8:15
Freezing sleet grated at her pink, numbing face. She tried to hold her head down, away from its harsh beating. Sally’s canvass sneakers were soaked through, and her toes felt like icy rocks. Her jeans were wet too, up to her knees. She stood in a drift of snow that was more than a foot high. She grunted, leaning into the back of the Volkswagen. Her feet, with very little traction, slid backwards against the weight of the car. The gearshift sat in the middle, neutral position with the engine running.
She shoved and then let off and then shoved again, trying to create a rocking motion that might provide some momentum. It wouldn’t move. The tires were deep in the snowy mud. She pushed again, trying to dig her shoes in. Sally slipped backwards once more.
The curved metal of the hood on the Volkswagen looked like a big smile to Sally. It was like the car itself was mocking her.
You can’t move me, little girl.
“Fuck you!” she screamed at the car.
She backed up to it, lifting the bumper as she pushed at the ground like a leg press. Nothing.
The ones that depended on her were still seven miles away and it didn’t look like she was going to get any closer.
“Damn it!” she yelled, kicking the tire.
The cell phone.
She almost slipped running around the car. Getting inside she felt the warmth of the heater. Jack was still silent, as if sleeping. Digging through his pockets she found the phone. She clicked it on. A green light illuminated the screen.
It read,
OUT OF RANGE – NO SIGNAL.
“Fuck!”
She grabbed his shirt and tugged.
“Please, Jack. Come back. I need you…please.”
8:16
Christopher floated above his mother, sobbing. The shaft of wood in her back thundered with sharp pressure. Her head was still spinning from what was probably a concussion. Her ribs ached. They were badly bruised. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to cry, but she cried anyway.
Just outside the door, they heard a scratching of fingernails scraping wood. The old woman’s fingernails. Linda was waking up, enduring her own agony. The wound in her leg made her whole body pound, all the way up to her neck. She was groggy and confused.
“What happened? I…”
Slowly, she sat up. The cool steel of the pistol was next to her leg. With it in hand, she pulled herself up, gripping the doorknob with the other. She rested her body’s weight on the right leg, leaving the other to hang loosely on the carpet. The boy was lying a few feet down from her. She leaned against the wall and limped to him. She felt more lightheaded with each step. Thinking she might pass out again, she paused. Her vision was narrow, in a black tunnel. Christopher was at the end of that tunnel, just below her.
With tightly closed eyes she tried to will away her pain. She’d waited so long for this and she wasn’t going to blow it. She couldn’t. Her lover was counting on her.
Outside, above the frozen grass, Jack was suffocating. He could do nothing to break from Killien’s punishment. They spun around in a drifting spiral of electric pain. Then they saw her. The shadow in the window. Linda was awake. The iron grip let loose of Jack in an instant. A face inside the powerful mist smiled.
“This has been fun Jack, but I gotta go now,” he said before turning back toward the house.
Jack’s energy flashed bright yellow, boiling, Nooo!
He started to follow but a force was holding him back. Focusing his attention behind him, he saw it. An enormous brilliant blue entity had appeared. Its bright haze was powerful. It spoke to him. It was the language he’d heard the entity use during his first travel. It was the tongue of angels.
Go back. Sally needs your help. Hurry.
He turned to the house.
But, my family. I need to…
It stopped him.
No Jack. You can do nothing here. Go now.
Jack pleaded with the spirit, Please help us.
We cannot interfere. You are God’s vessel. Only you can stop it.
Then Jack remembered a verse in the forbidden prophecy. It had spoken of energy signatures and living things. He looked down into the yard. The frigid wind and snow blasted at the frozen grass and little tree. The thin branches and trunk bent away from the blizzard’s push. A soft white haze glowed from inside it.
He knew what he had to do. But in order to do it he needed his body and the book.
He also needed Sally.
8:17
Jack flew hard and fast over the eastbound highway.
Where is she?
He had to find her quickly. The ritual was beginning, and he didn’t know how long it would take. Fearing he was too late already, he tried to go faster.
Sally sat crying behind the wheel of the little car. She blamed herself for sliding off the road. She wondered what could be happening at the house. Had her grandmother hurt anyone? She wondered how she could have been so stupid to believe her. Looking back on it now she saw how Linda had fooled her. She had been so utterly nice. Sickeningly nice, in fact.
She’s the textbook fucking example of nice.
Her picture could’ve sat right there, beside the definition. Of course no one would’ve ever expected her big grin would have anything at all to do with the knife she held behind her back.
Oh no, not at all.
Sally flipped through the book she had stolen from Linda’s house. The answer had to be there somewhere. She just wasn’t looking hard enough.
Or perhaps, (she thought in a flash of cliché wisdom) maybe I’m looking too hard.
Either way, she did not have the solution and her frustration made her turn the pages with an impatient slap.
