Blinded by the Light Page 15

  Bea explained later why she did what she did. She was scared. And she couldn’t imagine explaining what we were doing out late, dressed in white, with just a few pamphlets, to the police. It made sense, she thought, to ring Fletcher. In the short-term, he would be the best person. So she rang his mobile.

  It seemed to me he was there in a just a few minutes, which I thought was strange, as he had been on the farm in Todmorden. But I didn’t care because I was glad to see him. He knew what to do. Gently, gently, he got me to sit up against the wall. He put his jacket round me. He wiped my mouth with his handkerchief and I realised the dark stain was my blood, the lumps that came away were my teeth. I heard Bea sobbing hysterically I wanted her to stop because I just wanted peace. Fletcher helped me to my feet and got Bea to support me on my other side. I found I was just about able to walk. People were still staring at us and some offered help. But Fletcher said it was OK, he was seeing to me, and the car wasn’t far away A voice from a spectator offered to ring for an ambulance; Fletcher said he would do that.

  And the van was just down the street. He laid me in the back and my head rested on Bea’s lap. She stroked my face and her fingers were smeared with my blood. Fletcher drove as slowly as he could and it was only the bumps in the road on the approach to the farm that jolted me awake. I heard myself moaning. Bea was going, shhh, shhh.

  Fletcher, Will and some of the other guys took me to the dormitory Fletcher got me something to drink with a weird taste.

  Oblivion.

  15.

  From Rendall’s Book of Prayers: Prayer for Recovery

  We implore the Light to surround the body of our brother/sister and bring, in its rays, healing. Our love, focused like arrows, pierces the antimatter, destroying it for all eternity. As the Light is Perfect, so let the body of our brother/sister be Perfect, whole and firm. As our love is unending, may the healing continue. May it be our lot to achieve Perfection. May it be his/her lot to achieve Perfection.

  It’s hard to remember the order in which things happened.

  I woke up, or maybe I was woken up. Fletcher was there. Maybe Will. I thought I saw my mother but that was a dream. Then I thought someone took me out into the cold and I didn’t want to go. When I woke up, I saw a mushroom-cloud explosion and a three-bar electric fire. I was in Fletcher’s bed. Will poured me some water. Or was it Fletcher? All I wanted to do was sleep.

  Then I had another dream in which everybody was in the room and filling my head with Light. I felt the pain diminish and liked it when they all laid their fingers on my forehead, avoiding the gash. I don’t think it was the mugging that made me feel so woozy, maybe it was the medicine.

  When I was properly conscious again, it was dark. I can’t say whether it was the middle of the next night or earlier than that. Different bits of me were hurting – my ribs, my head, my right arm – and my legs felt so weak, like lead. I could hardly move them. Fletcher was with me. I was glad I wasn’t alone. I asked for Bea, and he said, later.

  He asked me to tell him exactly what had happened. I explained about Bea going into McDonald’s and the mugging. He shook his head.

  “I should never have sent you out Attracting,” he said.

  “It could have happened to anyone,” I told him, as he looked so upset.

  “No! You see, if you are a Perfect – if you are, then antimatter is more likely to seek you out. It always happens that way. Think of Gandhi, think of John Lennon. Evil is drawn to destroy good. That’s always been the way. Bea never should have left you.”

  “But she had to—”

  “She should never have left you,” he repeated. “And up till then, what sort of night did you have? Did you find anyone?”

  “No – it was strange. It was…”

  My voice petered out. I couldn’t say what had really happened. But Fletcher sensed something.

  “Was there anything that happened that created a channel for antimatter? Did you and Bea do anything you shouldn’t?”

  His face was like thunder and I was scared.

  “No! Nothing like that, nothing at all.”

  “But something happened,” he persisted.

  “We were just talking,” I said.

  “Talking? Talking about what?”

  “I’m tired, Fletch.”

  “Tell me what you were talking about.”

  I didn’t have the strength to resist him. “Just things about the White Ones. Questions, kind of.”

