Dead Village (6 page)

He remembered the evil minister, who almost killed his old uncle, and how Griff came and rescued everyone.

He was also aware that in the end the creatures came in large numbers.

A different kind of fear enveloped him now. A fear so great it penetrated every part of his being.

Now he understood why his mother didn't like camping in places like this. Frightening things can happen in forests at night, he felt.

Suddenly the large hare he had seen earlier came powering toward him, and as it sprinted passed he could just make out its mangled leg. Only now it wasn't limping. Something had badly frightened the hare, and that something must be coming his way, he felt.
The Kavanaghe's
he thought.
Yes, that must be it.
He stood silent and still, watching, but there was no sign of the poachers.

A large bird flew low and almost collided with him, and he moved quickly. But even darker memories were invading his thoughts now, flashing back and forth across his mind like some built in cinema in his head. A cinema where he was the only customer and the film being shown was for his eyes only.

He held his head between his hands and cursed.

Then he looked toward the sky, and a tear ran down his cheek.

“Oh no, no,” he groaned loudly as he turned away.

Because now Tully remembered everything.

CHAPTER 6

Dan Winters slammed the car door and stared across at the all new magnificent glass building, which had only been opened a fortnight previously. A large fancy sign at the top was lit up in bold yellow and black letters. ‘Perryman Plaza,' the words read, and suddenly the sign had changed to a much bigger sign, with beautiful coloured patterns that formed out image's of different parts of the brain.
Smart sign,
he thought.

He quickly walked to the men's room and entered the cubicle. Already some vandal had used a knife to scratch some words on the inside of the toilet door, and Dan ran his fingers over the freshly cut marks.

‘I'm a schizophrenic and so am I,' the words said, and Dan would have laughed if he hadn't found it so pathetic, even if the words did have a ring of truth to them.

“No my friend, you are a common vandal,” he whispered. “Welcome to the freekin Psycho club.”

Dan had never been to see a shrink before, and he felt his cheeks redden at the indignity of it all. However, he had promised Lynn and the children he would attend, and if this could end his problem, then he was just going to go for it.

When he entered the office he was surprised that it was not what he had expected. Somehow he had pictured it to be a very clinical place, with white walls and stern faced staff. But this beautiful high tech outer office with the mounted flat screens on the walls and the mirrored polished tiled floor appealed to him. Large cactus plants seemed to fill every corner of the room, and soft classical background music played out from hidden speakers, high in the ceiling, he suspected.

The young female secretary smiled pleasantly at him and ushered him into the doctor's office.

He stood trance like, hoping that maybe he would get the answers he so badly needed, and also get some kind of closure on this. It just wasn't fair to his family, or himself, he felt.

“Hello, you must be Mr Daniel Winters.” A soft voice almost whispered from behind him, as he stared at the certificates adorning the back wall.

“Sorry, um, miss, I didn't hear you come in. Very impressive place you people have here, very impressive indeed,” Dan said as he pointed to the wall.

“The doctor seems, um, very knowledgeable,” Dan mumbled nervously, as he pointed at the certificates.

“I am the doctor,” the young woman replied.

Dan stared hard at the very young baby faced looking woman approaching him, and his embarrassment grew, as his face reddened even more.

He didn't want to admit that he had a problem to a young girl like this. No way could he come clean to her. Why she looked as though she was just fresh out of high school. He had somehow made a mental picture of an older man on his journey across town, a heavy set guy, thick glasses and beard, with maybe a book under one arm, and a pipe in his hand.
A person of unquestionable experience and understanding,
he thought he would be meeting. Someone with whom he could feel more comfortable. And someone he could open up to.

Dan now felt more than embarrassed. In fact, Dan somehow felt old. And how the hell did a young woman like this get so many certificates as were nailed to the freekin wall anyhow? Dan wondered.

‘This has all been a big mistake,' he had wanted to say to the girl. ‘I'm not crazy. Why I'm just as sane as the next man. I only came here because of my damn wife and kids. Anyway, it's only because of the dreams. It's really no big deal.'

He had just rehearsed this over in his mind, and was about to say something, when the young woman spoke first.

“I'm Doctor Janet Smallwood, and please Mr Winters, relax,” she said, as Dan fiddled with his collar.

Why this young woman can read my freekin mind,
he thought.

