THE DARK MESSIAH

BONDI BEACH, NSW, LATE JULY 2024

The Harper family was seated amongst others on blankets on the yellow sands of Bondi Beach in the late afternoon. Although mid-winter, late July had produced surprisingly balmy weather, so the Harpers, like a few others, were enjoying the late spring-like weather after a freezing winter to that stage.

"Can we go in swimmin', Dad?" asked Janine 'Jan' Harper, a tall, for her age, seven-year-old ravenette.

"It's still too cold for swimming," insisted her mother, thirty-something Deborah 'Debbie' Harper, whose raven hair Jan had inherited.

"But we wanna go swimmin'!" insisted Jennifer 'Jen', a six-year-old redhead like her father. Not because she particularly wanted to swim, but because she always agreed with her big sister.

"It's still too cold," agreed Leyton 'Tony' Harper, a tall thin, forty-something man.

"Yeah, you babies," scolded Daniel 'Danny' Harper, a tall blond boy. At eleven Danny saw himself as mature compared to his 'baby' sisters.

"We're not babies!" protested Jan.

"No, but you're too young to go swimming by yourselves," pointed out Debbie, unwisely.

"Couldn't you come wiff us, Mummy?" said Jen.

Both girls gave their poor mother the best 'moo-cow eyes' they could manage.

"Looks like you've been outvoted, Deb," teased Tony with a grin.

"Sooner her, than me," said Danny with a broad smirk.

Conceding defeat, Debbie Harper stood. Taking her daughters by the hand, she headed reluctantly down the beautiful golden sands toward the pale blue waters of Bondi. Dipping a toe reluctantly in the water, she said:

"Brrrr, it's much too cold, girls."

Dipping a big toe into the water, despite the icy cold, Jan insisted: "No it's not. Henyway, we'll get used to the cold once we're right under the water."

"White unda da water," mimicked Jen.

"Oh, okay," said Debbie reluctantly: "But I for one have no intention of getting right under the water."

"Good, 'cause we'd dwown if you did," said Jen as the three females started hesitantly into the water.

"Have fun," teased Tony, drawing a glare from his wife.

"Have you any aches or pains in your body, sir?" asked the tall, lean, grey-haired man suddenly coming up to stand over the two seated males.

"What?" asked Tony, wondering if he had misheard.

"Have you any aches and pains?" repeated the man: "I am a man of the cloth, and healing is one of my specialties."

"Faith healing?" asked a sceptical Danny.

"No, the Lord's healing ... as did Jesus, John the Baptist, and others in ancient times," explained the Man: "In the days when Jesus walked the Earth."

"Frankly we don't believe in healing," said Tony.

"Other than by licenced doctors," added the blond-haired boy.

"My name is Seth Somners," said the man, who was dressed like a traditional priest in black robes, with a reversed collar.

He held out his right hand, and without thinking, Tony took it to shake. Instead, Seth held it in both of his hands and began to chant:

"Dear Father heal this man of all of his aches and pains."

"Now wait a minute..." started Tony, stopping as he realised that the arthritic pain in his left shoulder had indeed stopped. For the first time since early May: "Um, thank you."

"Only doing the Father's work," said Seth.

Despite her original reluctance, Debbie had allowed the two girls to lead her into the water until it was up to her thighs, and both Jan and Jen were swimming.

"See, Mummy, it's not dat cold," said Jen, despite being covered in goosebumps.

"Actually ..." began Jan, stopping as she saw the large black fin heading toward them: "What's dat, Mummy?"

Debbie looked round, then screamed: "Shark!"

Although no one had been killed in a shark attack at Bondi since February 2022, Debbie had the sinking feeling that was about to change, as she saw, three more black fins heading their way. Too scared to run, she picked up her two daughters to get them out of the icy water.

On the beach, Tony and the others heard Debbie's cry and stood helplessly staring toward her.

As the siren to evacuate the water started, Seth Somners raced into the water, rapidly wading up to the terrified females.

Instead of helping them, however, the holy man continued past them toward the shark fins. Holding up his arms in salutation he cried:

"Creatures of the Father, stop your forward path toward these good ladies. Allow them safe passage back to the sands."

"What is that idiot doing?" asked Danny as Tony raced into the water, followed by a female lifeguard.

They raced up to Debbie and the two girls, not expecting to get there in time. However, the sharks had stopped advancing as though listening to the preacher:

"The Lord's good creatures, return to the deep ocean where you belong!" instructed Seth.

To the astonished delight of Tony and the others, the four sharks turned round and headed back out to the ocean.

"How did he do that?" asked the lifeguard.

Tony grabbed his wife and two daughters and half led, half carried them back to the safety of the golden sands of Bondi Beach.

"How did you do that?" the lifeguard asked Seth as he finally started back out of the waters.

"Just doing the Lord's work," said Seth following the lifeguard back up to the beach.

On the sand, well-wishers surrounded Debbie and the girls, while others congregated around Seth Somners, congratulating him on stopping the potentially fatal shark attack. Many of them had filmed or videoed the incident with their phones, so it was no surprise when the story appeared in all major New South Wales newspapers the next morning, plus a few papers in Victoria and Queensland. Within two days the story was on YouTube, and most other internet forums, as well as having been broadcast on CNN, the BBC, and all major TV or radio stations in the free world, plus a few in the rest of the world. Most newspapers around the world also carried the story.


Having refused to be taken to hospital, the Harpers were sitting down to breakfast the next morning. Debbie and Tony to bacon and eggs, Danny to three vegemite crumpets, and the two girls to rice bubbles with plenty of full cream milk.

"Modern Messiah saves three girls from shark attack on Bondi Beach," Debbie read from the Bondi Bugle: "Girls?"

"Take it as a compliment, babe," said Tony, making himself a bacon and egg sandwich.

