The Second Sight frenzy boils on…
THE SECOND SIGHT
A paranormal Thriller
Not for the squeamish!
Season 1 Eps. 15
THE STEBBINS MONSTER
Location: BOAT’S APARTMENT
Stebbins’ voice is no ordinary whisper.
His voice has changed. It has become a thick, full-throated kind of voice which belongs to dreadful sewers and mouldy caves!
This is not Stebbins’ voice at all, and as Boat watches, oddly fascinated, Stebbins’ eyes change to a terrible green again, and the mark blazes furiously on his forehead in red blood.
His lips twist into an ugly snarl as his face changes from that of a human into that of a hideous beast.
His lips are drawn back from huge teeth, his nostrils flaring, and a dreadful guttural sound comes from his throat.
Somehow, Boat doesn’t feel so much fear now, only a terrible sense of doom, aware that death is near, and wishing desperately for it.
Stebbins’ grabbed two of the railings, and then he forces them apart, causing the metal to whimper with outrage.
Boat’s terrified eyes bulge with acute shock. These are not cheap aluminium railings. These are tempered cast iron, designed to repel force and pressure, and can give a lot of anxieties to even a power sawing machine.
They cannot bend so easily, and no hands are supposed to be able to rip them apart like that!
And Stebbins has just pushed them apart, as if they are made with clay.
Yaw Boat watches – strangely calm – as the green-eyed, slobbering, fury-filled Stebbins steps through the huge space he has created in the railings, and comes towards him, grunting furiously in that amplified sewer-voice.
When he looks down, however, Boat sees that Stebbins’ face is changing rapidly into flesh version of the green demon he has seen!
It is no longer Stebbins!
The green demon inside him is now taking shape, emerging!
Boat’s mind finally snaps from the unfair punishment it is being subjected to.
He screams loudly!
Somehow his feet bundled up under him and pushes upward. He makes a mad dash for the open windows, wishing to get as far away as possible from the evil incarnate.
The Stebbins-beast thing cuts him off cleanly, almost gracefully, and then it hammers a huge fist with brute force into Boat’s ribs, cutting off his breathing and driving all the strength out of him.
A back-handed slap follows, catching Boat flush against the side of the face, and knocking him off his feet.
Boat falls into a foul liquid which his sick brain identifies as his own vomit and urine, and he lies there, gasping for breath, and staring up at the Stebbins-beasts with his eyes bulging out of their sockets, literally!
Blood oozes out of Boat’s nose and split lips.
The monster towers over him, face still rapidly changing so that Boat can barely recognize the original Stebbins’ facial features.
The look on that face is pure evil now. The beast raises his foot slowly, deliberately, ready to bring it crashing down into Boat’s face.
With that abnormal strength, Boat has no doubt that it will disintegrate his skull to pulp.
As Boat watches in horrified stupor, waiting for death, something amazing happens.
The foot of the beast is still raised over Boat’s face, and Boat can see past that dirty foot – which, to his horror, has foot rot – to that hideous face, and suddenly, the snarl of the evil being above him changes to a confused whimper.
The monster’s neck turns to one side, and it bends lower to get a better look at Boat’s face.
Suddenly its rage disappears, and Boat sees apprehension written across that evil face, there is a sudden look of fear in its eyes.
The monster lowers its foot gently, taking great care to put it far away from Boat’s face.
It gives another whimper of fear, and then rapidly the demon recedes.
The green eyes vanish, the evil face vanishes, the mark on its forehead disappears, and soon it is only the thin and tall figure of Stebbins standing there in mild confusion.
That is when Mary’s sharp, shocked voice cuts through the dawn air.
She comes out through the French Windows.
She is draped in a long cloth, and her face looks shocked as she runs to Boat’s side.
She pushes Stebbins out of the way and looks down at Boat, her face terrified.
My good gracious, Yaw! What did you to do him, Mr. Stebbins? Why are you here? How did you get in here, Mr. Stebbins?
She is speaking to Stebbins, but as she speaks her eyes go to the railings separating the balconies, and for the very first time she sees the twisted and abused railings, and her mouth fell open in a silent “O”.
She looks from Stebbins to the railings and back with horror written all over her face, and when Stebbins begins to shamble away, she does a sensible double take and steps aside for him. Boat and Mary watch him go, and when he goes through the railings to his balcony and into his room they finally look at each other.
What’s going on here, Yaw, my love?
Believe me, Mary, you don’t want to know. Please help me up.
Mary takes Boat’s arm and supports him into the bathroom where she cleans him of vomit, blood and urine.
Her eyes are dazed and full of questions all the time, but simply refuses to talk to her about the horrors she had evidently witnessed, the only reason being that Boat has refused to think about what had happened.
But not for long.
Not ever for long, because eventually thoughts of Anderson come flooding back into Boat’s head.
So, everything Anderson had said has come true.
Samson and Boat have been so very wrong.
Boat’s life has changed in the blink of an eye, and he knows deep down that nothing is ever going to be the same again.
He has always prided himself in being strong and fearless. Under different circumstances he could have whipped Stebbins with one hand tied behind his back, but this thing has reduced him to a nervous wreck.
It has taken his mind and twisted it into an insane spool, bringing to the fore all man’s dreaded fears, and has exposed his vulnerability and terror so completely that even thinking about it brings helpless tears to his eyes.
In all the whirlwind of unexpected horror and its unpredictable future, there is one thing Boat is absolutely certain of: he just can’t handle it!
The hell he has witnessed is not meant for human eyes, and no mind is supposed to grapple with something as evil as that.
Boat is not a coward, but when he remembers that horrible green face, he quails inside. He simply cannot survive sights like that. It will make him insane. He needs none of it. He isn’t cut out to see spirits, and certainly he doesn’t want to be an Unblind or whatever the hell that is!
He can’t fight demons and principalities and fiendish ghouls!
…My heart bleeds for you for the terrible times ahead of you…
What he had seen has freaked him out terribly, and he isn’t ready to take on such evil, and nothing is ever going to convince him to do battle with stuff like that.
As Mary helps him into bed, his mind is made up. He resolves that as soon as it is day, he will go and see the pastor Anderson has mentioned in his letter.
He will force that pastor to take him to Anderson … and then Boat will beat the crap out of that damn Anderson and demand that he lifts whatever evil spell he has cast on him.
Boat isn’t some latter day Moses who was going to lead God’s people out of captivity. Damn it, Moses had had a magical staff, or something silly!
How is Boat going to be able to face such inhuman terror? He had felt his mind ready to snap when that thing came through the railings, and he had felt the blood building up in his head like a choked dam, building up behind his eyes, ears, nostrils and throat.
A second longer of that horror and all his veins would have burst, and blood would have spewed out of every orifice in his face, and out of every pore! His brain would have exploded as if it had been packed full of gelignite, and he would have died a really messy kind of death.
He rests in Mary’s arms and tries to sleep … but sleep eludes him because he is scared of shutting his eyes, scared that if he opens his eyes that thing will come back.
He wonders if he is ever going to have peace again!
Season 1 Eps. 16
THE SECOND SIGHT
Location: THE STREETS
It is now morning.
Yaw Boat lies in bed and looks through the French windows.
Sunlight is filtering through, and the sky is clear and bright. Another day has dawned, and Boat meets it with apprehension and trepidation.
He wishes he can stay in bed for the rest of his life. He had thought that the onset of day will bring relief and lesser fear, but during the short transition from darkness to daylight, his fears has increased, and the horror of that evil face is still so real that he can still see it even with eyes closed.
He turns restlessly in bed as the door opens and Mary walks in, carrying a laden tray. She clears the little side table and sets the tray down.
Would you like to brush your teeth now, my love?
Her voice is not holding its usual underlying note of lust and wanton sultry sexy desire. Her voice is like that of a lost little girl, and it makes Boat smile fleetingly.
Boat gets up and walks towards the bathroom. He opens the door, and then he just stands there, unable to enter.
He cranes his neck, trying to peer into the bathroom, and then he looks through the tiny space on the edge of the door where it is hinged to the wall.
Mary, sitting at the foot of the bed, regards him silently with eyes filled with fear.
Finally Boat enters the bathroom on sick legs; they just won’t stop wobbling, and he thinks briefly that maybe he can do with a walking-stick.
He almost chuckles with self-pity; just one night and one sighting, and he seems to have aged fifty years.
When he comes back from the bathroom, clean and groomed, Mary pours tea into a porcelain cup. She adds cream and sugar and hands it to him wordlessly.
He props his back against the headrest and sips the delicious tea. She hands him a buttered toast.
Are you not having breakfast, Mary?
Took mine an hour ago. Mr. Stebbins moved out.
She is buttering another toast as she speaks, and she is not looking at him.
A jolt passes through Bolt, and he spills tea into the saucer. His hands are not quite steady.
Mary stares fixedly at the spilt tea as if it is the most important thing in her life.
Huh? What was that?
Mr. Stebbins, my love. Early this morning a moving company came in with a truck and loaded up his stuff. He drove away shortly after they left. The agent just put up a to-let sign for Mr. Stebbins’ apartment. So, Mr. Stebbins is gone for good.
The silence afterwards is like a physical animal that roars between them, threatening to decapitate one of us. The feeling is so uncomfortable that after a while Boat feels like screaming.
She puts two buttered toasts on a plate and puts the plate within his reach, and then she finally looks into his face, and there no denying the fear in the depths of her eyes.
This morning I tried to make love to you again because you were so restless after … after… that thing with Mr. Stebbins. You slapped my hands away, Yaw.
He spills more tea, and it forms a bigger pool now in the saucer. He is trembling again, and it isn’t nice.
It is scary.
Yes, my love, and that was not all. You kept thrashing around in bed, murmuring a whole lot of gibberish. You were very distressed indeed. When I was cleaning the balcony this morning I noticed that apart from the vomit there was also urine. Now don’t get me wrong, my love. I’m not trying to humiliate you but frankly, you’re the most self-assured guy I’ve ever known.
You’re the coolest. Your rock-solid confidence and charisma is what I love about you the most, but now you’re suddenly scaring me, you and Mr. Stebbins. I tried not to think about that gaping hole in the railings, but it’s impossible. I would never have thought Mr. Stebbins, or any man for that matter, will be strong enough to bend those cast iron metals like that! Now he has moved out, and you’ve started trembling and spilling coffee. You’re even scared to enter your own bathroom. What is going on, Yaw?
He sighs miserably. She is looking at him intently, and there is unease in the depths of her eyes.
He is silent as he forces himself to drink all the tea and eat all the toast bread. She takes the plates and cup from him and carefully packs them on the tray.
Without a word she begins to stand up, but he reaches over and holds her hand, drawing her close to him.
He drags her close, hugging her from behind, and she relaxes against him. His arms are around her, and she can feel his body trembling.
He puts his cheek against her hair and speaks softly.
Something bad happened to me, Mary. I don’t know how you will take it, but yesterday I met a damn pastor who told me that on the stroke of midnight I’ll start seeing stuff …evil stuff that no other eye can see. He called it being Unblinded, you know, so that I can see things in the spiritual realm. It sounds crazy, I know, but it really happened, Mary. This dawn, out there on the balcony, I saw something really bad about Mr. Ralph Stebbins. It made him really mad when he realized that indeed, I saw it. He wanted to kill me.
She goes rigid, and then she turns herself within the circle of his arms and looks at him with her brow puckered with fear and confusion.
Stuff? Evil stuff? In the … what? Spiritual realm?
That is when, once again, Yaw Boat recounts that terrible meeting he has had with Reverend Paul Anderson to Mary.
He realizes that his fears begin to dissipate a little at a time whilst he tells her about the whole scary experience. Her expression changes from disbelief to incredulity to concern by the time he finishes.
She doesn’t freak out, though, and she doesn’t bombard him with a million questions. That is one of the things he likes about her. She has a sensible head between her shoulders, and realizes that the last thing he needs is nagging and the stress of being bombarded with questions he simply does not have answers to.
That is quite an extraordinary tale, quite incredible. If anybody but you had told me I would’ve laughed it off as being the ramblings of a mad man. I don’t know what to make of it, my love. I suggest you go home and wait for your father, Yaw. He would know what to do to help you under the circumstance.
He nods, and perhaps because of her understanding and level-headed suggestion he finds the terror beginning to assail him again, and so he kisses her, quite long and tenderly, and they end up making love.
But it is not with the same bestial violence they are used to.
This time it is gentler, more personal, more giving, because there seems to be an unspoken fact between them that their relationship is going to be very affected, and it is possibly the last time they will be together.
Afterwards she fusses over him a little, and then she excuses herself because she has to be in the office.
She hesitates at the door, however, and gives him a long look … and he sees the fear lurking in the depths of her lovely eyes. There were questions on her mind, he is aware, perhaps thousands of them, but she just sighs and slips out, closing the door gently.
Yaw Boat, alone and terrified, stares at the ceiling. He has no answers even for his own questions. Yeah, life is that crazy sometimes, and filled with quite unexpected and unpredictable lines that can lead a man straight into the yawning fangs of death in the cruellest of ways.
There were no constants in life, none. In the blink of an eye Yaw Bawa has moved from being the drug-using, alcohol-slurping, fornicating teenaged son of a millionaire to a freaked-out little bundle of a boy, too scared of even his own shadow.
He has been catapulted into an insane world, a world where his eyes have become his enemy, a world where his feet are almost firmly-planted on Death Avenue.
Finally, realizing that he needs to start addressing his terrible problem, he stands up and gets dressed.
He leaves the apartment, locks it, and descends to street-level to his car, and his heart is in his mouth all the time.
As he drives out of the garage he finally allows the thought which had been plaguing me the whole night to crystallize, no longer able to flee from it. It stares him straight in the face and refuses to budge until he admits it.
Why did that demon – or whatever the hell it had been – spare Boat’s life?
It was a simple question, but its answer scareds the living bejesus out of him with all its implications.
That Stebbing-Thing had admitted that Boat had to die.
That death sentence had been final, had left no avenues open for debate.
It had been a simple statement, a direction of action that left not even the simplest of spaces available for uncertainties.
It had then blasted its way through the railings and attacked.
It had raised its foot to mash Boat’s brains in.
And then, at the very last minute, it had paused.
It had taken another look, a second look, at Boat’s face, and it had seemed shocked, and it had whimpered with fear … and then it had retreated!
The question is, what had that demon seen on Boat’s face that had made it look so scared?
What the hell had it seen?
At first Boat doesn’t want to admit the evident answer staring him in the face, but it simply can’t be avoided.
It pushes itself into his brain and knocks around some, and so Boat finally admits it.
…since the day you were born, you have been carefully manipulated and controlled by evil forces to achieve a terrible aim…
Anderson’s words, once again!
Could it be true?
It had to be true!
That green piece of evil spared his life because it had seen something superior, recognized a vessel which had been prepared, ready for occupation by a superior demon!
It had seen a vessel for its master!
Alarming as it is, that is the only answer!
It fits very well.
The normal interpretation is simple: that evil entity had been scared after that second look.
It had seen something meant for its master, and had been alarmed because it had almost destroyed it.
That is it, the one positive fact, and it tells Boat that he is in one big trouble.
He sighs unhappily and rubs a hand across his face, and then he begins to pay heed to the happenings around him.
