Dead Village (19 page)

“Who a-are y-you people?” Dan stammered. “I don't know you.”

“What's wrong dad?” The girl asked.

They could hear their mother coming hurriedly down the stairs, and as she appeared, they looked sadly at her.

She held her arms out to Dan in a caring manner.

He moved further back, knocking over the small coffee table, smashing the golden vase, scattering water and yellow flowers across the floor.

“I told you, you needed help Dan. Didn't I tell him children?” Beatrice spat, as Dan stared at the two children he didn't know, or even wanted to know.

“Nooo,” Dan yelled.

He stumbled to the door, almost trance like, and ran from the house to the car, as Beatrice and the children ran behind her. Fear had claimed him totally now, and he threw himself into the car in almost a daze. The real fear that his wife Lynn, and his children were now gone, enveloped his every thought.

He was panicking now, as Beatrice and the two strangers who claimed to be his son and daughter clawed at the car windows.

“Come back to the house dad,” they screamed. “Come back.”

Dan just wanted to get away from there, anywhere, but he wasted a few precious seconds as he searched his pockets for the keys. Then, and just as Beatrice pounded on the window, he saw the key ring chain dangle from the steering column.

He started the engine and pressed the gas as she thumped hard at the glass, cursing, her face twisted, and he watched the rev counter hit the red as he wheel spun the vehicle away.

Beatrice yelled after him, but in blind panic he raced on, as Beatrice fell to her knees, sobbing, and her children watched him disappear into the distance.

Beatrice stood up almost immediately though and held the children's hands, the sobbing stopped, and as they walked back toward the house, she laughed loudly, as the children, their eyes black as night, laughed with her.

*  *  *  *  *

Dan almost collided with another car, as he sped across the junction. His eyes filled with tears as he drove on, away from this place.

He could see Mr Cliff in the rear view mirror, smirking at him.

‘You shouldn't have interfered,' Mr Cliff said.

“Fuck you, you little piece of shit,” he yelled.

The bears head gave an unpleasant, evil laugh, and as Dan glanced away and then back to the mirror, it disappeared.

Out in front he could clearly see the detective's car. Smoke poured from its tail pipe and almost covered the road in a blanket of grey waste.

He raced after it, through the smoke, out onto the freeway, and gunned the pedal.

“You bastard, where's Lynn?” Dan shouted as he pushed hard on the gas. “Where's Lynn?”

The cop sped on, faster; sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, he went.

Dan chased after him, faster and faster, as he zoomed along, passing and swerving the other motorists.

Drivers pulled to the side, their blank terrified faces staring out at him as he raced passed, almost side swiping them.

He was doing around one hundred and ten, when the car in front seemed to somehow skid sideways without tumbling over, and come to an abrupt stop.

Just before he collided in a fireball, Dan could see the small figure in the back seat with the hood and the scythe, wave at him from the rear side passenger window.

Only blackness.

*  *  *  *  *

A heavy rainfall beat heavily on the bedroom window panes, like a thousand little drummer boys marching into battle.

A familiar but blurred light fixture slowly came into view, and Dan could hear singing coming from downstairs. He recognised the wallpaper straight off, because, he had picked it himself that day at the store, when Lynn couldn't make up her mind. He pulled back the cover and looked down at himself. He sighed deeply. He was intact, but what about the accident?

The headache he was feeling was as bad as he'd ever experienced before.

He slowly walked downstairs unaware of just what he was going to find. His stomach was knotted, his throat parched.

“Hello Dad,” Grace said.

“Yeah, hi dad,” Tom added.

He tried to speak to them as the tears rolled down his face, but he felt weak.

He hugged them tightly with all the strength he could muster, and kissed them both on the cheek.

“What's gotten into you dad?” Grace laughed, while Tom looked embarrassed and pretended to watch the ball game.

Lynn turned from the stove and approached Dan.

“Not another of those headaches Dan?”

“Um, no!”

He tried to hug her, tell her everything was going to be all right, but she stepped back, angry, her face hiding nothing.

“Listen Dan, please don't you lie to me, you promised you would go see Doctor Brooks,” Lynn barked.

The room was spinning now, as Lynn's voice drifted in and out, only to come back each time louder than before.

Dan fell into the chair, and sobbed into his hands.

“Do you promise?”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” he mumbled. “I promise.”

His mind was disorientated, but he remembered everything, and now somehow he was back to his loving family again.

CHAPTER 22

Three weeks had passed, but Francis still felt uneasy. It was a clear dry day, as she and Tully walked around the village market, and she reached out and gripped his hand firmly.

“Are you sure everything will be all right Tully? The other one, um Charles, is still in the forest somewhere.”

Tully gently pulled her close.

“Charles means us no harm,” he whispered. “Why I'd be long gone by now if he had.”

“So you think it's really over then?”

“Yes, it's really over. I'm sure of it.”

Tully looked to the sky and took a deep breath. He had already returned to the forest, but only in his role as gamekeeper, and not at night. Tully though, wasn't sure if it was really over.

He had witnessed the forces of evil twice now, so he wouldn't take anything for granted anymore. He wouldn't mention this to Francis though. She had been through enough, he felt.

