Love’s Victory by Otis Johnson and Anda Sidrabene

Love’s Victory by Otis Johnson and Anda Sidrabene

Chapter 1
Michael Holden’s world was small, and felt mostly safe.

He had a cell, a few old science fiction novels, and some dry romantic comedies on DVD. He chatted a couple minutes with Ernie, when he brought trays of food twice a day. There was no one else being held here, as far as he could tell.

It was hard to decipher time passing in the desert, under the California sun. He heard of people losing their minds like this. For him, the solitude and structure were welcome.

Michael had trouble sleeping. When his eyes closed, geometrical patterns warped and swirled behind his eyelids.. His stomach lurched, and Michael’s eyes snapped open again. Behind a hidden pocket of the room, in a direction he couldn’t point to, Michael sensed Mother.

Chapter 2
(Three months earlier)
Michael was starving. He found ten bucks in his Venmo from a forgotten gig, and spent it all on a burrito and a drink. Michael bit into the burrito, and winced. He should have gone to an actual Mexican place—it was awful, fast food slop. But he was that hungry. He gobbled down the first half of the burrito, then tried to savor the second. The food sat heavy in his stomach, but he wasn’t full.

Michael wasn’t homeless. Okay, he camped in his car, but he could go to his mom’s in Vegas. She would take him, but he wasn’t quite ready to call L.A. quits. Money was here. His future, god damn it, was here.

“Boy, you really need to give up this nonsense and give your heart to Jesus,” mom said when he left.

Not likely, he thought. You always have to sacrifice something for support, even for “perfect” love.

Criticizing religion was his favorite subject. Perfect love, but it comes with conditions? It was a scam. Freedom was worth living in a car, to not have to pantomime praying to the invisible sky daddy. Omnipotent daddy, yet where was the love? Thanks for nothing, “daddy.” Sky daddy had been about as useless as his real father… but that trail of thought was a dead end.

Michael’s phone chimed—a text from Wendy Lin.

“You free tonight?”

He was very free. “Totally. What’s going on?” He thumb-typed back.

“I’ve got a business proposal. Plus sushi, good weed. Come by mine around 8 pm?”

“Fo sho,” he thumbed.

Wendy was cool. Michael had taken a video production class with her at Santa Monica College a while back. She was always hustling, and she was reaching out to him. This could be a very good thing.

Chapter 3
“Check out this bitch,” said Wendy, shoveling a lobster roll into her mouth, then using her chopsticks to point at a video on her laptop. A dreadlocked white woman in a lavender tank top was streaming a video. “She’s supposed to be selling supplements, but you can see her nipples.”

“I’d buy,” said Michael, grinning. Wendy punched Michael in the bicep.

“She has nipple rings! Nasty!”

Little hearts floated up constantly from the bottom of the screen. The viewers, it seemed, were pleased. The stream read “Love’s Victory – LIVE”.

“Who is this?” asked Michael.

“Tiffany Starchild,” seethed Wendy. “Just listen to her.”

“Wake up from the Matrix, motherfuckers!” Tiffany yelled. “We are trying to wake you from the Third Dimension and get you to the Fourth! You need to get on our ship. A ship powered by love. If you want on, you need the Red Pill! And here! It! Is!” Tiffany held up a clear bottle of red pills. Literal red pills, thought Michael. Wow.

Tiffany had continued, “…not your ordinary, Muggle multivitamins. These contain essential galactic nutrients and reduce emissions. The Muggles transmit messages to you all day: ‘Conform, do not resist, don’t talk to God!” All day! But these pills help you see the truth. And you can only get them here, at Love’s Victory! Love is victorious! We are victorious!” As Tiffany worked herself into a lather, the hearts and thumbs ups exploded over the screen, a rainbow of digital affection.

Wendy watched the cascading reactions. “Tiffany here is the head streamer-slash-drug dealer for Love’s Victory. A cult of pill-pushing wooks. Usually about a dozen of them active at any given time.”

“What do they believe in?” asked Michael.