He had been aware of extra movements for a while, a kind of translucent bright lights flitting in and out of his vision, but he had been so lost in thought that he barely paid any heed to them.
A loud horn blasts behind him, and just then his eyes pick up what had been happening, and the sudden shock is so terrible that Yaw Boat sits transfixed in his seat.
His car veers off the street and smashes into a street lamp, and one of the headlights shatters with a tinkling, glassy, exotic sound… chinklinnng!
Luckily, he had been cruising, and although he is thrown forward by the impact straight into the steering wheel because he has failed to wear the seatbelt, the crushing pain is fast and gone, leaving him a bit breathless and with a lingering soreness in his chest, but otherwise he is unhurt.
Yaw Boat looks around him in agony, his stomach heaving as he gasps for release from the fresh terror all around him.
Sudden sweat break all over his body, and a crippling cold sweeps over his body. He sits in his damaged car, chilled to the bone, his eyes darting frantically in all directions as he watches them!
(in great horror)
My God! Oh, my God! Oh, sweet Jesus!
They are everywhere!
If he ever doubted it, if he had been hoping, if he had been deluding himself, here then this is the proof!
Here is it, the reality of all realities.
There is no doubt now!
He has really been unblinded!
He sits in a petrified stupor, barely hearing the cacophonous blasts of angry horns all around him. He looks, and he moans … and something dies inside me!
The demons are all over town!
They have come to have a funky party!
They float all around Boat, in all forms and colours, translucent, ugly, and infinitely evil.
They ride on top of cars, sit on buildings, hover in doorways, float on trees and, worst of all, drape themselves around people and recline inside people!
Yaw Boat sees one particularly huge and bulbous demon perching comfortably on a sleek, upper-class woman who is getting out of her car. The demon’s blazing red eyes are fixed malevolently on her.
Yaw Boat sees a serpentine, orange creature with scaly-looking skin and huge teeth worming its way down the open neck of a man with a pastor’s clerical around his neck.
A brownish ugly mess with huge fangs is curled up snugly on the head of a crippled beggar sitting on the sidewalk.
Boat’s breath comes erratically now, and his fear is galloping up his throat uncontrollably, his panicked eyes ready to explode right out of his face.
It is not a sight for human beings.
He shuts his eyes tightly, and forces himself to breathe and withdraw from the horror. It is, after all, his sanity at stake here.
With his eyes still shut, he forces himself to accept the fact that what is happening is real, something Anderson had warned him about!
He forces himself to understand that this is not his mind conjuring madness and horrors! He forces himself to understand that soon, very soon, this stinking ability to see into the spiritual realm will leave his body, and everything will be fine again!
His breathing become a little bit more regular, and the panic slowly subsides. Calmness and rational acceptance come back to him, and then he slowly opens his eyes.
And even then he is still not completely prepared for the stark evil he sees!
Just to his left is a prostitute, hitching up her mini-skirt and straightening up a seam in her stockings. Behind her is a fat, short, greenish creature on stunted legs, moving forward with mad intensity, pink eyes alight with evil, drooling terrible goo from its gigantic vertical mouth.
This vile demon suddenly jumps up, holds the whore’s legs, and scampers up her thighs, disappearing under her skirt, leaving only three stubby feet sticking out.
Soon Boat can see the demon’s legs jerking spasmodically, obviously with great enjoyment.
Oh, Lord! What the hell are you doing to her, you piece of shit?
Season 1 Eps. 17
There is a sharp rap on his window, and he swivels round, a cry of fear escaping through his mouth, his eyes wide with terror.
A traffic police officer is bent, looking in at him, his face irritated.
Wrapped tightly around the policeman’s shoulders, holding on with casual relaxation, is a whitish-grey demon with eyes as white and transparent as snow but with tiny creeping shades in them. Its tongue is a long, snake-like object that is stuck way up the left nostril of the cop.
The sight is so ugly, so fearful, that Boat feels his stomach heaving with vomit.
The policeman wrenches Boat’s car door open, his face angry.
Boat leans out, and his vomit spews out in a wild flow.
The policeman jumps back with a curse.
Boat’s vomit misses the cop’s shirt but not his boots, glistening with fresh polish.
A sizeable vomit made up of tea and undigested toast lands on the policeman’s boot. The cop’s nose wrinkles with distaste and anger.
You fucking drunk, sir? Please step out of the car right now!
There is a short black club at his waist, and he pulls it out and takes a step forward. He reaches inside to take the car’s key from the ignition.
Boat rears back against the seat and kicks out with his left foot. The cop is caught unawares, but he has the instincts of a leopard and tries to jump back.
Boat’s foot slams into his knee. He yelps with pain and sits down, his hand instinctively reaching for his holstered gun now.
Boat turns the key, and the engine bursts into life.
His is face screwed up with fear, and he engages the reverse gear and backs off the street lamp. He swings the steering-wheel violently, and the tires scream with desperate agony, and then he engages the DRIVE gear, slams the car unto the road and speeds down the street as if the devil is after me.
In the driving mirror he sees the policeman standing awkwardly, his gun drawn, and speaking into a walkie-talkie frantically.
Boat doesn’t care about the fact that the cop is calling other cops and giving them his licence plate number, and that soon he might have other police troopers chasing him.
He just wants to get away, far away, where I can’t see those evil and scary demons, somewhere he will be safe, where his poor eyes will get a much needed respite.
But as he speeds, flooring the accelerator, causing the damaged car to leap forward, he realizes one thing: he just cannot run from them … nor hide from them.
Wherever he turns they are ahead of him.
They are having a free rein in town, diving in and out of cars, riding on hoods, smashing into people and disappearing into them.
One gigantic three-headed creature suddenly bursts out of the street and speeds towards Boat’s windscreen, all three heads elongating straight at him.
One of its head has the face of a shrivelled woman with a gaping hole in its throat.
The middle face has one large multi-coloured eye in the middle where a nose should have been, and although it has a nose-like structure just below that eye, it has no mouth.
The third head is the most vicious, the most violent, and the most evil that Boat has seen so far. It is the face of a demon with a high forehead, bulging, deep sockets into which the eyes are sunk; its eyes are red orbs of manic hatred that could have frozen the heart of an ogre.
Yaw Boat is aware that he is screaming, that his foot is pressing the accelerator down with fear-factor reflex, that his screams are deafening even in his own ears.
The demon smashes into his car, filling it, sails over him, goes right through him and then Boat’s car smashes into the back of a Volkswagen Beetle, sending it careening off the street into the path of an approaching truck.
The truck driver has no option than to spin his wheel instinctively in a bid to avoid hitting the Volkswagen.
The truck, horns blaring, ploughs into the front of a supermarket, breaking glass and sending screaming people fleeing.
Boat is still speeding.
He just can’t stop.
Life is taking a turn into an abnormality.
He doesn’t know how long he kept on driving that battered car along the streets of Accra.
Finally he gets to a place where there are far less traffic, far less people, and far less evil creatures.
He pulls off the street, stops, throws open his door, and leans out, keeping his face down so that he won’t have to look up to see any more evil, and then he dry-retches a couple of minutes.
His body begins to shake unbearably as he fights to remain calm and keep his sanity.
This horror is beyond him. He knows that he is walking a fine thin line between madness and sanity.
He can’t take it anymore. His brain will snap very soon if he doesn’t get any respite, and he will be a drooling vegetable before the day is over.
He needs to get control of himself, and stay sane enough to formulate a way out, the most important of all to get to Anderson again.
He had doubted and laughed at the man, but Anderson has proved his point, and that is that.
Why is it happening to him anyway? Surely it can’t be because of that bullshit talk that a demon wants to possess his body, can it?
He Is just a little unrighteous fellow who has been doing his best to break all the Ten Commandments and live life to the full.
He has been quite happy pushing drugs and getting between as many female thighs as he can, whilst trying to please a father he loves, and to woo a sweet little virgin called Ellaine into his bed.
That is his world, a world he loves. He doesn’t care if it is the kind of life upright folks frown on. It is his life, and he has no regrets about it.
He lives as he likes to live. Why then has this terrible thing happened? How CAN it happen? Let those Christian freaks do the fighting with those damned forces of evil. He doesn’t give a farthing about that side of the world, and he surely doesn’t want any spiritual gifts, especially this one.
Surely Jehovah is a rational God and will understand and let him go, won’t He? Didn’t the Bible say that God always gives humans their freedom of choice? If yes, then why in the name of heaven is God trying to shove down a foul gift like this on him anyway, huh?
Yaw Boat heaves a huge sigh and opens his eyes warily, although his head is still bent. He looks at his expensive shoes, resting firmly on the street, slightly spread.
He is beginning to wonder why his black shoes looks as if they have a pinky kind of hue, when, without warning, the pink hands of a demon shoots out from under the car, and wrap themselves around his ankles.
Boat’s heart would have failed instantly had he been a less healthy guy. Even so the pain of the shock as his heart leaps and crashes in its cavity with pure terror is so excruciating that he almost passes out, and his face become drenched instantly with sweat which rans like water, and cut rivulets on his face.
They are pink hands, and seem to belong to the grave. They are puffed up and rotted, and he can see squirmy things in them, squirmy things that bubble frantically. The wrists of the demon have pink, fleshy parts which seem to be dripping.
The pink hands had only three huge, webbed fingers. One of the fingers on the right hand seems to have been gnawed off by something dangerous.
As Boat watches, blabbering with horror, the hands pull on his ankles, and a head shoots out from under the car, a head fixed on a rotted neck and pus-filled shoulders.
The head is bald, pulpy and has holes in it that shows more wriggly creatures in the cavity where brains should have been.
Boat loses his mind completely then.
He screams shrilly like a nun who has seen six rapists, and stamps his feet hysterically.
The neck of the hideous thing between his legs begins to turn.
Its head bounces and rotates slowly on that neck, as if it has ball-rings in its neck, so that the neck turns with the head, and soon the head has come a full one hundred and eighty degrees, and Yaw Boat stares into the face of the dreadful demon.
On its rotted neck are gill-like fins that bulge and contract. Its brow is a rotted mass of worm-like creatures, jammed tight into the cavity where the forehead should have been, wriggling violently.
Its mouth is a long, pink cavity of horror, filled with serrated, fang-like things that could’ve been its teeth. One of its huge, completely pink eyes is closed, or infected, and now leaked a terrible kind of pus down one destroyed cheek.
Its single eye stares at Boat balefully, and a hissing snarl crosses its face when Boat begins to scream.
There is a violent and deadly commotion taking place in that hell-zone of a mouth of his, and suddenly thousands of black strands like angry snakes shoot from its mouth and zoom straight into Boat’s face, coiling around his head with angry agitation.
And, horror of horrors, Boat can hear the harsh, jangling sounds they are making as they swarm over his face!
Yaw Boat, the Capo de tutti Capi, the Boss of Bosses, goes absolutely berserk!
He screams like a baby and pulls at his face and stamps his feet in acute distress and fear!
And then, through all the horrors, he hears a female voice speaking to him.
A real human voice that jostles him back to reality and restores some of his sanity, enough to make him stop screaming.
Hello, sir? Are you okay, sir? Is everything okay, sir?
Boat stops screaming and looks up, his face anguished, and sees a well-dressed young lady standing on the sidewalk close to him and looking at him with concern.
Sitting on top of her head, like some advanced neon advertisement, is a huge-headed foul spirit, its ten-hooked tentacles fixed on the edges of her mouth, a couple drilling right into her mouth, giving her a grotesque look that churned Boat’s stomach.
A thick tongue riddled with arrow-like hooks is embedded deeply into the lady’s nostrils, seeming to be sucking something from within her.
And she has the audacity to ask him if he is okay?
Boat is temporarily insane and irrational, and he shouts at her in a high-pitched strident voice.
Get the fuck away from me!!
She steps away from him, quite startled.
She wheels around hastily and walks away primly, her high-heels clip-clopping down the pavement, all huffed-up and puffed-up like some righteous nun who has just been flashed at.
She casts worried looks over her shoulder, and Boats sees her hand diving into her handbag, and coming out with a mobile phone.
He grins humuorlessly. She is calling the police for sure, to complain about the madman on her street. Probably concerned about her two fatherless children at home, and thinking she has to protect them from the screaming Frankenstein Boat so obviously represents.
Numb with horror, Boat stiffles another scream when he sees the hideous pink demon suddenly swimming up Boat’s body, gory eyes fixed on his face, snake tongues still busy on his face.
If this demon should have a name, no name will befit it more than HIDEOUS.
Boat is hysterical, and he feels like crying.
Can this really be true? A tough-as-nails rogue like him, who has been in countless brutal and life-threatening fights, now reduced to a whimpering, snivelling, grovelling little sissy?
And then, quite suddenly, things begin to go crazy in the land of the foul spirits!
Boat sees that, amazingly, they are fleeing!
All the demons are in panic, fleeing helter-skelter….
They are afraid!!
Something has just happened to scare them!
Boat looks around frantically, trying to locate what can cause such a beautiful terror in this horrible spiritual beings….
Season 1 Eps. 18
THE SECOND SIGHT
THE WONDERFUL FORCE-FIELD
Location: THE STREETS
It is the well-dressed lady who first makes Boat aware that something out of the ordinary is going on in the spiritual realm.
She is speaking on the phone as she approaches the intersection of Jackson Street.
There is something wrong with the traffic lights at the intersection. They keep blinking amber lights only.
A Toyota Corolla and a Ford Sedan almost collide head-on, and both drivers are leaning out and hurling hellfire at each other. Behind them other motorists blow their horns angrily.
A few bemused spectators have stopped and are looking on.
And of course the evil creatures are still enjoying kingly rides on people, and still sipping funky stuff from inside people.
The well-dressed lady with a demon riding on top of her head turns to take another look at Boat, and he realizes that her eyes are fixed on his number plates; she wants to leave nothing out in her reportage to the cops so she is giving them my car’s licence number.
A moment later her eyes swivel up to Boat’s face, and Boat sticks both of his middle fingers at her!
Her free hand flies to her breasts in shocked chagrin, and her face – or what he can see of it through the tentacles of the creature sucking human juice through her nose – turns a crimson colour. Her pert lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as she gazes at Boat.
And then, without warning, it happens!
All the demons begin to flee!
The ugly one on top of the woman’s head let go of her and with dazzling speed comes bursting past Boat’s car, dashes out through his window, and then crashing through the window of a video library.
In seconds it is completely out of sight.
Boat, awed and amazed, turns his head round and round, his vision suddenly filled with the swift flight of evil creatures all around him.
Some fly from within cars and vanish down gutters.
Others simply seem to disappear into the bodies of the people they are riding on.
It is like a bomb has been released in a crowded room.
The creatures flee helter-skelter, their expressions reflecting their blatant panic!
Boat looks down, and sees the pink demon he has nicknamed unconsciously as Hideous gazing down the street with utter dismay.
The creatures in its forehead wriggle with frenzy, and its tentacles remove themselves from Boat’s face.
Its face is now filled with massive hatred, an expression so profound that Boat is struck immobile with its pure evil. It was both vicious and frantic, as if it wants to flee and attack at the same time.
Its rotted lips are drawn back from the serrated teeth in a snarl, and its pink eye is suddenly filled with black stripes which makes it the most hate-filled eye Boat has ever seen in his life.
Suddenly it flies up, hovers in front of Boat, and then it does the most godawful thing in the whole damn wide world…
It slips into Boat’s body smoothly.
