Triskellion 3: The Gathering (19 page)

“W
ho could that be?” Barbra Anderson asked when the doorbell chimed. She rose from the breakfast table, brushing the crumbs from her blouse and adjusting her hair in the hall mirror before opening the front door.

She smiled warmly at the couple standing on her doorstep. They smiled back. The boy who lived next door cycled past, waving, and a squirrel scampered across the top of the white picket fence that edged the front garden of the pink house.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the young man said. “We’re from the Church of the Triple Wheel. Could you spare us a few moments?”

The smile of young woman next to him got even wider. “You’ll be
so
glad you did,” she said.

“Well, we’re having breakfast,” Barbra said. She looked at the man’s smart grey suit before admiring the lovely blue twinset that his companion was wearing. She glanced up at the clear blue sky and remembered what her mother had always said about seeing the good in people; about how strangers were only friends you hadn’t met yet. “But you’re welcome to join us,” she added.

“That’s very kind of you,” the man said. “Maybe just some coffee.”

Barbra stood back and allowed the couple in. She led them into the kitchen and introduced her family. “This is my husband, Bob.”

“Bob Anderson,” he said. “I’m in computing.”

Barbra laid a hand on the shoulder of each of her children. “And this is Eden … and Tammy.”

Eden, who was nine, and his older sister, who was thirteen, both said hello politely and grinned at the newcomers.

“My name’s Brother Thomas,” the young man said. “And this is Sister Marianne.”

“You have a beautiful family,” Sister Marianne said.

Barbra blushed and beamed and poured out coffee for her guests.

“There’s oatmeal too,” Eden said. “And Mom’s pancakes are just the best.”

“We don’t want to take up too much of your time.” Brother Thomas pulled out a chair. “It will only take us a few minutes to change your lives.”

“I think I’ve seen you people on the TV,” Bob said.

“Right,” Eden agreed. “There’s ads on the radio, too.”

Sister Marianne nodded. “It’s an important message,” she said. “We try and deliver it any way we can…”

Continuing to eat, the Andersons listened politely as their guests told them about Pastor Ezekiel Crane – about the wonderful vision of the man who had founded the Triple Wheel movement. A man who had new and amazing ideas about what it meant to be human.

“I’ve never heard anything like it,” Barbra said. “What about you, Bob?”

“Sounds … unbelievable,” her husband said.

“It
is
,” Sister Marianne said. She leaned across the table and placed a hand over his. “It
is
unbelievable, but just listen to Pastor Crane and you’ll know it’s true.”

“And you’ll want to join us,” Brother Thomas said. “Of your own free will.” He grinned at the children. “Now then, you kids like presents?”

“Sure,” Tammy said. “Who doesn’t?”

Brother Thomas dug into his black backpack and produced several parcels. “These are gifts from the Triple Wheel,” he said. He passed four watches across the table; each had the words
TICK-TOCK
and the symbol of the Triple Wheel emblazoned on its face. “They keep pretty good time too.”

“Wow, thanks!” Eden said, already fastening the plastic strap round his thin wrist.

“That’s very kind,” Barbra said.

Brother Thomas smiled and took a slurp of coffee. “We’ve barely started.” He handed over a book and a couple of CDs to each member of the family. “The words in that book will lift your hearts and excite your minds,” he said. “They will help you prepare for the Gathering.”

“What’s that?” Eden asked.

Brother Thomas ruffled the boy’s hair. “It’s all explained in the book,” he said. “All you have to do is read it. Better than Harry Potter, I promise.”

The boy laughed and began flicking through the book.

“Is this music?” Tammy asked. She was studying one of the CDs and finding it hard to tear her eyes away from the picture of Ezekiel Crane on the cover.

Sister Marianne smiled. “Well, there’s
some
music on it, but it’s mostly just Pastor Crane talking. His voice is better than any music you’ve ever heard.”

