Chapter Eighteen

Hep and Scroat woke that morning at five o’clock, along with the rest of the monks. They gathered their few possessions and went to the dining hall for a last breakfast with the brothers before they continued their journey East in search of Inktomi and a good spot to hang out until Poseidon had cooled off.

There was a strange energy in the dining hall that morning, however. The monks seemed on edge, far more than their usual ‘end is nigh’ tension. There was an unusual number of tapping feet, and robe collars that needed adusting, as well as a great deal more whispering than usual.

“What did we miss? Is something going on? Is the world going to end today?” Hep asked Brother Larry.

“Well, yes, but that’s not the source of our anxiety. It seems some of our brothers who are out in the field, so to speak, have been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped? Who would kidnap monks?”

Brother Larry looked very uncomfortable. He was sweating a little bit. He said, in a very low voice, “There are other Orders who, for reasons I can’t understand, seek to bring about the end of the world as soon as possible. Something about bringing God’s kingdom to Earth. We’ve left them alone, but they seem to have taken an interest in stopping our work. Right now, in fact, they’re subjecting our brothers to motivational videos and Disney movies, in an attempt to make them look forward to the future.”

Scroat slammed his hand down on the table and said, “Those bastards!”

Hep and Brother Larry looked at him, shocked by the intensity of his outburst.

“What are you looking at me like that for? That’s fucking torture what they’re doing. It’s inhumane. It’s sheer cruelty.”

“Well, yes,” Brother Larry said. “Although I think our mutual distaste is for different reasons.”

“So do you know where they’re keeping them? What do they want?” Hep asked.

“I don’t know where they are, and it seems they don’t want anything, except to disrupt our work.”

“I can’t believe they’re making them watch Disney movies. How are they going to keep them from killing themselves?” Scroat said.

Hep elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, and uh, it’s wrong that they kidnapped them too. They must be shitting holy bricks.” Scroat said.

“So do you know which of these other Orders kidnapped your brothers,” Hep asked.

Brother Larry sighed, and said “Yes. They’re a splinter group called The Society of the Seven Seals.”

Scroat snickered. Hep had to contain a giggle himself.

“What’s so funny?” Brother Larry asked.

“It’s kind of a clichéd name, isn’t it?” Scroat said. “Why not call themselves The Four Horsemen?”

Brother Larry stared at him, with his mouth slightly open.

“It would be funny if you’d been around as long as we have, trust me,” Hep said.

“I’ll just take your word for it on that, I suppose,” Brother Larry said. “Um. I hate to impose, but, do you think you could help us recover our kidnapped brothers?”

Hep and Scroat stared at him.

“How, exactly, do you propose we do that? This is the first we’ve heard of it, and we don’t know where they are,” Hep said.

“But you’re...” Brother Larry looked around to see if any one was listening, and then whispered, “gods.”

“So do you think we can just produce them out of thin air?” Hep asked.

Brother Larry looked hopeful for a minute, then less so when he realized they would not, in fact, be producing the missing brothers right then.

“Well, you must have some knowledge, or ability to get knowledge, unavailable to us.”

“It would mean calling in some big favors,” Hep said. “Look, we can try to help you out, but we’re going to need a lot more information from you than the name of some treehouse club and the knowledge that ‘some’ of your brothers are missing.”

Brother Larry looked flustered, “well, we don’t know exactly which brothers are missing, or how many.”

Hep sat back. “So you don’t know who or how many are missing? How do you know any are missing at all?”

“Well, we got a letter from the Society of the Seven Seals telling us. Boasting about it, really.”

“Do you have this letter?”

“Not with me, one moment,” Brother Larry said. He called over one of the other monks, and asked him to go get the letter. The monk hustled away, and Hep, Scroat and Brother Larry waited quietly for him to return. A few minutes later, the monk returned and handed an envelope to Brother Larry. He then handed it over to Hep.

Hep took the envelope, removed the letter, read it briefly, then looked at the envelope. He blinked and looked again. Then he looked up at Brother Larry.

“So, uh, did you guys notice there’s a return address on this envelope?”

Brother Larry looked shocked, then deeply embarassed. “I guess it escaped our attention.”

“Well, that happens sometimes, I guess. Um, why don’t you have one of your guys check this address out and see if it’s real.”

The monk who brought the letter to them said, “I’ll go look it up right away. May I have the envelope back?”