No fuss, baby. No permission sought, none necessary!
Only thing is, Boat doesn’t like it one damn bit!
Truth is, Boat looks down at his hands, and there it is!
The demon is lying snugly beneath the skin of his hands, its rotted, pink, webbed fingers spread through Boat’s fingers like some obscene art work.
Boat can it in him, arm in his arms, thighs in his, and worst is the sight of those wriggling freaks wriggling so horribly inside his own body.
Oh shit! ShitshitshitshitshitSHIIIIIIT!!
Another ugly demon with a huge reddish head bounces through his car, filling it with a devilish red hue. It smashes out of his windscreen and bounces restlessly over the street. Long attachments like stuffed intestines trailed it. It shoots off the street straight at a stray dog which is lying on the curb.
The evil being disappears into the dog, which suddenly lets out a frantic bark, wakes up from its slumber, turns red eyes in the direction of Boat, and flees down the street quickly, its tail shooting straight into the air like an accusing finger aimed at God.
They have all fled now, and as Boat still continues to sweat at the horror of having that thing in his body, is suddenly aware of something bright approaching his car, blinding him momentarily.
Boat looks up, shielding his eyes from the brightest light he has ever seen in his life. It is as if the sun has fallen from the sky and landed right in front of him.
Boat’s body is suddenly rocked and buffeted violently, and then the demon which has hidden inside his body shoots out of him, crashing out of his car, face turning round once in a silent wail of terror as it flees from the incredible bright light. It smashes into the street, seeming to hover like vapour, and then it disappears into the street.
Amazed and filled with childish gloating that the mysterious bright light can have such terrible impact on these destructive agents of darkness, Yaw Boat turns again to have a look at what has caused that light to shine so hard and frighten these ugly things.
Once again the bright light floods Boat and fills the car.
He shields his eyes his eyes against that glorious brightness.
This is a source of light he can’t bear to look at. It is gloriously bright, and seems to glitter, as if millions of diamonds are hidden in it. As he squints against it, he sees that, much to his amazement, the light is covering a human being.
It is a poor-looking woman walking towards his car, and she is surrounded by all that incredible bright field that has caused hardened forces of darkness to flee!
She is someone Boat would have given no respect to under normal circumstances.
She is wearing a green dress, faded and patched.
Her feet are bare, her toes calloused and stunted. She is an elderly woman, and walked stooped with the aid of a stick. And around her, moving with her, is this amazing bright field of light which has driven the evil bastards absolutely bonkers!
She stops by Boat’s door and holds out a hard, dirty palm.
That is when Boat sees the Bible clutched tightly under her right armpit.
Its cover is tattered, and some of the pages are spilling out. It is tied with a rubber band, and it is quite evident that she uses that Bible a lot.
Spare a coin for a poor widow, son.
Boat still has to screw his eyes to tiny slits to look at her and all that glorious wonder surrounding her.
He just wants to bask in the glow of that luxurious field that has such power on the forces of darkness. It is such an angelic glow, glittering and yet not giving any heat.
It is simply the most beautiful thing he has seen since becoming an Unblind.
This is the real deal, a most unbelievable, warm sheen with its glittering particles that hurt his eyes. This is a stupendous source of protection which had turned those terrible evil devils into the screaming, yellow-backed freaks they really are!
The woman’s hand is still outstretched.
With his eyes still half shut Boat takes out his wallet and takes out all the Cedi notes in it.
There are some greens, some blues, a lot of purples and a number of browns. Altogether that money is getting a bit close to One Thousand Ghana Cedis.
Are you alright, my son? Is there something wrong with your eyes?
I’m fine, Ma’am. Here, take this. Go on, please, take the money.
Boat proffers the money, all of it.
He has never given alms to beggars; it has been a personal policy of his. Beggars made him. He thought them as lazy and leeches, but now he knows differently.
Those cops, that well-dressed young woman, those big shots moving all around town, had all been without this wonderful field, this wonderful protection that cannot be bought.
How many people hadn’t he seen with demons riding in them?
And yet this woman, this beggar, this person he would never have spoken to in a million years … she has turned out to be a chosen one, a selected few worthy of divine protection!
The woman’s eyes bulge as she stares at the green notes, her mouth dropping open.
For a moment her eyes are all watery and soft. She reaches out with trembling fingers and takes the money, tucking them firmly into the top of her dress.
God bless you, son. God bless you abundantly.
I’ll be damn glad if that God of yours will simply take His damn Second Sight gift away from me!
What did you say, son?
(shaking his head)
Nothing, lady. Go on now.
She thanks him again and begins to walk away very fast.
Yaw Boat sits in the car long after she is gone.
He is still shaken by what he had seen, and has no urge to move. He craves so much for the presence of his father.
His father is a divine son of God who will be able to help him out of the terrible horror he finds himself in.
He waits for the stinking creatures to appear again and strut their stuff: take kingly rides on the shoulders of unsuspecting folks, stick their long gummy tongues into the noses of pretty women and suck out their haughtiness.
But none appear. Evidently they have been scared witless by the amazing field around that poor widow.
You fucking, ugly, stinking, cowardly bastards!
Yaw Boat thinks of that wonderful protective field around that poor widow again.
Why did that woman have it?
He has seen thousands of people in town since he got the ugly ability to see into the spriritual realm, and none of them has had that explosive protective power.
So why the widow?
Why was she singled out?
Why is she special?
Is it because she is one of the ‘chosen few’ his Dad keeps talking about? One of the few people on that ‘narrow road’ cliche of the Christians?
And if she has protection from these nefarious and vindictive beings, that means these hellish brutes are dangerous, and can indeed cause some kind of harm to innocent people just like Anderson had said.
Yaw Boat takes a shuddering breath.
That woman. A poor widow.
Just a day ago he would have had nothing but total contempt for her. He surely wouldn’t have tossed her any coin, and would have barked at her to take a hike.
Instead he had emptied his pockets for her.
The answer is simple: he had felt grateful to her.
She, with her force-field, had made Hideous leave Boat’s body. She has a divine protection no money can buy.
Those ugly demons can get into his body, grab his ankles, shoot tentacles at his face, and treated him without respect even though he is a millionaire’s son and has money to buy any physical protection he wants.
And yet these same demons had fled from a poor, helpless widow!
At that moment Yaw Boat knows that he has slipped down another step on the High and Mighty ladder he has been climbing.
Yes, it is hard believing that the mighty and wonderful Yaw Boat has reached a point where he is suddenly beginning to believe that there indeed is another world, another realm, another dangerous level of existence where good and evil are stretched tautly to their very last ends.
Stop! That’s enough!
Maybe this is what Anderson had hoped would happen to him. Doubts, questions, realizations, answers, surrender!
Boat isn’t ready to surrender.
He wants nothing to do with the rot Anderson had fed me. Who can spend the rest of his life looking into the heart of evil?
No sane man can do it.
The sights of the spiritual world are not meant for human eyes.
He chuckles without knowing the sound is coming out.
He is aware that he is walking a very thin line between madness and sheer madness.
Somehow he has crossed from the land of the sane, and will either end up a slobbering, groaning vegetable, or a raving lunatic.
His heart is still thudding with trepidation, and his senses recoils from the possibility of seeing such gross fiends again.
Suddenly Monday seems like an eternity away.
He has never needed his father so much as he does at that instant. He wonders how he is going to be able to get through the weekend without his father being around to help him.
If he waits that long his brain will snap. Sure, he can stay put in the house and await his father’s return, but what if the uglies decide to play havoc with him and appeared wherever he is?
The thought of being in a room with four of Hideous floating around, entering him, doing things, is too much for Boat.
There is only one way out.
He has to see Pastor Geoffrey Sam of Christ Redeemed Church, Fairview Assembly, the one Anderson has mentioned in his letter.
Yaw Boat decides on the spur of the moment to go to Pastor Sam and let him take him to Anderson even if it means beating the hell out of Pastor Sam.
With his mind made up Boat gets back behind the wheel, starts up the car, and pulls off the curb.
Faintly he hears the agitated sounds of sirens. Evidently the cops are not far behind.
Season 1 Eps. 19
THE SECOND SIGHT
Location: FAIRVIEW ROAD
Boat stops on a lonely stretch of road and takes out his phone.
He searches for Pastor Geoffrey Sam on Google and soon finds his man’s contact:
Sam, Geoffrey, Rev. Christ Redeemed. Ch. 39th Street, Fairview Avenue, blah, blah, blah.
Yaw Boat calls the number.
The call is picked up by a hesitant female voice. Probably the pastor’s wife.
Boat asks to speak to Pastor Geoffrey, and her voice becomes even more hesitant. She demands to know who is calling and why he wants to see the pastor.
Put the damn pastor on, would you?
A moment later a male voice speaks calmly into Boat’s ear.
Pastor Geoffrey Sam here. Who-
Name’s Yaw Boat. Pastor Paul Anderson gave me-
I know, Mr. Boat. I’ve been expecting your call. Pastor Anderson instructed me to send you to him when you show up. Do you want me to come and get you, Mr. Boat?
Stay put. It is shorter to Takoradi from Fairview. I’m on my way to you, Pastor. Please expect me within an hour.
Boat cuts the call, engages drive, and speeds hard towards Fairview Avenue.
Yaw Boat devises a new way of driving as he hurtles towards Fairview Avenue.
He has realized that if he drives hunched over the steering-wheel with his eyes glued to that portion of the road just in front of the bonnet of the car, and really concentrates, the terrible sights become limited to the uglies which rise out of the road; thankfully those demonic entities they are not that many.
Fairview is one of the new residential areas, lying sixty-five kilometres from the capital. It is not as overpopulated as some of the old counties, but it has had its fair share of ugly scandals.
The most recent one had been of a police chief who had been busted for child pornography. They had found enough tapes in his cellar to make Edgar Hoover’s collection seem like child’s play.
They had found him mauling a girl of twelve who had been reported missing for two months.
Certainly Fairview isn’t one of Boat’s favourite places, and he doesn’t even remember the last time he had been there.
Boat tries to perfect his new driving technique as the big car eats up the miles.
He is sorely tempted to gaze at the colour hues that flits in and out of his side-vision. It is a most maddening quandary; he is so damn scared of the sight of the demons, and yet he feels an almost irresistible urge to gaze on them and see what they are doing.
As Boat leaves the busy hub of the central towns behind, he slowly comes to realize that the demons thrived where humans are present.
Driving through the lonely road where there are no settlements is easier because he doesn’t see many of the uglies.
Boat feels the need to urinate very strongly.
He has been holding on tightly for a long time, keeping tight control over it. He is afraid of getting down to urinate and seeing some of those evil things on a lonely stretch of road.
However, it soon comes to a point where he can no longer ignore it.
He either has to take a leak or risk the real danger of doing it in his boxers.
When that realization is acknowledged, he looks up warily and gazes around him.
Green vegetation is spread out on both sides of the road. The sky is clear and lovely. Everything looks normal.
Plus, he is just twenty-minutes away from Fairview.
He swings the car over to the side of the road and stops.
He gets out, slams the door shut, and rushes to the side of the road, unzipping his fly and tugging frantically at the hole in his boxers to take out his member.
A few drops of urine actually stains his boxers before his pole is completely out, and then the amber liquid gushes out violently.
He almost cries with the joy of the relief in his bladder.
Finally he does a multiple toss to clear the hole of any lingering liquids, and tucks the boy into his boxers, zips up … and then the fear hit him suddenly!
It is a paralyzing feeling of dread that grips the nape of his neck and tightens his spinal cord, a terrible panic that grips his throat and makes him tremble.
It is almost like the deep fear he feels when he wakes up from the nightmare he has having lately, where the squishy limping sounds creeps, creeps, creeps up, gaining slowly but relentlessly, cold fingers reaching out to touch.
Funky Grounds come alive, baby!
Standing by the side of the road now, facing the bushes, Yaw Boat knows, with a chilling inner certainty, that if he turns around now he will witness evil.
All his instincts scream, warning him not to turn.
And yet there is also that certainty that if he doesn’t turn ice-cold fingers will reach out, vibrating with passion, and touch him.
A half-moan rises from his throat as he draws in a sharp breath. With his knees shaking with great panic, Yaw Boat turns around slowly.
He sees the cemetery across the road then.
It was amazing that he hasn’t seen cemetery when he stopped to urinate.
If he had seen it he certainly wouldn’t have stopped, not even if he had urinated all over himself.
It is a huge cemetery.
The headstones and crosses rise up from the graves, white and cold, eerily unpleasant, seeming to call out to him.
Old and fresh wreaths are lying here and there on graves.
The graves are neatly-kept in rows and lanes.
A cold cemetery, covering hundreds of cold bones, rotting flesh, sinister smiles; a place as remote and unknown as the beginning of time, a point in life as separated from the land of the living as love from hate.
The sudden sight of the cemetery, the spectral silence all around him, the aura of the atmosphere and a whole lot of factors scare the hell out of Boat at that point in time.
But nothing scares him half as much as the sight of the crows in the cemetery.
There are hundreds of black crows in the cemetery.
They are perched on the headstones of the graves, making sharp black contrasts to the snow-white stones.
Black crows with black eyes and baleful stares. They are perched there, absolutely immobile and silent, and they are all staring at Boat.
It isn’t necessarily the great number of crows that makes Boat weak at the knees, though.
It is that most awful terrible precision in which the crows are arranged!
The first frightening thing is that none of them is perching on the grounds of the cemetery, or on the graves.
They are perched only on the headstones of the graves!
The second frightening fact is that there are three crows on each headstone. No single or two crows on a stone; just that eerie precision: three crows on a headstone!
The third frightening fat is that they are not huddled together, but two crows are on the outer edges of a headstone, and one is in the middle.
And it is a precise arrangement, and his boggled mind knows that the distance between one crow to the other on a single headstone is the same for all the headstones.
Suddenly Yaw Boat wishes that he had not gotten out of the car. He wishes he dad stayed put in his car and sweated out the pain in his bladder all the way to Fairview.
Terror takes hold of him, and keeps him rooted to the spot.
There is no sound. Just him, and a few hundred crows, staring each other down.
At that moment reality is gone, and sanity is distant.
Boat knows that he has moved from the physical world into that terrible zone where those battles between good and evil takes place.
He is aware that it is a very dangerous moment for him, and that death – in the most awful kind of way – is just a breath away.
The world as he knows it is a different place, a universe that has retreated; He has been catapulted into the micro verse, a place where danger is magnified a thousandfold, a place where soft gloves are traded for spiked terrors, where the very wicked evil thrives … and he stands out like a drop of blood on snow, in a battlefield where he totally a novice, like a newborn baby in a fence with raging bulls.
The heart of Funky Grounds!
He is weak, he is unprepared, and he is so vulnerable. He is aware that in a just a tick of a second he can lose his life.
This is evil ground, a place with fangs, and he is so helpless!
Boat can feel the pull of evil from the crows, and can almost read the terrible thoughts running through their minds.
He can see their evil converging, directing, massing up, and finally waiting to be projected.
Panic stings his heart, and I can feel the hairs on his body rising up, standing as straight as hackles. He can even feel them greying with fear as his whole body gets poisoned with soul-cramping terror he is feeling.
