We set off into the hills, away from the camp. Isaac was excited about what he had to show us next – a small waterfall and plunge pool, hidden in the rocks far above the tents.
‘This was where Brother Terry baptised me,’ he said, pointing into the pool. ‘A quick dunk under the water and I came out clean. Other folk get it done down in the loch. Doesn’t matter though, eh? Water’s water. Yous fancy going in?’
I declined but Mikey and Isaac stripped off and jumped from the overhanging boulder into the pool. I sat on the side and rolled myself a fag, watching them.
‘Christ,’ Mikey cried. ‘It’s freezing!’
‘It’s good for you,’ said Isaac. ‘Opens up the veins.’
I sat, smoking and enjoying the scenery. You could see across the treetops to the water of the vast loch beyond. Some kind of naval ship was coasting along, full of turrets and sticky out bits, an evil looking thing. I began to grow distracted, feeling myself shift around in time. I was in the woods, in the woods here and the woods before. The long ago day. Me and Mikey throwing bricks at a tree. Ticking off from the school and getting told off by the mums in the swing park. Someone else was there with us too. A little girl, one of the ones from the park before. I asked her why she wasn’t at school and she told us she was ill. Why wasn’t she at the swing park then? Because she’d fallen out with her mum. And then Mikey told her she should come with us. We had something to show her.
We walked with the little girl beside us. Mikey asking her what school she goes to, whether she likes it or not. She tells us it’s fine. Mikey says he bets she’s a little swot. A little brown-noser. No, she tells us. She’s not.
I try to give him the eye, to tell him this is getting silly, we should take her back to the swing park. He ignores me. Keeps going, keeps asking her all these questions, mostly about the school. I can tell it’s because of how he was embarrassed by Mr MacPherson, his teacher. He’s taking all of it out on the wee lassie.
She asks us where we’re going and he tells her not to be so nosy. That we’ve got something amazing to show her, haven’t we Paul? Aye, I say. That’s right. She trusts me, I think. Whatever Mikey ended up doing, what I did was as bad, or worse. Because she trusted me.
I don’t know if he has a plan as he leads us forward, onwards, into the heart of the wood. It feels like his anger is the one in charge. This poor wee lassie. She only has moments of life left. She’s so delicate that she flickers in my memory, somewhere between real and not. Mikey tells us to hurry up, that he wants to show us something. Something amazing.
And we follow him.
I shook my head and I noticed that Mikey and Isaac had swum over to the far side of the plunge pool and were treading water close together. They were talking but were too far off for me to hear. Their heads were turned away and all I could see was their arms moving and splashing in the water.
‘Hey,’ I shouted. ‘Mikey. Time to get out now.’
He swum himself round to face me. ‘Already?’
‘Aye. That’s enough swimming.’
Later on there was a big dinner. We had vegetarian sausages cooked in foil on the fire and oily mashed potatoes. Isaac wasn’t around, having been taken away by Brother Terry on official business. We sat on a log among the munching crowd. There was a hippie girl on my right, wearing rainbow pyjamas, and a bald-headed church member on Mikey’s left.
‘Couldn’t we have some proper bangers?’ asked Baldy over the top of Mikey. ‘This veggie nonsense is so dry.’
Rainbow Pants tutted. ‘If you don’t like it then don’t eat it.’
‘It’s not like I’ve got much choice. Mind when that farmer dropped off a lovely side of lamb but yous lot said we had to throw it away.’
‘It was disgusting,’ moaned Rainbow Pants. ‘All the blood and whatever in the plastic bag. Eugh.’
‘That was good lamb, said Baldy, waving his fork at the fire. ‘High quality.’
‘I don’t care what quality it was. If you want to murder animals, then do it on your side of the camp. This,’ she said, gesturing to the middle of the camp, ‘is meant to be a safe place. And that means safe for everyone.’
‘What do you mean safe? It is safe, isn’t it?’
‘Safe means safe for everyone to express themselves without being stifled.’
‘How is a nice bit of lamb stifling anyone?’
‘I’m not going to discuss this with you.’
Baldy speared one of his sausages on his fork. He held it up and gave Mikey and me a the-things-I-put-up-with look before biting into it. Leaning over us, he said to Rainbow Pants. ‘Who are this pair then?’
Rainbow Pants checked us out, scowling. ‘How should I know?’
