Джеффри Дивер - The Goodbye Man

Like last night, a murmuring flowed through the room as Eli, Anja, Steve and the two bodyguards entered. The ICs started the clapping and Eli smiled and raised his hands. He gave the shoulder salute.

Accompanied by Steve, Eli walked to the back of the room where a low stage had been placed, a waist-high table sitting in the middle. Steve ducked into the kitchen and returned with a wine bottle and some glasses, which he placed on the table.

An IC handed Eli a microphone and the master stepped onto the stage. Since everyone else was sitting, the stage was probably unnecessary but Shaw knew Eli would have ordered it because of his height.

The clapping died. “I’d like to ask Apprentices Taylor, Margery, Ben and Marcus to come forward.”

The foursome did and one of the two women, a stunning fashion-model blonde, fired an adoring gaze toward him.

Eli nodded and Steve poured wine and distributed glasses. Eli lifted his. “These four Companions have completed the second phase of the Process. I’m proud of the hard work they have put into their reflections and meditations. They are an honor to the Osiris Foundation. And tonight they are advancing to the level of Journeyman. Please recite with me: From the Yesterday, a better Today. From the Today, a perfect Tomorrow.”

Everyone did this.

The ICs clapped and chanted, “Journey-man, journey-man.” Over and over.

Shaw realized he wasn’t clapping — and that Journeyman Marion was eyeing him. He joined the crowd, hoping he hid the disgust he felt.

The four new Journeymen drank their wine. Steve then handed out purple infinity amulets, and took back the red ones. Eli then addressed the room.

“My dear Companions. You must never forget your responsibility to be vigilant. Remember that we face threats. People say we’re nonsense. They’ll try to stop us. They don’t like what I’m saying. They don’t like the truth.

“There are the religious who hate me because what I know invalidates their superstition. There are those in the medical world who hate me because I’ve proved that this one body of ours is not all there is to life. There are self-help gurus who hate me because I expose them as charlatans. And then there are just those who hate anyone who’s ahead of his time. What do we call these haters?”

A number of people shouted: “Toxics.”

“Anyone who would question me, threaten me... betray me from outside, or within, is a Toxic. And we have to be on guard constantly. They want to stop me from helping you. They want to deprive you of what my Process can do. They want to make sure you never see the Tomorrow.”

Angry murmuring.

Shaw scanned the room. Just as during Eli’s bizarre Second Discourse, the one on immortality, some Companions were taking the message under advisement — but again there were plenty of troubled faces, evidence that they bought into what he was saying: that there’s an enemy out there that threatens the Foundation, the Process and Eli himself. And that therefore threatens them.

Then, the call-and-response chant: “The best... is yet to come!” After the voices grew quiet, the dinner was over.

The four walked off the stage and headed for their seats, though the blond inductee — she was Taylor — hung back, smiling toward Eli. He walked past her, directly to Victoria. Taylor took the snub like a slap to the face. Apparently she’d been thinking that the ceremony would continue privately in the Study Room.

She returned to her place at the table and kept up appearances by chatting with all those who congratulated her, but her eyes cut frequently to the conversation Victoria and Eli were having.

Eli whispered into Victoria’s ear. She smiled and rose. Shaw looked past them and noted someone else observing them. Anja. Her arms were crossed, her face an emotionless mask. The entourage started from the hall, Victoria with them, the guards at the rear, en route to the Study Room.

When they were almost to the door, Victoria swayed and reached out for a table to steady herself. Frowning, Eli turned toward her. She dropped to her knees. Those left in the hall — about half the Companions — murmured or gasped.

Eli said, “Apprentice Victoria...”

Shaw heard her say, “I, something’s wrong. I—” She winced, gripping her belly. Then, supporting herself with one arm, she vomited violently.

Two women ICs stepped forward quickly and helped Victoria to a chair. She blurted, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” one of the women said. “Here.” She dampened a napkin and gave it to Victoria, who wiped her face.

Her face darkened with a burst of anger Shaw hadn’t expected. Her hands were clenched. “I really am okay.”

Eli turned to Steve and whispered, “Clean this up.”

“I’ll call maintenan—”

“I didn’t say to call anyone,” Eli raged. “I said clean it up.” The first instance of temper Shaw had seen in the man. The display was unsettling.

“Yes, Master Eli.” Steve quickly walked into the kitchen.

Victoria was breathing deeply. “I don’t know what happened. Something just hit me.” She looked down. “I’m sorry, sir... Master Eli. I really am okay.”

Eli said, “Oh, my dear, don’t worry. We’ll get you to the infirmary tonight.” He was still livid — his “study session” for the evening had been ruined — but didn’t want to melt down in front of his flock.

Victoria said, “The Study Room, tomorrow?”

“We’ll see.” Eli put his hand on her head. “You get some rest tonight.”

Her face still bore the blush of dismay. Her head was down.

The IC who’d handed her the napkin took her hand and helped her up and toward the side door, after — of course — Victoria had grabbed her precious notebook.

Eli’s attention was back on the dining hall. His eyes settled on Taylor, the blonde he’d rebuffed earlier. Her face was somber initially but then it softened, as if she were apologizing to him .

But the debate ended quickly. His face twisted into what might pass for a sneer and he turned away. Tears glistened in the woman’s eyes.

Shaw noted Anja, watching, with no more emotion than when Eli had picked his Study Room partner earlier.

Then the reconstituted entourage glided out the side door, as Steve returned with mop and pail and set to work.

Verbena is a flowering plant that has quite the history in spiritualism.

Ironically, given the official name of Eli’s Foundation, in ancient Egypt the plant was called Tears of Isis — after Osiris’s wife, the woman who, literally, put her husband back together.

One variety of verbena was used on Jesus’s wounds after he was taken down from the cross, which earned it the name Holy Herb. In indigenous American culture, some tribes use it for dream divination.

Colter Shaw was aware of verbena in its secular role: it can be used to induce regurgitation in case one ingests poison in the field. A tincture of verbena acts just like ipecac and does the job nicely — if, as always, unpleasantly.

After he’d learned what the Study Room “special studies” were, Shaw had decided: Victoria was not going to participate. Obviously one could argue it wasn’t his business. And it was decidedly condescending of him to make the decision. But he didn’t care. He didn’t see the situation as much different from Eli’s preying on Abby. One was underage; the other suicidal and vulnerable — and both under the malignant sway of a dangerous sociopath.

But how to stop the assault and not give away his investigative mission?

He remembered seeing verbena flowers in the forest behind the dormitories when he’d made the war clubs. After hiding the weapons he returned to the woods and picked enough of the plant to make a proper dose. In his room he dried the herbs in the microwave then rubbed them between his palms to make tiny flakes. He didn’t think they would be particularly detectible; verbena is slightly sweet — not bitter like most emetic herbs — but has no real flavor. He wrapped the powder in a page torn from his notebook.