Rituals

“Why am I here” Father Black said. “I left the order years ago.”

“You are still a priest,” a man says roughly to his left, fingers holding his arm tightly.

The bag over his head is tight, but not enough to choke: he can't see, but it isn't restrictive. It occurred to Father Black that the two men walking to either side had put bags on heads often, easily dragged people from their lives and to.... where?

“Are you with the government?” he tried.

“After our fashion,” the man on on his right says; they both sound alike.

“Why am I here?”

“A baptism is needed,” the man on his left said.

Air hisses, cool and sterile, and Faqther Black finds himself guided into a room andn brought to a halt. The hood comes off, and the man to the right tells him not to look around, says something about security, but Father Black doesn't here. He's busy staring at a silver incubator devoid of tubes, and a small figure is lying in it. Not wrapped in clothes, but naked like a doll, with skin the colour of a dead body and wide black eyes that didn't blink at all. Small, long fingers reached up towards them

“I was asked a question?” Father Black said.

“They can't talk; most of the time we get images,” the man to the right says.

“This is an alien.”

“Yes,” one of them says. Father Black doesn't hear any weapons, see any movement, but the dark eyes of the creature in the incubator grow wider.

“What – what I am supposed to do?” he asked.

“You are a priest,” the man to the left says. “We have water.”

“What?”

“A baptism,” the man to the right said, without a threat of humour in his voice. “The aliens rarely produce children, but those they do must be blessed so they will not burn in hell. Baptism is a kind of exorcism, you know.”

Father Black nodded numbly and took the water from them, saying the words. The alien did nothing in return, and the water sank into that strange skin as though it were more sponge than flesh.

I'm sorry, he thought, not sure who he meant, or who he was speaking to; if the alien could hear his thoughts, it didn't react. The bag was placed on his head again and Father Black led from the room.

“Do – do you plan to wipe my memory?” he whispered.

“Who would believe you?” the one on the right says, and sounds almost sad.

Father Black said nothing else.