“Listen to these every night before you go to sleep,” Brother Thomas said. “I guarantee they will give you the best night’s sleep you’ll ever have.”

“That sounds good,” Barbra said. She nodded at her husband and stage whispered, “Bob
snores
…”

Sister Marianne looked deep into Barbra’s eyes. “Better than good,” she said. She reached into her own backpack and produced four plastic containers, each one the size of a small lunch box and a different colour. “You each get one of these too. So who wants the red one?”

The children argued half-heartedly over the colours, but eventually each one of the Anderson family had a box to go along with their book, CDs and wristwatch.

“What’s in these?” Eden asked. He held the box up to his ear and shook it, as if trying to work out what was inside a Christmas present.

“Those are not to be opened just yet,” Brother Thomas said.

“These are your survival packs.” Sister Marianne gently tapped the lid of Eden’s box. “They are to be saved until the great day dawns, and then Pastor Crane will tell us all what to do with them.”

“Sounds mysterious,” Barbra said, laughing.

“It certainly is,” Brother Thomas said. “It’s the greatest mystery of all time, and you can be part of it. You’re lucky we came to your neighbourhood today.”

“Thank you,” Barbra said. She smiled and reached out to take her husband’s hand. “Now, are you sure we can’t offer you anything to eat?”

Brother Thomas glanced over at his companion.

“We’ve got a lot of households to visit, Thomas,” she said.

“I know, but I don’t think any of them will be as warm and as willing to listen as this one.” Brother Thomas looked around the table at the Andersons’ four smiling faces. “And those pancakes
do
look pretty good…”

W
hen Rachel was thirteen she had made a list of all the places in America that she wanted to visit. She had filled three pages of a notebook with the names. The major natural attractions were there, obviously – the Grand Canyon, Yosemite National Park, the Everglades – but Rachel had learned all about those places at school and it was the cities she had wanted to see, above all.

Nashville. San Francisco. Honolulu. New Orleans…

Even the names sounded exotic somehow, and she had lain awake at night in the apartment in New York City, trying to imagine what the scenery would be like, wondering how the people would talk. Back then, she had promised herself that she would get to all those places one day – she would travel as much as she could, ticking these amazing cities off her list one by one.

Now, driving through yet another city as they gradually made their way west towards Alamogordo, Rachel’s spirits sank even lower than where they’d been when they had driven out of St Louis six hours before. The car cruised past the same chain stores in the same strip malls that they had seen in every other place they had stopped at, and she wondered why she had ever wanted to see these places, how she could have been so stupidly enthusiastic. Every coffee shop and pharmacy – each one a facsimile of a thousand others – only reminded her of how far away from home she was.

Only reminded her that she no longer
had
a home.

Adam read her mind. “It’s hard to get excited about anywhere when you’re running,” he said. He put his hand on her arm. “When this is over, you can go see
all
those places you dreamed about, and I promise you they’ll be every bit as exciting as you thought they’d be.”

“Sure,” Rachel said. “Thanks.” She smiled at her brother – but he didn’t understand. It was not excitement that she craved now; it was the opposite: gloriously dull and uneventful ordinariness.

Normality.

“Hey, what about that place?” Adam asked, pointing out of the car window. It was just after midday and they had been looking for somewhere to eat ever since they had first hit the outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Their driver, a nice man called Elliott, who had told them he was an insurance salesman, pulled over and smiled at his three passengers as they climbed out of the car. Watching them walk away towards the roadhouse, he struggled to remember what on earth had made him stop and pick them up in the first place. Why, when he had only popped out to get milk from the grocery store, had he agreed to drive them all the way from St Louis to Tulsa? He waved a cheery goodbye and turned the car around to begin the six-hour drive home, wondering what he would say to his wife when he got there.

“Wow, look at these things,” Adam said. He walked along a line of shiny motorbikes parked in front of the roadhouse.

Rachel was already peering in through the dirty window and shaking her head. “Oh, good choice,” she said sarcastically. “It’s a biker place.”

