The Revelation Room (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 1) (16 page)

Ben opened his eyes. He looked at the flame heating the end
of the pin. ‘What the fuck—’

‘It’s time for you to leave, Satan,’ Ebb shouted. ‘Jesus has
instructed me to mark you with the sign of the cross.’

Ben writhed on the cross. ‘No… please… don’t…’

Ebb ignored him. ‘You will leave Benjamin’s body, Satan. By
the order of the Lord Jesus Christ. You are not welcome here.’

‘N-n-n-no,’ Ben shouted.

Ebb scratched the red hot tip of the pin across Ben’s
hairless chest. The skin sizzled and scorched as the hot metal burned into the
flesh. Ebb then drew the pin down to Ben’s naval.

Ben screamed and twisted his head from side to side. Spit
frothed in the corners of his mouth.  

‘Jesus suffered for you, Benjamin. He suffered so that a
sinner like you might be saved.’

Ben opened his mouth to scream again, but unconsciousness
afforded him temporary respite. His head rolled to one side, resting on his
right shoulder.

Ebb turned to Bubba. ‘You stay with him until I relieve
you.’

Bubba nodded.

‘Sister Alice, Sister Dixie? Go to my quarters and release
Madeline. See that she’s comfortable and take her down to the Sisters’ Room.’

‘Is that wise, Father?’ Alice asked.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Is she purged?’

Ebb regarded Alice as though she’d just questioned his
sanity. ‘Jesus Christ told me to release her.’

Alice bowed her head. ‘Yes, Father. Sorry, Father.’

‘I’ve got urgent business to attend to, so if you’re done
with questioning me?’

‘Yes, Father.’

Ebb turned to Emily. ‘You can sanitise Benjamin’s wounds.
Then you are to return to the Sisters’ Room. Do you understand?’

Emily nodded. ‘Yes, Father.’

Ebb dipped the tip of the hatpin into the bowl of water and
then walked out of the barn into the cool night air.

Ebb panted and wheezed as he reached
the top of the fifty-foot tower. Either those steps were getting longer, or he
was getting shorter. As soon as the weather cooled down he would embark on an
exercise programme designed to offload weight. Not that he was fat. Not in relation
to some of the gluttonous lard-arses waddling up and down the High Street with
the contents of Pizza Hut jiggling in their jogging bottoms. If he had his way,
he would send them all out to Africa and introduce them to starvation. The Lord
had profound rules regarding gluttony.

Ebb blamed his propensity towards carrying a few extra
pounds on a faulty gene inherited from the father he’d never known. It
certainly hadn’t come from his stick insect of a mother.

Marcus lurched around the corner. He grinned at Ebb.
‘Father? What brings you up here?’

Ebb scowled and stared down the barrel of the rifle. ‘Will
you point that blessed thing in another direction?’

Marcus lowered the gun. ‘Sorry, Father.’

Ebb took a deep breath. ‘We’ve got problems.’

‘Problems?’

Ebb was sorely tempted to poke him in the eye. Why did he
always have to respond to a question with a question? Apart from being
infuriating, it was damned well rude. ‘Yes, problems. You know, puzzle, puzzle,
riddle, riddle?’

‘Yes, Father. Sorry, Father. Is it the new recruits?’

‘This isn’t the army, Brother Marcus.’

‘Sorry.’

‘And stop saying “sorry”. It’s tiresome. It makes me believe
you’re hiding something.’

‘I’m not hiding anything, Father.’

‘The guilty flee where none pursues. Perhaps you’ve been
having a toke on the wacky-baccy?’

‘No, Father.’

‘I hope not. Polluting your brain with that smog might prove
a dangerous pastime, Pixie-pea. It’s a long way to fall from the tower, don’t
you think?’

Marcus looked at the sheer fifty-foot drop. ‘Yes, Father.’

‘There used to be a lock keeper at Briers lock. Len Bunyan.
Big Lenny, they called him. Big buffoon, more like. Anyway, he was partial to a
drink. So partial he ended up falling into the lock and drowning. Do you see
the point I’m trying to make here?’

‘Yes, Father.’

Ebb moved from water to flames. ‘If you play with fire, you
get burned.’

Marcus looked at him with those I’m-up-to-something eyes.
‘Yes, Father.’