“A bunch of crazy shit designed to sell products. They were founded by this nut job called ‘Mother’ and claim she’s God on Earth. Look at the reactions. Anyway. Do you remember The Matrix?”

“That shit was crazy,” said Michael, “They were in a computer.”

“Yes. So Mother, God, whatever, says that we are trapped in this terrible, ‘3D’ world. They are trying to break people out to exist in the Fourth Dimension. Mother ‘communicates’ with entities called ‘Cosmics.’ Apparently, they want to set us free.” Wendy rolled her eyes.

“For a price,” said Michael.

“Right, for a price. Just like any other religion, except no one knows what’s in these supplements they’re selling. It could be rat poison, for all we know.”

Michael watched Tiffany on the laptop. She was now muttering about someone Mother knew called “Azathoth.” She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts were bouncing a lot. It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying.

“Oh wow,” said Michael. “She’s really laying it on thick.”

“I knew you’d appreciate it,” said Wendy. “Did you notice that she jiggled more when she held up that bottle of pills?”

Michael gulped down some sake, and helped himself to another lobster roll. This is really great sushi, he thought. “So what’s this business proposal?” asked Michael. “Are we gonna sell little red pills?”

Wendy snickered. “You’re going to buy some, and get Tiffany’s attention,” she said, looking him right in the eye.

“Lol, wut?” Caught off-guard, Michael laughed.

“I was talking to Tiffany for a while, but I pissed her off. She won’t deal with me anymore. I need a fresh face,” Wendy frowned.

“What is this about, Wendy?”

“I’m covering Love’s Victory for Guilt Media. I’ve been working for them for awhile,” said Wendy.

“The weird, pulpy website that calls themselves hard-hitting news?”

“I’ve got most of the story, but Love’s Victory loonies got weird and shut me out. I think Mother got sick, and that made them cautious. They were moving her from place to place, treating her with their bullshit ‘medicine.’ If you give them money, you might get to what’s happening with Mother.”

“Hard pass. I hate religious weirdos,” said Michael. “That’s why I moved to LA, to get away from my mom.”

“I remember. That’s why you can handle this.” Wendy was staring at him.

“Sorry, Wendy. These people are fucking crazy.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” Wendy asked.

Michael didn’t answer.

“You still living in your car? Fucking bum.”

“Hey, not cool.” Michael looked up from his sushi. After a beat, Wendy smiled a broad smile.

“Look, there’s extra food, and you can sleep on the couch tonight.” Wendy widened her eyes, lids disappearing into epicanthic folds, and peered at Michael through dark lashes. He knew she was working him, but he didn’t mind.

Michael exhaled. “If I talk to them? Love’s Victory loonies?”

“If you message Tiffany right now, I’ll throw in a hundred bucks.”

“You sound desperate.”

“I am. Look, this is the only gig I have right now, and it’s my big break. If I don’t keep this story, I might have to move into your car with you,” Wendy whined. “Please.”

“Why do think she’ll talk to me?”

“Look at her, she’s got dreadlocks. Of course she wants to meet a hot Black guy.”.

Chapter 4
“I feel like this isn’t my world,” Michael typed on Wendy’s laptop. “All the people in it are asleep. It’s like they’re NPCs in a video game.”

“Exactly, Michael!” spoke Tiffany on the screen, her eyes shining. “You are clearly already being guided by the wisdom of the Cosmics. This unbelonging you feel is just shedding your 3D skin. And once you see the dimension above, you’ll know everything!”

“How can I see it?” typed Michael.

“You need the Red Pills to block out the low vibrational transmissions. Free yourself from those energies. Then you will be able to SEE!”

Wendy tossed Michael a credit card. He ordered a bottle of Red Pills to Wendy’s address with it. The product description was vague, the ingredients list full of nonsense.

“We got your order!!! That’s right children, another soul has started on the path with us!” Tiffany was beaming, and the screen had exploded with hearts. “I want you to tell me the moment you take one and see the Fourth Dimension, Beautiful Michael,” she said breathily.