This is a living fear. His heart is beginning to go into palpitations, and he is dimly aware that something has to happen fast to break the evil powers that he knows is going to be unleashed with terrible consequences on him.
And then the truth strikes him suddenly!
They don’t want him to go and see Pastor Geoffrey Sam!
They are here to stop him from going to Fairview, dear Lord, and they would hurt him very badly if that will stop him!
Boat suddenly sees that the skies have suddenly turned very dark. Ominous clouds have gathered, and the sun has lent a strange red tinge to them, making it seem as if the sky is bleeding from a mortal wound.
Yaw Boat trembles and moans as the heads of the crows, as if from a silent signal, perceptively angle forward slightly, indicating that the moment of take-off is just a microsecond away.
He suddenly has a vivid image of those sharp beaks digging into him, tearing flesh and veins and vessels, gouging the life out of him, eating him alive…
All because he is deviating from a terrible agenda by seeking out Pastor Sam who will take him to Pastor Anderson!
The terror that is gripping Yaw Boat is considerable!
He has never been so scared in his life.
The wings of the crows began to rise as they prepare themselves to take off and come him.
He knows they are coming for him.
There is no doubt about that.
His breath is laboured, and in that state of distress he opens his mouth, and for the first time in so many years a silent sincere prayer passes through Yaw Boat’s lips.
They’re going to hurt me. Dear Lord, please help me out here!
And then a heavy truck appears around the bend in the road!
It is a dirty truck, lumbering along under the weight of something heavy in its trailer.
A heavy plume of black exhaust fumes trail it, and as it passes the place Boat is standing he peers into the car to see the driver, and suddenly he gasp with absolute shock when it dawns on him that there is nobody in the truck!
Boat bends double, as if he has been given a physical blow in the guts.
Maybe he has imagined it all! That must be the explanation! Maybe he just hasn’t looked into the truck really hard enough!
How can that huge truck be without a driver?
But Boat knows, he suddenly I knows, even though his brain denied it, that the truck has no driver!
He knows too that he has just received help from a very unusual place from a most terrible attack from the crows.
Yaw Boat knows that truck chugging along has not just appeared on the scene.
Maybe he had been so engrossed by the terrible sight of the crows that he barely paid attention to any sound around him, but he knows that isn’t so.
He had not heard the approaching truck’s engine.
He had prayed with terror, and immediately that prayer was answered.
It is like what Anderson had said: there is a terrible war going on, between the forces of light and the forces of darkness, in a world unseen by the ordinary human eyes, but visible to those with the gift of a Second Sight.
One side now doesn’t want Boat to see Geoffrey Sam, and so terrible crows have been sent to stop him.
The other side wants him to see Geoffrey Sam, and so a truck has been sent to break the threat of the crows.
It is like that; he doesn’t know for sure, and yet he knows for sure that is what is happening.
Crazy maybe, but that is just what Yaw Boat feels; call it a sixth sense, intuition, a hunch …whatever, but that is the way of things now.
Boat knows without a doubt that if the truck hadn’t appeared he would have been crow food for sure. Maybe they would not have eaten him completely, but they would have done enough, hurt him enough, to make me turn back.
The black eyes of the crows swing in unison towards the truck with a tangible fury.
The truck chugs along, and then lets out an ear-splitting wail from its twin horns. It is a harsh, grating tintinnabulation of a sound that makes Boat’s hands fly instinctively to his ears.
And again he knows, with that same strange ability, that it isn’t just the truck’s horns. That sound is something else; there are weapons in that discordant blast.
Its effect is all-consuming, breaking a uniform line of order, giving a discordant note to the evil that had converged.
Boat notices with grim scared eyes that the sound of the horns makes the crows twitch suddenly, and then they shoot into the air with sudden caws and cries of sudden dismay.
But not all of them flee.
That one is perched on a huge headstone in the middle of the cemetery.
It is a little bigger, a little blacker and has dark eyes filled with much, much more malice.
The others seemed to have been getting their cue from that ugly crow. It is the only one among the hundreds of crows which has a white collar.
Yaw Boat stares at that crow, and it stares right back at him.
Its stare throws Boat so hard that he reels back.
It is like taking a peek into hell!
Suddenly the crow’s eyes changes from unfathomable black to a deep red like blood, and that also changes to yellow flames!
Yaw Boat reaches out to hold his car and steady himself.
The evil crow blinks once, and then its wings flap, and it takes off. Boat watches it until they had become little specks in the sky, and then he walks on trembling legs to his car.
With fear in his heart he drives like a madman all the way to Fairview.
Season 1 Eps. 20
THE SECOND SIGHT
Location: PASTOR GEOFFREY SAM’S RESIDENCE
The effects of his strange encounter with the crows wear off slowly, but by the time Boat enters Fairview he had recovered enough to put a human expression on his face.
Somehow, with the sky above his head and solid ground under his feet, and with people all around him, it is easier to accept what had happened to him at the cemetery of horrors.
Fairview is doing fine.
Boat is mildly surprised to see how fast the town has grown. Big stores have sprung up, and massive infrastructure additions has brought nice improvements.
The centre of Fairview is now transformed by beautiful buildings and sights that have not been there the last time he had been around.
He drives past what appears to be a small casino. It is not really big, but it is located in the little valley that leads down to the northern tip of the town, and Boat mentally makes a note that maybe it is time he and Bob take a trip down to Fairview to expand business.
They can sell cocaine here and make some great profit margins.
The street address to Pastor Geoffrey Sam’s residence is a long stretch of shiny wealthy tarmac with impeccable houses lined along each side of it.
The lawns are green, manicured and squishy clean.
Clean laundry flap on the lines as Boat cruises by.
Well-fed kids ride bikes and skates under the watchful eyes of plump and bored housewives. A serene atmosphere and an air of relaxed luxury permeates the neighbourhood. Sleek cars are parked in the driveways. Men in well-tailored suits come down stairs, kiss wives, lift up kids with delight.
A good neighbourhood … full of hell!
Mammoth uglies reign supreme everywhere, clamouring all over the children, embedded in husbands, smashing into wives and impaling them.
It is a terrible sight, and Boat cruises along, doing his best not to look.
Such well-to-do families from the upper class of society … and demons are living right there with them!
It is so pathetic that Boat can barely watch.
Suddenly a tramp lumbers into the street with outstretched palms, almost stepping right in front of his car.
The man, who appears to be mentally unsound, is in tattered shorts and a faded green T-shirt with fading words across the chest which reads: Lousy T-Shirt from Grand-Father.
Boat honks instinctively, caught unawares by the mad man’s sudden movement. The man gestures toward his mouth with his fingers. He wants money to buy food.
Yaw Boat scoops up some coins from the cup holder in the car and tosses them to the mad man, and then he accelerates past him.
Finally Boat sees Pastor Geoffrey Sam’s address on a finely-crafted slab in front of the house, and he turns his car into the driveway.
The Pastor’s residence is one of the nicest houses around. Big and well-designed, it is painted snow white and full of glass.
There are three cars parked in front of the house. One is a little green two-door Alpha Romeo. There is a huge Ford family van with the logo of the CHRIST REDEEMED CHURCH on it. The third car is a sleek BMW.
Boat parks behind the Alpha Romeo and gets out.
A power sprinkler is on the lawn, doing a spiral watering of the beautiful lawn, dropping little showers of water on his shoes and peppering the legs of his trousers with tiny brown stains.
A fat, white cat is lying on a settee on the terrace, lazily regarding a cockroach crawling up the arm of the settee.
The lawn spreads lushly all around the house, and to Boat’s right is a creditable swimming-pool surrounded by brick-roofed summer huts.
On top of the roof is a fancy structure that looks like roof house, done mostly in glass, shimmering in the sun, casting out rainbow colours.
A huge Alsatian dog is squatting under the nearest hut, and it has a leash around its neck, fastened to a pillar. It gives a mighty bark and cocks its head to regard Boat, finds him unworthy of his vocal aggression, and puts head back down on his paws.
Yaw Boat climbs the steps to the front door and presses a hand to the door-bell. A melodious bell sounds biiing-bong somewhere deep in the house over the strident voice of Kirk Franklin doing one of his frenzied numbers.
Boat puts his thumb on the bell and presses three times in succession.
Kirk Franklin’s music stops, and a male voice calls from the room. A moment late the knob turns, and the door swings open.
The man standing there is fat, short and bald.
He is wearing a black suit two sizes too small for his explosive girth. The pastor’s collar around his thick neck is biting into the folds of flesh, and Boat notices that its topmost edge is very dirty.
A thick moustache completely hides his upper lip. Beads of perspiration has formed on his bulbous nose. He smiles and dabs at his nose with a huge white handkerchief.
Mr. Boat, I presume?
He is holding out a small, wet hand.
Yaw Boat shakes it carefully, fighting hard against the sudden urge to wipe his palm on his trousers.
The Pastor’s hand is clammy and hot, as if he had been engaged in something not so pious before Boat showed up. Boat wonders briefly if the pastor had been slipping one to his missus before he rang the bell, and the sudden intrusive vision of the pastor’s fat buttocks moving up and down in sexual bliss nearly makes him burst into laughter.
Yes, I’m Yaw Boat.
Geoffrey Sam at your service. Please, do come in. I’ve been waiting for you.
He stands aside for Boat to enter.
Boat moves past him into the room, taking a cursory look at the expensive and beautiful living-room.
And that is when the fat cat outside shrieks.
It is a terrible, ear-splitting, violent sound that grates on the ears.
That shriek is not normal; it belongs to nightmares.
Boat spins round, his eyes riveted on the cat.
It is standing on the settee, hunched so severely that its body has almost formed a perfect C. The hairs on its body are standing straight, all the hairs, so amazingly straight – and for one wild moment it doesn’t resemble a cat but looks uncannily like a porcupine.
The cat’s eyes seem to bulge from its face.
The lazy Alsatian dog is also giving out one terrible braying sound. The cat bounces off the settee and flashes between the legs of the startled pastor.
Boat turns to watch it as it disappears through a door that leads from the sitting-room.
The dog is still howling, back-pedalling with its snout pointed vertically up into the sky, its tail stuck so deeply between its legs it appears almost tailless, its buttocks close to the ground as it retreats in a pitiful gesture that portrays both fear and confusion.
It is the saddest thing Boat has ever seen a dog do.
What is going on?
Things are happening too fast, and Boat’s focus is momentarily thrown off-guard.
A female voice speaks behind Boat, and he turns again.
A woman has walked into the living-room. She is tall and awfully thin. Her breasts, however, are gigantic, straining at the green blouse she is wearing.
Boat assumes that she is the Pastor’s wife.
Geof, what’s wrong with them?
She sees Boat, and comes to a startled halt, her hand flying unconsciously to her chest. She must have caught Boat staring at her tits.
There is a sudden startled gasp behind Boat and once again he turns to face the doorway, and that is when Boat sees the tramp.
It is the same mad man who had begged for money to buy food, the one he had given coins to.
The mad man is rushing up the steps, a huge scary knife held in his left hand, its tip pointing upwards. One edge of the knife is sharp, whilst the other edge is serrated.
Pastor Geoffrey Sam is rooted to the spot with fear, his face filled with terror as he makes little screeching moans in his throat.
Without fully comprehending what is going on Yaw Boat moves in instinctively, his lightning-quick reflexes which have saved his life in many a brawl coming to the fore.
At an early age Boat had befriended a man who used to teach major arts of fighting – Kung Fu, karate, jiu-jitsu, aikido – to police and army officers.
The old man had crafted his own brutal hand-to-hand combat art which he called GojuFist. He had found an avid student in Yaw Boat, and most afternoons, after school, Old man Wailer Vroom had used his backyard to teach young Boat, and he had become incredibly good at GojuFist.
Boat reaches out, and his hand hooks into the sodden collar of the pastor’s coat, and then he yanks the man of God backward into the room, at the same time kicking out at the door, causing it to swing forward.
The tramp growls in a terrible voice as spittle and froth flies and rolls down his chin, and his expression changes from anger to maniacal fury.
And then, after seeing the mad man’s face fully, Boat finally understands what is going on, and the chilling terror freezes his heart.
He sees that the eyes of the mad man are now a terrible red … and burning crimson red on his forehead is the mark of the beast: 666!
The mad man is not acting on his own.
He has been possessed!
The damn demons haven’t been able to use the crows to stop Boat at the cemetery, and so now they have possessed this mad man to make sure that Boat doesn’t go to see Pastor Paul Anderson.
A red-eyed demon has possessed him, just like the green-eyed beast had possessed Ralph Stebbins!
The shock hits Boat with such relentless force that he stands still, immobilized, still holding onto the collar of the pastor.
The door has almost swung shut, but the destitute hurls himself at it with blind fury, and it the door flies off its hinges.
The pastor’s wife is now screaming shrilly, and the dog outside is now barking wildly.
Geoffrey Sam is struggling now, his eyes bulging wide, and Boat releases him just as the mad man enters the room.
With a roar of fury Boat meets the mad man.
His fear is discarded as insanity propels him forward.
Insanity from fear, from stress, from the nightmare he is living in because of the venomous evil all around him, and he holds nothing back as he swings at the demon-possessed mad man.
His fist smashes into the man’s jaw with all the force of his power behind it.
Any ordinary guy would have dropped to the floor in a faint.
That punch style is Boat’s favourite GojuFist punch, a technique which involves breathing in to garner force and breathing out with the blow so that it connects with the force of your soul.
Before that day, no man has been known to survive it.
He feels the impact jarring through his arm, twanging, causing a sharp pain in his shoulder. He has never hit anybody that hard.
The mad man should have been pole-axed. He should have collapsed with a broken jaw and a bleeding nose.
But tramp’s head moves back just a fraction, and that is all.
Boat shakes his hand, aware of the sharp pain across his knuckles and knowing that he has bruised them badly with that blow.
It had felt like running his hand into the heart of cast iron.
And then the tramp’s right fist sinks into Boat’s belly, knocking the air out of him.
Yaw Boat falls down from the blow, his vision clouding.
He fights against the pain, trying to stay in the real world.
Pastor Sam tries to flee.
Boat’s screams as he lays on the floor joins that of the woman as the mad man raises the knife in his hand, and brings it down savagely.
The pastor, trying to flee, stumbles at that moment, and that action propels him forward, and the knife, aimed at his neck, plunges almost to the hilt just below his right shoulder and just a hair’s breadth short of his spinal cord.
He squeals with terror as blood turned his coat a darker shade, and spews all over the knife and the wrist of the hobo.
The crazy attacker tries to pull his knife free, but the serrated edge get entangled in flesh and cloth, and so he plants his right foot against King’s spine and pulls.
The knife comes free with a ripping sound.
Pastor Sam wails as a crimson hole appeared in his back. His hands grope at the wound, as if he wants to massage the pain away.
His eyes turn to his wife imploringly.
The demon-possessed mad man growls, raises his blood-stained knife, and steps forward, his maddened eyes fixed on the pastor.
With uncanny speed he lunges again. The pastor’s wife screams over and again as the knife zooms in and hits the back of Sam’s fat neck.
King seems to pivot slowly towards Boat, the tip of the knife protruding from his throat like some obscene Adam’s apple.
He makes some sort of guttural sound as blood pours down the sides of his mouth and down his throat.
His eyes seem to glare at Boat accusingly for a moment, and then he performs an almost graceful pirouette and falls down at his wife’s feet.
