The Burning Man

7

For half an hour, Miller had been chattering earnestly about how he’d adjusted to his role in events and was now prepared to do ‘big things’, and how Veitch was such a hero, though he hid it well, and such an inspiration, and how his eyes had been opened to all the magic in the world. During their months on the road, Veitch had learned to zone him out until he became a dim background buzz.

Instead he focused on the people moving around the tent where they had been offered shelter from the returning dust storm. He saw a man delve into his personal medical supplies to help a complete stranger who had gashed his arm. He saw a couple, desperate after their tent had been torn away by the storm and all their possessions lost, now given free use of their neighbour’s home and supplies. He saw numerous acts of kindness played out without a second thought.

‘Maybe we should stay here for a while,’ he said, talking to himself, really. ‘Maybe that’s why we ended up here.’

He realised Miller had fallen silent. ‘What?’

‘You don’t really mean that.’

‘I do.’

‘You’ve got a mission. You need to find the other Key or the Void wins.’

‘I think we need to get a few things straight here. Firstly, I’m not after the Second Key to do some good deed. I want you two in my hands for revenge, pure and simple.’

‘I know you’ve said that, but … you don’t really mean it.’

‘That shows how much you know. A — if it screws up that bastard Church’s plan to be a big hero, then that’s a win. Why should he get all the cheers? And b — with the two of you, I get the power to decide how everything should be. And if I decide it’s going to be a wasteland, then that’s how it’s going to be.’

Miller looked hurt for a moment, but slowly he smiled.

‘I mean it.’

‘You don’t fool me. I can see what you’re really like.’

‘Will you stop that!’

‘You’re a good man, Ryan-’

‘You’re a bleedin’ simpleton. You wouldn’t see the truth if it smacked you in the face. And when the time comes, don’t think I won’t throw you to the lions, ’cause I will. You don’t mean anything to me, Miller. All the hours we’ve “shared” on the road … nothing. This is my time, finally. And I’m not going to screw it up.’

He gave Miller a sharp crack round the ear and then went to the tent-flap. The storm had moved on. ‘Get your arse out here. And if I hear another sound out of you, you’re going to be wearing your bollocks for a necklace.’

Veitch walked down one of the radial streets to the focal point of Black Rock City, with a troubled Miller hurrying to keep up. They weren’t alone. The citizens were coming out of their homes in increasing numbers, following the same route.

‘What’s happening?’ Miller asked, then skipped back when Veitch glared at him.

The sun was setting and the temperature was falling rapidly. As darkness spread across the playa, fires sprang up in the many neighbourhoods that formed the sprawling city. Music rose up everywhere, parties and dancing.

‘Wow,’ Miller said. ‘I feel like I’ve gone back a thousand years.’

Veitch was too engrossed by his surroundings to retain his anger. By the time they reached the communal area at the heart of the city, night had fallen and it was already close to freezing.

‘What kind of place is this to hold a festival?’ Veitch said. ‘An oven during the day, a freezer at night.’ He stamped his feet to keep warm.

‘It’s about survival, man,’ somebody said in passing. ‘It’s about proving that we’re stronger than what the world throws at us. That working together we’re stronger than anything.’

‘Did you hear that?’

Veitch turned to find Ruth standing behind him. ‘You look different,’ he said. ‘More confident or something. What’s up?’

She smiled, then said, ‘Look at that.’

Miller couldn’t see anything, but Veitch did. Above the various communities, the Blue Fire came and went, shimmering like the aurora borealis. Veitch shivered, but not from the cold.

‘It’s here,’ Ruth said, ‘in this place. And they’re bringing it to life, like our ancestors did thousands of years ago in the stone circles. You know what that means?’

‘I’m not stupid.’ Veitch refused to look at the lights, however much he wanted to, and continued to walk to the middle of the huge crowd that was gathering. The sense of community was palpable. In spite of himself, Veitch couldn’t help but smile.