“Beautiful Michael!” laughed Wendy.

Michael shoved her. Wendy shoved back, then pounced on him, giggling. Pressing her tongue into his mouth, she pushed him down. They playfully made love on the couch, her fully in control.

Chapter 5
Arizona was closer than Michael thought. Wendy had loaned him her car, as his wouldn’t have made the trip to Tempe. Michael vaped as he approached to settle his nerves. Simultaneously, he chugged a Monster, so the vape wouldn’t slow him down.

Wendy was super generous with the ride, and the card she lent him for expenses. Of course she was using him. Still, Michael was hopeful. This could lead to his own gigs with Guilt Media. Today, at least, he was an intrepid investigator, not another homeless Black Millennial on the streets of LA.

He going to meet weirdos, and get whatever audio and video he could. I got this. He had spent plenty of time camping at festivals. You met people, did drugs, talked about weird shit. Dealing with crazy just required nodding, smiling, and hugging people that smelled.

Michael thought back to his mom’s church growing up. Salvation Temple, a decrepit house of worship wedged in a strip mall between a laundromat and an abandoned storefront. The gentle, warm smell of detergent and low vibrations of the machines chugging out of the dry cleaners were the only positive association Michael had with the place. The congregation was impoverished, but devout, and the folk in attendance always wore their Sunday best. Michael supposed they kept the dry cleaners in business. They would sing to Jesus and fill collection plates while the band played. It always started out innocently enough.

Inevitably, the pastor would accuse them all of being unworthy, and the energy in the little church would shift dramatically. The drums would switch to a hypnotic, off-tempo beat, and the pastor would command the sinners to the stage. Slowly, everyone would come forward, and kneel or lay in front of the pulpit. The congregation would wail and utter nonsense syllables. Glossolalia. Michael always felt that they were faking it, but he never asked.

Church was mandatory while living with his mom, so Michael eventually left home and found his way to LA. With his past behind him, he reinvented himself, even took some college classes.

And what the hell is religion anyway? Michael mused. Sometimes, it was just a scam, but religion could also be a parasite or a virus, infecting its hosts, leaving misery in its wake. Even if Love’s Victory was the latter, he reasoned, he should be fine. Salvation Temple’s weirdos had immunized him from belief in invisible beings.

Michael parked in front of a small, rundown house. The front door was open, while the screen was closed. He heard voices, and glimpsed Tiffany sitting at the kitchen table. She saw him standing on the doorstep, and gestured to come inside.

“Beautiful Michael! He’s here, everyone!” said Tiffany, pulling Michael in front of her camera. She planted a wet kiss on the cheek. “Look at his energy! Mother is going to love him!”

Smile, Michael thought to himself. Just be cool. Tiny hearts flared over the stream. The viewers liked him.

“Introductions! Introductions!!!” Tiffany flapped her hands at Michael, pushing him further into the house. Michael met Jacob Free, a shirtless dude with a ponytail and an unsavory vibe; Tully, a short-haired blonde kid with a surprisingly full, long beard; and Vanessa the Truth, a bone-thin brunette with gaunt eyes. Most of them were streaming, except for Jacob, and a psychedelic vibe hung in the air.

There were ash trays and bongs on every surface. Michael saw a baggie of mushrooms on the coffee table. Jacob was taking healthy bumps from a stash necklace.

The paraphernalia of Love’s Victory’s supplement business occupied almost every available space. Bright red pills, bottles of mysterious liquids, jars of glistening powders, plants, all with miraculous properties. Vanessa the Truth saw Michael staring, and educated him on some of the items while she packed an order. “This is colloidal silver; it will heal anything, even cancer,” she said, holding up a dark blue bottle with a dropper top. “The Muggles don’t want you to know that it’s a miracle healer because that way you go to their 3D hospitals, eat their drugs, and stay a sheep—a farm animal, chewing their cud.” Vanessa peered at Michael; her eyes, shadowed by huge circles, burned into him. After a moment, Vanessa looked away, and reached for another item. “This is our Galactic Pineal Activator Powder.” She held up a clear glass jar, smaller than a film canister, of shifting, shimmering dust. “Made with Lion’s Mane and the Galactic Dust of the Tcho Tcho People. This is one of our most precious products, as the Dust has to come all the way from another dimension. We are very blessed to carry this item,” Vanessa smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Michael tried to maintain a look of awe-inspired interest as Vanessa showed him various vaguely suspicious substances. He saw the order sheet— $800! They were doing well here. Michael wondered at the state of the house.