‘And we all know what happens to bad bunnies. But I haven’t
climbed all the way up here to lecture you on the dangers of drug abuse.
Suffice to say that a fool and his brain are soon parted.’

Brother Marcus cocked his head to one side like a dog trying
to comprehend a mathematical equation. ‘Yes, Father.’

‘It’s Brother Tweezer.’

‘Brother Tweezer? What about him?’

Ebb regretted his decision not to eat a Mars Bar before
climbing the tower. Vanity had prevailed over good sense. His sugar levels were
low. Dangerously low. ‘He tried to rape Madeline.’

‘Tweezer? Are you sure?’

Ebb resisted an urge to stab the hatpin in Marcus’s eye. ‘Of
course I’m bloody well sure. Do you think I’m in the habit of spreading
malicious rumours?’

Marcus took a step back. ‘No, Father. It’s just a shock,
that’s all.’

‘He defied me.’

‘I can’t believe he would go against you, Father.’

‘Well he did. Fact. End of discussion.’

‘When?’

‘Whilst I was attending Benjamin’s inauguration. He tried to
force himself upon her.’

‘I can’t get my head around this.’

‘Do you doubt me?’

‘No, Father.’

‘You’re not harbouring any ambition to be the Doubting
Thomas of The Sons and Daughters of Salvation?’

‘No, Father.’

Ebb felt faint. He gripped the guardrail. The sooner he got
back down onto more secure ground, the better. He’d never liked heights. He
couldn’t wait to get back to his quarters where a nice big family-sized slab of
Dairy Milk was waiting for him in the fridge.

‘Did he rape the girl, Father?’

‘No. Madeline kicked him in the face and rendered him
unconscious.’

‘So no real harm—’

Ebb held up his free hand and resisted an urge to do some
real harm. ‘He shouldn’t have been there. Period. I sent him to put Max in the
kennel and fetch a blowtorch. I didn’t tell him to go up to my private quarters
and rape the girl. He knows that he’s not allowed up there under any circumstances.
No one is.’

‘Satan might have used the girl to lure Brother Tweezer to
your quarters.’

Ebb took several deep breaths and tried to clear his head.
‘I thought so at first. But Jesus came to me in the barn and told me the girl
is blameless. I’m afraid the Devil is inside Brother Tweezer.’

Marcus looked away.

‘Do you doubt me, Thomas?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Do you wish to undermine my authority?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Or perhaps you believe I’ve climbed all the way up here to
tell you bedtime stories?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Perhaps you’d like to join Brother Tweezer down the rabbit
hole?’

‘No, Father.’

‘It can easily be arranged. Benjamin and Bubba can replace
both you and that useless article, Tweezer.’

‘No, Father. I’m sorry. I just thought Satan might be
playing games with you.’

Ebb smiled. ‘Do you think the Devil is
capable
of
playing games with me?’

‘No, Father.’

‘Perhaps all that wacky-baccy has addled your brain and
denied you the ability to think?’

‘No, Father. From what you say, the Devil certainly seems to
have got inside Brother Tweezer.’

‘Satan’s gained complete control of his mind.’

‘What are we going to do, Father?’

‘What can we do? Sometimes the only thing to do when a
building is overrun by the enemy is destroy the building.’

‘Kill him?’

‘It’s the only course of action open to us. May the Lord
have mercy upon his soul.’

‘Tweezer’s been a good and loyal servant. I shall pray for
his spirit.’

With Satan running amok, Ebb thought it prudent to pay close
attention to Brother Marcus as well. ‘We must all pray for our dear lost soul.’

‘He served you well, Father.’

Ebb gripped the guardrail. ‘Not well enough, Pixie-pea. But
I won’t be fooled again.’

‘No, Father.’

‘Whichever way the wind blows, I shall not bend. However
much the tide turns, I shall not drown. However much the earth moves, I shall
stand resolute. Unfaltering. A monument to all that is sacred. Do you
understand me, Brother Marcus?’

Marcus did. His head bobbed up and down like a lifebuoy in
rough weather.

‘I want you to come down from the tower, Brother Marcus. I
want the farm put into lockdown until we’ve dealt with Brother Tweezer.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘Carry out your duties with competence and diligence and you
might well replace Brother Tweezer.’

‘Me, Father?’

‘No. I’m talking to that parrot perched on your shoulder!’

Marcus glanced at his right shoulder, and then looked back
at Ebb with those shifty, glazed eyes. ‘Thank you, Father.’