"Yeah, Mum," teased Danny: "You're past the age where most people would call you a girl."

"You cheeky wretch," said Debbie with a smile.

"Cheeky wetch," agreed Jen, before going back to her rice bubbles.

After they had finished breakfast, Debbie and Tony washed the dishes, then while Debbie and Danny went upstairs to change, Tony and the girls went to have their morning shower together.

As usual Tony helped wash the two girls, then suddenly he stopped.

"What's wong, Daddy?" asked Jan.

"Can't help myself, honey," said Tony in a strange, high voice.

"Can't help...?" began Jenny, stopping as her father grabbed her around the neck and twisted her neck sideways snapping it and killing the child instantly.

Jan screamed and tried to escape her father, however, he easily grabbed her and killed her more slowly, strangling his older daughter to death.

"Just doing the Father's work," said Tony, before stepping out of the shower.

Drying himself, he dressed, then stepped out into the corridor, leaving the two girls in the shower cubicle, the now cold water still running across their naked corpses.

"Hi honey, where are the girls?" asked Debbie as Tony stepped into the kitchen again.

"I left them in the shower."

"What?" asked Debbie. Puzzled, she started into the corridor, followed by Tony and Danny.

"Girls?" she said as she swung the bathroom door open. Then seeing them lying, twisted at strange angles on the shower floor, she raced in to pick them up: "Oh God, what happened to them?"

"I killed them," said Tony blasely.

"What?" asked Debbie, not believing what she had just heard.

"I had to," said Tony: "I was just doing the Lord's work."

At that, he raised his hands menacingly and started into the shower cubicle, oblivious to the still-running water, intent upon strangling Debbie.

Debbie cowered, crying, still cradling the corpses of Jan and Jen, expecting to die herself.

A loud crack came from behind Tony, who suddenly fell forward, making Debbie scream. Looking up, she saw Danny holding a huge glass bath salts bottle, which he had just used to smash into his father's head.

"Are you okay mum?" asked the eleven-year-old putting down the jar to help his mother up.

MID-AUGUST 2024, MERRIDALE, VICTORIA

Over at the Yellow House in Rochester Road in Merridale, in the Victorian countryside, they were just settling down to tea at 7:00 PM.

"So what's for tucks tonight, Mrs. M.?" asked Sheila Bennett.

A Goth chick with orange-and-black-striped hair, at age thirty-five, Sheila was Senior Constable and second-top cop of the BeauLarkin to Willamby area.

"All of your favourites, dear," said Deidre Morton, a short, plumpish sixty-something brunette up to chef standards as a cook: "Duck L'Orange, followed by Cherries Jubilee."

"Fabuloso," said Sheila.

"Not that I'm complaining," said Terri Scott. Also thirty-five, Terri was an attractive ash blonde, and top cop of the area. She was also engaged to Colin: "But how come we always get Sheils's favourites?"

"Because she's my favourite," said Deidre.

"It's a perfect symbiotic relationship," said Sheila: "Mrs. M. likes pampering me, and I like being pampered."

"Exactly," agreed Deidre Morton placing the roast duck upon the dining room table.

"I'm not complaining," said Tommy Turner. A recent retiree, Tommy was short fat, blond, and loved a drink ... way too much: "As long as I can have a dollop of brandy on both my duck and cherries."

"No, we're the ones who complain when you do disgusting things like that," said Natasha Lipzing.

At seventy, the tall, thin, grey-haired old lady had spent the second half of her life at the Yellow House -- so named because of Deidre Morton's obsession with the colour yellow.

"So true," said Colin Klein.

The tall attractive redheaded man had been a top London crime reporter for thirty years, before at age forty-eight moving to Merridale to take employment with the Glen Hartwell Police Force.

"Absolutely," agreed Freddy Kingston, the last member of the household.

Also a recent retiree, Freddy was tall, stout, and bald, apart from a Larry Fine-style ruff of curly black hair at the back and sides of his head.

"Brandy is fab," insisted Tommy.

"Agreed," said Freddy: "When drunk after dinner from a glass ... But not poured all over your meal and dessert."

"Ah, you have no appreciation of the finer things in life."

"Coming from you..." began Freddy; stopping to tuck in as Deidre placed his food before him.

After tea, they settled into the lounge room to watch 'The World's Stupidest Stuntman Down Under'.

"How much longer does this stupid show go for?" asked Natasha, hating the show but sick of having to retire after tea to read in her bedroom.

"Two hours," said Sheila, puzzled.

"No, I meant how many more weeks will we have to endure this rubbish?"

"Through till the first week of November," said Sheila.

"Although how anyone could possibly not like it?" asked Tommy.

"The title is enough to make me not like it," insisted Natasha.

Picking up her mystery novel, Natasha started toward the stairs to the first storey. Soon followed by Deidre Morton with her knitting bag.

"She's knitting me a sweater to wear under my uniform," said Sheila.

"She really does pamper you!" said Terri snuggling up to Colin.

"As I said before, it's a relationship we're both happy with."

After the program finished Sheila yawned widely and said: "I'm well and truly ready for bed."

"Maybe, but we're all going to church first," said Terri.

"Damn, I'd forgotten," said Sheila.

"But it's 9:30 on a Friday evening," pointed out Tommy: "Have you lot all changed your religion?"

"No, we're going to see the so-called Bondi Messiah," explained Colin as the three police officers stood up.

"The bloke who saved those three women at Bondi Beach a couple of weeks ago?"

"It was a mother and her two daughters," said Terri.

"Although only one of them was really saved," said Colin: "Since their father murdered the two girls the next morning."

"Well, what's he doing in Merridale?"

"He's not, he's in Glen Hartwell," said Sheila as they all headed toward the front door: "Part of his campaign to bring the Lord to all Australians."