His body jerks spasmodically in his death throes as his hands reaches out and grabs his wife’s feet, his face filled with agony and horror.
The mad man is almost on top of the pastor, growling with hatred, bending for the knife which is still stuck in the pastor’s neck.
Boat struggles to his feet, bent over with pain, and stumbles forward drunkenly, afraid that the mad man is going to kill the woman too.
Boat is almost in tears.
He just cannot believe what is happening!
It has just been not more than two minutes since the demon-possessed killer entered the room, but he has acted with unbelievable swiftness, accuracy and brutality.
The savagery and sheer senselessness of the attack fills Boat with a fury so deep that he can barely breathe, and yet his feeling of helplessness and inadequacy brings a bitter taste to his mouth.
Such evil, such crass violent that needs to be punished and extinguished, and yet there is nothing he can do to harm these forces of darkness.
He struggles forward, his horrified eyes picking up the fact that the mad man has planted a dirty foot on King’s head and has pulled out his terrible weapon, almost decapitating the poor man in the process.
The mad man turns on the woman.
Oh, no, you piece of shit, Boat tries to say, but of course nothing comes out. He is too scared and numbed to be capable of any coherent thoughts or speech.
And then, thankfully, it happens.
Just as the mad man nears Mrs. Sam and raises the knife to strike her, the woman she begins to glow.
It is the same dazzling force-field that Boat had seen on the poor widow.
Season 1 Eps. 21
THE SECOND SIGHT
Location: PASTOR GEOFFREY SAM’S RESIDENCE
This field around Mrs. Sam looks a little weaker, a little bit less-intense than the one he has seen around the widow, but it is there all the same, shrouding the woman completely, so real and powerful that she looks almost invisible in it.
The mad man growls with sudden fear, and the knife drops from his hand. He holds up his arm protectively, tottering backwards, his countenance now filled with and fear.
Boat launches himself at the man.
His right shoulder hits him in the midriff. His momentum sends both of them crashing into an armchair.
With amazing strength and swiftness the mad man squirms out from under Boat, but Boat lashes out with a savage elbow, catching him brutally in the back of his head.
This time the tramp groans with pain as he is driven to his knees. Boat bounces off the armchair with his right fist swinging.
For the second time his blow catches the man flush on the jaw. He moans this time and topples forward. He falls on his face, but bounces off the floor with the fluid grace of a gymnast and totters toward the door.
Once again Boat is gripped by a maddened fury which he cannot control. Maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to hit out at these evil things, but I hadn’t been able to, until now.
They are now in a body, and have taken shape, and now he can hit them and maybe hurt them!
He reaches down and pulls at a low table. There are some expensive-looking chinaware sets on it, and they came smashing down to the floor, some breaking into fine pieces.
Boat lets out a roar he hardly recognizes as coming from his throat, and charges the door just as the tramp shoulders it open and stumbles outside.
Boat runs out of the door, still gripped by sizzling fury, and then he comes to a halt with a shocked little gasp.
The sun is gone!
The sky is dark with the same bleeding clouds he had witnessed at the cemetery.
An ominous wind is blowing, bending branches of the trees along the street and sending fine dust into the air. Lightning flashes across the sky with terrible frequency, scything the air with alternating brilliant silvery flashes.
It is not like any weather Boat has ever seen.
The tramp topples down the steps, and then turns to fix Boat with that evil red stare. The demon, eyes as red as blood, evil mark blazing on its forehead, glares at Boat with blatant and live evil.
Thunder booms in six quick successions across the sky, shaking the ground, and then there is a horrible tearing noise from the sky above me.
Boat looks up, alarmed, and just then there is a final ripping sound, and then a fine, rectangular glass tears off from glass structure on the roof.
The glass comes down straight at the tramp, who is staring upwards, face filled with insane glee, hands and body dripping wet with Pastor Sam’s blood.
Boat watches in awestruck horror as the glass strikes the base of the madman’s neck. His head shoots off his body like a basketball, spirals once, and hits the ground with a resounding thud-flop-clash sound, landing upside down, his facial muscles still stretched in a grotesque grin.
The decapitated body does a crazy samba-like shuffle, and then falls sideways.
Blood shoots out like the sprinkler on the lawn, decorating the courtyard with a bright, crimson splatter.
The table drops from Boat’s nerveless hand as he stands transfixed with horror.
There is a flash of red as the demon leaves the body of the dead tramp.
Finding his voice finally, Boat lets out an insane yell and jumps down from the top steps, swinging his fists furiously at the evil red haze still streaming out of the dead body.
He can feel it all around him, hot and stinking, sizzling with an evil presence, suffocating and unpleasant.
He can see half demonic faces in there, numerous eyes, a million ancient humming voices driving him deaf as that evil red mist swirls around him in a shroud, and then converging into a single ray of red as it shoots over him.
Boat stares helplessly after it, screaming his head off, raising his face towards the sky as the red cloud ascends.
And then he sees them.
The black crows are now lined up on the roof.
The same black crows he had seen at the cemetery.
The demon cloud hits the crow in the middle.
It is the same huge crow, the one which seems to be the leader, the single crow which had remained behind at the cemetery, the one in his room, the one in his garage!
Its eyes glow red orbs of hatred at Boat … a terrible bright demon stare!
Boat’s yells die in his throat as they stare at each other.
He can feel its baleful eyes tearing into his soul, delving, delving and delving, wanting to tear his brain away.
Suddenly it flaps its gigantic wings, and then it lifts off, followed by the other crows.
Thunder rumbles in the sky, lightning slashes relentlessly. The wind, now almost reaching gale-force, tears into Boat, striving to tear his cheeks apart and wrench the skin off his body.
And then, as suddenly as it has started, it stops!
Just like that!
The sun appears out of the gloom as the crows turn northward. The black shadow of the great crow falls over Boat, and suddenly his breath stops as he stares at the shadow of the crow on the ground!
He shudders with chilled horror at what I sees.
He can see the shadows of the crows, and they are normal bird-shaped shadows…
But the shadow of the huge crow, the one with the white collar, is not the shadow of a bird!
It is the shadow of a three-legged beast!
The beast has ugly deformed hands which have three fat claws for fingers. On top of its abnormally huge and ugly head is a long, sharp horn!
Yaw Boat looks up with a heart thudding with fear, but the crows are now specks disappearing into the horizon, framed against the evening sky in a perfect inverted V-formation.
Boat’s stupor is broken by the scream of Mrs. Sam behind him.
She is standing in the doorway, covered with the blood of her husband, and she is staring at the body of the headless man, and the upside-down grinning head.
Trembling, Boat climbs the steps up and takes her shivering body in his arms.
He holds her as she trembles and weeps.
He says nothing. He just holds her. His mind is on other things.
What was that shadow all about?
A three-legged giant beast with three fingers for a hand, a huge malformed head and a horn!
What in the name of Hades had that beast been?
Of course he knows it is one of those terrible demons with red eyes which had possessed the body of the crow.
But why? What does it want with him?
Yaw Boat is a very scared man as he holds Mrs. Sam.
Season 1 Eps. 22
THE SECOND SIGHT
The cops and paramedics swoop down like famished hawks which have sighted a well-fed chick.
They arrive in their ambulances and sedans, making a din terrible enough to bring back extinct species.
They cordon off the area and the professionals go to work. Gloves are snapped on and orders are barked out, as they go about their duties with precision and dedication.
They take the shocked Mrs. Sam to hospital.
She is so devastated that she had slipped into some sort of sobbing fit by the time the cops arrived. She cannot not speak; she just goes on sobbing even when the tears will not flow anymore and all that comes out of her throat are scratchy sounds.
Even though Boat had done his best to clean her hands of the blood, she still stares at her fingers as if her husband’s arteries are still pumping bright-red blood on them.
Unable to get anything sensible from her, the cops turn to Boat and vent full-spleen frustrations on him. They coop him up in the house and grill him. Still unsatisfied, they invite him to take a ride with them to the police station where four huge detectives swing questions at him like wedding confetti.
Yaw Boat stays cool and calm, and sticks to his story; he tells them that he and Pastor Geoffrey Sam had been preparing to take a trip to Takoradi to see Pastor Paul Anderson, who is a mutual friend.
He had come down to Fairview to relay a message, and found them being attacked by the madman.
The cops grill him as if they can see lies spilling off his lips, but all the evidence points to the fact that indeed the madman had gone berserk and attacked the pastor.
They cannot reach Pastor Paul Anderson on the phone.
The only one who could have given them another version is Mrs. King, but she is in her own little world, and it might take some hours, even days, before she can come out of her shock.
There is no way Boat could’ve told them the real truth about the demons that have invaded the madman and used him to murder the poor pastor.
Finally, when it is quite dark, they let Boat go. He is not a suspect, not yet, but he should make sure not to leave the country because blah, blah, blah…
Fact is, Boat isn’t bothered about being a murder suspect, or being thrown into jail.
What is there to fear after what his eyes have beheld?
He isn’t worried about his present situation. There are more urgent questions to be answered, and the Fairview cops with their pathetic threats are the least of his worries.
Crazy things have happened, things beyond his comprehension. He does not even try to make sense out of the series of events anymore.
Anderson is not a madman after all.
He had known exactly what he had been talking about.
Samson Basoah and Boat had been wrong!
The unthinkable has happened, and Boat has to face that fact.
He knows he is walking that thin line between sanity and madness, and he knows it is going to take all his willpower and something special to stop his brain from exploding.
And all along questions are plaguing him.
Questions he has no answers to.
Why the white crows?
Why had Pastor Sam been killed?
Why did the pastor’s wife have the amazing force-field which had made the demon flee, and how come the pastor himself didn’t have a protective force-field?
And then there is the screaming question: can Anderson be right? Has Yaw Boat been manipulated into a state of total sin to allow his body to be occupied by a demon?
Anderson has been proven right on the ability for humans to see into another realm, so why won’t he be right about the rest of it?
If it is all true, is Boat now ready to succumb to Anderson, and change his life to become some sort of weird demon-hunter?
The answer is no!
Damn it, who can bear such a life? To see those uglies and chase them? No bloody way!
There is only one thing to do now!
He needs to see Anderson fast and let him take away that damn gift, this crazy ability to see into the spiritual realm.
This is no horror movie.
He has just witnessed two violent, diabolical murders! Lives have been snuffed out with the flippant nonchalance like a snap of fingers. Evil has reared its head, and now Boat is staring into the mouth of hell.
But he cannot take it any longer!
He needs his father badly. His father can help him, but he is out of the country, and there is the likelihood that Anderson’s warning will come true, and something really awful can happen to Boat before his father returns, and then he will be beyond help!
He drives back to Accra as if the Devil is after him!
It is not until he is fifteen minutes away from Accra that he finally decides on his next line of action.
He parks on the side of the road and puts in a call to his travel agent.
Boat wants the agent to book him on a flight with BeachAir, the private airline company that provides quick shuttles across the country.
He is going to Takoradi.
With Pastor Sam out of the picture and his wife slammed into her own world, the only option is to get to Anderson himself.
The Boat’s family’s travel agent and friend, Peter Amuzu, however, has bad news for Boat.
Sorry, Yaw. BeachAir is not flying anymore. The Supreme Court slammed an indefinite ban on it and froze all their operations. They’re grounded.
Yep. Tax evasion, Yaw. Serious shit. Millions of Cedis involved, plus the company is up to her tits in debts. It has been using a front all this while, and it seems the Chief Executive was taking the shareholders for a ride. He embezzled the lot of money but he’s been nabbed by the police. Serious scandal leading to BeachAir being grounded. Where have you been, Yaw? It is all over the newspapers and airwaves!
Damn! I need to get to Takoradi, Peter. I need another flight, or I might have to drive all the way to Takoradi.
Drive to Tadi? You have to wait three days then before venturing out.
What are you talking about? From Accra to Tadi is not more than three hours for me.
There is a short pause, pregnant with meaning, and that is when Boat’s ears begin to heat up, and the hairs on the back of his neck begins to bristle.
Are you telling me you haven’t heard the news, Yaw?
Heard what? What news?
For no apparent reason at all Boat’s heart begins to pound severely.
Where have you been, Yaw? There was a freak earthquake that has rendered the whole stretch of road from Winneba to Cape Coast impassable. Quake also affected the entry from Kumasi. All entry points to Tadi are blocked. Authorities project that it will take at least three days to clear a temporary entry into Tadi. All local flights to Takoradi are booked tight. I’ll see if I can squeeze a flight for you tomorrow on one of flights, but I doubt it, seriously.
Boat barely hears him.
All he knows is that from the moment Mr. Amuzu began talking about that freak earthquake, Boat’s heartbeats began accelerating, and his body suddenly goes numb.
A terrible kind of headache starts on his forehead just below the hairline, and its sudden ferocity brings tears to his eyes.
The phone is like a million tons in his hand. His brain pounds, and his body shakes. A terrible heat is rising from deep within his belly, engulfing his whole body. He can hear Peter’s anxious voice, calling from far away, asking if he is fine.
The phone drops from his nerveless fingers. He stares at his trembling hands with horror mounting in his heart.
Everything now makes terrible sense to him.
The murder of Pastor Sam and the tramp, the problems of BeachAir, the freak earthquake that has rendered Takoradi inaccessible by road…they are not mere coincidences, no, not by any stretch of the imagination.
Something sinister is brewing.
The horror of it hits him, and his brain refuses to accept, to understand, to allow. It is madness, surely he must be wrong…
Oh, dear Lord, let him be wrong, take his mind off this horror!
But everything indicates that he is being boxed in!
For some reason, some very obvious reason, he is being kept in Accra, marooned!
Something desperately wants to keep poor Yaw Boat away from Pastor Anderson!
Avenues were being closed!
He is being slowly but surely set aside, waiting for the axe to fall.
Something somewhere, somehow, is manipulating events, boxing him up tight in Accra so that he will never set foot outside its boundaries, until whatever needs to be done to him is done!
Some evil fiends wants him to stay where he is!
He is being marooned … quarantined!
Boat’s fears knows no bounds.
It is so complete that he can feel it turning his blood to ice and fire, buffeting me with equal doses of heat and coldness.
He fights the panic, clenching his jaw and his stomach muscles. Surely there are other ways he can connect with Anderson, not necessarily on a physical level.
He can make use of technology.
He will visit the website of Pastor Anderson’s church again and search the web relentlessly. There will be another way of getting Anderson to take the damn curse off his neck.
There is a sudden spattering thud on the bonnet of the car, then faint scratch sounds follow, and then his head come up slowly.
The big white crow is sitting snugly on his bonnet, looking at him, inhuman eyes blazing red, filled with inexpressible fury!
A dirty bird, a hateful bird with evil eyes, keeping tabs on him and monitoring his moves, ready to wreak the next special delivery of death and horror.
His fear crystallizes into sudden fury.
He flings open his glove compartment, grabs the huge gun Bob had given almost a year previously, and which he has put in his glove compartment after his meeting with Pastor Paul Anderson.
Boat opens his door and flies out of the car with a massive cry of horror, anger, fear and disgust.
The gun is a Magnum .375, old-fashioned shredder, Dirty Harry style, baby.
He has not used it before since he coerced Bob to get it for him. Before meeting Anderson, he had even been toyed around with the idea of getting rid of it.
