The Student, page 5
Harry was visibly shivering now, not from cold – he was hot and sweating – but due to the residual effects of the drug and a situation he found impossible to compute or comprehend. He searched frantically for his phone, acutely aware of his vulnerability as silence prevailed once more. But all he found was a white cotton T-shirt, matching cotton trousers and flip-flops, much like those worn by Achara the previous day. For a moment Harry hoped the clothes may be hers, that she’d suddenly appear to alleviate his growing dread. But as he held the trousers up in front of him in the light of a window, he realised they were far too big for her slight frame and intended for him. He made one last urgent search for his smartphone, lowering himself to the wooden floorboards and looking under the many beds, but without success. It was time to get out of there. Time to get back to normality. It really was as simple as that.
Harry rushed towards the room’s only door, which wouldn’t open, however hard he tried. He turned the metal handle as far as it would go, forcing it down, using all his limited weight and strength to pull the door towards him in the forlorn hope that it was merely stiff rather than locked. He threw his shoulder against it and when it didn’t budge an inch, he went stumbling backwards, a sharp jolt of pain firing down one arm and making him shudder.
He hurried towards each of the three windows in turn, pulling ineffectively at the steel bars with increasing urgency as others had before him, but to no effect at all. If someone didn’t let him out of there, he wasn’t going anywhere. What the hell was going on? The entire structure seemed secure, a prison of sorts. A wood and steel enclosure that penned him in.
Harry was sweating profusely now. He sucked the warm summer air deep into his lungs as the metal click of a key in the lock made him jerk his head back and stare. He focussed on the door with a heady mix of anticipation and apprehension, as it was opened by a large, overly muscular man of six foot four or five inches, dressed in those same white clothes. He was carrying a copper-coloured tray laden with a white ceramic bowl of what Harry assumed must be food, and a tall glass of water.
Harry took a backward step as the huge man’s imposing bulk filled the entire doorframe, rather than rush towards him as he’d initially intended. He shouted on retreating, adrenaline surging through his system, fight or flight but with nowhere to run. ‘What’s going on? Where the hell’s my phone? You can’t keep me here! Please, I just want to go home.’
The big man snorted, chuckling to himself. New initiates invariably acted out their concerns like naughty children in a playground, screaming and shouting, demanding attention, as was their custom. It was nothing new. Nothing he hadn’t seen before. ‘Sit on the end of your bed, Harry, and listen carefully, there’s a good lad. I don’t expect to repeat myself. I’ve got more important things to do with my time.’
Harry had never seen such an impressive individual, not in real life, not up close and personal. He withdrew a little further but remained standing.
‘Where’s my fucking mobile? You can’t keep me here against my will. I want to go home!’
Baptist stared at Harry with unblinking eyes, nostrils flared. He bellowed his words, roaring, ‘Sit on the bed, now! Do not make me ask you again. It’s my job to ensure your compliance. And it’s something I’m good at. Something in which I excel. I’d do what I’m told if I were you. I’m not a patient man.’
Harry wanted to stamp and shout like a petulant child, but instead, he sat as instructed, speaking in a contrived, monotone voice he thought may illicit his desired response without irritating the big man any more than he already had. ‘So, where is it?’
‘Where’s what? Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?’
‘My phone, my fucking phone!’
The big man took a step towards him. ‘I suggest you modify your language. Profanity is the work of the devil. Words have power. Swearing is not acceptable, not here, not ever. It would serve you well to remember that.’
Harry avoided eye contact. ‘Please, can I have my phone? That’s all I’m asking, just my phone. There are people I need to contact. People who’ll be concerned if they don’t hear from me.’
‘Initiates are not permitted contact with anyone outside the community until trust is earned. That can take weeks, months or years. You can co-operate or fight God’s will and lose. It really is up to you.’
Harry jumped to his feet, throwing his hands up. ‘Weeks, months, years! Initiation! For as long as I’m here! What the fuck’s all that supposed to mean?’