"Come to spread his so-called miracles to our area," explained Terri.

"I hope he was warned about all the monsters and maniacs in this area?"

"Maybe the monsters and maniacs need to be warned about him," said Colin prophetically.


Forty minutes later Terri and co were sitting at wooden chairs in the main area of the Glen Hartwell Town Hall in Boothy Street, G.H. Like the floor, the stage was highly polished teak, with green and gold curtains hiding the back of the stage. On each side of the stage were three flags: The Victorian State flag, the Australian National flag, and the Australian Aboriginal Flag. Over a thousand people sat on chairs in the main ballroom, with hundreds more lining the walls.

"Good turnout," teased Colin.

"Well, it is the Bondi Messiah," teased back Terri.

"So how much longer do we have to wait?" complained Sheila.

"The Bondi Messiah is worth waiting for," said a blonde teenage girl in the seat behind her: "All hail the Bondi Messiah!"

"Yes, of course," said Sheila, trying her best not to raise her eyes to the heavens: "Do they sell Eskimo Pies or lollies here?"

"They're now called Polar Pies," said the girl dreamily: "But who could eat when the Bondi Messiah is about to appear?"

As though hearing the girl, a hand opened the centre of the green and gold curtains and out stepped Seth Somners.

"All hail the Bondi Messiah!" shouted the girl and a thousand other people.

"I wish I could command that kind of following," said Sheila.

"You can't perform miracles," whispered the girl: "Like the Miracle of the Sharks."

"The Miracle of Feeding the Five Thousand sounds more impressive," said Sheila, receiving a glare from the teenage girl.

"Good people of Glen Hartwell," said Seth Somners spreading his hands wide: "I am gladdened to see that so many good people have opened their hearts to the Lord ... through me."

"Couldn't we just deal directly with the Lord?" whispered Sheila, making Terri and Colin giggle.

For half an hour or so the Bondi Messiah sermonised, before stating: "Now is there anyone suffering from afflictions?"

Hundreds of hands rose.

"Then come up onto the stage to be healed."

"A faith-healer yet," whispered Sheila, just loud enough for the Messiah to overhear.

"No, dear lady, the Lord heals through me, I don't do the healing."

So saying he began laying hands upon the infirm, most of who had bad backs, sore shins, and other trivial complaints.

"I repeat, I prefer the Miracle of Feeding the Five Thousand," said Sheila, ignoring the glares from hundreds of people around her.

Without showing any emotion, the Dark Messiah looked at Sheila for a moment, then looked at the audience and said: "Is there anyone here with more serious inflictions?"

Standing with some difficulty, an elderly man said: "I lost my left leg in the Vietnam War, and I have been having trouble with it lately."

"Could someone please help him up onto the stage?" asked Somners, and soon Seth was standing in front of him.

"Hold him up," instructed the preacher, before removing the prosthetic leg, which dripped pus and green slime.

"I don't think you should be touching that!" called Terri starting toward the stage: "He needs a doctor."

"The doctors can't do anything for me," complained the old man, Clancy Thomas.

"Well, he sure can't," said Colin, as the three cops started loping toward the steps to the stage.

"Oh Ye of little faith!" said Seth Somners to riotous applause from the audience.

Reaching down, he put his hands around Clancy's weeping stump, from which yellow pus and green slime began to pour like rain.

"Get away from him!" ordered Terri.

But even as she spoke the fluid stopped running from the gangrenous stump.

"I take orders only from My Lord!" cried Seth continuing to hold the stump.

Which, to 'oohs' and 'aahs' from the audience and disbelief from Terri, Colin, and Sheila began to increase in size. Slowly, but surely, the lost leg began to grow back before their eyes.

"What the fuck?" asked Terri Scott, not believing her own eyes.

"Do you have faith?" Seth demanded.

"Absolute faith in you and the Lord!" shouted Clancy.

As though waiting for that affirmation, the lost leg began growing back at a greatly accelerated speed, until in only minutes, Clancy Thomas had two whole legs again. With all signs of gangrene gone from the former stump.

"Do you believe!" shouted Seth Somners as the newly formed left leg began to fill out until it was stronger and healthier than the right left.

"Yes!" shouted Clancy Thomas, plus twelve hundred other people in the town hall.

"How the fuck?" asked Colin as the three cops started examining the newly grown limb.

"It feels real," said Sheila in disbelief.

"Of course it is real," said Seth sounding peeved: "Didn't you just see the Lord grow back this poor chap's leg."

"The Miracle of the New Leg!" shouted the blonde teen who had been seated behind Sheila.

"The Miracle of the New Leg!" shouted twelve hundred other people.

"Do you still doubt that My Lord works through me?" asked Seth, doing his best not to break out into a broad shit-eater grin.

"We don't know who works through you," said Colin Klein.

"Thank you, Messiah," said Clancy heading back towards the stage steps.

"Do you need a hand, Clancy?" asked Terri.

"No thank you, the Messiah has already helped me," said Clancy.

This time Seth Somners was unable to resist a broad shit-eater grin.

"Let's get outta here," said Sheila, and the three police headed after the healed man.

As they entered Boothy Street, Colin asked: "Can we give you a lift home, Clancy?"

"No thank you, for the first time in years I can walk comfortably."

"Can we ask you to see Jesus Costello tomorrow so he can examine your new leg, at least?" asked Terri.

"What for?"

Thinking quickly, Sheila said: "So he can see the Miracle of the New Leg."

"Well ... all right," agreed Clancy before starting down Boothy Street.

As they entered her police-blue Lexus, Terri said: "Tommy might not have had such a bad idea about us changing religion."


It was well after midnight before the last of the believers departed the Glen Hartwell Town Hall in Boothy Street. Among them Neil O'Donnell and his wife and three children.