The scene is different now.
Boat really wants to use it now.
He wants to fill that crazy fat white crow with so many bullets that it will explode into smithereens.
His maniacal war cry shatters the air as he levels the gun at the crow.
He fires, and the gun bucks in his hand, startling him with its harsh sounds.
The white ugly crow glides off his bonnet with slow, deliberate, sluggish steps … majestic, unperturbed and absolutely cool.
Boat holds the gun in both hands and goes on firing point-blank at that horrible bird.
The crow flies lazily up into the trees bordering the road.
None of the bullets has hit that evil bird!
Yaw Boat looks into the trees with impotent fury.
High above him, on the tallest tree, a pair of deep red eyes are fixed on him.
He sees no crow, and he sees no movement because it is quite dark. He hears no sound … but he sees those evil red eyes blazing down at him.
This is real horror … real death!
He looks down at his trembling hands, and he quails inside as he realizes what he has done.
If another motorist had come by, if an eye-witness had been around, it would have been straight to the jailhouse for him.
He enters the car in a daze and leans back against the seat wearily.
And after a while he allows his thoughts to crystallize. He faces what had happened with cold reality, and accepts it for what it is.
He is a pretty good with a gun.
In fact, he is a natural with a gun. Bob had forced him to take shooting lessons, and his prowess on the range had been phenomenal.
One of his instructors once jokingly said that Boat had an in-built radar in his eye that held targets and directed his bullets straight at them.
But just a couple of minutes ago he had fired at that crow from point-blank range. Granted that he had been afraid and in an uncontrollable fury at the same time, but he just simply couldn’t have missed from that range.
He had fired a full clip of bullets at that bird which had moved without haste, without a care in the world, and still he had not been able to hit it.
The reason is simple, really.
At some point between his gun and the body of that bird, his bullets had simply vanished into thin air. The space between his gun and the bird had somehow swallowed up all his bullets.
So simple, so frightening!
Evil at its finest!
His hands are quite unsteady as he puts the gun back in the glove compartment.
Overcome with emotion, he drops his face into his hands. His mind fights it, and he tries to stay strong, but to no avail. The tears well up in his eyes, hot and searing, a direct result of all the accumulated badness in him, but he brushes them aside angrily.
It is not the time for tears and certainly not the time to turn yellow.
He is in deep trouble, and he has to find a lasting solution to that problem.
He knows, as he fights the tears away violently, that he is going to be gobbled up whole if doesn’t play his cards well in a game where his unseen and unknown enemies have all the aces, and more, under their sleeves.
Season 1 Eps. 23
THE SECOND SIGHT
A FATHER’S LOVE
Yaw Boat calls his father.
The way things are going, he had expected his phone to jam up. Maybe the wide-world phone reception would be messed up, not for everybody, no sir, but only for him, no calling for Mr. Yaw Boat.
But, surprisingly, the lines are not messed up.
The phone call goes through all the way to Ontario, Canada.
Boat has a lot of emergency numbers which his old man had given me. He can reach his father in almost any country. The numbers are mostly where his father lodged in any particular country.
The phone goes priinnnn-prinnn…priinnnn-prinnn in his ears.
Damn, the call is really going through!
Suddenly he hears a voice in his ears, one of those melodious female voices which makes you picture a face instantly, and makes you crave to meet its owner.
It rattles on in his ear, and Boat demands to speak to his father. The voice demands to know who is calling, please.
Yaw Boat, his son.
There is a sudden intake of breath, a new note of humility, a hurried plea for him to hold on a second, please, and then a second later, his father’s rich baritone voice booms in his ear, full of concern … worried, loving, tender.
Junior? How’re you, son? Been trying to reach you, my boy, but the network has been lousy!
He sounds so close and gentle, as if he is sitting right beside Boat with an arm draped across his shoulder, one of his favourite postures when he is with his son.
Boat is so overcome by his strong love for his father and by how much he misses his old man that tears come to his eyes and almost ease into his face, and he has to swallow rather painfully and steel his nerves to prevent himself from bawling like a baby.
And then the floodgates open and he begins to blabber to his father.
The words rattle out of his mouth, and he keeps on rambling, telling him of all that has happened from the moment he met Pastor Paul Anderson, leaving nothing out.
Boat is amazed at how the words come pouring out of his soul. It is damn uncanny, the way he suddenly feels like a child, desperately needing a shoulder to cry on, terribly needing comfort and solace from his father.
It makes Boat remember Miss. Prim, a golden-feathered parrot one of his teachers used to own when he was in Secondary School.
Mr. Prempeh, the physics lecturer, often boasted about how smart his parrot was. He sometimes went too far, comparing the intellect of his students to that of Miss. Prim, telling them that if they had been half as smart as the parrot it wouldn’t have been necessary for him to spend hours lecturing.
The thing was, Miss. Prim could never stop yapping. She would pick up on any little phrase that caught her fancy and pour it out for hours in her cage.
One day Miss. Prim began chucking out a particular sentence that had turned Mr. Prempeh blue.
Oh, yes, Ebo, my love, don’t stop! Harder, Ebo, harrrrrrrder!!
Fact was, Ebo was Mrs. Prempeh’s supposed colleague at work, and a pal of Mr. Prempeh.
Mr. Ebo used to come on visits especially on weekends when Mr. Prempeh was lecturing.
After hearing Miss Prim’s passionate new lines, Mr. Prempeh had not found it hard putting two and two together.
It turned out he had been having his own little suspicions for a while, and smart Miss. Prim provided the smart summary.
He had been filled with incensed wrath, and had pummelled his wife until she gave the final admission that she had indeed been having an unholy affair with Mr. Ebo.
Mr. Prempeh had driven straight to Mr. Ebo’s house and almost killed him.
It had landed him afoul of the law, and the scandal had been long and smelly, and finally Mr. Prempeh had divorced his wife. He had seemed at peace outwardly, but something unpalatable was happening in his house.
It seemed that Miss. Prim was so taken by her latest phrase – probably buoyed up by the passionate note it had been uttered in – that she just couldn’t stop screaming it out with amazing clarity and astonishing passion time and over again.
Mr. Prempeh got up one evening when Miss. Prim roared out her cry. He got his gun and shot the poor bird clean in her cage.
Needless to say, he stopped comparing the intellect of that talkative bird with that of his students.
That evening, Yaw Boat feels like Miss Prim as he pours out his heart to his father. He feels like if he doesn’t drop dead, he could speak for ages.
Finally, however, he dries out. There is silence on the other side for a long time. Boat can only hear the faint static in the background.
Dad? Are you still on the line?
Yes, son, I am! You have the gift of the Unblinds?
Boat is silent for a moment with total incomprehension. It seems to him that all his father heard was that part, and he seems totally unaffected by the ordeal Boat had been through and just enumerated to him.
Secondly, Boat has not used foul term in his narration: Unblind!
He speaks carefully.
Dad, you used Pastor Anderson’s term. The Unblinds. You know about that?
Of course I do! I knew a man of God who had such a gift a long time ago, but of course I didn’t completely believe it then. I can’t believe this has happened to you, Junior. I can imagine the kind of hell you’re going through, of course, but I’m so happy. At least, you’re going to be a true believer and forsake your sinful ways!
I’m suffering, Dad! I’m absolutely terrified! I don’t know how long I can hold on before going stark raving mad!
When he replies, his father’s voice is gentle, full of love.
I can imagine, Junior. But you’re making it hard for yourself, my son. All you have to do is accept your gift by accepting Christ as your Lord and personal saviour, then no evil will be able to harm you. Listen, I’m cutting this stay short. I’ll be down there in Ghana tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you and share this great miracle with your. I never imagined that your transition from sin to grace would be crowned with such an amazing gift.
I’m scared, Dad. I’m sorry, but I can’t live with this damn thing. I’ve been seeing things … very bad things! I can’t cope with it, Dad!
When his father speaks, his voice is now frosted over. It is a voice Boat has come to hear less frequently, because he uses it on those occasions when he is particularly irked and his son has tested his patience.
You’re speaking like a fool, Junior. What do you think is happening? You think what you’re going through is some kind of movie? Have you bothered to ask yourself the salient questions? If you’ll think deeper and see what the future holds, you’ll realize what an amazing lifeline you’ve been given. The man told you there are only two choices for you … either you get God, or you get this demon that is planning to inhabit your body and use it for evil! Have you asked yourself why you’re still alive? Do you know why evil is protecting you so much?
Protecting me, Dad?
Think about Mr. Stebbins, my son! Think about Geoffrey Sam. If your accounts are accurate, and I do believe they are, have you wondered why Pastor Sam died? You wondered why he was a pastor, and yet didn’t have this protective field you described. But his wife had it! Stop deluding and feeling sorry for yourself, son. There are no neutral choices here. Whatever happens, your life will never be the same. You only have two choices, life and death. I love you more than anything in the world, my son, but my love can’t help you if you switch to the other side and allow a demon to possess you like Stebbins is possessed.
Boat is rendered speechless.
You now have a chance to become one of the Chosen Ones. You have been favoured and shown divine mercy. You’re a forefront soldier now, and although I don’t really know how all that will pan out in the end, or how you’re going to use your amazing gift, I’ll be there to give you all the support you’ll require every step of the way. Look, we’ll go to Anderson together, and you’ll have all my wealth at your disposal. No matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side, son.
Dad, I’m not a man of God. There are things you don’t know about me, things I’ve hidden from you all these years. I’m not one of you, Dad. I’ve pretended to be a Christian just to please you, but I’m not.
His father sighs, and Boat can imagine him nodding his head.
I know you’re into drugs, son. I know you use drugs, and sell drugs! I know you’ve been fornicating with any woman willing to open her thighs for you. Your life has filled me with pain, wondering where I went wrong as a father. For many years I’ve been praying for you, hoping that a miracle will happen and God will touch you. Do you know why? It’s because one day when I meet your mother again I’ll want you to be by my side too. I promised your mother, son, before she died, that I’ll raise you well. That was her one wish!
Yaw Boat’s body is jerked forcibly back into his seat as if he has been shot.
His father’s words carve into him like hot knives through butter.
You knew? All along, Dad?
Yes, Junior. I’ve known about the seedy things you’ve been doing for a long time. There is nothing I don’t know about you, because you’re my son, and I love you. I’ve known you’re on the road to destruction, and it shattered me. I’ve been through pain because of how you’ve turned out, and it came to a point when I almost gave up, because I blamed God for letting my son go to such waster, but I never gave up on you. I still continued to pray and fast for you, and now it has all been made clear to me. Evil had terrible plans for you, and I thank God that He saw it fit to take you from the gutter and use you. That is how wonderful He can be sometimes. There are so many things you need to learn. Wait for me, Junior. I’m coming home to help you.
(in a small lost voice)
It seems this is inevitable, and there is nothing he can do about it at the moment, and once again his father’s love – so sincere and true, so warm and huge – shrouds Boat, and he feels tears swelling in his eyes again, and a painful lump in his throat.
Love does that sometimes.
Boat is relieved when they say their emotional goodbyes and he cuts the call.
He can wait.
His father is on his way back to help him.
It is a really a nice feeling compared to the very black abyss he had been sinking into before calling his father.
Yes, he will wait for his father.
But first, however, there are some things he has to do in town, much as I loathes the idea of going out, and setting eyes on those damn uglies again.
He is shocked and mollified by the fact that his old man knows about his seedy life of drugs and sex.
He can just imagine his father’s horror, his pain, and his distaste. He shudders to think of what pain he might have caused his father.
It is a sobering thought that leaves a sour taste in his mouth. The can of worms is now open, and they are squirming out into the open now.
He isn’t really sure about what is going to happen, but having a clean slate with his old man is very refreshing, and he can only hope that the future will bring with it a better Yaw Boat.
He has never wanted to drag his old man into his sordid life, but it seems his father understands, and knows that it had been out of Boat’s control.
The idea that he had not been in control of his actions, of his destiny, of his will, acutely disgusts him, and fills him with a raging fury.
It is like he had been stripped naked in public and had been unaware of it. Humans are naturally full of pride, and they thrive on dignity and the fact that they are in control of their lives, from dawn till dusk, that they write the patterns of their life. Take that away, and the dignity of man is reduced to emptiness, to a lifeless void.
And that was exactly what has happened to him.
He has been manipulated and controlled, unknowingly, and it makes him seethe with rage.
But no more!
He cannot be what Anderson – and his Dad – want him to be. The thought of being an Unblind gives Boat the shudders, and repulses him beyond imagination.
However, he knows he has to clean up his act, especially now that he knows what a dreadful son he has been to his father.
Boat still has some coke money with him. He has sold Bob Sarpong’s cocaine to his special clients, and now he has to account for the money.
Money for Bob, less Boat’s commission.
The truth is that Boat doesn’t want the commission anymore.
He now wants nothing to do with drugs again, at least for the time being. What he has seen has blown him clear out of the water. It was time to give Bob Sarpong his money, and that will be Boat’s break from drugs.
So Boat hits the town once more.
He leaves his damaged Mercedes in the garage and takes one of his father’s cars, a Toyota Land Cruiser.
The weather is cool and fine.
It is a nice day for those who have normal eyes, of course.
But to Boat, it is a hell he has to endure as he sees the uglies swinging around town everywhere he turns.
They fill his sights with their lewd antics.
Once again it strikes Boat how terrible it all is, how futile life really is. So many people, and yet the number of people he sees who have that glorious force-field can be counted on his fingers. Fury fills his heart when he sees what these uglies are doing to innocent unsuspecting people, but that wrathful emotion isn’t strong enough to send him on the road to hunt them down.
He just doesn’t want to see them; he wants to be blinded once more, and live his life in blinded peace.
With great difficulty and fear Boat drives to Bob’s apartment with his money.
Season 1 Eps. 24
THE SECOND SIGHT
Location: BOB’S APARTMENTS
Bob is a weird guy who has always baffled Boat.
Boat has never been able to figure Bob out.
Bob is the kind of guy who is always careful. He is meticulous and thorough, and never believes in rushing things, and yet he had bumped into a girl at a railway station and in less than a week later they were married. The girl had been knocked down by a car, and had died as a result, two days after their wedding.
And what had Bob Reynolds done after he lost his wife? He took three girls to bed whilst she was still lying in the morgue and had himself a group sex through the night.
He is the kind of guy who will go mad at you for swapping a fly, or squashing a cockroach. Boat had once seen Bob carefully removing a beetle from a spider’s web, making sure that the beetle flew away unharmed.
He had also seen Bobo spending twelve minutes, whilst they were late for an appointment, to free a squirming worm from the clutches of killer ants, and putting the worm on a safe portion of grassland.
And in spite of that kindness to a worm and to a beetle, Boat has also seen Bob taking a baseball bat to the knees of one of his men who had stolen from him, and hit the man so hard and so many times that he had become lame in one leg.
There is also an occasion when Bob had cut off the nose of a man he claimed was more than a brother to him, and all this man had done was spend some of Bob’s cocaine money.
Bob Sarpong is thus the most unpredictable person Boat has ever seen, and he is thankful for the fact that he and Bob understands each other, and have mutual respect for each other. He likes Bob, though. He had shown Boat a part of the world he never existed, and had been like the older brother Boat never had.