  I expected his fury. I tensed myself. I thought he might hit me or something. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “Oh, Joe,” he said, and his voice was full of compassion. “This is all my fault. I should have realised. Without us to support you, doubts are bound to creep in. It’s the way antimatter works. Doubts are fifth columns that topple the edifice of belief. They usually start with a woman. Like Eve in the Garden of Eden, giving Adam the apple. Like Samson and Delilah. Like Lady Macbeth. But thank the Light you are safe. Had you been lost, cosmic disaster would have followed. The Beast would have risen.”

  I was so glad he wasn’t angry and I wanted to believe in all the things he was saying. It was the easiest thing to do, to let myself fall back into the ways of the White Ones. They would look after me. And maybe the attack was a punishment for my thoughts. Who could say? Last night seemed a blur now, and the thoughts I had then seemed like traitors. I had been so near to throwing it all away. Praise be to the Light!

  Fletcher said he was needed elsewhere, but he would give me something to help the pain and make me sleep. I took it gratefully

  Then I had a nightmare. I thought I saw the Beast, the one Fletch had been talking about. Its glistening green scales flaked light; it dribbled yellow vomit; its underbelly had no skin but exposed bone and sinew. My wounds throbbed even in my dream. I moaned but no one was there in the abyss. Then I walked up from my living room to my bedroom where a table was laid and we all ate, my mum, Dad, Gemma and Fletcher. Big Macs, chips and milk shakes. But I couldn’t reach my food. The Beast was sitting on my chest, and I couldn’t breathe. I tried screaming, but it came out like a whimper. My whimpering woke me up.

  It was still dark and I was alone. I tried calling but no one came. So I got out of bed, feeling surprisingly dizzy and tried to open the door. It was locked. I thought I must be mistaken and tried it again. That didn’t make sense. Why would they lock me in? Half thinking this was all part of my nightmare, I went back to bed. Sleep overtook me, and then it was the morning. Late morning. Sunshine poured in through the window above the bed.

  I lay there, weak, still in pain, remembering parts of my nightmare, the Beast, my family, being locked in. I looked round the room now and saw nothing had been moved since last night, no one had been in to see me. I had this sense that all was not well. Automatically I muttered the Morning Prayer. It calmed me, and I decided to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. I got to the door and tried it. It was locked.

  I was worried now. I banged on it repeatedly. No response. I banged louder. I tried shouting, too. Where was everyone? Why had Fletcher left me? And Bea? I called for her as she was the person I most wanted to see. I don’t know how long I was banging for. I was frantic, like a kid who’d been abandoned.

  Then suddenly someone put a key in the lock. I stood back, expecting Fletcher. But it was Auriel, looking wild as ever. She had a jug of water with her and a hunk of bread. I let her in and she shut the door firmly.

  “These are for you,” she said. “I asked Fletcher, I said, could I look after you? He said, yes, just this morning, while we have to make arrangements. You must drink this water and eat this bread. And we must pray to the Light.”

  She put the water and bread on the bedside table and fell to her knees. I did, too, but I couldn’t concentrate on the prayers. When she’d finished we both got up and sat on my bed.

  “He has been Elevated,” she said. “He is with the Light and the Light is with him.”

  “Elevated? Who?” We used the w
ord “Elevated” to say that someone had died. Because it was better being dead, in a way. You were on a higher plane.

  “I saw him afterwards. He was at peace. He was full of Light.”

  “Who? Fletcher?”

  “Fletcher was with him. Fletcher removed the shroud. It stunk.”

  “Auriel! What are you talking about?”

  “May it be his lot to achieve Perfection. But he has achieved Perfection, so I suppose we don’t have to say that any more. What do we say, Joe, when someone has died – I mean – been Elevated? I forget. May he rest in peace. Is that right?”

  “Auriel! Who has died?”

  “Nick.”

  She stared straight ahead, her eyes glassy. I was shocked. I knew Nick was very ill but I never, ever thought he would die. I just saw him as a chronic invalid or something. I couldn’t take it in. I realised death was just as shocking when you were a White One as when you weren’t.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Auriel clutched my hand and squeezed it so hard that it hurt.

