

“Let me see that,” said the man with the loafers.

“And you are?”

“Walter Grudson. I’m the lawyer representing the interests of the Church.”

The lawyer began leafing through the pages of the warrant, tracing each line with a manicured finger. Occasionally, he’d grunt and nod his head.

“We’d also like you to answer a few questions,” said the deputy to John.

“What can I do for you?” John asked, his right hand drifting across the smooth cheek of the young girl nearest him.

The Ghoul grimaced. His eyes narrowed. “Can I see some identification from these young ladies, please?”

John turned his attention slowly to the ATF agent, his eyelids heavy with disdain. He blinked once as he stared at the prominent letters on the hat, then turned his attention back to the deputy sheriff. “I wasn’t aware this was an ATF issue?”

The deputy smoothed his mustache with two fingers and shot The Ghoul a withering look. “Agent Gooly is here as a professional courtesy, sir. He’s also a corroborating witness in a few of the issues I’d like to speak about.”

“Then please tell him to leave my girls alone. They’re free to worship whomever they choose, are they not?”

“Well, that depends. If they’re underage then—”

“—then nothing. You’re in here illegally, gentlemen. Would you please leave?” asked the lawyer returning the warrant.

The deputy blinked. “No. You’ve seen our warrant. We—”

“Yes, I have and it plainly states you have the right to search the Church of the Resurrection.”

The Ghoul and John locked eyes.

“Then what’s the problem?” asked the deputy.

John reached over and ran is hand down the spine of the closest girl. “This is the cafeteria,” said John.

“The warrant covers all the buildings,” said the deputy.

“That’s not what it says. The warrant specifically says
The Church.
The church is that large building with the light blue dome in case you missed it. This building, the dorms as well as any of the other buildings are off limits which means you’re here illegally.”

John allowed his hand to slide across the smooth cotton robe, his hand stopping under the girl’s shoulder, as if he were holding her close. The movement captured the Ghoul’s attention. The others gazed at the lawyer.

“Wait,” said the deputy. “I think we can discuss this in the spirit of cooperation. It’s plain that—”

“What’s plain, Deputy Aprella, is that your jack-booted companions are trampling on the First and Second Amendment Rights of my client and the members of his church. This is not Nazi Germany. You may not enter a dwelling without just cause and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all the years I’ve defended my clients is that intuition and
just cause
are not the same things. Too often
just cause
turns into
just because
and I won’t have it.”

John’s hand crept below the girl’s breast. He cupped it, his middle finger massaging until a tiny hard lump creased the fabric. The Ghoul clenched his teeth. John winked. The girl arched her back slightly as John’s finger continued its circular motion.

The Ghoul’s fist came fast and hard, intersecting the cult leader’s face right below his left eye.

Pandemonium erupted as John hit the floor, a trickle of blood seeping from his right ear. The girls screamed and dropped to their knees, covering the body of their fallen leader. Men rushed forward and grabbed at the ATF agent. Deputies drew their weapons.

A gunshot split the air.

* * *

John shifted from the black of unconsciousness to the blue of his mind. Anything but calm, it was shot through with arcs of energy. Each discharge caused shockwaves of fear. He was no longer in control. Normally his mind was locked when he was awake and spelled when asleep. But now his
ajna
was open; something he hadn’t allowed in years.

One of the many people who were collectors, not only was John able to live with his own fragmented personalities, but he was also a shining beacon for those fragments who where homeless and wandering. When he’d been a child and unaware, he’d been at their mercy, collecting fragments and souls, his mind their battleground for domination. Long ago he’d learn the secrets of protection, and as long as his
anja
was in place, there was no way anything could enter. His mind was a vault.

Unless…

“Here Johnny,” came the sweet voice of a young girl. The call echoed and came again. “Here Johnny. I’m home.”

John shuddered. He recognized the voice of Nancy. She’d been a soul who’d found him early in his life. It hadn’t been until a few years ago when he’d been traveling through Tucson that he’d been able to pin her down and send her away. But now, inexplicably, she was back.

“Come on, Johnny. Let’s play.”

Something had happened. He tried to exert control over his mind, but found himself powerless. He’d had no time to prepare. It was like being in a dream.

A figure stepped out of the blue, a little girl with long red pig-tails. She dragged an animal behind her, its red trail evidence of her experimentation.

“No, please,” John whimpered.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you, silly man. I thought I’d lost you.” She smiled, her front teeth missing. She held the animal up in front of her by the tail. It had been a dog. Gutted like a fish, its chest cavity was hollow. “If you wear it, we can play a game of fetch. Come on over here, Johnny, and be my doggie.”

“Please.”

“Come on. You can do it.”

“Please, stop,” he whimpered.

* * *

The Land of Inside-Out

Danny scampered through the tall grass. He shot between two slender pines and barked at the scrambling rabbit. The tantalizing taste of fur wetted his palate as no chocolate could. He smelled the creature’s terror. He heard its heartbeat, machine-gun fast in the little chest as the hyperactive lungs fueled the small body as if it were a top fuel dragster. The rabbit dove through a hole in a blackberry thicket. Large enough for the rabbit to pass through, the eighty-pound blue tick coon hound plowed into it, a howl of pain a temporary addition to the excited bays of the hunt. In, through and out the otherside, the canine left small pieces of flesh behind, fine lines of blood proof of its trajectory. Around the trunks of maples and oaks and hickory, the chase continued. Over and under fallen logs, beneath bushes of prickly thorns, through the webbing of the forest’s kudzu canvas. Always one step ahead, the rabbit knew exactly when to cut left or right, its immense rear legs the perfect fulcrum for impossible physics.