The Last Customer (18 page)

           
“Father Gardner, what the hell are these people? I’m freaked out and I need answers,” Garth demanded.

           
Gardner turned and began walking with Garth, Winny and Cherri. He was struggling for breath but managed to say, “They’re unholy, demonic spirits. The bodies they wear are stolen. I know that’s hard to believe, but it’s real and it’s happening, and if we don’t come together and unite, we’ll be picked apart,” Gardner answered, wondering how crazy he sounded to these boys of simple, logical, thought.

Judging by the look of disbelief plastered across Garth’s face, he imagined very crazy.

           
“What do they want with us? What did we do to…the demons?” Winny asked, humbly.

           
“I don’t know, but it isn’t good. You might not have done anything. They want me and I think that the two of you were used as bait. There’s a reason
He
sent this upon you. Part of it was that they used you and your store to lure me in. They knew that I’d come and the three of you were just pawns to hook me. They’ll enjoy killing anything they’re permitted to in the process.” Gardner cocked an eyebrow. “Which means we’re all in danger—the both of you…me.” Then he turned to Cherri. “I don’t know who you are, but I know that you…”

           
Garth cut Gardner off and said, “Her and her boyfriends were in the middle of robbing us when those two showed up—the
unholy
or whatever you say they are. And as far as I’m concerned she can go anytime.”

           
Gardner shook his head.

“There’s meaning to everything about this night, Garth. Right now, we need to stick together. There’s strength in numbers,” Gardner explained.

Cherri stood near Winny, hoping that Garth would listen to Gardner. She was sure that he was
good
. She could feel it. She would follow him, trust in him, and do what he asked.

Cherri lightly grabbed Garth’s shirt. He shrugged her off and frowned at her. She stepped forward and said, “I didn’t want to rob your store. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. My…” She couldn’t say the word boyfriend in front of Winny. It would turn him off to her. But, right now, she needed to be honest. “I was in a bad relationship and I felt stuck. They robbed stores like yours for traveling money. We were on our way to Detroit and they needed more money. They’ve never killed anyone before…and I guess I’ve always been too weak to turn away from them.”

Gardner turned to Cherri, reached out and took her hand. It was warm and comforting. He smiled.

“There’s good in you and you are not weak. You can be strong, but you need to choose your strengths and staying with us is a good start,” Gardner told her. She felt ashamed, vulnerable. She couldn’t help but to agree with everything that Gardener said.

“Right now, I need to find my wife,” Gardner continued.

“Why does he want you?” Garth asked.

“He is the demon Sammael. I exorcised him from my wife, Donna, many years ago. He wants to kill us both, but mostly he wants to torment me. I took what he was intent on taking, and the demon holds grudges. Donna is in danger.”

“What kind of a priest were you?” Garth asked.

“The kind that deals with the vilest of evils imaginable; there’s a supernatural realm living all around us and we don’t see it unless it slips out, as it has tonight. I was born with the gift to see
it
and to fight
it
. I gave up my fight decades ago, which is why I believe this night is happening. I don’t know the level of your involvement in this fight, between Sammael and me, but you have been chosen, for one reason or another.”

Garth looked to Winny and then down at Cherri and said, “I don’t trust her. For all I know, she’s one of those
devil-things
too.”

“You’re going to have to trust her, or you’ll weaken our strength,” Gardner said.

“Why can’t I just get the hell out of here, find the cops, and let them take care of this?” Garth asked.

“It’s not that simple. If you must, you must, but I’ll tell you this. I believe that the result of bringing more people into this fight…is going to be the rise in body count and I don’t want anyone else to be hurt at my expense. Garth, there’s been too much death tonight. We need to find my wife and Sammael. I will fight him and I can beat him. I have before. I will do my best to protect you from him.” He shook his head. “But if you want to go your own way, there’s no one stopping you. I’m saving my fight for the demon.”

With total disregard for Gardner, Garth turned toward Winny. “Are you coming with me?” he asked and then walked toward the cornfields.