Michael donated grocery money (Wendy’s card) and after a few hours, they all munched on vegan stew prepared by Tully. It was delicious; hot, filling, and savory despite the lack of meat, and Michael had third helpings.

Later that night, Michael was in nearby a 7-11 parking lot. “These people are weird,” Michael said to Wendy on the phone.

“Try to meet Mother, the leader. If you can get pictures, maybe record her. That’ll be what Guilt wants.”

“Okay, then after I get that footage I’m coming back, ASAP. Fuck these people. The house smells like dog and I didn’t see a dog.”

“You’re doing great, Michael. When this is over, we can get you your own gig. This is a big deal.”

“Can you believe they claimed their shit is from another dimension? Babbling about ‘Cosmics’ like ‘The Black Man’—which sounds low-key racist—energy transfer and extra-dimensional beings. It’s gotta be drugs.”

“They will be exposed, and they won’t rip anybody else off. You’re doing good work.” Wendy’s said reassuringly.

“I got this,” said Michael, and hung up.

Chapter 6
Michael spent three weeks at the Love’s Victory house. It was rundown, and needed work. Michael patched holes in the roof, pulled weeds in the yard, and repaired a fence. He packed orders and set up cameras for live streaming.

Michael had soon found out that the followers of Love’s Victory did pretty much everything high, and expected him to be the same. He had no problem with weed, of course, mushrooms were fun, and he’d even had a bump or two of cocaine with Wendy in LA, but the sheer volume consumed by the Love’s Victory members was staggering.

Once, Michael accepted a bump from Jacob Free and his stash necklace. To his horror, its contents were not cocaine, but ketamine, and Michael spent the next hour in the Sunken Place. Beside him on the couch, Jacob laughed and rocked like a maniacal jack-in-the-box, pointing at something above him that only he could see.

Eventually, Michael found himself alone with Tiffany and decided to bring up Mother. She was practicing yoga in her room, while he fixed a jammed window.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, yanking on the window frame. “I’d like to see the Mother Goddess. Can she show me what’s beyond the Third Dimension?”

Tiffany inhaled deeply, came out of her yoga pose, took his hands off the window, and clasped them in her own. “Yes,” she said, looking earnestly into his eyes. “You’re ready for Communion, tonight.”

Chapter 7
Tiffany Starchild, Jacob Free, Vanessa the Truth, and Tully led Michael into the cellar beneath the Love’s Victory house. They had brought the Red Pills, colloidal silver, and Galactic Powder with them, and distributed them amongst the group. Michael watched with trepidation as each member took a pill, a dropper-full of silver, and snorted the shimmering powder. When they didn’t immediately die, his nerves lessened only slightly, and now it was his turn.

Everyone was staring at him, expectantly.

Michael steeled himself. He threw the Red Pill back, washed it down with colloidal silver, and snorted a line of Galactic Powder off of the back of Tiffany’s waiting hand.

Tiffany Starchild and Vanessa the Truth each took one of Michael’s hands, and led him deeper into the cellar, to a room with an altar at one end, barely lit by candles on the floor. Tiffany laid out a circle on the floor, and everyone took their positions within it. The hallucinogenics had a rapid onset, and added to the drugs Michel had taken throughout the day.

Suddenly, the altar to exploded with light. As he struggled to clear the afterimages from his eyes, he saw that they were multicolored Christmas lights, wreathed around a desiccated, mummified corpse. The rainbow points were wrapped around the body’s legs and torso like a horrific holiday decoration. Her—its—back was upright, as if to see her followers, legs crossed in a meditative pose.