"I'm sweepy," said their six-year-old daughter, Teresa 'Tezza', a beautiful redhead, like her mother, Edith.

"We should never have stayed so late with the children in tow," said Edith: "They'll be too tired to go to school tomorrow."

"Yay, no school tomorrow," said eight-year-old Samantha 'Sam', ash blonde like her father, Morgan.

"We'll see about that tomorrow," said Morgan helping the children into the back seat of their cobalt-blue Cortina.

"What's to see 'bout, we're too tired for school," insisted auburn-haired Alvin 'Al' O'Donnell, at seven the middle child.

"What is it about kids and not going to school?" asked Edith as she buckled up her seat belt.

"Don't ask me?" said Morgan starting the car: "School's a lark compared to when I went. In those days the male teachers would strap your hand raw just for breathing in class."

"It wasn't so bad for us girls, but they strapped the backs of our legs, which still hurt. Thankfully Capital Punishment is now banned in Australia." Seeing her husband roll his left shoulder, she asked: "Your damaged shoulder playing up again?"

"No, it feels wonderful. That Bondi Messiah bloke really knows his job."

"It's the Word healing," said Tezza: "Dat's what he sayed."

"Well, there's no denying what happened with Clancy Thomas," said Edith, a total sceptical until seeing the old man's leg grow back.

"Da Miracle of da New Weg," said Sam as the car started accelerating suddenly.

"Not too fast with the kids on board," said Edith, a little surprised as Morgan continued to plant his foot until they were roaring down Boothy Street.

Smiling insanely, Morgan said: "I'm doing the Lord's work."

"Killing us and the kids!" screamed Edith.

"Yes, the Lord needs sacrifices, and we're it."

"Since when did Jehovah require sacrifices?" demanded Edith, as the speedometer rose past ninety kilometres an hour.

"Not that Lord," said Morgan: "We now serve the Dark Lord."

He shifted gears and took them up to over a hundred kilometres an hour.

"Stop it!" shouted Edith: "We've got the kids on board!"

And at her cry, all three children started screaming, crying, or both.

"The Dark Lord needs child sacrifices," said Morgan, pressing the accelerator flat to the floor.

They were soon travelling at a hundred and twenty, then a hundred and thirty kilometres an hour through the night-dark street.

"Stop it!" shrieked Edith again.

They accelerated up to a hundred and forty kilometres an hour, and would have reached a hundred and fifty ... If not for the huge old-growth blue gum tree at the end of the town.

The Cortina was reaching a hundred and forty-five kilometres an hour when it raced into the eucalyptus tree, smashing on impact, killing all of the O'Donnells instantly.


"What the Hell was that?" asked Donald Frazer, the newly appointed Mayor of Glen Hartwell, as they were still closing up the town hall.

Behind him, Seth Somners grinned a shit-eater grin, having seen the death of the family in a vision seconds before it happened.

"Probably nothing," said Seth, trying not to grin as Don looked round at him.

"It didn't sound like nothing," insisted the Mayor, a tall heavily built man, with blond hair, and for some reason a ginger moustache. Complete with a vest, checked coat and trousers, pipe, and a deerstalker hat, he looked like the perfect English gentleman farmer.

Despite being a heavyset man, not designed for running, Don started off down the footpath in the direction of the explosion, and the flames that now shone as the car and blue gum burnt brightly.

He had hardly started, however, when a red Citroen pulled up and the driver offered him a lift.


Over at the Yellow House, they were all sound asleep, when the telephone awakened Deidre Morton, who soon awakened Terri, Colin, and Sheila.

"Mrs. M., you have this nasty habit of waking me, just when I'm having a lovely dream," complained a bleary-eyed Sheila Bennett still dressing as she stepped from her yellow-painted bedroom into the yellow-carpeted corridor.

"What were you dreaming of, dear?" asked Deidre.

"Of me and Derek getting hitched," said Sheila.

"I have that dream too," said Terri coming out of her and Colin's room.

"You dream of marrying Derek too?" asked Sheila.

"No, dingleberry, of marrying a certain redheaded pommy, who keeps telling me long courtships are the tradition in the Klein family."

"I wonder who she could be talking about?" teased Terri as they headed downstairs.


Thirty-six minutes later, Terri's blue Lexus pulled up near the burning gum trees at the end of Boothy Street, Glen Hartwell.

"That isn't...?" asked Sheila, recognising the Cobalt-blue car.

"The O'Donnells' Cortina," agreed Don Fraser: "We were still in the town hall when we heard it." He looked like he was about to cry as he added: "It sounded like a bomb going off."

"Are there any...?" began Terri.

"No survivors," said Don Frazer, finally breaking down into tears: "Those poor kids..."

Putting an arm around him, Sheila said: "Life can be a real K.U.N.T. sometimes."

"And they had just left the prayer meeting," said Barry Akehurst, a short elderly man who had given Don and Seth a lift to the crash site..

"Just left...?" said Terri. She exchanged a glance with Colin, who also looked taken aback by this. She whispered to him: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?|"

"That it's the Miracle of the Sharks again?" whispered Colin, conscious of Seth Somners standing close by.

"Exactly," said Terri.

A half an hour later the flaming Cortina and blue gums had been extinguished, and the five badly charred corpses had been transported to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital. Terri had taken the time to explain to Jesus Costello (pronounced 'Hee-Zeus'), the administrator and chief surgeon of the hospital what they had witnessed hours earlier, and Clancy Thomas's promise to head into the hospital for examination later that day.

"His missing leg grew back?" asked Tilly Lombstrom, an attractive fifty-something brunette, Jesus's second in charge.

"We all saw it," affirmed Colin Klein.

"They're already calling it the Miracle of the New Leg," explained Sheila.

"I'm sorry I asked," said Tilly.