  “Don’t let them know I’m telling you all this. They wanted to make him better. They wrote to Carbister. They had a reply. Nick was to undergo full ASD for twelve hours, to erase the antimatter. They gave instructions. He had to be wrapped in a shroud – a white one – tightly, tightly. But first he had to be bound. I helped do it. He looked like a mummy swathed in bandages. But he didn’t mind. His eyes were shut. We chanted about the Light. We covered his eyes and nose and mouth with the bandages – I thought he would still be able to breathe through them – the Light would help him breathe. He was so thin, Joe. They said, if he mimicked death, then the antimatter would have nothing to feed on and it would leave him and move somewhere else. We were fooling the antimatter. Cheating it. That’s the only kind of cheating you’re supposed to do as a White One. Shall I recite the Laws Governing Purity? I know them off by heart. One: You shall not—”

  “Stop that, Auriel. Tell me about Nick.”

  “Nick? Oh, yes. We wrapped him tightly, he couldn’t see, and I strapped his arms to his body. When we were done we laid a white blanket over him, with a wreath of white chrysanthemums on top. From the Garden Centre; Gordon Riggs. Kate ordered it specially. And we left him. But we didn’t go far. We held a prayer vigil in the next room. We said the Recovery Prayer ninety-nine times. Fletcher read from the Book. When we heard thumps from Nick’s room, Fletcher said that was the antimatter leaving his body. We prayed louder, to cover the sounds.

  “Joe – listen – you’ve got to get out of here! They’re all mad. Because, later on, when the vigil was over, we went in there, and Nick had fallen off the bed. He’d been struggling to get out, and there was this stink ( he’d soiled the bandages. It was the antimatter – no, it wasn’t. He’d messed himself. And Fletcher quickly removed the bandages, but Nick wasn’t moving. He was limp, white, but his eyes were open, staring, like he’d seen something so horrible there weren’t words to describe it. And Fletcher tried breathing into his mouth and Kate shrieked (but it was no good. They couldn’t bring him back. And Joe, he died like that, all wrapped up, all alone, and nobody came… I’m not going to die like that. I’ll find another way… Fletcher’s making arrangements about Nick’s body, so he can’t be with you… The body. I helped unwrap it. It stunk… I prayed to the Light. May the Light help me in my Darkness… Fletcher said you must eat and drink. Fletcher loves you, Joe, more than he loved Nick. But he doesn’t love Bea… Would you like me to sing you a song?”

  I said no, that I needed the bathroom. I went there, and was violently sick. When I got back to Fletcher’s room, Auriel had gone.

  I needed to think. If what Auriel had said was true, then… Then… I found I couldn’t bear to think about what she said about Nick. Everyone knew Auriel was mad, anyway Maybe she made it all up. But what about Bea? Was she there? And they wouldn’t do that to me, would they? Wrap me in a shroud? Everything felt wrong and I couldn’t decide whether it was me, or the antimatter, or the White Ones. I felt as if I was getting a temperature – my forehead was burning but my arms and legs pricked with cold. It reminded me of when the glandular fever began and I hoped it wasn’t starting again. Panic seemed to make me burn up more.

  I sipped at the water Auriel had left, then Fletcher came in.

  “Joe,” he said. “I have some news.”

  “About Nick?”

  “Nick’s been Elevated,” he said. “Praise be to the Light.”

  “Praise be to the Light.”

  “He is now well and his antimatter is no more. We were victorious.”

  Fletcher looked so happy it made me think it was a good thing that Nick had died. Which, in a way, it was. Because he had been so ill.

  “He was in no pain at the end,” Fletcher said. “We were all with him, praying. The last words on his lips were about the Light. I sensed the angels coming for him. Peace was everywhere. You should have been there, Joe. I had half a mind to come and get you.”

  “But Auriel said—”

  “Do not listen to Auriel. Our sister is not well. Kate found her trying to cut her wrists in the bathroom. The girls are taking care of her. Auriel sees things through a veil of antimatter. It is the nature of her delusion. But Joe – are you feeling well?”

  “A bit feverish, I think.”

  Fletcher felt my head and frowned. “You’d better rest. There is a journey ahead for you and you will need every bit of your strength.”

  “What journey?”

  “Rest now.”

