The Last Church Read online

  Peter was amazed, “You mean you didn’t wish for anything else?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I can’t believe that. What about a beautiful woman, surely even you were tempted? Or how about winning the lotto? You wished for none of that?”

  The manager stepped past him and opened the door. They didn’t speak until they reached the vault and the manager pulled a plastic card from his inside jacket pocket.

  Peter followed him quietly. A thousand questions ran through his head but he knew he wouldn’t ask them. The man’s dream had just ended. His sudden happy spirits were probably learned from years in customer service. Inside, the man was heartbroken. And Peter couldn’t bring himself to rub the foolishness of a wasted chance in his face.

  At the vault, the manager spoke again as he pushed his card through the slot, “Be careful of what you wish for. It may backfire.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just be careful, that’s all.”

  The manager typed in an eight-digit number followed by an eleven-digit number with letters in the middle. Two large glass doors slid open.

  “Reinforced glass,” he said. “Bullet proof.”

  Peter nodded. There were cameras everywhere. He noticed four cameras watching them when they walked through the doors, reaching the second lock. This door had no keypad or locks anywhere in sight. A camera tilted down and the manager showed his I.D card. Seconds later there was a soft beep as the glass doors locked, followed by the rumble of thick, heavy bolts inside the door facing them sliding backwards.

  Peter was impressed and now understood why the price was very high. He followed the manager into a cold white room. There were seven tables with curtains on a rail for privacy. In the wall were so many security boxes it was impossible to count. Each had a six-digit number and a slot for a plastic card. And on each side of the box were two small circular keyholes.

  “We only allow three people in here at a time,” the manager said. “It’s the rules. Also one of the staff members will accompany each client.”

  “I’ll take it,” Peter said quickly.

  The bank manager smiled. “You need to fill in an ownership form and I can take care of the rest after that, including a twenty years pre-paid box.”

  “This is your last night, isn’t it?” Peter asked.

  “Yes,” the manager replied as he led the way back to his office.

  Chapter Five

  Area City 2368

  They went in Eric’s cruiser. It was fast, and larger than Ami’s cruiser, which could also fit six people but was smaller and everyone would be cramped. Most of the team members couldn’t wait for a teleport system to be set up in the outside zones.

  The cruiser rose into the air and Eric eased onto the highway. It was usually empty, a few personal cars flew this lane, but the traffic consisted mostly of delivery vehicles of the human service kind. It was the one profession that seemed to have been around since the beginning of time, and the only profession Rachael and Ami despised, although the boys didn’t seem to mind watching the service vehicles speed by. Penny didn’t seem to notice any of it.

  Eric took the sixth exit and all other traffic ceased to exist.

  The team travelled in silence. Always they travelled in silence when they neared the exit ramp. It was the only exit out of the protection of the domed city. Soldiers patrolled it and often they weren’t allowed access to the outside zones, for military reasons. No one knew what these reasons were, but Rachael suspected the army boys just didn’t want to let a group of students through.

  It was rumored that a few years ago a group of students from the same university had decided to tour the dead zones and had never returned and no trace of them had ever been found.

  Rachael didn’t believe the story. After all, who’d want to live without the protection of the dome? If it were true, then the students were obviously crazy and needed help of one kind or another.

  The dome had regulations in place, rules for everything and passes for travel. Surveillance B.O.T.S on every street corner and e-mail checkers to make sure you weren’t breaking the law. The dome had everything in place for public protection. It was crazy to leave such safety.

  Archaeology was another story. These were planned expeditions paid for by the university. They were safe. The passes were special issue and had set time frames and net location finders. The cruiser was set up with a location device and all the team members had a chip embedded in their left wrist. The chip sent a microwave locator whenever they exited a dome security point. It automatically turned off when they re-entered.

  All this security was standard procedure and no one gave it a second thought.

  The cruiser bumped hard as it landed on the solid off-ramp. Its wheels skidded, making a screeching sound as they found grip.

  I’m truly sorry about that. I forgot to adjust speed, Eric said. He looked in the rear mirror so everyone could see his smile.

  “Stunts like that can get us killed,” Michael spat. He crossed his arms in anger.

  You can always get out and walk, Eric returned. His smile faltered. The others didn’t look very impressed either.

  “Get your passes ready,” Rachael said, riding shotgun. “We’re almost at the first check-point.”

  Eric slowed down and gently pulled into the booth. A blue triangle of light wrapped the car and a holographic image appeared.

  “State your purpose,” it said.

  “We’re on an expedition,” Rachael answered and held up her pass to the image of a soldier. The rest of the team did the same. A red light emitted from the image’s eyes and it scanned the passes carefully. It was standard procedure.

  “Barcodes,” the image said, having finished the scans.

  The team members rolled up their sleeves to reveal a DNA barcode. Everybody in the dome had one from birth. A red light scanned each pink tattoo in turn.

  After a moment, the image said, “Entry granted. Please advance to the final checkpoint.”