Jesus, Tilly, and Elvis Green (the local coroner, an avid Elvis Presley fan) worked through the night at the Glen Hartwell Hospital, trying to make what little sense they could of the five badly charred corpses.


Ed Bussy, the local mechanic and car wrecker had towed away what was left of the O'Donnells' Cortina and was having as much trouble making any sense of it, as Tilly, Jesus, and Elvis were having with the corpses.

"There just doesn't seem to be any reason for it," said Ed, when Terri and co. arrived at his Wentworth Street, Glen Harwell yard: "Gears seem fine, no reason for the accelerator to stick, everything as A-OK as it can be after being in an inferno."

"No sweat, Ed," said Terri patting him on the back: "We know you did your best as always."

"So what now?" asked Colin as they returned to Terri's Lexus.

"Now we go round to see Jesus and Tilly at the hospital," said Terri.

"Who wants to bet they tell us virtually the same as Ed did?" asked Sheila.


"No alcohol or drugs that we could find in Morgan or Edith's bloodstreams," said Tilly.

"And nothing to suggest any of the kids had had a seizure or anything which might have distracted Morgan at the wrong moment," said Jesus.

"So unless Ed...?" began Elvis.

"Nope," said Sheila: "Other than being a burnt-out wreck, the car's in perfect order according to Ed."

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Tilly.

They were still trying to make sense of the five deaths when the door to the morgue opened and Topaz Moseley, a gorgeous platinum blonde nurse came in to tell them that Clancy Thomas had arrived.

"Has he got...?" began Tilly.

"A brand new left leg? Yep!" said Topaz.

"They're calling it the Miracle of the New Leg," explained Sheila, as they headed toward the stairs.

For nearly an hour Jesus, Tilly, and Elvis examined Clancy Thomas' new leg.

"No sign of transplant scarring," said Jesus.

"No, we all saw it growing back," admitted Terri.

"Yes, but he has to consider that you three are all mad as hatters," teased Elvis Green.

"Actually hatters don't go mad much anymore," said Colin: "It was caused by cleaning the nap of the hat with mercury and breathing in the mercury fumes."

"Thank you, professor," said Sheila, making everyone except Colin laugh.

"Hey, I picked up all these weird facts during my thirty years as a journalist."

"Yes, I've noticed journalists are the most boring people on Earth," teased Elvis.

"So, what's the verdict, Docs?" asked Clancy.

"You've got a left leg, where two days ago you didn't have one," said Tilly Lombstrom.

"Other than that we don't have a clue," admitted Jesus.

"The ways of the Lord are many, his wonders to perceive," said Seth Somners entering the single-bed ward behind them: "I hope you're not trying to explain away a miracle of the Lord with medical science?"

"The Miracle of the New Leg," said Sheila, trying her best not to smirk as she said it.

"If you like," said Seth, doing his best not to glare at the Goth chick: "More to the point, can you explain Clancy's new leg as anything except a miracle of the Lord?"

"No," admitted Jesus: "Frankly we can't explain it at all."

"But you do admit that he now has a healthy left leg, where he had none before yesterday's service?"

"We have no choice but to admit it," said Tilly. Then with an epiphany: "Would you mind using your healing patients on other patients while we watch?"

"It would be my pleasure," said Seth, unable to resist a brief shit-eater grin.

Over the next hour or so, they took him to six patients, all of whom he managed to heal. The last patient was a quadriplegic, named Louis McNally, who had had his back and neck both broken two years ago after his car was hit by hoons driving a stolen BMW.

Tilly carefully explained to him what they were going to try, making certain they had his consent before proceeding:

"I'm desperate enough to try anything at this stage," said Louis.

"Do you have faith in the Lord?" demanded Seth Somners.

"Yes," muttered Louis, despite having started to doubt over the last two years lying on his back in a hospital bed.

"Have no doubts!" commanded Seth, as though reading Louis' thoughts: "The Lord is all around us. He works miracles every day through me, and only needs your trust to work a miracle for you."

"I believe," said Louis quietly.

"Louder!" shouted Seth.

"I believe!" cried Louis as loudly as he could.

"Excellent! Dear Lord, work your miracle upon this poor wretch! Heal his broken back! Heal his broken neck! Help this poor man to sit up and walk again!"

The Bondi Messiah continued in the above vain for a couple of minutes, then shouted at Louis: "Sit up in bed! The Lord has healed you!"

"Now wait..." began Jesus Costello.

He started forward, then stopped in amazement as for the first time in two years Louis McNally slowly sat up in bed unassisted.

"What the fuck?" said Tilly Lombstrom.

"The ways of the Lord are many, his wonders to perceive," said Seth Somners, smirking a broad shit-eater grin. Then to Louis: "Don't stop, sit up fully in bed."

Doing as instructed, the previously crippled man sat up in bed.

"Stretch out your arms!" instructed Seth.

Louis McNally did as instructed, stretching both arms for the first time in two years.

"Now stand up and walk!" demanded Seth.

"Now, wait a minute!" said Jesus.

Ignoring the surgeon, Louis pulled back the blankets and tentatively threw both legs over the side of the bed.

As he started out of the bed, Topaz Moseley, and Leo Laxman (a Jamaican-born nurse), raced across to catch him if he fell.

"That won't be necessary!" insisted Seth: "My Lord has healed him."

Still standing close by, the two nurses refrained from touching Louis, as he climbed out of the bed and walked around the bed toward the doctors and police, who were all staring in disbelief.

"He has made the crippled walk again!" cried Seth Somners.

Turning, he walked cockily out into the corridor as the doctors, nurses, and police stared gape-mouth at Louis McNally, who walked across to the door after him.

"Where are you going?" asked Tilly.

"After two years prisoner in that damned bed, I want to walk around the hospital for a while."