“But she’s…” Michael drifted off, hanging back.

“Alive and full of energy,” said Tiffany, beaming. “Can you feel Her? She says hello.”

Michael wanted to flee. He could no longer tolerate these fools.

He looked at the gaunt face of their former leader.

And Her eyes opened.

Blue, incandescent, and impossibly moist, Her eyes peered into Michael’s soul. He looked into midnight navy pools studded by billions of stars; he looked into cosmic wells of infinite indigo. In that moment, all of Michael’s lies, truths, triumphs, and humiliations were exposed to Mother. Her gaze was as strong as the Sun. In it, he felt beautiful.

Beautiful Michael.

I have been waiting for you, my child.

Come, let me show you The Truth.

Her voice was in his head. Beautiful Michael’s mind expanded as She showed him the realities of the cosmos. She was a higher order of being, beyond the short lives or comprehension of mortals. An ecology of many-formed creatures, engaged in a violent circle of life and death, within and without.

You made it, Beautiful Michael.

You have won!

Receive your gift.

Michael gladly received the seeds of faith. He now believed. Multidimensional clusters of eggs pushed into his skull, seeding knowledge like living creatures. They probed into his brain from places beyond the cosmos. Beautiful Michael was evolving.

Beautiful Michael.

I have an important mission for you.

“For me?” asked Beautiful Michael. “The others have been here longer, and I am unworthy.” Was his voice in his head? Was he speaking, or thinking?

They are exhausted, and of very little use.

You, Beautiful Michael, shall be the new Father.

A tiny part of Michael’s logical brain remained. This had all gone too far. Why was he going along with this? Wendy’s face flashed in his mind’s eye, but in that moment, he couldn’t recall her name.

You will drive Me and Tiffany Starchild to Mount Shasta.

There, I shall ascend.

Chapter 8
The driving wasn’t so bad when they set out that night, but as the sun rose, Mother begun to smell.

Tiffany Starchild kept Michael motivated with bumps of cocaine from a fingernail. She alternated bumps for the driver with bumps for herself.

“I’m from North Carolina” said Tiffany excitedly, shifting around in the back seat. “I was doing bad at school, but I can talk to people. My dad was bad. Like real bad. My mom didn’t give a fuck neither, so I left home at 17. I was going to LA to model, but then I met Mother.”

“How did you meet her?” asked Michael. He suddenly found Tiffany fascinating.

She took a bump and wiped her nose. “I saw Her in a dream. She was floating in space. We communed way before we met in 3D.”

Michael accepted a bump.

Tiffany, sitting behind Michael, started to give him an excellent massage on the neck and shoulders. She used her knuckles, wrists, and elbows, avoiding her long acrylic nails, then served Michael another pinkie nail of blow.

“Galactic Forces. Bigger things than us. Things that can dig through dimensions. Things that were old when the earth was young. She called me through a dream, and I came right to Her door. I was nobody before, but I’m somebody now.” Tiffany Starchild paused, mid-bump. “I’m going to be the next Mother.”

In the passenger seat, Mother sat silently, her mirrored sunglasses reflecting the road lines.

As the sun set, Michael noticed a highway patrol car on his tail. He instinctively wiped his nose with his hand.

“There’s police behind us,” Michael warned Tiffany.

“It’s fine,” said Tiffany.

Michael stared at the corpse in the passenger seat, and wondered how this would play out. This was Wendy’s car, and he hadn’t been in touch with her for days.

He was a Black man in a possibly stolen car with a dead body and a white girl.

Could they murder him? He had heard a story about an interracial couple that got pulled over. Jealous cops raped and killed the girl, and shot the dude. Made it look like he murdered her, and they were heroes for killing him.

Tiffany had cocaine. Quite a bit, and he was high as fuck.

Don’t forget the dead body in the seat beside you.

Behind Michael, police lights came on, flashing intense red and blue. A terrifying voice boomed over the speaker, commanding him to pull over.