“I have something to tell you Tully,” Francis said with a childish innocent smile, and he cocked his head, puzzled.

Suddenly a voice rang out before she could speak.

“Hello you two,” Jeremiah Fagan shouted.

Jeremiah was accompanied by his wife Jo, who was fully swelled with pregnancy, and they were approaching them fast.

“How are you, Jo, Jeremiah? Tully asked. “I hope you are taking good care of this fine lady,” Tully stated, as he pointed at her swollen stomach.

“Oh yes, Jo had the scan, and it's going to be twins. We don't know what sex they are yet, but we're not bothered about that.”

“Well, I wish you all the best with them,” Francis said. “Oh and you must come visit with us,” she added. “Our door is always open to you.”

“Thank you, we will,” Jo answered.

Jeremiah had been suspended from the force after they found out he had lied to them. Father O'Neill though, had written on his behalf, accepting full responsibility for everything, and he had heard through the grapevine that Jeremiah was only going to get his knuckles rapped. Amazingly though, the young priest was assured that his position within the church was secure, even though he had broken almost every rule in the book.

Tully believed this was mainly down to his popularity with the people and the fact that his church had the best attendance for a hundred miles in any given direction.

Francis wasn't so sure though. She believed he was kept on because of the embarrassment he could have caused them, should he be defrocked.

Father O'Neill had decided to move on in any event. He had applied for, and had been offered a position up in Monaghan, and it was made clear to him that it would be a great challenge for him. He had decided to accept, but he would not be allowed to take Scraps. However, he knew Tully and Francis would give him a great home, and Tully had already made it clear that Scraps could accompany him on his job as gamekeeper. This would be better for Scraps than keeping him locked up all day while he performed his daily visits around the congregation. He had settled any business, packed his meagre belongings, and now he was ready to go.

*  *  *  *  *

It was a fine dry day, and only a light breeze filled the air as Father Tim O'Neill walked from the church for the last time.

He stood sadly for a moment as he held Scraps under his arm and scanned his surroundings. A group of people, mainly young girls, stood huddled around the church door as they said their goodbye's to him. Tim almost felt like a pop star, and still managed a joke to the sad looking faces surrounding him.

“I hear there's a fine looking and younger priest than I coming to take over from me ladies,” he said, laughing.

As he walked away he talked to Scraps with affection.

“Today you go to your knew home, my little friend,” he said, as Scraps, ears pricked, wagged its tail at him. He sat the dog on the passenger seat of his little car, and drove away from the waving crowd. As he looked in his rear mirror, through the waving, he could see the church slowly fade into the background.

“I'm taking you to meet your new parents,” he told Scraps.

“Oh what a fine life you are going to have my little friend. I will sorely miss you though. In any event, they will be keeping in touch with me, and they can send me photos and reports of how you are doing, so make sure you behave yourself, you little scallywag.”

Scraps barked, as though he understood, and Tim wiped a tear from his eye and pushed the pedal.

*  *  *  *  *

When Francis placed the key into the door lock, she felt a little shock run through her wrist and she jerked back slightly.

“What's wrong,” Tully asked.

“Just me being clumsy with my wrist movement,” she replied.

Tully laughed.

As Francis opened the door, she turned to Tully and smiled.

“Do you remember me mentioning to you earlier today that I had something to tell you, Tully?”

“Yes, I remember,” he said, still puzzled.

“Well come inside and I wi…”

Something was wrong. A bitter cold air filled the hallway, and Tully immediately pushed Francis behind him.

Francis dropped the shopping bags down to the floor with a clatter, and gripped Tully tightly.

“What in Gods name?” Tully whispered, as he slowly moved along, down the hallway and into the darkened living room.

He flicked at the light switch, but the room stayed dark.

Now as great a fear as he had ever felt before, surged through his body, as his eyes focused in the darkness.

Francis entered behind, her hand firmly on his shoulder, squeezing.

The living room was even colder than the hallway. Freezing it was. Tully scanned around, but could see nothing.

“Get out of here Francis, get out now” he whispered in a commanding tone, his teeth chattering in the almost artic like conditions.

“No!”

“You must Francis, it's me it wants.”

Tully knew the demon had returned to take him. There could be no other rational explanation for it. It had just taken a bit longer than he thought. He also knew the demon was here, right now, in his house, and he didn't want Francis to get hurt. Now with Dan gone, and Thomas dead, he knew this time it would be hopeless.

He leaned against the wall; his strength somehow drained, and moved his hands to his face in despair.

He turned to look at Francis with tears in his eyes.

*  *  *  *  *

Father O'Neill pulled up at the house and once again lifted little Scraps from the seat. In the other hand he held a dog leash and two small plastic coloured bowls.

As he moved to the front door, which lay wide open, he could see groceries in the hallway which had fallen out from discarded bags. Shopping bags sat half in, half out of the doorway, and a few smashed eggs had rolled out from their box and down onto the road side. As he cautiously moved nearer, he could hear raised voices from inside, and Tim felt his stomach tighten. Something was happening here, something very bad, he knew.

“Get out Francis, please, save yourself,” Tully's familiar voice sounded.