Hep handed it to him. “Let us know what you find.”

“I can’t believe no one noticed the return address,” Brother Larry said.

“Yeah, for a bunch of researchers, you guys are fucking stupid,” Scroat said.

Within five minutes the monk returned with a map, directions to the address, arial photos, a phone number and print outs from the Society of the Seven Seals web site.

“They have a web site? Some secret order. You guys don’t have a web site do you?” Hep asked.

“No, that would kind of defeat the purpose of being a secret society, don’t you think?” Brother Larry said.

The address was in South Dakota, and from the aerial photos, it looked like their secret hideaway was a barn.

“Do you think it’s a trick?” Brother Larry asked.

“It could be, but probably not. I’ve found most people are incredibly stupid, especially when they think they’re being clever and sneaky. We can roll on out there, and we’ll probably find your guys guarded by a couple of chumps with nunchucks they don’t know how to use. Hell, we’ll have them out on the street warning about the apocalypse within forty eight hours.”

“Really? That would be incredible,” Brother Larry said.

“Yeah. Unless it’s a trap and they kill us. In which case, your guys will be fucked for a while,” Scroat said. “Australia is a long way away.”

“What does Australia have to do with this?” Brother Larry asked. His eyes were twitching back and forth, and he looked like he just couldn’t handle even a tiny bit more information.

“Never mind about that,” Hep said. “So, look, have you got a van, or something? Because it’ll be hard to bring these guys back here on our bikes.”

“Well, yes, we do. Is there anything else you’ll need?” Brother Larry asked.

“Have you got an armory?” Scroat asked.

“I beg your pardon?” Brother Larry said. “What would we do with an armory?”

“I dunno. You’re in fucking Montana. I figured you’d have a bunch of guns,” Scroat said.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Brother Larry said.

“I think you’d better lead us to your van,” Hep said. “Time’s a-wasting.”

They got up, and Brother Larry led them through another winding series of hallways. Hep and Scroat trailed a short distance behind him.

“Have you got an armory? Did you really ask if a monk had an armory?” Hep said to Scroat in a low voice.

“Nothing ventured nothing gained. And they’re a secret order, for fuck’s sake. Secret orders always have a hoard of weapons. It’s one of the rules you have to follow when you want to start a secret order, I thought.”

“Yeah, but they’re Christian monks, not some sect of martial artists. They don’t even seem especially militant, just nerdy and freaked out.”

“Freaked out nerds have the best weapons,” Scroat said.

Hep couldn’t argue.

The three of them emerged in a garage. There were an assortment of landscaping tools, chainsaws, and a pair of riding lawnmowers, along with a beat up, bright red, extended passenger van.

“Holy personnel carrier! How many monks can you fit in that fucking thing?” Scroat said.

“Sixteen, most days,” Brother Larry said. “Fourteen on Thanksgiving.”

They walked over to the Van. Hep opened the driver’s side door and climbed in. The interior was worn, but clean. There were three bench seats, all covered in red and black plaid cloth, behind the two captain’s chairs in front.

“Cool, a CB radio! I haven’t seen one of these in years. Does it work?” Hep said.

“Yes, though there aren’t many other people who still use them on the road,” Brother Larry said. “If you have an emergency, you might want to use your cell phone.”

“Don’t have one, but I’ve never had trouble finding a pay phone,” Hep said. “Where are the keys?”

“In the ashtray,” Brother Larry said.

Hep pulled the ashtray open - it was immaculately clean - and grabbed the keys. He put them in the ignition, and tried to start the van. The engine fired up without complaint. Hep looked at the gas gauge and saw the tank was full.

“Well, I’m ready to go. Have you got those directions?” he asked Brother Larry.

“Yes, here you go,” Brother Larry handed him the directions.

“Thanks,” Hep said. He closed the door, and rolled down the window. Scroat went around to the passenger side of the van and climbed in.

“Do we really have to take this thing?” Scroat asked.

“Yes, unless you want to start practicing some crazy circus moves on your motorcycle,” Hep said. He turned to Brother Larry and said, “We’ll be back in practically no time.”

“Good luck,” Brother Larry said. “and please be safe.”

“You got it,” Hep said. He put the van in reverse, and backed out of the garage, stopped briefly and consulted the directions, then shifted to Drive and was out of Brother Larry’s sight within a few seconds.