Ebb didn’t think Marcus looked very grateful. He looked more
like a kid who’d just swallowed a dose of bad medicine.  

‘Do we
have
to kill Tweezer? Can’t we try and drive
Satan out of him first?’

Ebb fought a compelling urge to hurl Marcus from the tower.
‘He is beyond salvation, Brother Marcus. I’m afraid he must shame the shovel.’

Ben’s hands throbbed, sending
shock-waves up into his arms. His shoulders and legs were white sheets of pain.
He watched Ebb and Marcus walk into the barn. Marcus was carrying a rifle.
Thankfully, it was pointing at the ground. The two men stopped in front of the
cross.

Ebb looked up at Ben. ‘How are you holding up, Benjamin?’

For one wild moment, he considered telling Ebb to fuck off
and bury his head in a hole. Then he looked at the rifle. ‘How do you think?’

Ebb smiled. ‘Has Brother Bubba been looking after you?’

Ben almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. He’d
tried several times to engage Bubba in conversation, but Bubba had ignored him.
Either the big man was as dedicated to the worthless cause as the rest of them,
or too scared to act against them.

Ebb pursed his lips. ‘I trust you are purged of all sin?’

Ben nodded. Arrows dipped in napalm pierced the back of his
head.

Ebb turned to Marcus. ‘What do you reckon? Is he purged?’

‘I don’t know, Father. He looks unwell.’

Ebb turned to Bubba. ‘What about you? Do you think the Devil
has left our friend?’

Bubba nodded and grunted. He didn’t make eye contact with
Ebb.

Ebb smiled. ‘It might be safe to assume that you are purged,
Benjamin.’ He turned to Marcus. ‘Give me the rifle.’

Ben’s stomach flipped a coin. ‘Please don’t shoot me.’

Ebb took the gun. He told Bubba and Marcus to take down the
cross and lower it to the floor.

Bubba took a screwdriver from his overalls and unscrewed the
crossbeam from the barn’s wooden frame. Marcus and Bubba then carried the cross
to the middle of the barn and lowered it to the floor.

The blood drained from Ben’s head. Three Bubbas and two
Marcuses loomed above him. Two of the Bubbas pirouetted like ballerinas. ‘I
feel sick.’

Ebb grinned at him. ‘You just need time to adjust.’

Ben looked away as Ebb’s eyes left his face and orbited his
bald head.

‘Untie the restraints, Bubba,’ Ebb instructed.

Ebb’s voice sounded as if it was soaked in grease. Ben felt
pressure on his legs. It was as if Bubba was trying to bore a hole through his
shin. But which Bubba? Bubba the mute or Bubba the ballerina?

‘He’ll need time to get his bearings,’ Marcus said.

The pressure on Ben’s legs intensified. He tried to call out
and tell Bubba to be careful, but the words stuck in his throat like Post-it
Notes. He closed his eyes.

Ebb told Marcus to go back to the house and tell Sister
Alice to put the girls in lockdown. Ben watched the words float around inside
his head. White letters in a black alphabet soup. The letters spelled out
something, something important. Ben tried to focus on them. Tried to string
those letters together.

Ebb prodded Ben with his foot. ‘Are you still with us?’

The letters formed a word in Ben’s head: S – T – U – T – T –
E –R – B – U – C –K.

‘He’s flaked out, Father.’

‘I thought I told you to go to the house and tell Sister
Alice to put the girls in lockdown?’

‘Yes, Father. Sorry, Father.’

Ben watched the letters sink down into that oily soup.
Deeper and deeper. The black soup was good once you got right down into it. A
little scary at first, but once you took the plunge, it was as fine as an oil
slick in a soup bowl could ever be.

Ebb kicked Ben’s right hip. ‘Benjamin?’

Ben swam deeper and deeper into the black ocean. It somehow
seemed safer down there.

Ebb looked at him for a good while before turning to Bubba.
‘Carry him back inside.’

Bubba nodded.

Ebb grinned. ‘That’s what I like about you, Bubba. You speak
your mind.’

Bubba took a key from his overalls and unlocked the
handcuffs.

‘Take him to the Brothers’ Room and keep an eye on him. He’s
allowed water, but no food. He’ll be fasting for the next fourteen days. Do you
understand?’

Bubba nodded.