"Leo, Topaz, go with him," instructed Jesus: "Grab a wheelchair in case his legs suddenly give out."

"My legs are as strong as they've ever been," said Louis, not waiting for the two nurses, who had to run to catch up with him.

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Tilly watching after the three retreating people.

"Hi," said Louis to a startled desk nurse as he walked past the reception area.

"What the...?" she began, stopping as Leo grabbed a wheelchair from beside the reception desk before he and Topaz started after Louis again.

"Relax," said Topaz as they followed after the former quadriplegic.

As he walked along the corridor, Louis continued to startle nurses and doctors, saying hello, without stopping for more than a second or two.

He stopped at Room 112 to talk to an elderly lady lying in bed with a leg in plaster: "Have faith," said Louis: "The Lord loves you."

"Why, thank you," said the pink-haired old lady. However, Louis had already moved on.

Coming to a corner, they turned left, past an elderly man in a wheelchair, breathing from an oxygen cylinder: "Have faith," said Louis, before moving on.

In the corridor, nurses and doctors were standing around reading charts or filling in patient details on portable Intranet machines.

Louis stopped to read the details of another patient against the blue screen of one reader, before moving on and turning the next corner.

He continued down the corridor, stopping to watch a beautiful redhead woman in her thirties for a moment, before moving on.

"Hello, old timer," he said to an elderly man: "Have faith."

Then he moved on and continued down to the next corner, where he stopped beside the elevator for a moment. Then, changing his mind, he walked past the elevator to the stairwell, opened the door, and started inside.

Handing the wheelchair to Topaz, Leo said, "Take it up to the first floor in the lift, I'll follow him."

Not waiting for an answer, Leo skipped through into the stairwell and hurried after Louis.

To Leo's relief, Louis only walked up to the first storey, before leaving the stairwell.

On the first floor, Louis repeated the procedure, walking right around the floor, stopping from time to time to speak to people. Never staying for more than a few seconds in any doorway, until reaching Room 245, where a gorgeous thirteen-year-old strawberry blonde, Nancy Waynwright, sat in a chair beside bed-A reading Australian Vogue.

"Hello, young lady, what are you in for?" he asked.

"Had a bad fall and bumped my head. What about you?"

"Quadriplegia," he said honestly, causing the girl to wrinkle her bandaged brow.

"Doesn't that mean that you can't move at all?"

"It did," he agreed. He explained in depth what had happened to him, and how Seth Somners had healed him.

"Wow, I was just reading about him earlier," said Nancy: "I thought he was a phony?"

"Not at all, he allowed me to move and walk again."

At that time a bell rang, and the sound of a heavy trolley approaching made Louis look around:

"Sounds like lunch is coming, I'd better go downstairs for my own meal."

"See ya," said Nancy waving.

"I hope so," said Louis.

Turning, he headed to the elevator, to the relief of Leo and Topaz, who followed him in when the silver doors ching-chinged open.

After lunch, Louis had a brief nap, before walking around the hospital again at tea time.

"Well, he's gonna get fitter if he keeps walking around so much," said Annie Colfax the Nurse-in-Charge, a short forty-year-old blonde as Louis started out walking again soon after lunch.

This time he took the elevator up to the second storey, to the relief of Topaz and Leo who continued to follow him.

For more than an hour Louis walked around the second storey, stopping from time to time to talk to patients or staff, before, going back down to the first floor, where he repeated the procedure, stopping longer again at Room 245 to talk to Nancy Waynwright, this time for forty minutes, before returning to his own room for tea.


Over in his small grey-walled, and grey-lino floored apartment in Blackland Street, Glen Hartwell, Clancy Thomas was looking forward to a large tea: lamb loin chops with bubble and squeak and chips. He had actually placed the plate upon the kitchen table when a strange look suddenly came over his face.

Forgetting his food, Clancy turned and walked to the front door, then stepped out into Blackland Street. As he walked down the street people stopped to greet him from time to time, but each time Clancy failed to acknowledge them.

"Clancy?" called an old friend starting after him. But then as his wife called him for his own tea, the man, Todd Russell, thought: I'll catch him tomorrow before work. Unaware that he would never see Clancy Thomas alive again.

Reaching the end of Blackland Street, Clancy continued out into the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest, seemingly heading in no particular direction, paying no attention to his whereabouts, unnoticing of the crunching of the dried gum leaves and pine needles beneath his feet as he seemed to be walking mechanically.

After more than an hour's fast walking Clancy started to hear the waters of the polluted Yannan River, and for the first time since his trek had begun showed emotion, smiling broadly.

Much of the polluted river was barely ankle deep, however, as though drawn by a magnet, Clancy had managed to find without searching the deepest part of the river, which was at least five metres deep.

Still grinning idiotically, Clancy marched into the water, fully dressed, and proceeded to swim down through the murky water. Until reaching the slimy bottom. Smiling broadly, he exhaled fully, then gulped deeply, taking the polluted water deep into his lungs.

His final thought before dying was: As the Lord desires it!


While eating his dinner of Macaroni Bolognese, Louis McNally couldn't help thinking of the gorgeous teenage girl Nancy Waynwright.

I've always had a thing for redheads and strawberry blondes, he thought: And importantly, she has no physical disabilities. Having been crippled for two years, I could never be interested in another cripple.

He wolfed down the delicious meal, barely noticing what he was eating, thinking only of the gorgeous girl, and what he would like to do to her.

Seeing a nurse leading a portable Intranet reader into the room to test his blood pressure, Louis though: I wouldn't mind fucking that blonde bitch! It's been two long, frustrating years since I've had any cunt!

Trying his best not to openly ogle the attractive nurse, Louis allowed her to take his blood pressure, then hand out his evening tablets. Which were all different from the previous night.

Clearly being able to walk again, means I need different medicine, he thought.