Michael signaled and pulled to the shoulder. He put his hands on the steering wheel and tried to breathe deeply. The cops left their lights on after they pulled behind him, rarely a good sign. The beams in the rearview mirror were giving him a headache. Michael wished he hadn’t done so much blow. He lowered his window and heard boots approaching.

A harsh beam of light shone over Tiffany, Mother, and settled on Michael. Michael could not see the face of the officer.

“It’s fine, Michael,” said Tiffany Starchild. “Mother has us.”

Michael sniffed hard.

“License and registration?”

 Michael got his license and Wendy’s registration from the console.

“You okay, ma’am?” the officer asked Tiffany.

Michael saw a second flashlight shining around the back of the car. Michael had heard of this tactic. One officer in front talked and kept your attention, while the other circled behind you, to put a bullet in your skull.

“What the fuck do you pigs want?!” shouted Tiffany.

“Tiffany,” said Michael.

“Are we under arrest? I demand to know if we are being detained! WE HAVE RIGHTS!” Tiffany was high as hell.

“Sir,” said the officer, “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.”

The other cop was outside Michael’s line of sight. End of the line, he thought. No more idiots or hallucinations. Michael opened the door.

“Michael, stay right fucking there!” shouted Tiffany.

Michael closed his eyes and braced for impact.

There was a sharp crack, followed by a ringing sound.

Michael’s face was wet with blood..

The officer lay dead at Michael’s feet, his face shrouded in darkness, black blood pooling beneath him. The second cop’s flashlight beam moved over the first’s head, revealing exposed brain. As the light illuminated him, Michael noticed the dead cop was Black. ACAB.

“No! No I won’t! NO!!!!” yelled the second officer, putting his pistol under his own chin. The gun fired again and the he fell out of sight.

“Drive, Michael!” yelled Tiffany, “We need to get the fuck out of here!”

They sped into the night.

Chapter 9
“We are headed to Mt. Shasta.” Michael’s voice came through the phone distant. Wendy was uncomfortable. She hadn’t heard from Michael in a while.

“What the fuck is in Mt. Shasta?!” On the other end of the line, Michael jumped at the harshness of Wendy’s voice. Tiffany was inside a gas station buying snacks. Mother was sitting next to Michael, but he was sure She was sleeping.

Confidently, Michael continued, “There’s a portal that could bring Her body back to life.”

“Michael! What the fuck are you saying?”

“She’s not dead, She’s resting. I know cause She put a thing in me.” Wendy’s aggression was getting to him. Michael put a hand over his eyes. His headache wouldn’t go away.

“A—a thing? What? Are you on drugs right now Michael? What did they give you?”

“She killed cops, Wendy. They were going to kill me.” Michael was frustrated. Why didn’t she understand? It was all so simple.

“Where are you Michael? You need help. Please let me help you,” Wendy spoke urgently, anxious to keep him talking.

“Here comes Tiffany Starchild. I have to go!” With a click, the line went dead.

Wendy paced her apartment. In L.A. the authorities could only be called in severe emergencies. Black men like Michael often wound up dead. But Michael had clearly lost his mind, and it might be entirely her fault. Until now, Guilt’s style of pulp reporting had been a game to Wendy. It was risky and fun… until it wasn’t.

Wendy tried to make sense of the situation. She had sacrificed a good friend to a cult. She thought they were losers. But now… her thoughts disturbed her. Michael had sounded so lost. Her friend, and sometimes lover.

Wendy cried and packed a bowl. She drank whiskey from the bottle, and called the sheriff’s department in Mt. Shasta.

Chapter 10
Michael had never felt so alive. Gunfire played in his head as he pushed over and over again into Tiffany Starchild’s wetness. Cosmic rays burst forth in him. Was it just the drugs? Tears were streaming freely from his eyes. As Michael climaxed, he instinctively tried to pull away, but Tiffany locked her legs behind his back and ground into him. Eventually, her legs released, and he sank down into the bed beside her.