The big man strolled towards him, casual, still holding the tray out in front of him with one hand while pointing with the other. ‘You’ve been provided with appropriate clothing, food and water. Be grateful for that. You’ll discover that a spirit of gratitude benefits you greatly as your initiation progresses. Open your heart and let in the light.’
Harry gripped one wrist, rushing his speech. ‘Please, I don’t want to be here. I want no part of your initiation. I just want to go home. I need my medication. I can’t cope without it. I don’t know what else I can say to make you understand.’
‘Sit back down, eat your food, and I’ll introduce you to the other members of the community later in the day, if, and only if, I think you’re ready for that privilege. Advantages are earned rather than given. All will become clear when the time is right. You don’t need anything from your old life. Breathe deeply, focus on the breath and calm yourself. This is all very new to you. I understand that and have made allowances accordingly. You have so much to learn.’
Harry splayed his hands out wide. ‘I’m a university student, I want no part of your community. I’m not interested. It’s not for me.’
‘Your old life is at an end, Harry. You’ve been chosen. You’re here as a worker. To help with chores, maintenance, gardening. It’s better that you accept that. The universe has decided your fate. Why fight against the inevitable? God is greater than any man. It’s not a battle you can win.’
Harry rocked back and forth, tugging his hair, his eyes filling with tears. ‘Why the hell aren’t you listening to me?’
‘You have nothing worthwhile to say.’
‘Where’s Achara? I want to speak to Achara.’
Baptist sighed, a look of amusement on his face. ‘You’re nothing if not predictable. Males and females are only permitted to meet with the master’s prior consent. That’s the rule, that’s how it has to be. There are no exceptions, not for you, not for me, not for anyone. The master’s word is law here. He converses directly with God.’
‘Then ask him! Just fucking well ask him! That’s not too much to ask, is it?’
‘Swear again, and I’ll beat the devil out of you.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
Harry dropped his head.
‘Change your clothes, eat your food, drink your water, and accept your new life with good grace. Be patient, and all will become clear. The master hasn’t got time to deal with your mundane trivialities. He’s an important man. A busy man sent to save humanity from our many failings and frailties. You’ll be given an audience if he considers it appropriate, and not before. It would not be in your interests to ask again.’ And then a line he used often. ‘I suggest you remember that.’
Harry clenched both hands into tight fists before consciously relaxing them. Fighting wasn’t an option. He was a student, an academic, a lover, not a brawler. He had to play to his strengths. The big man may be amenable to persuasion. Yes, yes, that may do it. A reasoned approach seemed best. ‘Look, I get what you’re saying. You’re all part of a community that’s going to save the world from the coming day of judgement. I understand, I really do. I grew up a Catholic. And your aims are admirable, truly they are. I commend what you’re trying to do here, but it’s not for me. I’m not worthy. I wouldn’t be any good to you at all.’
The big man frowned. ‘That’s not for you to decide. You’ve been chosen. Ours is the only true religion. Be glad you can be a part of it before it’s too late.’
Harry looked back incredulously. ‘I want out of here. I’ve got a job lined up for the summer. I need to pay the bills. This is mad, totally fucking mad! You can’t keep me here against my will. It’s against the law, kidnapping. I want to go home.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
Harry dropped to his knees. ‘Do you want me to beg? Do you want me to fucking beg? Is that it? Because I will if you want me to.’
Baptist approached the bed, setting the tray down as Harry crumbled in front of him. The big man looked down at him with bulging eyes, teeth bared, legs planted wide. ‘Swear again, and I’ll beat the sin out of you one blow at a time. I find it offensive. God finds it offensive. This is your final opportunity to amend your behaviour. Have I made myself clear?’
‘Yes!’
‘Yes, what?’
Harry turned away. ‘Yes, you’ve m-made yourself clear.’
‘Perfectly clear?’
‘Yes, yes, yes!’
‘Right, it seems we’re finally getting somewhere. Now, get off the floor, sit on the bed, eat your rice, drink your water, change your clothes, and accept your new reality. The past is of no importance, forget it. This is your home now. There is only the now. You’ll leave here when the master deems it appropriate, and not before. The rules of the outside world are of no concern to me. The master’s word is law.’
Harry sucked in the fetid air, eyes burning bright, fixated on the source of his suffering. Reason seemed lost on the big man. He seemed brainwashed, unmovable, utterly unreasonable in the worst possible way. Harry felt an undeniable surge of anger and frustration rising in every fibre of his being, an unstoppable wave of intense emotion. He jumped off the bed and flung the tray to the floor, attempting to dodge Baptist’s flailing arms as he sprinted for the open door. Harry almost made it. As he was about to stride out into the daylight with hopes of escape leaping and dancing in his mind, he was hit by a powerful chest-high tackle that launched him off his feet, sending him crashing to the wooden floor with a sickening thud that left him bruised and battered.
Baptist jumped to his feet in one easy athletic bound. He loomed over Harry, dragging him into an upright position by his hair, tearing a bloody clump from the scalp.
Harry wailed, as the big man grasped his arms with both hands, hurling him back towards his bed with a degree of force that was impossible to resist.
Baptist wasn’t even slightly out of breath as he spoke the words that were already becoming all too familiar to Harry’s ears. ‘Sit yourself down, eat your rice, drink your water, dress appropriately, and accept your new life here. Change is difficult to accept even for the best of us in the most favourable of circumstances. But you’ll learn to adapt and grow spiritually given sufficient time, instruction and application. Embrace what our community has to offer you with good grace, and you’ll be much better for it. You’ll be truly fulfilled for the first time in your life, happier than you’ve ever been before. Trust in your new destiny, Harry. Free your spirit. That’s all you have to do. Try to run again, and it may be the last thing you ever do.’
Harry pressed his palms together, blood seeping from his head wound, staining his face. ‘Why, why would you do that to me? I want to go home. Please, I’m begging you. I’m not well. I suffer depression, anxiety. I need my medication. Please, I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done. I just want to go home.’
‘Eat your meal, drink your water, and dress appropriately. It will help clear your head. If you need to piss you can use the bowl under the bed. I’ll show you the shower and toilet block when you’ve finished your meal.’
Harry looked around him, attempting to hold back the whimpers and replace them with words. ‘My meal? My m-meal?’
Baptist nodded. ‘That’s what I said.’
‘It’s all over the floor.’ Harry pointed. ‘Be reasonable, it’s all over the floor!’
‘Did I do that?’
Harry struggled to free himself as the big man clutched the front of his sweatshirt, but to no effect. The man was far too large, too muscular, too strong. He dragged Harry to his feet, and repeated himself, noses touching, skin on skin. ‘Eat your food like I told you to. And don’t get any blood on the floor. Use your top as a bandage. You’re not going to be wearing it again.’
‘I’m sorry, just let me go, please. I need my tablets. I won’t be able to cope without them.’
Baptist threw Harry to the floor, kicking him hard in the ribs a few inches below his armpit, sending him sprawling. ‘God is all the medicine you need. If you’re ill, it’s because you haven’t got sufficient faith. You need to understand that your actions have consequences. Now, eat the rice, lap up your water, clean the blood off the floor, get dressed, and make your bed. You’ve got precisely one hour before I make a full inspection. I want this place immaculate when I come back. If there’s even a single grain of rice on the floor or one drop of blood or water, you’ll be sorry. Ask for God’s help. He has all the strength anyone could require. You don’t need your tablets or anything else from your old life. Prayer, hard work and obedience are a cure-all. They give succour to the soul. Have I made myself clear?’
Harry looked up with a pained stare, the skin bunched around startled eyes. ‘Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!’
Baptist stepped on the fingers of Harry’s left hand, pressing down hard with gradually increasing force. ‘Yes, what?’
Harry shouted out his reply, sobbing. ‘Yes, I h-hear you. I hear you!’
The big man pressed down still harder as Harry wailed in response, and then suddenly lifted his foot. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child. I’m an enthusiastic supporter of that teaching. You’ll call me “sir” from here on in. You’re utterly worthless until the master deems otherwise. At the very bottom of the heap until that glorious day dawns. That’s how the system works here. Got it?’
The throbbing pain from Harry’s head and hand were virtually unbearable as he replied in the affirmative. ‘Yes, yes, I get it, you’re the boss.’
The man mountain held a cupped hand to his ear. ‘Yes, what, newbie, yes what? Show me the respect my status deserves.’
‘Yes, sir!’
Baptist continued bawling out his commands in the style of a military drill instructor. A strange change of demeanour Harry found impossible to comprehend. As if the big man had two entirely different personalities. Two people wrapped up in the body of one.
‘I can’t hear you, newbie.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Louder this time.
‘Now, that was much better. I do like a fast learner. Perform your allocated tasks to an acceptable standard, and you may avoid getting hurt again. That sounds good, doesn’t it, newbie? Just do what you’re told and avoid a beating. That shouldn’t be too complex a proposition for a clever young student like you to comprehend. You’ve been keen to demonstrate how clever you are. Now’s the time to prove it.’
Harry’s face appeared washed-out, pallid, contrastingly stained with slowly congealing blood. He wanted to say something. Anything to appease the man. But he couldn’t find the words. His mind was numb, the reality of his situation impossible to understand or accept.
Baptist nudged Harry with a knee, knocking him sideways. ‘Now would be a good time to thank me for the guidance I’ve offered. There’s a time for silent meditation, it has its place, but now is not that time.’
‘Thank you, sir!’
The big man sniggered as he looked back on approaching the door. ‘There you go, you’re adapting to your new life already. I told you to eat and drink, now get on with it. Any further punishment you suffer will be down to you. It’s a necessity for your own good. Don’t let me have to tell you again.’
Harry began crawling about on all fours like a dog in search of nourishment. As he lapped up a small pool of tepid water, he silently acknowledged that he’d never felt so helpless or afraid. They were the kind of intense emotions he’d never felt before, not to that degree, not to such overwhelming extremes that beat him down a little further with every second that passed. He’d been depressed at times, and he’d experienced anxiety too, particularly after the death of his father. But not like this, never like this. It would have been all too easy to crawl into bed and weep, hiding from the world under the covers, as he sometimes had as a child.
He’d created his own private world in those days, not so very long ago. He’d withdrawn into his own mind then, and he could do it now if he were so inclined. But where would that get him? Nowhere, absolutely nowhere. The members of the community must be mad, insane, every single one of them, with their white clothes and confused New Age thinking. Reason wasn’t an option. He had to eat. He had to maintain his strength if he was going to get out of there in one piece and return to normality. Escape was his one and only option. Yes, escape and run as fast as his legs could carry him. Faster than he’d ever run before. It was time for action as opposed to thought.
Harry gathered together a small pile of boiled rice with the side of one finger, raising a few grains to his mouth. He sat upright, feeling a little dizzy as he began to chew the unappetising fare, forcing himself to swallow again and again as a single grain stuck in this throat, making him choke. He looked around him, wringing his hands together as the results of prescribed drug withdrawal began to fully kick in. His body ached as badly as if he had flu. He felt exhausted, his muscles hurt, and chills made him shake.
How on earth am I going to cope with such misfortune? Do I have the physical or mental strength to face adversity?
He slumped to the floor, curling up in the foetal position, head down, back curled, and chin tucked into his chest. He saw his dead father’s face hovering above him, coming in and out of focus, uttering words of reassurance, urging him to join him in the afterlife, a safe place, free of fear and oppression. Harry reached up as his father’s image slowly faded away to nothing. He called out to him, once, then again, but there was no response. It was as if his father had died all over again. As if he was mourning his loss with that same violent emotional intensity he had as a child, before time blunted grief’s edges, making it bearable.