The blowing snow dusting up from the roadside hid all but the faintest red blur, from the taillights. Jack saw that the Volkswagen had spun around on the ice backwards. He couldn’t see the shine of the headlights until he was just above the car. They were almost completely covered with shimmering white. His body took a gasping gulp of warm air when he settled into it.
Sally jerked in surprise, “Jack! God, I’m so sorry. The car’s stuck.”
Opening his eyes, he looked over, “We’ve got to hurry.”
He opened his door and went around to the front of the Volkswagen to push. Sally put the car in reverse and gave it some gas. The tires spun in place as Jack bent down. With his shoulder and arm tight on the hood, she revved it. He fell forward as the car began to move. Up in the middle of the highway she turned the wheel and backed slowly to turn around. Once it was facing the right direction he got back in. She saw his red face and sad eyes.
“What’s happening? What do we do?”
“Just drive. Get there as fast as you can. I’ll tell you everything.”
She got it up to thirty miles per hour, hoping they wouldn’t hit a bad patch of ice and slide again. She listened to what her grandmother had done to Stacey and she heard about Christopher. Jack took the book from her lap.
“I’ve got a plan. I don’t know if it will work, but we have to try.”
She listened to what she had to do. When they got there she would have to act fast. Jack finished what he needed to say and left his body once again. He had to get back to the house.
Sally was all alone again. She drove on through the blizzard as the fear welled up inside her. As much as she now hated her grandma, as important as tonight’s outcome was to the whole world, she didn’t know if she was capable of hurting Linda. If it came down to a standoff, Sally feared that she would lose.
8:18
Linda, light headed and weak, struggled to remember the words. The boy lay on the bed in front of her. With one hand over his forehead and the other over his heart, it began. She spoke in the spiritual tongue of the sons of God.
“Flay hooth de moki sartinase! Com hotha too beesh!”
The body shook in a violent spasm.
“Fron too ny lunda beesh!”
The wind rumbled against the walls. A window in the kitchen shattered.
“Luciphim de Naldophim!”
Stacey could hear the words faintly behind the ringing in her ears. With her strength gone, she couldn’t move. She could only listen.
“Neephylym no meeka, Yahovaphim!”
Jack swooped down through the roof. He looked around for Chris’ spirit. He was still in the room with his mother.
Christopher.
Daddy.
He embraced his son. They cried, their energy mixing at the edges.
Linda called out a final incantation, “Xiaba de namtho can day!”
A thick bolt of astral lightning cut down from the sky, into the room and entered the body and spirit. It surrounded them with a clap of light and thunder. The charge threw Linda backward into the wall with her muscles seizing into a painful knot.
And then it was gone. The small eyes lined with blood opened, staring up at the dark texture of the ceiling. The straining pressure inside was still there, but the flesh was his. The body would soon grow into the size needed for its large occupant. All that was required was a little time and Killien knew that it was no longer against him.
He was the proud owner of a new body. With universal law, God’s law, now broken he lay there lingering for a moment. He was in no hurry. He had all the time in the world.
The six-year-old laugh was twisted with the thick rasp of years of experience. Linda sat up, welcoming him to the realm of the living.
Christopher, clutching his father, frantic and confused, had been disconnected from everything he’d ever known. His place had been stolen.
He had nowhere to go.
8:19
Killien climbed over the broken door and entered the hallway. The house was getting cold. The blizzard’s air was pouring in the broken kitchen window. Snow was gathering on the sink and floor.
The rumbling hum of the entities above the house was gone. They were no longer needed. He had sent them away. He stood facing the back bedroom, calling out to Jack. “Come and see my new home Jack! Come and see what you helped me to do!”
Jack’s spirit passed through the door. He stared down the corridor. A murderer stood at the other end, grinning.
“Come and see my friend. See what you have done for me.”
Bastard!
The powerful one could hear him, even from inside the flesh. It could always hear him. “Don’t look so disappointed. This was meant to be.”
Get out!
Killien crossed his arms, standing with confidence.
“Oh no, Jack. I’m not going anywhere. I like it here.”
Go to Hell!
“I guarantee you, Hell is coming. It will be here very soon, but…” a big toothy smile took over what used to be Christopher’s face, “…it’s not coming for me.”
8:20
Sally’s car slid around the corner as she turned off the highway onto Fremont Drive. She let off the accelerator and it straightened out. She hoped she could find his house. She knew where Pike Avenue was but in this weather she doubted she could see the house number.
When the Volkswagen got to Fourth Street, it turned right. The lights from the houses were vague yellow blurs behind the thick fog. Hers was the only car on the road. She drove carefully down the middle of the street keeping a watchful eye on what she assumed was the edge of the pavement.
Taking a Kleenex from her pocket, she wiped the collecting moisture from the side window. The stop sign at Pike Avenue was almost completely covered over with snow. Only one spot of red showed through. Turning left, she squinted trying to see the number on the first mailbox. It definitely started with a three, that much was apparent. But then again, all of the addresses on that block began with a three. The second number was covered over in white and the third looked like an eight, though it was impossible to be sure. The next mailbox was on the opposite side of the road. She slowed down to read it.