After the blonde left the ward, Louis toileted, then showered, his first after two years of frustrating blanket baths, then he retired to bed for a few hours. Having not meant to sleep, he nonetheless fell in a fitful sleep during which he dreamt of ravishing Topaz Moseley.

Waking in a cold sweat a little after 2:00 AM, he showered again, then walked slowly across to the corridor, where he peeked out the door. Seeing the nurses' area empty, he crept across to the stairwell, then continued up to the first storey.

Here goes nothing, he thought, creeping out of the stairwell, trying to look as casual as possible as he strolled down to room 245.


Nancy Waynwright was dreaming sweet dreams of her latest crush, James Adams, when she suddenly felt a great weight upon her, crushing her, smothering her. Waking startled, she tried to stand, only to realise that she was being held down by someone lying on top of her.

"Who are you?" she tried to say, only to find that she had a pair of panties stuffed into her mouth.

"Don't worry, gorgeous, you'll like it as much as I do," said Louis.

He easily forced her small legs apart, then, holding her two hands in one of his, he held the glands of his penis against her virgin vagina and thrust forward. However, the girl was too terrified and had clamped up, so he initially failed to achieve any penetration.

"Come on you cold cunt bitch!" whispered Louis. Even in his lust, careful not to speak loud enough to be heard by the other patient in the ward.

For a minute or so, it seemed as though his attempt to rape the gorgeous teenager would fail. Then, still struggling, he managed to force the first few centimetres of his manhood into her virgin entranceway.

"Eeeeeeege!" muttered Nancy, unable to scream aloud.

For what seemed to the teenage girl like hours, but was really only ten minutes, Louise continued to ravish the beautiful girl. Then after ejaculating into her body, he rolled over onto his back beside her...

And died!


Out in the nurses' station, they were having a steaming cuppa with iced donuts, when they heard the screaming from room 245.


Thirty-eight minutes later, yawning widely, Terri Scott, Colin Klein, and Sheila Bennett arrived at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital. By then Nancy Waynwright had been sedated, and the corpse of Louis McNally had been transferred to the morgue in the basement.

They had already been told over the phone what had happened, however, Terri said: "Tell us exactly what had happened."

"Well..." began Tilly Lombstrom, who as the doctor sleeping over, had been called by the nurses: "Our former quadriplegic raped a thirteen-year-old girl, then died."

"Of a heart attack?" asked Colin Klein.

"Doesn't look like it," she said, holding up Louis's large healthy-looking heart for them to see.

"Thank God we didn't have anything to eat before coming out here," Terri.

"Tils, your sense of humour leaves a lot to be desired," said Sheila.

They were still discussing Tilly's humour, when a bleary-eyed Jesus Costello finally arrived. Once again Tilly Lombstrom repeated what had happened.

"Was he acting strangely earlier?" asked Jesus.

"Other than walking round and round the wards, no."

"Although he did stop a couple of times at room 245 to talk to Nancy," said a young male nurse assisting with the autopsy.

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Tilly.

"Did he seem obsessed with her when he stopped with her?" asked Terri.

"Not that anyone noticed."

"Curiouser and curiouser," agreed Terri.


By sun-up they were all exhausted, but at least the autopsy had been completed.

"So what's the verdict docs?" asked Colin Klein.

"He's definitely dead," said Tilly.

"Don't blind us with details, Tils," said Sheila.

"I'm afraid that's all we can tell you," said Jesus: "Other than being dead, he's in better shape than anyone else in this morgue."

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Terri and Colin as one.


By six-thirty, Terri and co. were almost back to the Yellow House.

"I'm looking forward to a huge breakfast then eight hours sleep," said Sheila. Silenced by the pipping of Terri's mobile phone.

Terri spoke for a moment on the phone, then said: "There'll be no breakfast or sleep for you, mad Goth chick. That was Elvis on the line. Some early morning joggers just discovered the body of Clancy Thomas floating in the Yannan."

"Damn those early morning joggers," said Sheila as she turned the Lexus to head toward the Yannan River: "Why can't they learn to sleep in and discover floating bodies at a decent time ... like eleven AM?"


It was nearly an hour before they reached the correct spot at the river, where they found Elvis Green, the coroner, and Tilly Lombstrom looking as exhausted as they all felt.

"Tils, you get around, girl," said Sheila by way of greeting.

"Girl? I feel more like an old lady at the moment."

"So what's the story?" asked Terri as Sheila went across to talk to a tall black paramedic, Derek Armstrong, her boyfriend.

"He drowned. Why, or how I don't know, but his lungs were full of murky water."

They were still discussing Clancy's drowning when a tall dark-clad figure approached.

"Father Thomas?" said Terri Scott: "Have you come to give him the last rights."

"No, sadly poor Clancy was not in my parish. But there is an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you ... in private."


Half an hour later the three police were standing inside the doorway of St. Margaret's Cathedral in Blackland Street, Glen Hartwell.

St. Margaret's is one of the centre points of the Glen, with large spacious lawns, and twenty concrete steps leading from the footpath to the large polished red gum double doors. Inside, the floors were polished teak, with red felt-lined wooden pews, plus larger-than-life-size plaster statues of Jesus, the stations of the cross, Mary, Joseph, and the apostles lining the walls and the rear of the small stage upon which Fr. Thomas conducted his sermons.

"So what do you need to talk to us about, Father?" asked Terri.

"Seth Somners."

"The so-called Bondi Messiah?" said Colin.

"I think he is really what the Catholic Church unofficially, off the records, calls a Dark Messiah, or Dark Prophet."

"Unofficially, off the records...?" asked Sheila: "Does that mean it's one of the Vatican's secret hidden facts which they claim don't really exist?"