“No, I won't leave you,” Francis answered.

The priest could feel the cold in the hallway, and the odd smell. A smell he had come across before. He instantly realised what the problem was.

Tim dropped the bowls and dog leash on top of the bags, and with Scraps still held firmly under his arm, he rushed into the house.

“Tully, Francis,” he shouted.

“In here Tim,” Francis's voice answered.

As the priest entered the dark freezing room, Scraps struggled and leapt from his arm, down to the floor.

“Scraps,” Tim shouted, but Scraps ignored him and ran to a far corner, barking into the darkness.

“It has returned for me Tim,” Tully stated, pointing to the corner. “It's here!”

Father O'Neill instinctively pushed his hand down to retrieve his crucifix, but he had it packed away inside his suitcase.

As he stood in his jeans and casual shirt, he suddenly felt helpless. Scraps moved slowly back, still barking, as the hooded figure moved slowly out from the dark corner.

The small room made it look much bigger since when they had last seen it in the open forest, and as it moved out it into the centre of the room, it pulled at its hood, revealing a hideous and ravaged face.

Francis pushed her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound she knew she couldn't prevent, as Tully visibly swayed.

“My God,” Tim whispered.

Scraps barked again.

“It's Charles,” Father O'Neill stated. “And I don't think he's here to harm you Tully.”

The creature wasn't levitating this time, but standing on the ground, shaking and fighting for breath, and at once they could tell how much a pathetic state the creature was in. Small tufts of hair covered its otherwise bald scarred head, and a large deep gash ran from its eye to its chin, the result of its battle in the forest with the little dead girl. A thick green substance drooled from its mouth.

Francis sobbed.

It raised its arm and pointed into the far corner. A pitiful cry came from its throat as it tried to speak, and Tully moved across to where it pointed.

“It's the spear, he's showing us the spear,” Tully cried.

The deep rasping voice was struggling to say something.

“K-ki-kil-meee.”

Tully lifted the spear and held it horizontal, point aimed toward the creature.

“He wants us to kill him,” Tully said.

“Killlll-meeee,” the voice rasped again.

“We must end his suffering,” Tully stated. “Charles saved us in the forest.”

As he drew back the spear to strike, Francis shouted.

“No Tully, if you use the spear, you'll die. Remember what Dan said.”

“But Dan used it?” Tully answered.

“Yes but he was accepted by the Lakota.”

Tully pulled the spear back further, ignoring her.

“Do you want me to be like my mother and bring our baby up on my own Tully?” Francis shouted.

Tully turned to her.

“Our baby?”

“Yes, that's what I was going to tell you. I'm pregnant Tully. I need you with me now. I don't want our child to grow up without a father.”

“Pl-lee-s, ki-lll-meee,” the creature begged.

Tully paused for a moment, then pushed the spear into the priest's hands.

“You must do it Tim, now,” he ordered. “We owe it to Charles. You must end this for him. Only you can do this thing.”

Father O'Neill stared at the creature and raised the spear.

“Do it,” Tully shouted, “do it.”

“I can't,” Father O'Neill croaked as he lowered the spear. I just can't kill any living thing. I've taken vows o…”

Suddenly, Francis pulled the spear from him and rammed it into the creature's heart.

“Nooo Francis, you'll die…” Tulley shouted, but it was too late.

“Go to your mother Charles,” Francis sobbed.

Charles staggered back against the wall, the spear stuck firmly in his chest, and they watched as his face rapidly changed.

A blue glow emulated all around him, as the tufts of hair disappeared, and the gash on his face healed. He began to take on a human like appearance, and soon he was the Charles of old. He smiled a caring smile at them.

At the end of the room a white curtain of light beamed down from ceiling to floor, and two figures stood, watching, arms outstretched. It was Greta and Ben, motioning to him, and he moved toward them. Just before he entered the light, he turned and nodded a thank you. Then he was gone and the light disappeared. Only the old Indian spear lay where the light had been. The cold was now dispersing rapidly, and the room temperature returned to normal.

Tully looked across to Francis. She had used the spear, but she was still alive.

“How can this be?” Tully questioned, as he stared at her, puzzled.
Didn't Dan say anyone using the spear would die?
Tully thought.

Francis could read his body language, and the look of shock etched on his face. Why Francis could read what he was thinking.

“You forget Tully; I have an innocent child growing inside of me. The curse couldn't kill me. Besides, you're forgetting something.”

Tully stared at her for a moment, puzzled.

“Sure wasn't my father a priest.”

Tully smiled and hugged her tightly, and then they said their goodbyes to Father O'Neill.

As he drove off he could hear Scraps barking behind him.

“Goodbye little friend,” he said, “goodbye.”

Francis had asked Tully to get rid of the spear, so Scraps first adventure was to accompany Tully deep into the forest, where Tully had wrapped the spear in cloth and laid it back into the earth where it had come from. He had dug the hole deep, and buried it in a place where no one would ever think of looking.

He thought of Thomas Lapahie, and as he looked into the sky, he could almost see the big Lakota Indian smile down at him. He walked away sadly, as Scraps followed behind, tail wagging.