Tiffany hugged her legs to her chest and rocked back and forth.

“She talked to me the whole time. She never left,” Tiffany said rapturously.

The motel room came into focus, and Michael saw Mother’s desiccated corpse in what he used to call the ‘cuck chair,’ facing the bed.

“We will have a Messiah,” said Tiffany, finishing her rocking. She said it like a prophecy.

Michael felt naked and exposed. He pulled his clothes on quickly and looked out the window. “When are the others coming?”

“Jacob Free and Vanessa the Truth will be here in an hour,” she said, “They are going to help us get Mother to the portal.”

Michael hadn’t noticed Tiffany using her phone. Maybe she had been talking to Mother telepathically. Anything was possible at this point. He tried not to look at Her, sitting in the corner.

Chapter 11
A soft rapping at the door, and Vanessa the Truth and Jacob Free arrived with fast food.

“What is this garbage Matrix food?” complained Tiffany Starchild, picking up a bag with disdain.

“The only thing open,” replied Vanessa with a growl.

“What’s the plan?” asked Jacob. He did a rail of cocaine off the hotel dresser.

“Were you guys fucking in here?” asked Vanessa, sniffing the air. “Smells like fucking.”

Michael blushed. Tiffany smiled. “We are going to hike Mother up the mountain and wait for a portal,” she said.

A loud pounding on the door interrupted them.

“What the fuck?!” said Jacob, going to the door.

“Don’t open it!” shouted Vanessa.

Jacob tried to crack the door. It was kicked open the rest of the way by a Latino sheriff leading with a shotgun. Two white male and a single female deputy followed him inside, with Glocks out.

“Everybody hands on your heads and stop moving,” announced the sheriff.

The female officer fired a shot that thundered and echoed in the tiny room. Jacob was thrown back, a small revolver in his right hand. His chest bloomed dark red.

The room seemed to hold its breath, tense and silent.

“Mother?” implored Tiffany Starchild.

Suddenly, Jacob Free sat up groaning, eyes unfocused. Alarmed, the deputies emptied their weapons into him, tearing open his head and chest. Cavernous holes opened in his torso, and half of his head was gone, one ear hanging on by a ragged thread of tendons below the gaping hole where his jaw used to be. Jacob’s arm continued to move undeterred, deliberately, and independently of his body. His half-head remained unnaturally immobile, fixated forwards, as his right arm moved impossibly, revolver in hand. Again and again, the revolver fired, executing the four cops with terrifyingly accurate headshots, one by one. For a minute after, the only sound in the room was the ringing of tinnitus, then Vanessa’s screaming faded in.

“Vanessa the Truth, stop it” said Tiffany Starchild. “We’re alive, by the grace of Mother. These stupid pigs were the Beasts knocking at the door,” she said, gesturing at the dead bodies of the sheriffs around them. “They wanted to stop Mother.” Vanessa broke into tears. Jacob’s body slumped down a little with a squelch, and she gasped in horror, recoiling from it.

“It’s fine” said Tiffany Starchild, “Jacob Free was our glorious soldier. He extinguished his divine flame to protect us. He is in the Court of Azathoth. He will be rewarded. Right now, it’s time for us to ascend to the Fourth Dimension.”

Sirens could be heard in the background, growing louder.

“I need us all to hold hands. Mother will take us,” Tiffany Starchild intoned.

Vanessa the Truth and Tiffany Starchild each took one of the mummy’s hands, and the girls reached out to Michael, forming a circle.

“It’s like Mother taught us, Vanessa the Truth. Give me your energy, and concentrate on the direction you can’t point to.” Tiffany Starchild looked ecstatic. Vanessa the Truth closed her eyes.

As the sirens approached, Michael felt the air begin to vibrate.

Vanessa, Tiffany, and Mother folded around an invisible corner.

Michael was left alone, with the bodies of the dead sheriffs and Jacob Free.

Chapter 12
Michael sat on the floor and waited to be arrested. He raised his hands and claimed to be a witness, but still caught some punches from the first cops on the scene. Eventually, they handcuffed him and dragged him away from the hotel room.