‘What are you then?’ Baldy asked us. ‘Are you us or them?’
‘We’re mates of Isaac’s,’ said Mikey.
‘Ah,’ laughed Baldy. ‘Nice one. Another few for the Church.’
‘You’re welcome to them,’ muttered Rainbow Pants.
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ I told Baldy. ‘We’re not paid-up members or anything. We’re just here for a visit.’
‘Oh,’ said Baldy. ‘Fine. Be like that.’
‘A fine example of Churchly goodness there,’ said Rainbow Pants.
‘Are you coming along tonight at least?’ asked Baldy.
‘Aye,’ I said, not knowing what he meant. ‘We’ll be there.’
‘Oh Jesus,’ said Rainbow Pants, rolling her eyes. ‘Not another one.’
‘We’re perfectly entitled to perform our ceremonies are we not? Freedom of religion and all that. Brother Angus said so.’
Mikey pushed the chopped up sausages and mash around on his plate, uncomfortable with the argument going on over his head.
‘Oh Brother Angus,’ scoffed Rainbow Pants. ‘He’s so ancient he’d agree to anything. And it’s only because Terry’s his son.’
‘I thought this was meant to be a safe place,’ said Baldy, standing up and revealing his true height, which must have been pushing seven foot. He threw his paper plate into the fire and sulked off to the Church’s side of camp.
‘We’re meant to recycle those,’ Rainbow Pants sighed.
She introduced herself as Mairead and offered a many-ringed hand to shake.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said to each of us. ‘Sorry about him. That lot are so fucking sensitive.’
‘What’re they all about?’ I asked, leaning in, the fire’s heat touching my cheek. ‘Isaac’s told us a bit about it but not what they actually do.’
‘It’s all bollocks mate,’ Mairead said. ‘It’s just nonsense that Terry made up to make himself feel better. Angus kicked him out years ago – this is before my time mind – for being a waste of space. Then he comes back years later with these followers and his mumbo jumbo religion.’
All around the fire were similar clusters of people, sitting on logs, enjoying their food. Everything smelled of the spice of wood smoke, even the food in my mouth.
‘I just ignore them when they go on about it but the best I can tell is that they think Jesus has been reincarnated. He’s on earth somewhere. Hence why they’re involved in our thing, in the nukes thing, cause they don’t want governments blowing everything, including the Son of God, up.’
After tea was over and the night was drawing in Isaac reappeared, with Brother Terry in tow. He rushed over to tell us the Church was having a ceremony down on the beach and did we want to come?
‘I dunno,’ I said.
‘I dunno,’ Mikey echoed.
‘Ach, come on. It’ll be a laugh if nothing else,’ said Isaac, giving us the old doe-eyes.
Not wanting to be disrespectful and harm our place in the camp, we agreed. Isaac punched the air then led us over to one of the yurts to be fitted for our robes. We walked in a large pack with the rest of the God-botherers through the camp and down the path through the woods, passing the footbridge and our van on the way to the main road. Beth, the muscular woman, was hanging around by the exit to camp. She caught her brother’s eye as we passed. We crossed the main road away from camp and through the thin barrier of trees to the beach. I remembered the last time Mikey and I were on a beach. I remembered Duncan’s muscles struggling under my grip like snakes. I remembered lowering him into the water. It was a good memory for me. A victory.
Brother Terry led the group to the water’s edge. There were maybe fifteen or twenty robed figures standing there, facing the loch and the setting sun.
Brother Terry beamed. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here with you all on this fine evening the Lord has blessed us with.’
‘Testify,’ shouted someone from behind me.
Isaac whooped.
‘I enjoy your enthusiasm,’ said Brother Terry. ‘You all know that we have difficult times ahead, yet here you are, dedicated and faithful. United in a common good. And does the good book not say, “Let those who would join in God’s church be forever joined”?’
‘Yes it does,’ someone called.
He continued. ‘It has been a long road and a hard one to boot, but here we are. Approaching our end goal. We all know about Revelation, do we not?’
‘Aye,’ said Baldy, ‘we do.’
Isaac whooped.
‘But think about it,’ said Brother Terry. ‘What else does that word mean. Go on, think about it. Take the time to consider it properly and carefully. Can anyone tell me?’
It was like being back at the school. No one wanted to answer for fear of being made to look stupid. I raised my hand a little. ‘It means to find something out.’
