AARON ANSAH-AGYEMAN

THE SECOND SIGHT

THE FURY WITHIN

A paranormal thriller

 

Season 2 Eps. 14

THE MAN WITHOUT A HEAD

He pounded me warmly on my back.

GUY GRANT

(excited, happy)

Yaw, Yaw, Yaw! Thank you, brother. Man, thank you so much!

BOAT

(smiling)

Thank God, bro. I did absolutely nothing.

I introduced him to Nicole.

He smiled broadly and hugged her too, causing her to smile.

His relief and happiness was a blast that was unmistakable and infectious.

GUY GRANT

You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Nicole, and believe me I have seen quite a few!

 

NICOLE

(smiling beautifully)

Thank you.

I could see she was secretly pleased.

GUY GRANT

(mischievously)

You should marry this lady, Yaw. She’ll make you a very good wife.

 

I responded quickly to mask my unease, and then quickly changed the subject.

BOAT

(with an uneasy smile)

That’s sound advice. Listen, we don’t have much time. Got to get to Portville by noon today. Just popped in to say goodbye and see how your wife’s faring, Guy.

GUY GRANT

(disappointed)

Wish you guys could stay for a while. Yaw, I can’t ever repay you for what you’ve done for me. I just want you to know that in me you’ve found a brother, man, permanently. If ever you’re in need of anything, emphasis is on anything, call on me, bro. Anytime, anywhere, anything, you can count on me.

 

For a wild moment tears glistened in his eyes, and I was horrified.

I was afraid he would go into his damn bawling mode again.

He smiled broadly through the tears, and the effect was damn freaky, if nothing else.

He took out a crumpled handkerchief and wiped his eyes, and then he clamped my hand in a warm handshake again, nodding furiously.

Nicole glanced from him to me, but she made no comment.

 

GUY GRANT

She’s now at the ICU, and no one’s allowed to see her. I only watch her through the glass doors. She’s lost a lot weight, a lot of fluids and vitamins and stuff, you know, and she needs to be pumped up, but slowly. Doctors say her heart is good, and her physical condition, in the state she is in, is okay. She’ll make it, eventually. Going to take a bit of time and some patience, but she’ll be fine, man. The better part of a year will see her on her feet again. Can you believe that, my brother? I’m gonna have my dear Sam back? Good Lord, man, that’s simply capital!

 

His happy mood had now covered his sentimental rush again, and I was grateful for that. I clapped him on the shoulder.

BOAT

(warmly)

I’m glad to hear that, Guy. Listen, we got to run now, though. Anytime I pass through I’ll call on you and Sam…maybe take the kids for a ride, if you’ll let me be their godfather!

He stared at me dreamily, and I realized I had said the wrong thing because his sentimental attack began to manifest again.

His lips began to quiver, and his eyes filled up real quickly, and this time he made no attempt to wipe them off. Tears trickled down his cheeks, and he swallowed painfully.

 

GUY GRANT

(tremulously)

A family! Yes, it is all possible now, isn’t it? Sam has always wanted to be a mother. Dear Lord, it is possible now!

I started to speak, but suddenly my attention was arrested by the arguing couple.

The thin lady jumped to her feet, tears pouring heedlessly down her face now, her tiny hands clenched into angry fists at her sides, staring at her companion with tortured eyes.

The man was gesturing to her to sit back down, his huge chin thrust out pugnaciously. He was a bully still trapped inside the body of a man, and all he wanted to do was impose his will on anybody unlucky enough to be associated with him.

The thin lady screeched, her whole body vibrating with the depths of her emotions.

 

THIN LADY

Why don’t you leave me alone? Leave us alone! I want a divorce! Leave us aloooooone!

The big man was on his feet in a flash, face black with anger, and then he backhanded her across the face.

The blow tossed her frail body across the chair, over it, and deposited her on the hard floor. She lay there, curled up, balled hands under her chin, shaking violently.

I made a move toward them, and Grant reached out and grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip, pulling me back and shaking his head with sudden alarm.

GUY GRANT

(urgently, imploringly)

No, Yaw! You don’t want to do that!

The big man said something to the woman in a sneering manner, and then he turned and surveyed the room, his chin thrust out as if daring somebody to speak. He straightened his coat and swaggered toward the door.