At thirty-six, Bob has premature iron-grey hair. He has the fine, chiselled lines of a Greek aristocrat. He is five foot seven and has a tight wiry frame. He has demonstrated awesome strength time and again, and knows how to take care of himself. Of course any illiterate who can rise to such heights of power and wealth would have to be damn capable of taking care of himself, especially on the African drug terrain where lives are snuffed out at the snap of fingers.
Bob has two condos in town, and has a craze for fishing boats. He keeps an apartment, located in Sweet Meadows Avenue, one of the seediest parts of Accra, for his projects. He has a loyal band of cutthroats and spies in Sweet Meadows, and that makes him feel safe. Cunning and not afraid to give out fat monies to the locals, he also has high-ranking crooked cops on his payroll, and that has kept him out of trouble and out of prison for a long time.
Boat parks the Land Cruiser on the curb, where he always does, and walks through the meandering alleys to Bob’s dark apartment which serves as the base for his operations. Stagnant pools of water surround the building. The place stinks, and mice as huge as human calves scurry in the darkness.
Boat wouldn’t have lived in Sweet Meadows for all the riches in the world, but of course Bob is like a chameleon, and can blend anywhere. The dirty apartment in the seediest part of the neighbourhood serves him well, and makes him keep as low a profile as possible. He used to tell Boat that he had lived in worst places. Boat had always wondered what kind of childhood Bob had had.
Boat knocks sharply on the door. After a moment it opens, and he finds himself looking into the grim face of Ali.
Ali is almost as tall as Boat, but dangerously lean. He is always in black suit and transparent glasses. He has the eyes of a killer. Ali does most of Bob’s dirty works. He is fiercely loyal to Bob; as loyal as a blind dog. His eyes bore into Boat without expression, and then he stands aside and motions Boat to enter.
The interior of the room belies its dirty stinking exterior. It is expensively-furnished and air-conditioned, providing a welcomed relief from the heat outside. Ali nods towards a closed door which leads to the bedroom.
Boat knocks once on the door, and then he enters.
Yaw, my nigga, come in! Come in and make yourself comfortable. What would you like, my brother? A drink, coffee, coke or a screw? You can have any combination too if you wish!
Boat’s eyes begin to adjust to the semi-darkness.
Bob bursts into raucous laughter after his speech.
He is dead stoned on cocaine.
He is wearing white boxer shorts and a flannel mauve gown. He is standing behind a huge desk on top of which are three bulky transparent sachets filled with cocaine.
He mixes a little cocaine on a blotter on the desk, bends and puts his nose to it, and blows the coke with loud sniffing sounds. He groans and stretches his arms, bucking like a bull in heat, white crystalline particles smearing his nostrils.
Boat looks away from him with a little shudder of disgust. Only a day ago he would have joined Bob and sniffed his way to oblivion, but I only has disgust for the drug baron now.
On the four-poster bed in the room are two girls, an Asian and a Black woman, both totally nude. They are touching each other gently and kissing passionately.
They are unperturbed by Boat’s presence.
The Asian girl looks at Boat, smiles lustfully, and clamps hot lips on the black woman’s nipple being pushed into her mouth. Judging from the bulge in Bob’s shorts and the little wet patch clearly outlined by the bulge, Boat doesn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce what Bob had been doing before Boat came into the room.
Bob reaches across the table, picks up a bottle of scotch, tilts it, and slugs heavily. He shakes his head and smiles at Boat dazedly, and then he crosses to the bed.
He grins wolfishly and grabs the waist of the Asian girl, caressing her crudely between her thighs, and then he looks over at Boat with mock astonishment.
Yaw, my boy, the bed is big enough. Get out of those clothes and grab yourself a pussy-lunch and stop standing there like a damn fool! What’s wrong with you anyway? Why are you behaving all funny, staring at me as if you’ve seen Frankenstein’s creatures on my damn face, huh?
Bob doesn’t know that Boat is trying to stifle a scream as well. If it had been Frankenstein’s creatures, Boat would have been much happier.
But, embedded deep in Bob, is a monstrously terrible demon which strikes unimaginable terror into Boat’s heart.
It is just like looking into the soul of hell. It is a purplish-green colour, and its skin is bunched up like a thousand-year-old hag’s. Its nose is long and malformed, exploding outward in real ugliness, punctured by a huge, pinkish hole that seems to bulge out and ooze goo. Its ears are flat and broad, plastered to the cone-shaped, hairless head.
Its three arms jut out from a convex chest, the point of attachment looking so red it seems to be bleeding. Its stomach is so pushed in that its chest stands out in ugly prominence.
Below the waist it is indistinct. A giant eye burns on a narrow forehead, surrounded by multi-coloured skin-like folds that looks festered and wet. Its mouth is a permanently-opened “O”, the lips fat folds that fall back, revealing purplish inner layers. Inside that horror of a mouth, wriggling in there, beating furiously and violently, are thousands of snake-like creatures.
Tendrils of shimmering limbs stretches from it to the two naked girls, and it seems to be caressing them, seeking out spots and tender points on their lovely bodies.
It is so intent on whatever hellish satisfaction it is getting that it doesn’t look at Boat at first until Boat lets out his pent-up breath of fear in a heavy sigh-groan that he cannot prevent.
Boat’s mind is about to explode, the terror reaching out to grab his throat. If only he could have screamed his head off, sanity would have prevailed. But panic and horror keep his scream locked, and only that gasping, choking sigh-groan emerges from his tortured throat.
The demon’s head whips up, and a snarl-like look comes into its face, causing Boat to twist his head aside so suddenly and so hard that he feels a sharp pain in his neck. He simply cannot look into such fiendish fury, such evil incarnate with a stoic expression.
His stomach heaves and knots, and he fights down the bile that rises in his throat. The sweat that breaks out on his face and drips into his collar is not induced by atmospheric changes, but by sheer cowardice brought on by a sight so horrific that he wishes he has stayed away, at least until the damn curse is lifted off him.
And to admit that he is a coward, on some level, really makes him sick.
What’s wrong with you, Yaw? For crissakes, boy, are you sick? Why do you look like that, boy?
Boat looks away from Hideous the Demon again, but he doesn’t fail to notice that it is now looking intently at him, its evil face looking puzzled for a moment.
I’m fine, Bobby. Really fine, dog.
He moves on rubbery legs to the desk, carefully keeping his back to that thing inside Bob, and places the small, black case in his hand on the bed. Bob silently moves to the desk, his crafty eyes never leaving Boat’s perspiring face.
He goes behind the desk and sits down.
Boat notices that Bob’s erection has gone down.
He also sees, with great relief, that Hideous the Demon is no longer embedded in Bob.
Boat wonders where the demon is.
The two girls are moaning behind him, and he wonders if Hideous is still with them, spicing up their lesbian lust.
Boat feels a sudden tingle running down his spine as he looks at Bob, and sees the look in the drug lord’s eyes. A drugged-up Bob is a highly lethal and unpredictable entity, and Boat knows that he is suddenly walking on a precipice, and has to choose his steps carefully.
(with a tight smile)
You’re behaving in a mighty fucking way today, Boatboy.
He picks up the case and opens it. He rans his hand over the crisp cedi notes within, and smiles again.
(with a wink)
You’re doing real fine, kid. Me and you are going places, believe me. We’ll conquer and rule Africa, my nigga!
Bob opens a drawer with combination locks and begins to pack the money into it, and when it is safely stored away he picks up three tight bundles of cocaine on the desk and begins to put them in the case Boat had packed the money in.
Business as usual.
This is Boat’s allocation for the week. More dope, more money, more tragedy. He is going to sell the cocaine, as usual, to his clientele.
But not anymore.
After what he is seeing, there is no way Boat is going to be able to do the cocaine business ever again.
It sickens him now.
Suddenly he feels nauseated and totally sick of the whole place. His chest is congested, and he feels a weird hotness all over his body. He just wants to get out of the apartment and breathe the clean air outside.
Bob picks up a fat cigar from a pack on the desk. He trims off the end with a gold-plated cutter, puts it into his mouth and then picks up a lighter. He hesitates, and then he takes out the cigar and wags it at Boat.
You’ve been doing real good, Boatboy. I like your game, and I’m going to take care of you. I’m moving on, Yaw. This shit ghetto is getting too hot for me. The new cops are too straight, and difficult to buy. A particular bunch are masturbating down my neck, trying to take me down at all cost. That kind of crap ain’t healthy for a guy like me. I want to expand my horizons, make bigger money. I want to give you this market, Yaw. I want you in charge here to handle all my affairs here, to handle all major operations. That comes with higher profit margins and respect. The future looks fucking bright for you, Boatboy!
Boat says nothing.
Just a few days ago this would have been the greatest news to him, worth celebrating for one week, but not now. Now Boat just feels sickened, and wants nothing to do with the drug market ever.
Bob scowls and puts the cigar in his mouth, lights up, exhales smoke, and looks at Boat, his face suddenly deadpan.
I offered you the fucking world, Yaw, and all you can say is absolute silence? What the fuck is the matter with you today? Should I be getting worried about you, my nigga, huh? You know me… I don’t like getting worried about people where business is concerned. I don’t like the way you’re drifting, boy.
The groans of the girls are really embarrassing now. Boat wonders what they are doing to each other behind him. He looks at Bob straight in the eyes.
It has to be now.
You’re right, Bob. Something indeed has happened to me. I’m done, my brother. I want out. I’ve just delivered my last run. I’m really grateful for all that you’ve done for me, but I can’t go on any longer, at least not now. I’m bowing out. I’ll still be your friend and your brother. We’ll still rock the town and have fun together, as always. Nothing changes, except that I ain’t selling drugs for you anymore.
Bob’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes doesn’t leave Boat’s face.
One of the girls lets out a sharp half-wail of pleasure like a werewolf.
Shut the fuck up over there, cunt!
He must have pushed a secret button under the desk, because the door opens softly behind Boat, and Ali comes into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
Bob takes the cigar from his mouth and grinds it out viciously in an enamel ashtray on the desk. Boat notices with sudden trepidation that Bob’s knuckles are white with tension.
His jaw is working viciously, and when he looks up at Boat, his eyes have gone completely crazy, and it drives a sharp fear into Boat’s heart.
Boat knows that look, and he doesn’t like it one bit. It is Bob’s look of destruction; whenever he looks like that mayhem usually follows next. He either cuts noses or baseball-bats knee-cups, or he just sticks knives into hearts, or shoot off heads with heavy guns.
You disappoint me, Boatboy.
Boat recognizes that voice. It is Bob’s funeral voice. He reserves the funeral voice for the ones he loves just before he messes them up, and later he will be sad for an hour or so, continuously wiping the hints of tears from his eyes, and then later he will party hard, and that will be it.
It scares Boat now, yeah. The fact is that Boat has never thought Bob will ever go up against him, no matter what.
He had thought they mean more to each other, the whole ‘brother-from-another-mother’ thing but, incredibly, it seems Bob is going to erase him, just like all the rest.
Season 1 Eps. 25
THE SECOND SIGHT
HIDEOUS TAKES CHARGE
Location: BOB’S APARTMENTS
Now look here, Bob, there’s no need for this.
They have been in frays together, chased down girls, the thrills and the rides, even got to a point Bob always wanted to be with him all the time, and sometimes gave Boat the jealous angle when he chose something over him.
Boat had thought he could get away with things which other people couldn’t where Bob is concerned.
He had been sure of that one fact, but here is Bob, as unpredictable as ever. The look on Bob’s face sends chills down Boat’s spine.
Boat is not a coward, and he certainly is no midget. H is big, young and tough, more than equipped with a set of GojuFist skills, and could have whipped Bob like a baby on a neutral ground.
But Bob has never played fair where his supposed enemies are concerned, and that is where the danger lies.
(in a dangerously soft voice)
Do I look like a fucking cunt to you? Stop screwing me, Boat. Fuck you, boy. I never would’ve believed this of you. Shit, I liked you, treated you like a kid brother. Why the fuck do you want to screw me?
People change, Bob. I want out, simple. Turns out my old man has known all along about me running a drug racket. And there are other things happening in my life you wouldn’t understand. I’m so damn confused and I just need some space. Why the hell are you behaving like I dropped you into a gas chamber, man?
(in a fierce whisper)
Maybe you did, kid, maybe you did!
What the hell are you talking about?
Bob stands up, and he is holding a gun which he points at Boat’s head. The barrel is elongated by a perforated silencer.
He leans forward, and cold, dangerous metal kissed Boat’s forehead. Somewhere deep in his mind a voice roars in indignation. He has just about had a bellyful of being threatened, of being pushed around and stomped on.
Don’t you fucking play dumb with me, Yaw. I fucking hate fucking hypocrites and greedy assholes who behave like Jesus but snitch on their fucking friends!
Boat stares at him, so incredulous that he is dumbfounded for a moment, gawking at Bob with pained eyes.
Snitch? You dumb bastard, Bob! You think I ratted on you? To whom?
I got contacts, Yaw. Good contacts in the police force. I have reliable info that a close friend, one I consider a brother, has made a deal with the cops, the good cops I couldn’t buy off, to drage me down. You know, it cuts my heart deeply, because I would’ve killed myself for you. That was why I was willing to leave this hellhole and give you the market here on a silver platter, but no, you want it all, don’t you? Fuck you, Yaw Boat, you’ve sorely disappointed me!
Well fuck you too, Bob, if you think I’ll ever do such a thing! How could you believe I’m capable of that kind of shit after all that we’ve been through?
Don’t give me that crap! We haven’t been through shit, boy! You were just a fucked-up bastard when I found you! Just a weak-kneed little prick. You don’t fucking know what I’ve gone through. I gave you life, I made you what you are and you still ain’t shit! How dumb can you be, thinking you can double-cross me? I’ve survived better foes than you, Boat. How could you believe it is even remotely possible to turn me over to the cops?
He speaks with such an upsurge of fury that Boat recoils, completely flustered. This is a part of Bob that Boat knows, but has never dreamt will ever be directed at him.
He emphasizes each word by jabbing Boat’s forehead with the gun. At that moment Boat knows what sort of guy Boat is.
He knows that Bob is an unstable guy. Boat has been walking with a dangerously unhinged guy for such a long time without realizing it.
Here is a psychologically disturbed man, a man denied of some vital ingredient that makes a person whole, and as a result he is forever nursing a grudge, angry at the world all the time, prone to let go at any moment. Suddenly all his erratic behaviours in the past make perfect sense to Boat now.
I’ve told you once already, Bob, that I’m not a damn snitch. I don’t want your damn market or your drugs, or your money. Something bad happened to me, something you wouldn’t understand in a thousand years, so I won’t even bother explaining to you. I just want you to understand that I’m no snitch, and you better looking for the culprit somewhere else. I’m fed up with this operation, and I want out. It’s as simple as that, so stop shitting me and let me ride out!
He quirks an eyebrow at Boat and smiles. Boat doesn’t like that smile. It feels just like being kissed by a mamba.
Great speech, boy. But I decide when you walk away. Nobody quits on me. I decide when you walk. You know me like no one does, except perhaps Ali over there. You know more about my operations than any human alive. And do you know why? It’s because I trusted you! But I see trust is a word you don’t have in your vocabs. I’m sorry, kid, but I can’t let you go. You can hurt me with the info you have about me.