  The triangle of blue light vanished and it took the image of the solider with it.

  That was easier than the last time, Eric said.

  “We haven’t reached the final checkpoint,” Penny countered.

  “Yeah, don’t count your ducks until the eggs hatch,” Ami added with a smile.

  “Dear, you mean chickens.”

  “Oh, I am sorry, expression god.” Ami playfully punched Rachael in the shoulder. Smiling, she added, “Please don’t send your wrath down on me.” She put her hand into a praying motion and giggled.

  “Will you two please act your age in front of the guards?” Michael still had his arms crossed. His comment hushed the two of them and a heavy, serious silence filled the car.

  Further down the road they could see the final checkpoint. Army vehicles were scattered on the road and on the side. The poles, which powered the dome, could barely be seen. They resembled tiny toothpicks, but everyone knew what they were. Several large green tents were erected near an assortment of army trucks. A wooden shack stood next to the road and next to that stood a large steel box. A red beam could be seen from this distance, shooting straight across the road to another steel box.

  Eric slowed his speed.

  Gaining ground, they saw two large men in army uniform, each carrying a large weapon, exit the shack and face the oncoming car. This was the spot where they would be allowed or not allowed to enter.

  Rachael had read the professor’s e-mail to Eric’s cruiser along with the rest of them. It was hard for her to believe the real location had been found. And why was the professor so interested in what might be found in the basement of a motivational writer, three hundred years dead? Maybe some old chairs or an unfinished manuscript, she surmised, after all that was the type of thing they mostly found.

  Eric came to a slow stop directly in front of the soldiers.

  They stared at the occupants for a moment, then the larger of the two approached the car and knocked on the driver’s w
indow. On his uniform was a tag, which read, Manny.

  Hello, Eric said.

  The soldier stared at him but did not reply.

  “We’re from the university,” Rachael said.

  “Why doesn’t he talk?” the soldier asked, looking at Rachael.

  “He’s mute. You need a hearing device to communicate with him.”

  The soldier turned his head to look at the girl who’d spoken like she was talking to a child. Penny shrunk deep into her seat. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

  Rachael leaned forward with her pass in her hand. She held it out to the officer, who didn’t even look at it. He was still staring at Penny.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he repeated.

  “Zone Three,” Penny answered weakly.

  The soldier nodded, and then said, “Where’s your pass?”

  Penny removed it from her breast pocket and showed him. He took it from her and returned to the other soldier. Manny spoke to the other soldier for what seemed like a long time before entering the shack. The remaining soldier raised his weapon and trained the light sight on Eric’s head. The soldier was smiling.

  “What’s going on?” Michael asked anyone who was listening.

  No idea, Eric said. This is the first time they ever trained their weapons on us. Well, on me, he corrected.

  “Your boyfriend, Dean, wouldn’t have any influence with the dome patrol army, would he?” Penny asked.

  “My error in judgment is what you mean. And the answer is no. He likes New Neon Happiness and Mind-killer too much to be clean enough to talk to the army.”

  He does that stuff?

  “Like I said, error in judgment.”

  The soldier called Manny strode out to the car. His frown was deep on his dark face. He stopped at the other soldier, said something, and the soldier lowered his weapon.

  Thank the mercies, Eric said.

  Manny walked to the window and handed Penny her pass back. She took it with a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Thank you,” she said.

  Eric waited for the soldier to nod them through. When it came he drove slowly between the two steel boxes. Once cleared, he increased speed. Wish we could fly out of here, be a lot faster, he said.

  “Too close to the edge of the dome, you know that, Eric. There’s no power out here for flight. Those poles are sending that magnetic power everywhere but the edge,” Penny said with authority. California didn’t have a dome, according to her, so she had studied all there was to know about it. She knew more than they did and she also knew they didn’t really care about the workings of the dome or why they could or couldn’t do certain things close to its edge, like fly for example. It was a part of their everyday lives. Since they were born it was always there. People only cared about new and exciting things. The dome was old news to everyone except Penny.

  I know that, Eric said a little too harshly.

  Penny shrunk back into her seat.

  Sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, Penny.

  She looked up to see Eric turned in the driver’s seat, facing her, and Rachael with her fingers stretched, fumbling with the controls. His look of concern made her smile. He was giving a sad puppy dog expression.

  “Forgiven,” she said.

  Eric smiled and turned around in his seat. He took back the controls and brought up a holographic map. He caught a glimpse of Rachael staring at him from the corner of his eye. Facing her, he saw she was trying to suppress a grin and was losing. It was more a cunning smile than a grin, suggesting she knew something he didn’t.

  What? A smile was starting on him also. Rachael turned to look out the window. He prodded her, What’s with the smile?

  “Nothing,” she answered, refusing to look at him as she spoke.

  From the back seat, Ami offered, “Tickle it out of her.” In a bad imitation of a sexy voice, she added, “I’m sure she’d like that.” Back to her normal voice, “Go on, give her a rub-a-dub.”

  “A what?” Michael said.