‘I like it here,’ Miller said.

‘Shut up,’ Veitch snapped.

Anticipation added a buzz to the feeling of well-being. Ahead, illuminated by the orange light of torches, was the wicker man, forty feet high.

‘Wow,’ Ruth said. ‘I think we pretty much know what’s going to happen now.’ She added thoughtfully, ‘The Celts used to build their own wicker men, as part of the harvest festival of renewal. Isn’t that weird, seeing it here, after what we’ve been through?’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen the movie,’ Veitch said. ‘Pity we can’t stick a few coppers in there to stoke the flames.’

Over the next hour, the party atmosphere intensified. People sang and danced, hugged each other, gave performances that ranged from the touching to the bizarre. Finally, as if at some hidden signal, a low chant began. It grew louder, spreading through the crowd, until there was one voice, one heart. Veitch shivered.

Burn him. Burn him.

Suddenly silence fell for a minute or two. And then the flames rushed through the towering figure and a tremendous cheer rose up.

The Burning Man came alive in gold and scarlet and amber, the flames leaping higher and higher, reaching towards the stars, consuming the doubts and fears, the guilt and the hatreds of the old ways, and preparing the path for a fresh start. Veitch was mesmerised.

They watched the spectacle in silence, and then Veitch was overcome with a powerful need. He reached out in the dark and found Ruth’s hand, barely hoping. A second of desperate anticipation and then she closed her fingers around his. They stood like that as the Burning Man blazed, not speaking, not looking at each other. The simplest thing. Veitch felt happier than at any other point in his entire life. He was afire, consumed, transformed.

After several minutes, Miller spoke and broke the spell, but Veitch didn’t mind. ‘I still can’t see why we were sent here,’ he said.

‘Perhaps there was more than one reason,’ Ruth said.

Reluctantly, they made their way back through the crowd towards Rick’s tent. But when they reached the perimeter, a change came over everything, like one discordant note in a symphony.

Troubled, Veitch turned and looked back. Ruth sensed his unease and followed his gaze.

The Burning Man had altered. Around the licking flames, there appeared to be a visual distortion that suggested numerous other Burning Men stretching out to infinity. They merged, became one — not in this world, but looking over it, and in this Burning Man figures writhed: gods, their features tainted by corrupting lines of inky blackness.

‘They’re being consumed.’ Miller’s voice had an unnatural trance-like tone. ‘Apollo … Ra … all the sun gods. Feeding the fire … the black fire …’

Veitch shook him roughly. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

Dazed, Miller rubbed his eyes. ‘Can’t you feel it? It’s reaching out — across the world … across the worlds …’

The crowd was changing subtly, too. The exuberant mood had dissipated to leave a bleak anxiety that echoed the bitter cold of the night. It was in all the faces around them: smiles fading to reveal deep questions that had no answers; worries; a burden of troubles; an infecting emptiness. The Void.

Veitch looked back over Black Rock City. The shimmering patches of Blue Fire were winking out. The dark became darker still.

‘No,’ Veitch said. ‘Leave them alone. They’re not hurting anyone.’

‘Hal said this was the most dangerous time.’ Ruth looked around the unsettled crowd.

‘Fighting back,’ Miller muttered, dazed. ‘Fighting back.’

Veitch cuffed him round the ear for good measure.

And then, in the non-silent silence of shuffling feet, a chant started, quietly at first, growing louder, like the one that had preceded the burning, except this one was grim and despairing. Veitch struggled to make out the words.

Croatoan, Croatoan, they appeared to be saying. Soon there was no doubt. The words echoed loudly to the heavens, one voice, one heart.

‘What does it mean?’ Ruth asked.

‘What does it mean? What does it mean?’ Miller whined.

Veitch grabbed Miller and Ruth and dragged them out of the crowd. ‘We’re going to nab one of those screwed-up cars and get to the nearest city. And then to New York.’