 

Everybody else in room was standing now, staring at the weeping woman with looks of pity on their faces.

I glared at the huge man as he approached. I could feel Grant’s fingers digging desperately into my arm, trying to hold me in check.

He could not have succeeded however, because I couldn’t have been able to stop myself from having a go at the bully and wiping that corky look off his face even if I had wanted to.

Nicole was also bristling beside me, and for one horrifying second I thought she was going to let her hands fly at the semi-giant.

But even as I hunched my shoulders and my fists began to curl something happened. One moment that big bully was swaying arrogantly toward us on his way to the main entrance, his look contemptuous…and in another moment I saw that suddenly there was something dark behind him.

It seemed to sprout up just behind his broad back, a sort of very dark cloud that hovered above the floor, keeping pace with him, closing the gap. There was something really terrible about that dark thing.

It seemed to be alive, breathing malevolently, seeking to devour. I sensed how bad and dangerous that thing was, somehow, and my body relaxed, drawing back on itself, the fight going out of me in a flash.

 

Now the man was just opposite me, within arm’s reach.

He was glaring at me, his close-set eyes narrowing some more, his gaze dark, daring me to react.

And then his head exploded off his neck!

I saw his decapitated head swinging toward me, his neck gushing blood in torrents, his head traveling straight at me. Instinctively I stepped aside to avoid the head, but speckles of blood flew through the air, splashing my face…

Nicole’s frantic voice reached me from a long way off, and I came out of my instant reverie with shock.

 

NICOLE

(anxiously)

Yaw, what’s wrong?

GUY GRANT

(worried)

What happened, bro? For a moment there I could’ve sworn you were about to pass out.

I was breathing hard, and there was perspiration on my face.

The big man had walked past me, and he was chuckling.

Evidently he believed he had put the fear of God in me. The timed glass doors slid open and he walked out.

His head was still fixed on his shoulders securely, and there was no dark cloud-like shadow behind him.

 

BOAT

(warily, chuckling)

I had a nasty vision. I saw that man without a head.

Actually, I expected them to laugh, and that would have reassured me somehow, but neither of them laughed.

Nicole regarded me thoughtfully for a moment.

Season 2 Eps. 15

THE SECOND SIGHT

BAD RAY

NICOLE

(calmly)

Do you believe in clairvoyance or divination, whatever you call it?

I shook my head vigorously, dimly aware that I had already said too much to her.

I was still spooked by that ominous black cloud I had seen behind the man, though, and I looked apprehensively at the glass doors, half-expecting to see the cloud coming back.

 

BOAT

(with a chuckle)

No, I leave that kind of spooky stuff to the weird people of the world, you know. Damn, maybe the man made me so angry that I wished only the ugliest of fates for him, and it sort of projected itself into some kind of bad vision. Had quite a late night, you know. Still feels so tired on my feet.

I was aware that I sounded lame, and defensive, and that I wasn’t making one shred of sense, but suddenly I wanted to get off the topic.

I was aware that maybe I had been thrust into another level of my special gift, and I had been so spooked by it that I had blurted out something I should have kept to myself; but that was what came out of being unprepared for things like that, and that was one of the reasons why I was still angry at Paul Anderson.

Nicole suddenly gave my arm a quick squeeze.

 

NICOLE

(gently)

Maybe that’s it. God knows I was mad enough to scratch out that silly man’s eyes myself.

The woman the man had hit was still lying on the floor and crying pitifully; I could see a trail of blood running down her left nostril. She was trembling, squeezing herself up into a tighter ball.

Nicole shook her head sadly and went to her.

She bent and helped the woman up, and then guided her gently into a chair.

 

GUY GRANT

(grimly, worried)

Well, don’t you go messing around with Ray Mensah, please, Yaw. He’s the only son of the police chief here. Ray is nasty, really nasty. He’s into drugs, prostitution, you name it…. every bad racket has his signature on it. You give him enough money, he could get anything for you. He was a small local criminal, but now he’s gone international, as the saying goes now, spreading his cartel and his power.

 

He has a group of nasty goons who licks his ass. You take him on and they’ll kill you before you take three steps out of this place. The chief has turned blind eyes and deaf ears to his son. Ray is married to Mary, that lady over there. They have two boys – twins – and it seems Ray loves to use their faces as his punching bag. Keeps a string of whores, a kind of harem, at one of his hotels, but he still holds on to Mary – even though she’s been trying to get a divorce for ages.