Is that a seven?
No. Not a seven.
A one?
She hit the brake. The tires skimmed the ice for another few feet and stopped. Sally threw her door open and ran around the back of the car. Her sneaker caught a slick spot and she slid down onto the hard surface.
“Ouch! Fuck!”
With her hip aching she pulled herself up. Her gloved hand swiped the snow off of the tall thick address on the mailbox.
Jack and Stacey Sawyer, 331 Pike Avenue.
“This is it!”
Leaving the car in the middle of the road, she started across the yard. The frozen grass crunched under her feet. Holding tight to the railing she went up to the stairs of the porch. It was slick. Her heart was thumping. She was afraid of what she would find inside.
What if it’s too late?
Her mind shot to an image of her grandmother lying dead on the floor. Sally’s hands shook with cold and fear. Each breath she took was panting, short. She reached out for the doorknob. The body in her head was no longer her grandmother’s. Linda was now standing over the corpse. The slump in the darkness had become Jack’s wife.
Oh, God.
The face was bloody, eyes open with a blank stare. She closed her eyes and tried to shake off the picture in her mind.
Keep it together, Sally. Keep it fucking together.
With the knob turned, she slowly creaked open the door.
8:21
Linda was watching out the kitchen window. She saw the Volkswagen with its engine running out in the street. With baseball bat in hand she limped over to the front door.
Holding it as if she were up to bat, she waited. Slowly the brass knob turned. The blast of freezing wind entered with her dark silouette.
Sally turned, pushing out the storm. The door clacked shut. It was dark in the living room. Sally felt for a light switch. Her heart was pounding, shaking her whole body.
Movement.
A shadow.
Sally’s voice was weak, “Who’s there?”
Silence.
Oh shit, oh…
The bat swung hard into Sally’s stomach. She fell forward, screaming.
On her hands and knees.
The pain.
She rolled onto her back to block the next swing.
Linda’s face, smiling, “I’ll kill you bitch!”
Sally raised her foot and kicked. Her wet sneaker connected with a bloody leg. Her grandmother howled in agony as she fell. She hit the floor and the tourniquet loosened. The blood flowed.
Killien’s six-year-old laughter echoed behind them. It no longer mattered what happened to Linda. The ritual was complete. The body was his.
Astral Christopher felt a tingling sensation. It started in the center of his energy, pulling upward. Jack could feel it too.
The anguish.
The punishment that had ripped Killien away.
It was coming.
Jesus, no.
The powerful grip was nearly there.
God, don’t let this happen.
Jack held tight to his son, trying to protect him. The searing stream of hate blasted into the room. It paused for a moment, staring at Killien inside the boy’s body. With the ritual complete it could no longer recognize him as its target.
Nonetheless, it was about to take someone back with it to pay for a murderer’s sins. That was its reason for being. The blackest part of Hell’s core was waiting. It was bound to its purpose.
Its new purpose was Christopher.
8:22
The powerful grip surrounded Jack and Christopher with a fiery swirl. The anguish snapped at them as they struggled. A wall of rock solid mist formed between father and son. They were ripped apart. Jack screamed, end over end. The young spirit, now trapped inside a liquid ball of searing heat, strained against its captor.
Daddy!
Jack’s energy fizzled and swam in violent flashes. He desperately pounded the dense surface.
No!
The shifting red sphere did not waver. The walls did not give way.
Don’t take my son.
It was invincible.
Please, take me. Oh God, please.
It sat motionless in front of Jack, looking at him without feeling, without caring. It hovered there, blankly staring at him. Its attention then focused inward at Christopher, tasting its new soul. Then, in a bright flash of one instant, it whisked him away.
Jack’s ethereal yell reached out to the unforgiving sky that had just swallowed his helpless son. He shot up through the roof ineffectually following Hell’s stream. It led up into the darkest blackness he had ever seen. Jack’s soul was frantically crying, soaring into the void. The terrible path led into the very heart of damnation.
The words Killien had spoken rang in his mind, settling into the most desperate cracks in his being.
When you are drifting though the core of damnation…
He flew as fast as he could but he couldn’t keep up. He was losing them.
…when your soul is on fire and the fear and pain are boiling in the center of you…
He caught one last distant glimpse of his son’s face through the wall of the sphere.
…when you would do anything, and I do mean anything, to make it stop…
Christopher writhed in pain, screaming for his daddy to save him.
…You’ll wish I had consumed you, made you part of me…
Jack’s energy exploded with fear and horror. It was his fault. He alone held the responsibility for all of it. It was he who had wanted to know the secrets of the universe. Only now was he finding out the cost of those secrets.
His own son was about to pay the price for him.
At that point, in the very pinnacle of torment, non-existence would be a blessing.
All Jack could do was watch them disappear.
copyright ©2002 Brian Holtz
All rights reserved