  “Look, you guys,” Josh Evans sounded a tad upset. He wore a frown deeper than usual. “This dig is serious. Do I need to point out how important it is to the professor? If this location is wrong...” He let the sentence die.

  I’m sure it’s not a big deal. The professor will soon find the site of the most influential man in the past.

  “Well,” Rachael said, “if this isn’t the site, the professor will hit the jackpot soon enough. As Peter Clement would say, “A numbers game is all it is.”

  “The professor’s not young. The numbers are stacked against him.”

  “He doesn’t do it that way, does he?” Michael said. “I mean, the guy spends hours a day researching each site location.”

  Ami leaned on the front seat. “Maybe it’s his life’s work.”

  Chapter Six

  Christchurch 1994.

  After some staff complaints, mainly secretaries being forced to wait, Peter was allowed to use the bank’s photocopier to make copies of certain pages he needed. He remembered the verses he needed to say, but to be on the safe side, he made some copies of the first few rites. It was the manager’s idea, not his. The manager said that very thing happened to him. It was decided the manager could be trusted, even though he was an idiot for letting such a glorious gift go to waste.

  One born every day, wasn’t that the expression? Peter couldn’t remember rightly, but it was something along those lines.

  The book had described an altar. An altar he must build with his own hands and not employ anyone to help or oversee. Secrets were secrets after all. It would be hard, but Peter’s house had a basement. He hadn’t been down there in years. It wasn’t actually his house, it was his parents’, but they had moved away for retirement. Off to the Bay of Islands they went, nice and warm and beautiful seas.

  He had the photocopies of the plan in his hand on the way out. He briefly worried about the copier’s recorder device but dismissed the thoughts quickly. He was holding paper with funny signs and strange writing. Writing which only he could understand. It was highly unlikely one of the employees at the bank knew this language or the symbols. They weren’t typical devil worshiping signs. No sixes or an inverted pentagram was on any of the work. And besides, the manager said only he could see the book, which meant the photocopies were blank on the recorder’s device.

  The book demanded an altar for all-purposes. It needed one before any wishes could be fulfilled. And it needed special wood. Peter was lucky. The wood needed was the same as his old bookcase. He remembered something his father told him about that bookcase, something about it being more than a hundred years old and under no circumstances should he sell it or give it away.

  No worries, Dad, I’m just gonna destroy it, Peter said to himself. It brought a ghost of a smile to his lips as he left the bank. He smiled and waved good-bye to the manager and got into his car. He would find out later the manager had wiped his debt with the bank.

  Driving faster than usual, Peter headed to his parents’ house. He had no idea how he would get the bookcase there and he still couldn’t figure out why an altar was so important. If there was a reason, it eluded him, but he was determined to follow the instructions fully and without complaint for once in his life. No more taking short cuts or pissing about. This thing had to be done right and by the rules. The rewards afterwards outweighed the hard work a zillion to nothing. Man, life was about to become a dream. And it would be good.

  Ten minutes later he was at the house. It wasn’t much to look at. Weather-beaten and rundown with a white-painted rickety fence and overgrown lawn. As long as it kept him dry and with power, etc., it was fine.

  He parked in a clump of overgrown weeds. The front door was unlocked, as it had been since he was a child. Strangely, it was safe enough to leave doors and windows unlocked during the day, but he wouldn’t advise anyone to actually do that. He himself was surprised he hadn’t locked it. Living in the city taught him to lock everything.


  Inside, he walked across worn carpet, past the kitchen table and chairs all in need of a paint job, or better yet replacement. He remembered all the furniture being old and used and nothing had been replaced all his life. He now knew why retirement was expensive and when he got this book wishing underway, he would send his parents some money.

  At night, he could still picture his mother cooking on the big country style stove, laughing at some joke his father had said. They were what he liked to call a ‘happy-set couple’. Even as they got older and he grew up, they remained the same. Laughing and holding hands and kissing whenever the chance arose.

  These memories pleased and depressed Peter, if that was at all possible. He knew this type of life would never come to him. The memories of his parents were nice ones, but deep down, he resented them. They put every spare penny into their secret fund, counted up the combined interest, and created a strict budget every fortnight. A budget that did not include Peter and childhood wants. The things he needed to be cool to the other kids in school, instead of being beat up all the time. Walking an hour to get home only because his parents had missed something in their calculations and there was no bus money left.

  His parents were happy but lived only to save for retirement. Some people called that smart. He called it stupid. Live for the moment.

  He didn’t want to end up like that. No way in hell did he want that kind of life.

  Growing up had not been peachy, socially speaking, and he knew he would never find what they had out there waiting for him. It was something special, an exact type of chemical reaction. A one in a million shot. His parents had gotten lucky.

  And now he was lucky. Being chosen as one of the few to possess this kind of gift.

  New memories would soon replace the old ones. His future happiness, coming wealth and good fortune would all come to pass and suppress any other. He shrugged the old memories away as he headed to the door leading to the basement.