Cuffed, Michael sat silently in a squad car, watching the scene unfold. Police officers scurried past, putting out numbers, taking photos, writing notes. Their voices carried over, frantic and full of confusion. The camera flashes and work lights were blinding, and Michael had a tension headache ringing in his ears that he thought had started around the time Jacob Free shot all those cops.

Eventually, Michael noticed a different kind of activity outside. Groups of people began walking with more purpose than the deputies and detectives still running around. One of these groups was approaching the car containing Michael.

Men in dark suits showed identification to the officers standing guard. Michael tried to peer closer to see their faces, but was confronted by a harsh overhead light, and sank back into his seat.

The lead dark suit was talking. “Hello officer, I’m Agent McCurdy with Homeland Security. We’re are taking over this crime scene, and we appreciate your cooperation. Right now, we’re investigating a domestic terror operation, and we need to interview that suspect.” He pointed at Michael, hunched in the patrol car.

Michael was removed from the car, then handcuffed again to a post a black van. A bag was placed over his head, and the van drove for a long time.

Eventually, the bag was removed, and Michael was in a plain room, seated at a small table under another achingly bright light. There, he was questioned repeatedly about Mother, how She escaped. Michael could only answer the truth – She went into nonbeing, into nothing, into another dimension. They asked again, and again—where did She go? How did She get there? Men in dark suits sat across the table and listened intently, scribbling notes about everything Michael said. The overhead light was searing into his brain, scrambling his thoughts.

Eventually, a new man came in. He had a folder as well as a notepad, and when he sat down, he smiled at Michael.

“Hello Michael, I’m Agent McCurdy.”

Michael said nothing and rubbed his temples. His headache was agonizing at this point.

“Is your head alright, Michael?”

“No, actually,” he grunted. “I have a splitting headache.”

“We will take care of that, Michael.” Agent McCurdy made a note on his little pad and smiled. “You’ve been very helpful, and we want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

McCurdy left the room, and Michael was shown to a cell. Perhaps because they forgot, or perhaps because they didn’t care, as they walked, Michael caught a glimpse through a window to the outside. A ha, he thought grimly. Well, at least I’m still in California. Those golden hills, no matter how far, were unmistakeable. It looked like they were deep in the desert.

Michael wondered if Tiffany Starchild was back in the 3D world, back to doing the cult thing after she escaped. Maybe she was right, and she was carrying his baby. He hoped not, for its sake.

Chapter 13
Michael’s world was tiny, and in that smallness, mostly safe. He had his own room: a stiff cot, and in the opposite corner, a toilet-sink combination made of stainless steel. He had a couple old science fiction novels, and some dry romantic comedies on DVD. He chatted every day for a few minutes with Ernie. Ernie brought trays of food, twice times a day, like clockwork. There was no one else being held here, as far as he could tell.

It was hard to decipher time passing under the scorching California sun. The glimpses Michael caught of the outside world gave no hints as to the season. Michael found strange comfort in the ignorance. He had heard of people losing their minds like this. For him, the solitude and structure were welcome.

Still, though, Michael had trouble sleeping. He had a constant headache, a deep pressure in his skull that never abated, never lessened. When his eyes closed, disconcerting geometrical patterns warped and swirled behind his eyelids. The looping whirls and fractal shapes set his stomach churning.

Behind a hidden pocket of the room, in a direction he couldn’t point to, Michael sensed Mother. Always lurking, always beckoning. He wanted so badly to join Her. The throbbing in his head was unbearable. It felt like a vibration, a frequency.

Michael sat up with a start. Of course, that’s what it is. A frequency, and he just needed to tune in. He closed his eyes, and the whirling patterns started again, but this time, he didn’t fight the vertigo. He let himself fall into his own mind, soaring towards the ringing in his head. He reached for the corner he couldn’t point to, stepped around the edge, and was gone.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Otis Johnson and Anda Sidrabene 2024