Ebb slapped the stock of the rifle. ‘Come on, then. Chop,
chop. There’s a million things to do before first light.’

***

The black ocean was choppy. Ben bobbed up and down in the
water. Bile bubbled in his stomach and leaked into his throat. He could see
shafts of light above him where the sun pierced the surface of the black water.
He tried to swim, propel himself up through the water to reach the surface, but
his limbs refused to move in the thick syrupy liquid.

Ben could see the hull of a ship just beneath the surface.
No, not a ship. It was way too small. A rowing boat. And Old Joe rowed that
boat for all he was worth. Ben smiled. The smile peeled itself like a banana.
Old Joe rowing a boat: that was just a joke to end all jokes. Old Joe, with one
eye looking east, the other as blind as faith, paddling around in circles like
a dog chasing its tail.

Three letters from the alphabet soup floated past him,
rising to the surface. S – B – C. Ben tried to work out the significance of the
three letters. An acronym? An invitation to play scrabble?

‘Hey, whatcha doing down there?’ Old Joe said from above him
in the rowboat.

Ben tried to shout to Old Joe, tell him to throw down a
lifeline, but the words formed into white bubbles in the black liquid and
popped. Poof. Just like that. Like a dream he’d never had.

‘I’ll fetch you some water,’ Old Joe said.

Ben looked about him and wondered why Old Joe would fetch
him water when he was surrounded by the stuff. Swimming in it, you might say.

High above him, the Stutter-buck of a motor stammered into
life. Light shafted through the black inky water. ‘Benjamin?’

Ben tried to swim. Tried so hard to force those dead-end
limbs to move. The light grew stronger, the sound of the motor louder.
Something touched his lips. Something wet and cold. How was that possible? He
looked up and followed the shaft of light to the surface.

‘Benjamin?’

The rowboat vanished. The ocean vanished. Old Joe vanished.
Ben looked up into Marcus’s grinning face. Marcus held a green plastic beaker
of water in one hand. The rifle was slung over his shoulder and held in place
with a frayed leather strap. ‘Sit up and you can have a drink.’

‘Where’s Old Joe?’

Marcus laughed. ‘Old Joe? There’s no one called Old Joe
here, mate. You’ve been away with the fairies.’

‘My name’s not Benjamin. It’s Ben.’

‘Not anymore, brother. You’re one of us now. Once the Father
swears you in tomorrow morning, you’ll be known as Brother Benjamin. You’d do
well to remember that.’

‘I need painkillers.’

Marcus shook his head. ‘Sorry. No can do. We don’t allow
artificial substances. If you want to sit up, you can have a glass of water.’

Ben’s head thumped like a bass drum in a heavy metal band.
‘I’m in agony.’

‘Pain is all in the mind.’

‘You tell my fucking shoulders that.’

‘Swearing’s also against the rules. I’m telling you that as
a friend, okay? Everyone curses once in a while. It’s to be expected. But if
you want my advice, make sure the Father is out of earshot.’

‘I couldn’t care less.’

‘You’ll learn. It’s up to you whether you want to do it the
easy way or the hard way.’

Ben forced himself to sit up. His shoulders and knee would
ever recover from his ordeal on the cross. He just wanted to dive back into the
soothing black water again and never resurface.

Marcus handed him the water. ‘Don’t gulp it; you might throw
up.’

Ben ignored him and drained the water in one long draught.
Water had never tasted so good. So cold and invigorating. What the hell did it
matter if he threw up? In the grand scheme of things, throwing up was the least
of his worries.

Ben’s stomach suddenly felt as if it was in the grip of
giant pincers. He dropped the beaker on the floor and bent over double.

Marcus put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Whoa there, buddy. I
told you to take it easy.’

Ben rocked back and forth on the bed as if the room had set
sail in a rough sea. He dry- retched several times. Bile burned the back of his
throat.

‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got work to do. Brother Bubba will
look after you if you need anything. Right, Bubba?’

Bubba grunted and rolled over on his bunk.

‘You can have my bunk for the night,’ Marcus said. ‘There’s
a bucket in the corner of the room if you need to take a leak.’

Ben stared at the bare boards as Marcus walked out of the
room and locked the door behind him. He’d never given much consideration to the
concept of Hell. It was just a load of made-up nonsense designed to frighten
people into behaving themselves. But now he knew for sure that Hell existed.

And he was in it.