BOAT

Why’s she here?

GUY GRANT

(with a sigh)

Seems her boys were brought here two nights ago. Ray, according to Mary, gambled with some wealthy guys that his kids could take on their kids. He lost the bet because his boys wouldn’t fight. They were understandably scared. Ray was so furious at his sons for refusing to fight that he took a belt to their backs, and fists to their bodies. Broke them up pretty badly.

 

BOAT

(horrified)

Jesus! His own kids?

Grant nodded.

GUY GRANT

He lodged a complaint at the police station that some strangers attacked his sons, and even though Mary told them Ray was responsible, the cops turned deaf ears as well. You see, Ray is not the sort of man you want on your back, and even his own father is scared of him. He reigns here, Yaw, and that’s why I want you to stay away from him.

 

The doctor who had been talking to the two brothers walked forward and gently led Mrs. Mary Mensah inside.

Nicole came back to us, her pretty face set in furious lines.

NICOLE

(furiously)

That man is a beast! There’re a lot of scars on that poor woman. He’s been hurting her for ages! He should be stopped!

 

GUY GRANT

(smiling grimly)

Maybe he would lose his head just like Yaw said.

I smiled wanly, wishing once again that I had kept my mouth shut.

We said our good-byes then, hugged all around, and then we left after I promised to look in on them on my way back from Portville.

Black clouds were gathering in the sky again as I drove out of the hospital, and little growls of thunder were already warming up the sky.

NICOLE

(anxious)

The weather forecast predicted a stormy day. Do you think we should wait it out?

 

BOAT

(gently)

Nope. This is one sturdy car, and I want to make it to Portville today. I need to see you father.

The rains came down in grandeur just then, whooshing down in slanting torrents accompanied by slashing winds.

The powerful windshield wipers did their rhythmic dance, battling the shower of water adequately. The rain bounced off the macadam, trying its best to create little rivers in the small grooves and potholes.

It blotted out the sights, and it felt as if we were all alone in the world and I gave a contented sigh.

 

I was aware of the woman beside me. She was relaxed in her seat as she grabbed a few of my CDs and flipped through them. She selected one – a Women of Faith album I kept in my cars to impress Elaine – and slotted it into the car’s CD player.

A moment later the sweet voices of the ladies filled the car, and although I had always hated their songs – and gospel music in general – I found myself enjoying it that morning.

Everything seemed just right ; the two of us alone, the rain beating an irregular beat on the roof, the sweet music floating around us, her presence beside me, her mild perfume mingling with mine…she being all-woman, and I being all-man.

The silence was pregnant with the sound of our awareness of each other, and for a moment I almost succumbed to the urge to reach out and touch her hand.

If it had been in the movies or a storybook our eyes would have met and held, and without a word I would’ve parked the car and our lips would have made a rhythm of their own.

But out here in reality it was all about the awareness, and the fact that it was a sweet moment – maybe more for me than for her.

 

She had an understanding with a young man in her life, and she might be feeling nothing but sisterly affection for me.

We just met anyway, so what was all these sentimental twangs I was feeling anyway?

Had I forgotten about my angel Elaine so soon, the girl who had been ordained to be my evil wife from the beginning? Hadn’t I been entertaining hopes of letting Paul Anderson drive out the demons in her so that I could be with her?

Who was this lady that was suddenly tweaking the fixed settings of my emotional and sentimental passions?

 

When we got to the outskirts of the town I put my foot down on the accelerator, though not all the way down. The road was slick and wet with rain, and I wasn’t very familiar with the terrain. Over-speeding in those conditions could land a man straight in the morgue, and thus I drove carefully.

A sign flashed past, neat white lettering on a green background:

You are now leaving Jackson Peak.

Safe Journey, and do come back!

 

The road stretched out in front of me, bordered on both sides by thick trees and green shrubbery.

The wind howled and the rain lashed, but thankfully there wasn’t much lightning.

I had nothing against nature, but sometimes lightning had the tendency to freak me out.

I wasn’t afraid of the thing, but it was very unpredictable, especially if you happened to be exposed to its wrath on an empty stretch of road trapped in a moving metal manufactured by man.