“Wait. We need to stick together. If you leave…” Winny started.

“If I leave, I’ll get help, moron. You can stay here if you like and get ripped apart by whatever the hell those things are.”

Cherri stepped toward Garth, but stopped when he locked angry eyes on her. “Garth, I know you don’t care for me. You have no reason to, but we need to stick together. It’s like Gardner said, there’s strength in numbers.”

“Yeah, like you and your two dumb-fuck boyfriends robbing my store. They had strength in numbers too.” Garth turned to Gardner. “Why is it that the bad guys always win? I’m an honest man and I can’t get a fucking break!” Garth finished, stepping away toward the cornfield.

A light breeze kicked up. It flung Cherri’s hair in front of her face.

The cornfield rustled.

“Let him go,” Gardner said. “His anger will only tear at our group.”

“I can’t.” Winny pleaded while walking toward his brother. “Garth, wait up.”

Cherri could no longer hear what they were saying. Garth pushed Winny away from him and then darted into the concealment of the corn.

Winny didn’t attempt to run after him. He came back, looked from Gardner to Cherri and asked, “What do we do now?”

Chapter 15

1

Pain stabbed at every joint in her body. The pounding in Donna Gardner’s head brought her back to consciousness. She hoped that when she opened her eyes, this would have all been a dream. But it wasn’t. She forced her eyes open. Dried blood crusted her eyelashes shut. Her muscles ached. Hot burning sensations exploded from her every extremity.

Shakily, she sat up straight and adjusted to see. She looked out the front windshield. She was in the squad car. Her stomach felt like it was filled with twisted metal. The outline of the man in the driver’s seat was overwhelming.

          
The night’s canvas whipped passed as she looked out the window of the speeding squad car. The man sitting behind the steering wheel looked young. His body was beaten, rotting and foul, but appeared young. The demon inside of him was old, ancient and powerful. There was something familiar about this demon. She knew him. It wasn’t his physical appearance that she recognized. It was
his presence
. She knew what this evil man was, what was inside of him. She’d felt the same evil three decades ago.

How could she forget?

It was the demon, her demon.

           
Never again, would she allow herself to become so weak that her soul would allow her body to be taken by a foul thing like the demon sitting in front of her. She didn’t care if he killed her—she would fight until her body quit. She would die before she became a victim of possession, again. Looking out the back windshield, she saw more headlights in the distance. Red and blue swirled above the headlights. The colorful illumination should have been reassuring, but Donna knew what the demon was capable of.

           
“What are you going to do?” she asked.

           
When he turned his head toward her—this time—his face appeared pale, almost green. His eyes were pure white and his smile stretched upward. His lips were torn in the corners. Dried blood was caked to his chin. It fell like flaking rust.

           
“I’m going to take your body…”

When he smiled, his face peeled back around the jagged tears on his mouth. Donna could see his teeth and gums. He looked viscous, like a rabid dog. His comically perverted demeanor was put on hold. “…and tear you to pieces from the inside out. You’ll beg for death while I rip your limbs to pieces and eat them in front of you.” His white, fiery eyes settled. He smiled as if pretending to be sweet-natured. “And, of course, that will be right after I take care of our little problem back there,” he said and then nodded toward the approaching police car. “It’s your fault that the officer driving behind us is going to…you know. If you’d only let me have you thirty years ago, this could have all been avoided.”

           
There was an awful screeching noise. The squad car felt like it was lifting forward. Donna was thrown into the passenger seat. Sammael had slammed on the brakes. He spun the steering wheel left. The rubber tires grabbed on the pavement and she was jolted forward. She closed her eyes when her head smacked the glass of the passenger side window. For a moment, she was certain that the car would flip.

The cruiser stopped. They were moving forward again, picking up speed. Donna was slammed over the back seat and landed in the front passenger side.

She was blinded. The police cruiser heading straight for them had hit the high-beams.

