Find balance.
To be fair, this all-or-nothing approach has been getting exhausting. The further away I get from my time with Kingdom of the Pine, the more I’m realizing it’s not so much the faith I’m upset about, it’s the hate and fear disguised as concern and charity. Faith is just a vessel, and while it can certainly be used to justify truly horrible things, maybe I’m letting the aggressors off the hook by blaming faith itself.
“I have a pretty good idea which cabin to search,” I finally reply, imagining the deluge of swarming flies.
“Good enough to make a run at this?” Saul asks.
The opposing sides of my mind finally collapse into each other, swirling together like buckets of red and yellow paint as they synthesize into a brilliant orange. This new tone floods across everything, igniting a powerful force within me.
“Yeah,” I declare with a nod. “Let’s go back to camp.”
11
STRAIGHT STREET
As Willow’s car winds its way up the hillside, we each begin to prepare in our own way.
In the back seat, Saul reveals a set of wireless headphones and dives into his private concerto of thundering guitars and grinding deathcore rhythms, nodding along to the music.
Willow drives, but her cameras are locked and loaded. There’s even a tiny video recorder strapped to her forehead, endlessly cataloging from Willow’s point of view.
Meanwhile, I’ve pulled out my phone for a last-minute cramming session with all the information at our disposal. I’m going through my old notes, flipping back and forth between personal findings and scans of Saul’s mysterious tome. I’ve gone over this stuff so many times I can recite it by heart, yet I push onward.
Continuing our approach to Camp Damascus, I’m particularly focused on the Prayer for Release, trying my best to memorize the strange pattern of words. These incantations are mostly in Latin, but they also feature lines of a bizarre language I’ve never encountered before. What’s more, these passages don’t read like a traditional prayer. They’re not speaking directly to God for assistance but, instead, coming off like how-to instructions.
It’s utterly bizarre for a religious text, and deeply fascinating.
My fingers tap out various fractal-like patterns as I read, keeping me focused. I don’t even notice I’m doing it until I glance over to catch Willow gazing at me from her place in the driver’s seat.
I stop abruptly, my fingers seizing up as I recall every time my parents scolded me over this habit.
Willow, on the other hand, just smiles.
“It’s okay,” she assures me, reaching out and placing her palm on my leg.
I melt, not just from her physical touch, but from her unquestioning acceptance of the things that make me unique. Willow is incredible, and I can only imagine falling for her a second time has been just as easy as the first.
Still, coming together under such strange and traumatic circumstances is difficult. We’ve held each other, but we still haven’t kissed.
All in due time.
After much debate, the three of us decided to break into Camp Damascus as a unit instead of any one person going alone. Of course, sneaking anywhere is easier when there’s a single individual hoping to remain hidden, but at this point the journey belongs to all of us.
Besides, now we can split the work between three distinct positions.
As the only person with a recollection of the tethering chamber （drug-induced or otherwise）， I’m leading the charge and focused solely on getting us to the correct cabin.
Saul, on the other hand, is tasked with keeping us safe.
I glance at the large backpack sitting next to my brilliant friend, the enormous tank of his homemade flamethrower barely fitting inside the canvas. We’ve made a pact not to harm any fellow humans tonight, but demons are another story. Just because we’ve taken care of our own dark passengers, that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty more of them out there.
Meanwhile, Willow is recording every step of the process.
This evidence may or may not come in handy, depending on what we find tonight. Back at Saul’s place we’ve still got the charred body of a literal demon stashed away, but who knows where we can entrust this incredible supernatural evidence.
It wasn’t just Kingdom of the Pine who taught us that demons thrive in fire when it’s actually their greatest weakness, it was the entire Christian establishment over several centuries.
The corruption runs deep.
This fire versus ice discrepancy could’ve started as a little secret between two people several thousand years ago, the liars dying off before they ever had a chance to come clean about their clever switch. Likewise, it could be a clandestine truth that every religious leader, across all denominations, is well aware of.
Is turning Pachid’s body over to the Neverton Police Department going to do much of anything? Or will the corpse just disappear a few hours later as some fixer from Kingdom of the Pine slips out the back door of the morgue?
How about the FBI? How high does the reach of our congregation, or any congregation, go?
I guess we’ll find out.
Suffice to say, we’ve decided to collect as much evidence as possible, then worry about what to do with it later.
I turn and gaze out the car window, watching the lights of Neverton twinkle below in the humble little valley of deep, dark forest. Perched on the mountainside above, Camp Damascus watches over everything.
I find a single tiny light below and focus on it, allowing the distant yellow glow to burn into my gaze.
“Sexual deviance,” I whisper under my breath, repeating the words of my mother on the day I left. “The daughter thinks she’s in love with a beautiful, sweet girl who accepts her exactly the way she is. How do you help her?”
The words are so soft that nobody can hear me, but I give it a moment of consideration all the same.
I didn’t have an answer at the time, but by now an understanding has grown within me. It’s not about the solution, because the question is flawed. There’s nothing deviant about me.
If I had to reply, though, I’d consider the new family I’ve suddenly found myself with, the ones who accept me exactly as I am. I’d consider the way I feel right now in the passenger seat of this car, simmering with joy despite the horrific and dangerous mission I’m about to embark upon.
The answer is simple.
I’d love her.
We pull off the main road, rumbling up onto a sightseeing turnout as gravel crunches softly underneath the car tires. Willow parks, shutting off her headlights and plunging the scene into vast, endless darkness. Up here, the only illumination is the light of a massive full moon that hangs silently above.
We’ve arrived.
“Everybody ready?” I ask.
Willow nods.
Saul stops his music, pulling one of the wireless headphones away from his ear. “Hell yeah.”
“You really think you should be listening to loud songs while we’re trying to stay alert?” I question.
“What’s the point of busting into a conversion camp to slay demons with a flamethrower and smash up their possession machine if you’re not gonna listen to black metal while doing it?” he retorts.
It’s a fair point.
“Fine,” he finally continues, offering a compromise. “I’ll turn it down.”