When Dan sat down he felt confused, because now he had two fears, a fear of heights and a new fear of shrinks.

It was only about ten minutes into the session when Dan thought about how foolish he must be sounding to her. The baby faced woman showed no emotion, and her body language gave nothing away. She simply sat crossed legged; her short mini-skirt revealing her long well shaped legs, which was more of a distraction than anything else.

A picture of the Eiffel tower hung on the far wall, and Dan wondered why it was there. He couldn't help but stare up at it.

Her voice was very soothing, much too soothing, he felt. And somehow it all sounded put on and false to him. This young girl didn't really care about him, he believed. He was just one of many of the forgettable faces she had to deal with on a daily basis. It was the green stuff with the dollar signs printed on each side that appealed to this lady, he decided. He had always felt himself to be a great judge of character, and although he had only met this doctor for a few minutes, he had already branded her as one of life's takers. His experience on his job had made him apprehensive and mistrustful of many people, and now she was included.

He stared again at the Eiffel tower picture. A stabbing thought pattern in his head was trying to tell him something, biting and scratching and scattering across his brain as the young doctors voice sounded off in the background. The large sign outside reflecting in from a window, momentarily distracted him, and somehow the monstrous effigy of the pulsating brain frightened him. He looked away, back to the photo and stared at the top of the tower. Suddenly something clicked.

A memory came flooding into his head, and the young girls seductive sounding voice trailed off as his thoughts moved into a holding pattern and took control.

He remembered Beatrice, and the trip to Paris again. Almost every detail came flooding into his brain this time. They had been strolling along the Champs Elysees, looking for an appealing restaurant, when Beatrice walked off the sidewalk to avoid some dog crap, and onto the side of the road. It was just twenty minutes after their visit to the famous tower in Paris, and it was as she turned around to talk to him, it happened.

Dan had pulled her back as the speeding motorcyclist almost crashed into her.

The wing mirror had caught his elbow though, as he pulled her away. Dan had been gashed quite badly as the metal frame holding the mirror in place ripped off, tearing his jacket, and smashing as it hit the ground. The speeding bike wobbled a few times, but didn't stop, and simply sped off around a corner.

“Bastard,” Dan had shouted after him.

A small crowd had gathered around them and offered some friendly support to his wife, who was badly shaken up over it. Dan didn't bother with surgery though, and simply shrugged it off; cleaning the small wound and applying some paper stitches from a little medical kit that he kept in his suitcase when they returned to their hotel room.

“Those deep scrapes will scar you for life Dan,” Beatrice had informed him at the time.

The doctor's voice was higher now, asking him if he was listening to her.

Dan sat upright in the comfortable seat and stared at the young girl for a moment. She fidgeted in her chair as Dan continued to stare silently at her, and Dan didn't even realise how uncomfortable she was with his erratic and strange behaviour.

He threw off his coat and pulled at his shirt sleeve, as the dumfounded young psychiatrist looked on.

Just at the back of his left elbow, he saw the scars. Small, but there nonetheless. A small area of healed tissue that had been there unnoticed by him for some time, criss-crossed his elbow.

In fact, he had never noticed these small scars before.

“My God,” he said to the startled young woman, as the different memories continued to crash through his head.

In this other memory he was walking beside someone, and the man was telling him about the demon in the forest. It was Tully!

Then his wife's funeral entered his mind, the cleansing lights,

Griff, Rev McLeay, everything. And now he knew the truth. He held his head in his hands and doubled over, almost falling from the couch.

“Are you all right Mr Winters? Mr Winters,” she repeated.

“No,” he answered with eyes bulging. “Um, what I mean is, the demon, it came for us in the forest, in Ireland. And do you know what?”

“N-no, w-what?” Dr Smallwood stuttered nervously.

“I think it has returned.”

“Th-the demon, did you just say the demon has returned?”

“Yeah!”

“Can you tell me when you first encountered this demon of yours, Mr Winters?”

Dan stared into her face again, but his expressionless look gave nothing away.

“It was in the forest, and it killed an entire patrol of young soldiers.”

Dan rubbed roughly at his forehead as though he was in considerable pain. And now the doctor wished that she had never agreed to take this patient on. She had never been in a frightening situation like this one before, and she looked around to see if the receptionist was watching. She would have to go on though, show her professionalism.

She took a deep breath.

“The forest?”

“Yeah,” the forest,” Dan choked.

“Maybe we should look back to your childhood, Mr Wint…”

“Huh?”

“I said maybe we should look back to your childho…”

“I don't think so,” Dan interrupted as he glanced around the room and ignored her.

“Mr Winters, I'm sure you are a very intelligent man, but sometimes we simply have to look at the other side of the coin. Some deep emotional problem is obviously hid…”

“Listen, lady,” Dan interrupted again. “I've had enough of your freekin bullshit for one day, so don't patronise me. I've seen this thing with my own two eyes. You know nothing of what is out there.”

Dan grabbed his coat rather roughly, and made for the door as the doctor stared after him, pleased that he had gone.

Her secretary stormed into the office almost immediately.

“Are you all right doctor Smallwood? What's wrong with Mr Winters? He almost knocked my table over on his way out.”

The doctor stared at Dan's file for a moment before speaking.

“Just about everything,” she answered.

“Crazy as a fucking doughnut,” she whispered to herself.

Tears ran down Dan's cheeks as he drove toward home. What would this mean to him? Would his wife and children disappear now that he knew the truth? Would Lynn be dead again and he would find himself back with Beatrice?

He remembered the cleansing lights Griff had sent him through. The little bears head had been at his feet, just before he had passed out. Griff had informed him that these lights prevented evil from passing through. And that should evil pass through then the consequences would be devastating to mankind. He just couldn't get that little blue bears head from his thoughts, because now that he thought about it, it wasn't a pleasant looking bear. This bear looked evil.

Dan instinctively knew that this small bear had something to do with the way things were now panning out. There could be no other explanation. This bear head with its missing torso had smiled at him from between his feet. Not a kindly smile, he felt, but a twisted evil smirk.

Something serious had gone wrong in the lights.

He would have to phone someone in Ireland right away, and try to find out what the situation was over there. Get in touch with Tully or Donald O'Shea, or anyone from the small band that defeated the demons at the mine.

“Please God,” he prayed through sobs. “Don't take Lynn and my children away from me. I couldn't bear to lose them.”

*  *  *  *  *

When his head cleared he thought about Beatrice. Sure Beatrice was beautiful. But that was as far as it went with her. A cold selfish and unloving woman was the way he remembered her, and the sham of a marriage they shared. A marriage where she took and he gave.

Suddenly he felt frightened. What if Beatrice should suddenly show up in the flesh? What paradox of nature would occur should this happen when she physically appeared? Why Lynn wouldn't be able to comprehend these circumstances.

Many people get re-married when their love one's die,
Dan thought.
And most of these people remember the past, but get on with the future.

But Dan knew his circumstance was different. This was a second bite of the cherry for him; with the wife he believed had once been gone for good.

Something, a thought, was niggling at Dan though. Then suddenly it came to him.

The thought of a tragic event from the past rippled through his senses.

Dan remembered covering a story for his paper some years previously, about a woman whose husband was killed in Vietnam. This woman had re-married and had borne three children to her second husband, who also became a loving father to her infant son Timmy.

This little boy had never met his real father, as he was born when his father was on active service. All he had was the photographs, and the loving stories his mother would tell him about his dad. Things though, were to change for Timmy. Things were to change for them all.

*  *  *  *  *

Lieutenant John William Jones, a tough son-of-a-bitch, had been captured with eight others, when their chopper crash landed about twenty miles from their base near Hi-Pong city.

The men would be systematically tortured, Jones knew. They would also be paraded and degraded passed angry crowds on their journey to the Viet-Cong encampment. Lieutenant Jones however had been giving the matter some thought and had come to the conclusion that they were all about to be murdered before this happened, and very soon. He had noticed the agitated guards arguing among themselves. He didn't need to speak the language to understand just what was going on between them. The body language gave it away.

He had estimated there were about twenty goons in the small patrol, but he knew they could count on being met by many more, then they would be done for. Any attempt at an escape would have to happen very quickly, before the rest appeared. The crash in the chopper though, caused by an engine malfunction and not an act of war, had at the very least shaken the men badly. The pilots had fought with the chopper, whose engine had cut out, using their experience to free spin to the ground. The heavy sheer-wind blowing down the mountain, and the weight factor of the troops and equipment, pushed the chopper almost onto its side, and it hit the ground with a much harder than expected bump.