           
Laughing, Sammael stomped on the gas pedal, hammering it to the floor.

3

For the last few hours, Officer Fred Thompson had been searching for Officer’s Zastrow and Zoelick. He’d been patrolling the small town for nearly forty-five minutes. Finally, he saw their squad car. He attempted to call them on his radio, but he got nothing. The squad should have stopped when Thompson hit the red and blue lights. Instead, it zipped past him. The cruiser headed down Highway 26, headed outside of Dodge Junction. For a moment, Thompson wondered if he was imagining all of this.

What were they thinking?

If they were in pursuit, they would have checked-in with dispatch, and dispatch would have alerted all officers on duty. That hadn’t happened. Zoelick and Zastrow had been missing for over two hours.

Maybe this wasn’t Zoelick’s squad car?

But he was sure that it was. Thompson knew exactly how many squad cars were on patrol
;
three. There was
his
, there was the squad sitting in the parking lot at the small station, two blocks from the edge of Main Street, and there was Zoelick’s. There were also two spare cruisers in the station garage near the back entrance to the jail.

           
Why was Zoelick speeding?
Thompson wondered.

Zoelick was the responsible-type. Normally, he checked in with dispatch every hour on the hour. He was like clockwork. He was reliable. It wasn’t like him to
not
check-in after investigating a break-in, even if the call amounted to nothing.

Thompson should have gone to the break-in call.

Dispatch
relayed to Thompson that Zoelick and Zastrow were inspecting a possible break-in at Buggy’s Liquor Store. Zastrow was a bit green, but he’d never been so irresponsible that he’d forgotten to check in with dispatch, and there hadn’t been a report from either officer concerning the outcome of the break-in.

Thompson began to assume the worst. He started thinking that—maybe—there had been an intruder at the liquor store. That Zoelick and Zastrow were tied up,
or worse.
Maybe they were seriously injured and stuck in a ditch. Maybe they hit a deer? The back-roads were filled them. It wouldn’t have been the first time that a squad car had swerved off-road because of one. Up until now, he’d been certain that their disappearance was some kind of an accident.

Then why were they speeding down the highway, chasing no one?

An accident: That had to be the reason that communication was delayed from Car 27, assigned to Zastrow and Zoelick.

           
A horrible feeling
was setting-in as Car 27 continued speeding forward, past Thompson. It almost seemed like they wanted to play a game of
chicken
.

And then it struck him. Someone—somehow—had gotten control of Zoelick’s squad car and thought it was funny to be playing games.

Maybe a couple of drunks had stolen it from a bar? Or maybe it was a dumb kid.

There was a high school keg-party in full swing on outskirts of town. Maybe some dumb-shit kid had gotten a hold of it? That type of vandalism had happened before.

The status of Thompson’s fellow officers was becoming of
grave concern
.

Two hundred yards and counting.

Starting to slow down, Officer Thompson’s paranoia got the best of him. He played it safe and pulled over. He would wait for the squad car to pass, then he’d pursue. He could ram the back of Car 27 with the heavy-duty ram-bars attached to the bumper of his cruiser. That would stop them. If worse became worst, he could disable their car, push it into the ditch and hope that no one was seriously injured.

“Car thirty-two to base, I found the missing squad car—twenty-seven—in high pursuit on Highway 26, request immediate back-up.” Thompson said as he pushed the call button on his radio handset.

“Car thirty-two, I’ll send Officer Buckley right away…any word on Zoelick or Zastrow? Over.”

“No word. Over.” Thompson said as he parked his cruiser on the shoulder of the highway.

Nervously, he waited for car 27 to zip past again.

Squinting to see, Thompson looked forward. It was hard to see into the squad car coming at him. The headlights were too bright. But he made-out the form of a woman, in the back seat. She flailed her arms, erratically, and the driver was laughing. His white face was frighteningly pale, and covered with blood

Fear seized Thompson. The thick black hair on his forearms stood tall. Whoever was driving the stolen squad car was roaring with laughter.