‘Exactly brother,’ said Brother Terry, happy with me. ‘Exactly right. A revelation. The stripping away of transient, corporeal material to reveal the true essence of a thing. He is out there you know. He walks among us, unseen. Jesus Christ. He might be an Inuit fisherman or a toddler, sick with diarrhoea, in an Amahara tribe. We do not know. All we know is that we can feel him out there, waiting for us, patient, waiting for the great revelation of his true identity.’
Brother Terry paused for a moment with a look of great sincerity on his face. The crowd waited, tense. Then he smiled and everyone began to cheer and Isaac was whooping loudest of all.
Brother Terry struggled to speak above the noise. ‘It is a good feeling, isn’t it? To know that salvation is so close at hand, within the lifetime of a man? This is an old story but I feel compelled to share it with the newer members.’ Hands reached out and stroked my back. I could tell it was happening to Mikey as well. ‘I was in an exodus of my own making, was I not brothers and sisters? Cast out of my father’s house, wandering in the desert. Aye, I had the base pleasures of alcohol, of money, of fornication, but was I happy?’
A low rumble went through the group – displeasure at the base pleasures Brother Terry had mentioned. Something told me he had only really been troubled by the first of those three vices.
‘No. No, I was not happy. But then I dreamed. It was a glorious dream, was it not? In my dream He came to me. God, the son, the ghost. He came to me as a little girl, clad in grave clothes. A murdered child. He spoke to me in the little girl’s voice, saying, I am with you. I am within you. I am beside you.’
The group was well-versed in brother Terry’s sermon, clapping each time he said you.
‘But you all know me. I am not a crazy person, am I? Oh no. Am I to think that a dream of a murdered child speaking with the voice of God is enough? No. Goodness no. But what happens next my brothers and sisters? I wake up, in my den of filth, of fornication and booze fumes, and turn on the television. What do I see but that same girl, murdered in this world, in our world.’
Several people hissed, the rest stood in silence, their eyes open and mournful, accepting each of Brother Terry’s words. I looked at Mikey and he looked back. It was just a coincidence. Nothing more.
‘I will be honest with you brother and sisters,’ said Brother Terry, his eyes filling with moisture. ‘It floored me. I packed my things at once and headed north. I severed all ties, just as you have done. I burned all bridges, just as you have done. I let myself become reborn, just as you have done.’
Brother Terry had his hands in the air and he was moving through the crowd, gripping people by their own airborne hands.
‘And now. And now. He is coming, is he not? Have we not felt his presence drawing closer? Have we not read the signs? Have we not studied closely the forecasts? He is coming to save us and all he needs is a signal. A signal that we will provide.’
He roared that last sentence and the crowd went wild, stamping their feet and clapping and screeching. The sun was coming down low above the hills across the water, dying and bleeding and scorching the horizon. The blood was in the water too.
‘Get in there,’ laughed brother Terry, gesturing to the water, ‘you filthy heathens and wash yourselves clean.’
The crowd streamed around us and splashed into the water, wading out to waist height. Only Mikey and me and Brother Terry still stood on the shore. We watched as the robed figures knelt and drew up handfuls of loch water, pouring it over their heads and smiling. Some of them submerged themselves completely, bobbing along beneath the water. I had never seen such concentrated joy in a group of people.
Brother Terry sidled over to us. ‘Can’t I tempt you?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘That’s a pity,’ he smiled, ‘and you?’
Mikey grimaced. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.
‘That sounds like a firm yes. Lads,’ he shouted to the people in the water, ‘another one for the dook.’
They all cheered and two of them, including Baldy, stomped up the beach and proceeded to scoop Mikey up, carrying and throwing him headfirst into the loch.
‘You’re sure?’ asked Brother Terry.
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘That’s a pity,’ he said again. ‘I had thought the two of you showing up out of nowhere, the significance of that, was something of a sign, but never mind. One of you is better than none.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘What significance?’
He ignored me, looking instead at the nuclear base across the water. ‘They can smell it,’ he said. ‘Smell something on the wind. Something changing, and they don’t like it one bit.’
And with that he waded out himself, patting his brothers and sisters on the shoulder, helping Mikey to stand and embracing him. I noticed that he didn’t deign to wet his own head. His oiled, sharply parted haircut remained in perfect order.