He deftly moves the tip of the gun away from Boat’s forehead and takes a step back, so that Boat sees the hole in the gun, and suddenly Boat knows that that if nothing happens in the space of a few seconds – earthquake, hailstorm, melting of the earth – he will be a dead man.
The enormity of that fact almost renders him immobile.
Boat would have screamed then, or done something. He probably would have made a move at Bob, lunging and trying to kick the gun out of his hand, which would have been a singularly stupid thing to do.
Maybe he would have swivelled on Ali and rammed a shoulder into him, but that would have presented a nice target for Bob to aim at, and Bob definitely isn’t quite the kind of man who will wake up screaming at night because he shot a man he once considered his best friend in the back.
Yes, in a normal world Boat’s actions would have been a thousand fold in his bid to avoid being killed, all of them ending in total disaster, probably.
But Boat’s world is not normal anymore, and he does not react in any way because, at the point of death, he is gripped with abject terror at what happens next.
He watches, transfixed with total curiosity and a form of detached interest, as the eel-like structures in Hideous the Demon’s mouth suddenly shoot across Boat’s shoulders, heading with uncanny swiftness at Bob.
Boat watches with dumb shock as the demon’s tentacles begin to twirl around the gun in Bob’s hand, covering the hole in the silencer, moving around the trigger, seeming to bind Bob’s hand to the gun.
More tentacles shoot out, meandering into Bob’s mouth and nostrils, drilling into his ears, messing up his eyes, and giving him the look of a degenerate demon from hell.
Boat stares at him, spooked out of his senses, and it doesn’t even cross his mind once that he is in real mortal danger.
Sorry, Boatboy. I liked you, kid, but unfortunately, I have to cover myself. Hope to meet you in hell soon, my boy.
If Boat hasn’t been so taken up with the activities of Hideous, he would have found it hard not believing that there is a note of genuine regret in Bob’s voice.
The gun was locked on Boat’s heart.
Bob closes his eyes briefly… and fires!
Boat recoils with sudden shock, his body going through the process, waiting for the swift impact and even swifter flash of pain, steeling himself for the force that would throw him back against the wall, propelled by the impact of the heavy bullets fired at such close range.
Truth is, the gun doesn’t fire.
There is a muted phlaat kind of sound, and that is all.
The ensuing silence is thick and abnormal.
Even the doped bisexual girls are staring with horror, silenced out of their lustful blasphemy for once.
Bob’s face turns a meaty colour, like an overcooked piece of ham.
He growls and fires again and again, and each time there comes the same terrible farting sound.
Boat could have told him a lot of things. He could have told him to go take a shower because he is trying to kill the son-of-a-gun who is going to be the next king of the demons, and that there is no way Bob is going to succeed in killing him because his body is needed by a superior demon whose small-boy demon called Hideous is now protecting Boat, the Chosen Vessel.
There is just no way that the evil cohorts are going to allow their Chosen Vessel to be pumped full of bullets!
Boat could have told Bob to stick the gun up his own mouth because it is crammed full with demon tentacles, the best bullet-proof in the world.
Bob’s face has gone an unhealthy grey, his mind boggled. Finally he gives up and looks at Boat with a sheepish smile on his face.
But there is still murder in the depths of his eyes, and a strange fear.
Boatboy, you’ve always had the luck of the devil. Fine time for the gun to jam on me, don’t you think?
It takes Boat a split second to realize that Bob is buying time, that he wants Boat off-track for that split second where all the difference can be made.
Bob knows of Boat’s fighting prowess. Boat is big, and knows how to take care of himself when it comes down to the nasty bits. The two of them have been in their fair share of scrapes, and Bob knows of Boat’s martial arts background, that particularly terrible way of fighting, that underground martial arts form known as the GojuFist.
Bob’s eyes shift just a fraction to take in something over Boat’s shoulder. It is enough, however.
Boat senses, rather than feels, the rush of air, the tiny frictional whisper caused by gun clearing leather, and he knows that Ali is on the move, ready to cut him down.
Goaded by a sudden desire to live, Boat flings himself to the right, reaching out for the hard-backed metal chair facing the desk.
Boat at first thinks he is doing things by himself until he sees that Hideous has sprouted more limbs, and that those limbs are wrapped around Boat’s waist and shoulders, propelling him out of harm’s way.
There are three sharp spits from Ali’s silenced gun. The bullets dig furrows in the walls, and the last one shatters one of the windows.
Bob, transfixed by Boat’s apparently lightning reflexes, is rendered immobile as he stares at Boat. That is probably what saved his life because if he had so much as shifted his gaze, Ali’s last bullet would have turned the right side of his face into a crimson disaster.
Ali is turning with Boat, cool as Clint Eastwood, murder swimming in his eyes, the gun still trained on Boat.
Yaw Boat pivots once, the chair clutched in his hand, swinging round. If Ali had fired then he probably would have put an unwanted Adam’s apple in Boat’s throat, but he glances up at the chair looming large over him, and tries to duck, his attention momentarily diverted.
For a professional he acts rather dumbly, trying to do two things at the same time.
The chair smashes across his right shoulder with enough force to rock his shoulder, but in a rather bemused way Boat notices that its force has been magnified tenfold by the greenish tentacles of Hideous which are pulling the chair down.
There is a nasty wrenching and breaking sound, and Ali utters a shrill scream of utter pain. His whole shoulder moves downward, completely dislocated and shattered.
Boat knows that Ali’s shoulder will never be the same again. The gun clatters harmlessly to the floor.
Boat follows the momentum of his movement – or rather Hideous propels him forward – and grabs Ali’s injured arm.
Ali shrieks like a gutted pig, and the girls scream too. Boat swings Ali round and lifts his body off the floor. Bob has drawn out a second gun, also fixed with a silencer, and is aiming at Boat.
Bob’s face looks really terrified. Boat throws Ali at him, broken arm and all, throwing him off his shoulder. Bob fired rapidly.
He might have been both mad and desperate, because Ali’s figure is directly in his line of fire.
The terrible spits of the gun are barely audible, but the bullets have a lot to say about Ali’s looks. One bullet catches him on the outside of the right cheek, taking away the whole of his left face.
Bone and goo flew into the air, giving Ali a look like one of those freaky zombie characters in horror movies. Another bullet smashes into his throat, turning it into strands of bloodied flesh. The third and fourth bullets hit his brow and jaw respectively, and by the time Ali falls heavily on the desk, he is without a head.
He lies on the desk, his gullet making a high-pitched whining sound as his life force gushes out in red streams on the desk.
The girls are screaming, still entwined, their artificial faces reflecting true feelings for a change. Bob is staring at the damaged Ali with a foolish half-grin on his face.
For a moment it seems Bob can’t fully grasp what has happened.
Boat throws open the door and runs out of the apartment.
There is a sudden enraged howl, and a door crashes open behind him, and he knows that Bob has not given up his intents yet, and is pursuing him to get the job done.
Boat is in the dark alley, running through stinking water without a care.
Suddenly debris flies off the wall just above his head, and when he looks down the alley he sees the dim outline of Bob running towards him holding two guns in his hands.
He has taken a shot at Boat.
Season 1 Eps. 26
THE SECOND SIGHT
EVIL AT ITS FINEST
Location: SWEET MEADOWS
Yaw Boat runs harder.
He bursts onto the street, straight into the path of a huge truck. Onlookers scream, adding to the sudden deafening blast of the truck’s twin horns.
Boat’s heart almost fails, and he is sure that he is going to die as the truck bears down on him relentlessly and he has no way of getting out of its way, but from behind him a long, greenish tentacle shoots out, wraps itself around the front tires of the truck, and brings it to a shuddering halt.
Boat is still receiving VIP treatment from Hideous the Demon!
Trembling, he races off the street and out of harm’s way.
The driver of the truck is leaning out of the window, looking at Boat with dazed eyes. He obviously cannot understand what is happening, wondering how Boat miraculously escaped certain death.
Boat chuckles deep within his throat, suddenly gripped by the funnies, his sides threatening to erupt with hysterical laughter. The driver and the onlookers don’t know how lucky they are to have ordinary human eyes!
If that driver can see the monster holding his car tyres he will probably get out of his truck and tear off his clothes and ran down the street wailing like The Wailers!
Boat runs down the street towards the Land Cruiser, parked where he had left it. Behind him Bob bursts into view, still gripping the guns, pausing to look both ways.
People move away from him, afraid of the guns in his hands. Boat chances a look over his shoulder and sees that Bob has started running across the street after him. There is a triumphant look on Bob’s face, the guns coming up to line up Boat’s back.
Bob has slackened his pace to get a better and stable aim, convinced that he can drill Boat before he enters his car.
Panic soars up in Boat’s chest again.
He is as exposed as blood on ice, presenting a huge target a good shot like Bob just can’t miss.
That is when Hideous suddenly soars up behind Bob, larger than life, a terrible expression making its face uglier.
Boat slackens his speed too, suddenly more afraid for Bob than for his own life. It is that moment in time when everything seems to freeze, when time just comes to a halt, when everything seems to be suspended.
People look on with horror, unable to stop what is happening. Violent deaths are common in Sweet Meadows Avenue, but they still have the ability to shock.
Boat knows that none of those watching will talk to the cops. Bob is too powerful, and helps to put food directly or indirectly on a lot of tables in Sweet Meadows Avenue. They owe him their livelihood, and Bob will have a foolproof alibi even if he kills the Secretary-General of the UN in broad daylight in Sweet Meadows Avenue!
Suddenly, more quickly than his eyes could follow, Boat sees Hideous bursting into action.
Multiple tentacles extended from its body. Some settle around Bob’s feet, tying him to the spot. Some curl around his arms, forcing them apart at the last moment so that when he fires the bullet goes straight into the front glass of a sagging store, bringing down glass, and the other bullet goes into the shoulders of a huge man standing on the curb and uncaringly urinating into a gutter.
The man howls with pain and goes down, trying desperately to reach up and touch his right shoulder which is spewing blood like some lazy fountain, turning the pavement crimson.
His trouser flap is still open, and his member penis is sticking out like some underground rabbit peering out to see if the coast is clear.
Bob is staring at the guns in his hands, and there is sudden terror on his face. He moves his thighs vigorously, and Boat knows that Bob is trying to run forward, but Hideous is holding him down. Bob then tries to bring the guns to bear, but Hideous keeps his hands far apart.
Boat is facing Bob now, his own face reflecting his horror. He can see the panic on Bob’s face increasing rapidly because he is trying to move, and yet his legs just won’t move. He looks really scared, probably thinking that he is getting some kind of strange disease, maybe having a heart-attack.
More tentacles shot out from Hideous, straight into the truck, seeming to draw the huge truck forward.
The truck leaps forward from its stationary position. It doesn’t make sense one bit; a stopped truck shouldn’t have been able to move with such sudden speed from the stationary position. People are screaming now, their minds being taken for a ride, not understanding what is going on.
Boat is horrified!
Oh, no, no, no, no!!
The driver of the truck is honking, his face strained with abject confusion, not understanding what is happening to his truck.
He is obviously stepping hard on the brake pedal, and turning off his ignition, doing everything he can to save Bob, but to no avail.
He doesn’t know!
None of the screaming people know what is actually happening. They have ordinary eyes, just like Bob, whose fear is so thick now that Boat can almost cut slices off it.
They are blind; they can’t see.
Only Boat knows what is going on…
Boat, the Unblind.
Bob looks over his shoulder with a face twisted with horror. Boat can see his frantic efforts to move, understanding the violent see-sawing movements of his thighs.
The steering-wheel of the truck is turning rapidly as the truck driver desperately tries to steer round the gyrating figure in the middle of the street, but Hideous is having none of it.
The truck remains on course, pinning Bob with relentless accuracy.
People cannot fathom out why Bob still remains in the middle of the street, because he has plenty of time to get out of harm’s way, to survive.
Bob’s expression is one of sheer misery now, his face shining with sweat, contorted with panic. His mouth is opened wide, and it takes a while for Boat to realize that Bob is screaming.
The truck is being drawn forward by the force of the evil Hideous, and there is nothing anybody can do, not even Boat.
Evil is at work!
Boat tries to turn away, to shut his eyes, to avoid it all, but he simply can’t.
He watches till the final moment, his eyes horrified, his body numb. The truck smashes into Bob with the impact of an out-of-control train. Bob’s body is flung into the air gracefully, almost in slow-motion, doing a macabre pirouette in the air, and then his head smashes into the windscreen of the truck.
The force of the impact is not responsible for the way he dies, though.
Hideous makes sure of Bob’s certain demise. Its tentacles still holds Bob after the impact, turning his body in the air, and smashing his head through the windscreen of the truck.
The whole windscreen does not shatter. Bob’s head smashes a way in for itself, going through the glass such that a hole is created for the head, but the windscreen remains intact, all the work of Hideous.
The jagged edges of the glass impales Bob’s neck, cutting through his jugular cleanly. The truck comes to a halt then, because Hideous, mission accomplished, floats out of sight.
Bob is suspended way up there, hanging down the front of the truck, hands hanging limply, body still, looking as if the windscreen is the hangman’s noose from which he had hung himself.
Thick blood falls down Boat’s neck and drips to the street.
So utterly unnecessary! What a waste of life, what blatant disregard for a human being!
Evil is in the air, taking the human race to town!
Hideous could easily have prevented Bob from coming out of the room. It could easily have held Bob down as Boat made his escape. There are a million things it could have done, but no, it had to go and snuff out a life by the cruellest means possible.
It is so sad, so wasteful… so insane!
As people rush to the scene with horrified expressions, Boat gets into his car and drives out of there.
He is half-way to town when he sees the greenish sheen in his side-vision. Boat chances a look behind, and sees Hideous resting comfortably in his back seat, drooling, eyes fixed on him watchfully.
That is when a screw seems to come loose inside Boat’s head.
I almost hears it snapping out, and that is the moment Yaw Boat becomes insane temporarily!
He doesn’t know how he got out of the car and opens the backdoor. He is just aware of hitting out at Hideous, his arms working like pistons.
Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, you bastards!!
He is aware of screaming and throwing wild, furious punches.
It takes a long time for Boat to realize that his fists are just flying into the upholstery of the seats, going through the smoky shape of Hideous harmlessly!
He has scraped his knuckles raw just beating the hell out of his backseat!
Things like that happens sometimes. Somehow Boat is realizing slowly but certainly that there are a lot of fucked-up guys out there in the world, poor sods rendered senseless by these utterly ruthless evil creatures.
The world is one messed-up spooky place, and mankind is caught up in the middle of it.
It takes him a moment longer to realize that a small crowd has gathered around his car. After all, it is not often that one comes across a demented, wealthy-looking man screaming and attacking car seats.
It is quite a rare vision, and they were savouring it. Boat is almost sobbing as he gets out of the backseat. Some people giggle, and others looked at him with pity.
They think he is getting mad, and for a moment there he is sure that he went mad, literally.
Boat looks at the gloating people around him, and for a moment he almost giggles. He could have told each of them how mad they looked with the demons riding comfortably in their hearts, but who would care?
It would only confirm the state of his mind to them, and provide them with more fun.
He gets into the car and drives away, and Hideous, quite unperturbed, rides all the way with, reclining lazily in the backseat.
He knows then that the countdown has begun.
He now has a bodyguard, a demonic bodyguard…
His time is getting very near. He needs help fast before whatever diabolic demon takes over his body!
To Be Continued…
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