"Unofficially, off the records ... Yes," said Father Thomas: "A messiah or prophet does the work of the Lord. A Dark Messiah, or Dark Prophet does the work of the Dark Lord ... a.k.a. Satan."

"That would explain why all of his miracles keep leading to murder, rape, or suicide," said Terri.

"Yes. The Lord's miracles are performed to help believers. The Dark Lord's so-called miracles are performed to spread chaos, death, and despair. Like everything that the Dark Lord does."

"So how do we stop this Dark Messiah?" asked Colin.

"Drop a thousand litres of holy water on him, like we did with the Dark Angels?" asked Sheila. [See my story: 'Dark Angels'.]

"No, I have to perform an exorcism in his presence to send him back to Hades where he belongs."

"Won't his supporters try to stop you?" asked Terri.

"Yes. That's why I need as many police as possible to attend when I perform the ritual."

"Well, we can call up all our officers, including the pro rata women for whenever you want," offered Terri.

"Beauty, the girls will be chuffed at earning some extra moola," said Sheila.

"The Dark Messiah is holding a meeting slash healing ritual in a tent outside Wentworth Street tonight. Upon my advice, Don Frazer has refused him further usage of the Town Hall."

"Gee, I bet he's spitting chips at that," said Colin.

"I certainly hope so," said Father Thomas with a grin.


After sleeping most of the day away, Terri, Sheila, and Colin had a hearty tea, before setting out in Terri's blue Lexus, to pick up Father Thomas Montague before heading for the forest outside Wentworth Street, Glen Hartwell to attend Seth Somners' latest meeting.

"Got your bag of tricks, I see," said Sheila as Father Thomas lifted a large black case into the boot of the Lexus.

"My collection of religious texts and artefacts," he corrected her.

"That's what I said."


When they arrived at the edge of the forest, they saw a huge black tent, which would rival most circus big tops.

"He's expecting a good crowd tonight by the looks of it," said Sheila.

Inside the tent, they saw nearly thirty cops, some flown down from Sale, along with nearly two thousand people.

"There must be a sixth of the population from BeauLarkin, all the way through to Willamby, here tonight," said Terri Scott in amazement.

"That's what we reckon, Chief," said Donald Esk, as he and Greta Goddard approached them. Don was a tall dark-haired man, one of Terri's local sergeants. Greta Goddard was a pro-rata policewoman, who at sixty-nine looked barely fifty.

"So what are our orders?" asked Greta.

"Surround the rostrum, to stop the so-called messiah from escaping, and to stop the crowd from rioting when Father Thomas starts his ritual."

She quickly explained what Seth Somers was and what they planned to do.

"Gotcha, Chief," said Don, before he and Greta went across to fill in the other officers.

The cops from Sale seemed sceptical, but the local officers had encountered too many supernatural occurrences in the local area to doubt.

After the police were in place Terri, Colin, and Sheila escorted Father Thomas through the crowd then up to the dais upon which Seth Somners was eulogising. Seeing the four newcomers, he asked:

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"Get thee behind me Dark Messiah!" ordered Father Thomas.

"That is the last thing I expected him to say," said Sheila, being shooshed by Terri.

"I have come to send thee back to the dark depths of Hades, whence thou cometh from."

"You have come here to try," corrected the Dark Messiah, with a broad shit-eater grin upon his face: "You get thee behind me!"

He raised his hands toward the Man of God and the priest began sliding backward across the floor, only stopping when he hit the tarpaulin tent.

"Shit!" cried Terri.

She, Colin, and Sheila raced across to help the priest back to his feet.

"Looks like it's gonna be tougher than we thought," said Terri.

"No, I never thought it would be easy," corrected the priest.

Opening his black case, the priest removed a half-metre-long golden cross and held it up as he approached the Dark Messiah.

Smirking at this latest effort, Somners said: "How does that old joke go? That won't work on me, I'm a Jewish vampire!"

As the audience laughed riotously, Father Thomas and the three cops slowly approached the dais again.

"Then maybe I should use garlic spray on you," joked back Father Thomas, also to the amusement of the baffled crowd.

Before the Dark Messiahs could respond, Father Thomas began chanting aloud a special exorcism ritual reserved solely for Dark Messiahs.

"Don't think your hocus pocus will work..." began the Dark Messiah.

However, he started to look pale as the priest continued chanting, still holding the large golden cross before him.

"Get thee behind me Dark Messiah!" ordered Father Thomas.

This time it was Seth Somners' turn to soar across the floor, crashing headfirst into the fabric-reinforced PVC tarpaulin.

"Free the good people of Glen Hartwell and its surroundings from your evil grip Dark Fiend," continued Father Thomas.

"No, nev..." began the Dark Messiah, stopping in mid-word. He struggled to climb back to his feet but failed to do so.

Taking a small bottle of holy water from his black bag, the priest slowly, but assuredly walked across to the fallen false prophet and began sprinkling Seth, while continuing with his chanting.

Each time that the holy water touched him, the Dark Messiah screamed out. At first profanities, then in agony, before finally murmuring pleas for help to the Dark Lord, Satan.

"The Dark Lord will not help you," taunted Father Thomas: "You have failed in your mission to spread chaos and death."

"Please, Dark Lord, save me!" cried Seth Somners.

Then, as Father Thomas threw the remainder of the holy water onto him, the Dark Messiah burst into flames, screaming in terror and agony as he rapidly burnt to ashes, before the ashes blew away beneath the tarpaulin.

"Hey, he really was like a vampire," said Sheila: "That's how they all die in the movies."

"All right, disperse the crowd," Terri instructed the surrounding police.

"Come on everybody out," called Greta Goddard as they shooed the two thousand people out into the night: "Nothing to see here!"

"Are you kidding?" asked a tall, lanky brunette: "That's the best show I've ever been to. I woulda paid money to see it."

THE END
© Copyright 2024 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia