Read Hungry Moon Online

Authors: Ramsey Campbell

Tags: #Druids and Druidism, #England, #Christian Ministry, #Science Fiction, #Horror, #Evangelistic Work, #General, #Fiction, #Religion, #Evangelism

Hungry Moon (5 page)

BOOK: Hungry Moon
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Someone coughed, and Mann looked up. 'I'm asking you to stand up as a sign that you're ready to confess. Don't be afraid that your sins are too terrible to be confessed. There is no sin so vile that God will not forgive, and no sin so trivial that it did not help nail Christ to the cross. Will you stand up now as a sign that you are ready to confess if called upon, or am I the only sinner here?'

The choir stood up at once. For a few moments none of the townsfolk did; then people began to struggle to their feet, and suddenly there were hundreds. Nick wondered how many of them might be standing up so as not to be noticed. He remained squatting, and found he was unreasonably grateful that at least the plump woman was still sitting next to him.

'I was brought up in a Christian family,' a woman in the choir said loudly, 'but we never obeyed God's word without question. When my parents died I wanted to die too because they hadn't left me enough to believe in: I turned to heroin until God's word saved me . . .' As soon as she fell silent an ex-alcoholic spoke up, and then a man who used to beat up his wife and five children. Mann's eyes brightened as the parade of confessions went on, as if he were drawing energy from the public display of faith. He'seemed almost to glow, a small intensely clear figure under the dull sky.

Suddenly a young woman standing close to Nick swung round, almost losing her balance. 'Mrs Bevan, I stole money from the till when I were helping in your shop.'

'Oh, Katy, never mind,' said the mother beside Nick, flapping a nervous hand at her. But Mann had noticed. 'Don't be ashamed, whatever it is,' he called. 'No sooner confessed than forgiven.'

Katy faced him and the crowd. 'I betrayed someone's trust. She give me a job to help me make ends meet and I stole from her,' she cried, and burst into tears.

'You mustn't make so much of it, Katy, it's nothing compared to some of the things I do,' the shopkeeper protested, and winced out of her husband's reach as he tried to quiet her. 'I give in to lust,' she told Mann, her voice growing louder. 'I do things you shouldn't do even when you're married. Me and my husband look at pornography to give us more ideas, as if the way God made wasn't enough.'

'You never said you felt like that,' her husband mumbled, reddening. 'I never knew I was making you do things you didn't want to do. It should be me who's confessing.'

'Your marriage will be whole once you ask God into it,' Mann declared. The clouds were breaking overhead, and the urge to confess seemed to spread through the townsfolk as the sunlight spread. All at once people were confessing to pride, vindictiveness, lapses of faith, envy, drunkenness, selfishness . . . 'Can you feel God loving you?' Mann cried. 'Can you feel Him smiling?'

Nick felt he was taking advantage of the sunlight, but around him people were nodding in agreement with Mann, smiling uncertainly, even beaming.

'Let us give thanks now,' Mann said eventually. 'We thank You, God, for giving us Your word to show us how to live our lives, to make everything clear to us. . .' The choir joined in, the townsfolk following raggedly. As the prayer came to an end, Mann glanced at the sun. 'Soon it will be the longest day of the year,' he said, 'and I really think by then your town may be God's, a truly Christian community. But I believe God would ask one more thing first. A truly Christian community can't keep a pagan tradition alive.'

The plump woman beside Nick peered sharply at Mann. 'I know you may think it's just a charming old custom,' the evangelist said, 'but that's where Christianity went wrong, trying to swallow paganism instead of stamping it out once and for all. I want to ask you a favour on God's behalf. Will you think about leaving this cave as it is this year, not decorating it for once? No need to answer now, but can anyone here say that the picture you make out of flowers is worth offending God for?'

'I'll speak up if nobody else will.' The plump woman supported herself on Nick's shoulder and heaved herself to her feet. 'I'm Phoebe Wainwright and I organize the cave-dressing. I think you're making things too black and white. The tradition's part of what we are, and I'm sure I'm not the only person here who thinks so. Why, even some of the children I've delivered help me dress the cave.'

Somewhere in the crowd Nick heard a murmur: 'She doesn't even go to church on Sundays.' Otherwise the townsfolk seemed embarrassed, resentful that she'd spoken up.

'I don't ask you to decide now,' Mann said to them. 'Next time we meet here you can let God know what you've decided. I only ask you to remember that paganism was always Christ's enemy. But a town where God has been invited into every home is a great defence against evil, and so I'll ask you one more thing: next time we meet, I'd like those of you who stood up here for God to bring anyone who hasn't asked God into their lives.'

Some of the choir had slipped away to their tents for handfuls of silver balloons. They let the balloons, which were printed with the words 'God Loves You,' flock into the sky, blotting out the sunlight for a few moments. The meeting was breaking up. Nick limped toward the front of the crowd, taking out his pocket tape recorder; there were several questions he wanted to ask Mann. But he wasn't out of the crowd, quite a few of whom were converging on the evangelist, when someone grabbed his arm.

SEVEN

 

The young woman who'd stopped Nick had a tapering face, wide greenish eyes, long black hair that the wind was tossing. He was rather pleased to have been halted by her, until she spoke. 'Could you tell me what you're doing?'

She was a New Yorker - one of Mann's followers, obviously. 'Just going for a word,' Nick said, indicating Mann.

'About what? Exactly what have you been doing? I think we're entitled to know.'

'So far I've just been watching.' If Mann's followers were all as paranoid as this, what had they to hide? She was staring at his tape recorder. 'I haven't been using this,' he said, 'if that's what you were thinking.'

'Then why did you bring it at all?'

'I always carry it, it comes with the job. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like a word with your leader. He may want to talk to me even if you don't think so.'

She grabbed his arm again. 'Aren't you with his congregation?'

'Only by accident. I happened to be passing. Take it easy with the arm, would you mind? I'd like to be able to use it when you've finished with it.'

'Sorry. Here, please, put it somewhere safe.' She was peering at his tape recorder and stifling a giggle. 'That's not a field telephone at all, is it? I thought you'd been using it to organize the response.'

'I thought that was what you were doing to me on behalf of the god squad.'

'Looks as if we're on the same side after all. Maybe we should start again. I'm Diana Kramer, and I take it you're a reporter.'

'Nick Reid from Manchester. You're not from round here, surely.'

'I came here last year. I teach school in Moonwell. Don't let my accent fool you into thinking I'm mixed up with these guys.'

'You've got your doubts about them, have you? Can I quote you?' When she nodded he switched on the recorder. 'Go ahead.'

'It's just that the whole thing seems so organized to get the response this guy Mann wants. Nobody from Moon-well knew he was coming so far as I know, and if they did they certainly weren't telling. But the hotel's full of people he sent on ahead of him, and so are all the tents around the town. It doesn't feel like religion to me, it feels more like a bloodless invasion.'

'I'll put that to him. Anything else? Would you like to tag along and hear what he says?'

'Sure, if you like. I might catch something you'd miss.'

The crowd was dispersing around them. Mann's followers waited beside the path to speak to the townsfolk, making sure nobody slipped past without answering. A lone figure who'd been watching from a higher slope turned away across the moors. 'Who's that?' Nick said.

'It must be Nathaniel Needham. He lives out there. I hear he's the oldest native of Moonwell.'

They made their way across the barren slope to Mann. 'Don't be ashamed to bear witness to your neighbours,' he was saying. 'That's one of evil's greatest triumphs in our time, that people are embarrassed to talk about God or say publicly that they believe in Him.' Though his face was glowing, he looked exhausted, all the more so when he saw Nick's recorder. 'You want to talk to me?'

'I'd like to if you've time. Nick Reid from Manchester, the
News.'

Mann frowned. 'News travels fast.'

'That you were here, you mean? I was just passing. Would you rather not have the publicity?'

'If the faithful want to come and join our congregation they know they'll be welcome. I can't think of any other reason why anyone would want to join us, can you? Unless to hinder God's work, and I hope you wouldn't want that any more than I do.'

'Excuse me,' Diana said, 'but you seem pretty sure you know what people want. I mean, your people damn near occupied the town so you'd get a welcome.'

'I don't think anyone would object if that means God occupying their hearts, do you? And I think He has already for many of the people of this town. I guess you aren't one of them.'

'I wasn't born here, no. I still don't understand why you picked this town.'

'Because I had faith I would be welcome here. If you can handle the idea, because God told me I was needed here.'

'For what? To stop them practicing a ceremony that's hundreds of years old?'

'I'm afraid so.' Mann's face seemed to thrust forward against a strong wind, eyes glittering. 'It's the oldest of all the druid ceremonies in England, maybe you didn't know.'

'I didn't, but I'd say that was all the more reason not to interfere. We don't have traditions that old ourselves; we shouldn't be jealous of people who have.'

'God is a jealous God, or hadn't you heard?'

Nick intervened. 'But how significant do you think this ceremony is? I mean, how much influence can it really have?'

Mann fixed his electric blue gaze on him. 'While these druidic rites keep being practiced, evil gains ground in the world. Saying they don't matter any longer is like saying there was never anything to fear in the dark, it was only primitive man who thought so. Let me tell you something. The year after I dedicated my life to God, He led me to a cult of Satanists in Hollywood, and some of the people I saved are here with me now. God gave me the power to seek out evil. That's why He sent me here.'

He seemed suddenly to feel he'd said too much. 'So what can I tell you that you'll print?' he said more quietly.

Nick asked him standard questions and received the answers he expected: Mann was against abortion, divorce, pornography, 'permissiveness in all its forms,' and on the side of marriage, obedience to authority, a return to order . . . Nick tried to draw him out on the subject of his presence in Moonwell, but Mann slumped all at once, his mouth drooping. 'I'll go down now,' he said to two of his followers, who helped him toward the town.

Two more of them buttonholed Nick and Diana on the path to ask if they'd been won over by Mann's preaching. 'I'm just a reporter,' Nick said, 'and this lady's with me.' Once out of earshot he murmured to her, 'I hope you didn't think I was presuming, saying you were with me, since you asked so many of my questions.'

'I didn't really, did I?' She made a comically apologetic face. 'Breaking your arm and now elbowing you

out of your interview. You should have told me to shut up.'

'No hard feelings. You got him going where I mightn't have, made him say more than he'd have wanted to, 1 thought. Let me buy you a drink to show I don't bear grudges.'

But the pub, the One-Armed Soldier, was still locked. Nick had meant to phone in his report about the missile base. 'You're welcome to use my phone,' Diana said.

She lived in a small rented cottage below the town square. The white rooms smelled of the flowers she had in pots in all the windows. He phoned from the low timbered entrance hall, then joined her in the front room with its children's paintings, where she had coffee waiting. Soon the conversation veered back to Mann. 'What I don't understand,' she said, 'is why he thinks doing away with this ceremony just because it's the oldest will put a stop to all the others.'

'I don't know if that's what he meant.'

'Why else would it be so important to him?'

Nick couldn't imagine. 'Listen, I've got to be going,' he said, and scribbled his phone number on a page torn from his notebook. 'If anything happens you think I should know about, give me a call, will you? And whenever you're coming to Manchester again let me know and I'll buy you lunch.'

Most of the shops were open as he walked back to the car. He wondered which of the people on the streets were townsfolk, which Mann's followers, and how many were now both. As he drove away from Moonwell, down into the forest below the moor, Diana's question began to trouble him. He should have asked Mann what it was about the cave that had brought him all the way from California. He felt almost as if something had distracted him from asking.

BOOK: Hungry Moon
3.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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