  It was hard for me not to do what Fletcher said. I got back into bed and tried to think about these two versions of events, but my mind wouldn’t stay focused. I really was getting ill. The blankets were irritating me, making me unbearably hot. Then I was cold, and there weren’t enough blankets. I fell into a sleep that was more like a stupor. I woke to a pain in my chest. I thought, I’d better not breathe. Because every time I breathed, it hurt.

  I don’t know how long that stage went on for – a day, two, three? I can’t say whether it was glandular fever or just another virus, brought on by the trauma of being attacked. Or maybe I wanted to be ill because, while I was ill, I didn’t have to think – and I didn’t want to think. There were times when I knew where I was, and other times when I was in a room with the walls closing in on me and squeezing all the air out, or fighting my way out of a shroud. But wherever I was, Fletcher was there, wiping my forehead, taking me to the bathroom, giving me water and other stuff to drink.

  I remember Fletcher bringing me some soup and feeding it to me slowly, but it tasted of nothing. I ate it to please him. And then there were people again, imploring the Light to come and heal me. But I didn’t want the Light because it was too hot and I was burning up.

  Then one day I woke up and felt very, very weak, like a baby. Gingerly I raised my hand to feel my glands and I thought they were enlarged. It hurt me to swallow. It hurt to breathe, but not as badly as before. My legs were heavy. My face was still sore. But for the first time I felt like me, Joe, even though I was in Fletcher’s bed. And Fletcher was there beside me.

  “The Light has spared you,” he said. “It is a sign.”

  He kissed his fingertips and placed them on my forehead.

  “What’s been wrong with me?” I asked.

  “A struggle between the forces of Darkness and Light – it hardly matters what other name you call it by. Your spiritual crisis was enacted in your body. But you’ve recovered, Joe, and for that we are all truly thankful.”

  “Was it glandular fever?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you must regain your strength for our journey.”

  I couldn’t ever imagine regaining my strength, I felt so weak. It was good to lie in bed and be taken care of. Fletcher looked after everything.

  “I’ll bring you the phone later, Joe, so you can ring your parents and tell them you’re fine. I want you to try to start eating again, and drinking as much fluid as possible.
Then we can start to study in preparation, and all will be as it should. I won’t leave you, you can be sure of that.”

  I didn’t want him to leave me. While he was there my life was easy. While he was there I felt as if Nick and Manchester and the illness and Auriel were all a bad dream – it was all antimatter, and my experiences in the past few days only proved everything I had ever believed as a White One.

  Outside the room I could hear the sounds of people building or repairing something, and voices, cheerful voices. My bed was a safe, warm haven, and I didn’t have to do anything. Fletcher smiled at me, and straightened the sheets.

  “There is great news, Joe. The call has come from Carbister. Rendall has requested to meet you. If, as I believe, you are the Perfect he knows is among us, it will be the dawn of a new age. As soon as you’re well, we’re going up there, you and me. We’ll take the Transit and get the ferry It’s an incredible place, Joe.”

  I’d never seen Fletcher look so happy.

  “But I don’t think I am a Perfect,” I said.

  “If you did, then you wouldn’t be one. It says so in the Book.”

  I didn’t know what to think any more. Maybe I was a Perfect. Who was I to say? I remembered that moment in Fletcher’s room – here – when I was filled with the Light. I remembered the moments of exultation I’d had. Was that a sense, an intimation, of what I really was? Joe Woods could just be dead clay, the mask of a Perfect. As Fletcher said, my journey might only just be beginning. And I didn’t mind the idea of going to Orkney. With one proviso.

  “Fletch – where’s Bea?”

  “Let’s not speak of her.”

  “But I want to know. You promised she could come with us to Orkney. You did.”

  I was aware I sounded like a child, but I wanted Bea.

  Fletcher shook his head sorrowfully. “She’s let you down, Joe.”

  “If you mean she went to the loo at McDonald’s, that wasn’t letting me down. She had to go. And those doubts I had, they came as much from me as from her.” I struggled up in bed. “I have to see her, Fletch. I want to make sure she’s all right. I won’t go to Orkney unless she can come. I mean it.” I could feel myself getting feverish again.