“Sounds like fun,” Gabriel said.

Adam shrugged. Stepping past Rachel, he pushed open the door. “Who cares as long as the burgers are good.”

Inside, the roadhouse seemed to be lit solely by the neon signs that hung above the bar. The floor was sticky with a thousand spilled beers, and the smell of fried onions was just about winning its competition with the stench of sweat and motor oil.

“Nice,” Rachel said.

They walked over to the counter and hitched themselves up on to stools. A young woman whose arms were covered with tattoos slapped menus down in front of them and went back to her conversation with a man at the end of the bar. The man was probably in his late forties and was dressed in a fringed leather jacket and torn jeans, with a battered cowboy hat on his head from beneath which multicoloured dreadlocks hung down to his waist. Rachel smiled at him when he glanced her way and got an oddly blank look in return. She turned on her stool and looked over to the far corner, where a group of bikers was gathered around a pool table, drinking beer. One of them – a stick-thin figure with a long grey beard – grinned at her, showing teeth that were all either gold or black, but the smile was neither warm nor welcoming.

Rachel turned back and looked at her menu. “Well, if
they
don’t kill us, the food probably will…”

They ordered burgers and Cokes. Adam, knowing very well that ID would not be a problem, thought about asking for beer again, but he could see that neither Rachel nor Gabriel thought it was a good idea. He could see their point. It was probably sensible to keep his wits about him.

“What do you think we’re going to find when we get there?” he asked. “In Alamogordo, I mean.”

“God knows,” Rachel said. “Dad, maybe.” She knew it was a long shot, but there had to be some reason why they were being guided there; why their grandmother had sent a letter for them. “Answers, if we’re lucky.” She looked at Gabriel, hoping he might offer an answer of his own.

He did not look up from his plate. He finished a mouthful and wiped his fingers before saying, “Something that belongs somewhere else.”

“The third Triskellion, you mean?” Adam asked.

“Maybe…”

Rachel did not need to see Gabriel’s face. She could hear the darkness in his voice and sense the anger that was fizzing inside him. He had his own reasons for making the journey but, as always, Rachel knew that she and Adam were vital to whatever he was planning to do when they got there.

“Hey, darlin’!”

Rachel turned to see one of the bikers from the pool table staring at her. He was bald with a thick moustache and a smile that was even more disconcerting than the one Rachel had received from his skinny friend. He held up a bottle of beer and beckoned her to join him.

Rachel turned round again and found herself staring at the girl behind the bar. The girl ran her fingers through her long black hair and stared back at Rachel with dead eyes. “Must be your lucky day,” she said. “Looks like Chopper’s taken a fancy to you. You and your pretty dress…”

Rachel looked down at the dress she had “bought” at the vintage store in New York. She had never felt less pretty in her life. Wolf-whistles rang out from behind her and she was aware that Adam was now turning round to look at the bikers.

“Let’s just go,” she said.

“Come over here, sweet thing,” the bald biker called Chopper shouted.

Adam got to his feet. “Hey, shut up!”

“Leave it, Adam,” Rachel said.

“I’ll deal with this,” Gabriel said.

It was the skinny one who came at him first, waving a pool cue above his head like a Samurai sword and roaring like a wounded animal. Gabriel turned and his hand was round the biker’s throat before the man could lower the cue. Gabriel lifted him clean off his feet, walked him back across the room and threw him crashing down on to the pool table.

Then all hell broke loose.

As the others rushed forward, Adam did likewise to help Gabriel, stepping in front of Chopper as the big biker came at them with a beer bottle, unaware that several of the gang had already produced knives.

“Adam!” Rachel screamed.

Her cry was lost among others as Gabriel calmly snapped the wrists of two bikers. Their weapons clattered to the floor, and Adam wrapped his hands round Chopper’s bald head, driving it against the side of the bar, before turning to take on another of his friends…