You see, I had once read about a man whose head had been burned right off by lightning; one blast, and his head had been charred black.

 

NICOLE

(suddenly, gently)

One thing about me, Yaw, is that I don’t like being lied to.

I chanced a startled look at her, somehow disturbed by that cool voice.

BOAT

(carefully)

I don’t recall telling you a lie, Nicole.

HEADLESS

She turned those eyes on me, and I was once again startled by her beauty.

She was as fresh and clean as a drop of dew on a budding petal. I marveled at the smooth texture of her skin, the gentle sweeps of her features; she was the kind of girl you never got tired of watching, amongst other things.

Her eyes were still fixed on me although my attention was once again on the road, and I felt her gaze all the same.

NICOLE

You implied Guy Grant was an old acquaintance whose wife you helped convey to hospital last night. From what I gathered from Guy, what his wife is suffering from is not something that happened last night. His gratitude, to you, was profuse, and it indicated something heavier than the mere conveyance of a sick woman to hospital. And those powerful emotions he felt, about having his Sam back and starting a family with her in the near future? Please, Yaw, don’t lie to me! You can decide not to tell me the truth, and I’ll understand and respect that, but don’t lie to me. I don’t want any lies between us, Yaw.

 

I glanced at her; she was composed, her voice soft, but for a moment – a very poignant moment – I thought there was another message in those words.

The ‘between us’ part of her speech did it and I liked the feeling it created.

Once again I turned my attention to the road, taking my time to negotiate a sharp reverse curve.

BOAT

No lies, Nicole. From now, no more lies.

We drove along in companionable silence for a while, and then she spoke again.

 

NICOLE

(softly)

I was wrong about you. I was quite unprepared for someone as young as you, and I’m convinced that you’re not a mature Christian – forgive me, I mean no offence – but these facts really made me lose sight of what you truly are, or could be. I’m convinced, somehow, that you also have some form of the gift, right?

The road had straightened out, and it lay flat and beautiful ahead.

It was bordered on both sides now by thick oak trees, evenly-spaced, but their thick branches and leaves interspersed, creating a heavy continuous curtain of green on each side of the road.

Thankfully, some authority had taken the trouble to keep the space above the road free of offshoot branches.

 

I glanced at Nicole, and had just decided to tell her a little bit of the truth about me, when the huge black Ford van emerged from the bend behind me and bore down on my car.

The driver was driving recklessly, and he had to step down hard on his brake to avoid smashing into the back of my car. There was a harsh squealing sound behind us, and Nicole spun in her seat to take a look back.

BOAT

(irritably)

That driver must be mad to drive like that! Where in the name of Hades is he in a hurry to?

The driver behind me flicked his headlights, blew his horn and turned on his left indicator light. I slowed down and spun the wheel of the car to the right to give him more room to overtake.

The moment he swung into the other lane I became afraid.

 

I could not explain it, but suddenly I sensed the danger all around us, the palpable menace that was so strong that it caught in my throat and for a terrible moment I could not breathe.

Nicole screamed, leaning toward me.

NICOLE

(alarmed)

Yaw! What’s wrong? What’s happening to you?

Something was beating hard in my heart, causing me to be acutely aware of danger. My head spun round, and then I saw it.

 

Deep in the branches of the oak trees, a pair of eyes was watching me, keeping pace with the car.

A pair of blood red eyes…bloody eyes!

Eyes filled with undiluted hatred, eyes that meant to inflict nothing but absolute horror.

The Legion!

The demons that had killed my father were back!

Fear crystallized in my heart, and my foot eased off the accelerator. I was vaguely aware of Nicole clutching my arm and shaking it, her voice anxious, close to real fear.

 

The eyes had been moving along with the car, but now it seemed to change direction, and they headed straight toward me, huge and determined.

They passed across a thick branch, and suddenly that particular tree branch snapped off from the mother tree, turned over once, and shot toward my car!

It was a huge, stout branch, its tip cleanly shaped into a knife-tip menace as if by a master sword maker.

Its sharp edge was hurtling toward my car at top speed, and although I stepped hard on the accelerator, that branch veered off course like a guided missile, hurtling toward me at great speed.

 

I slowed down hard, causing Nicole to shoot forward but luckily she was in her seatbelt, and it cushioned what would otherwise have been very ugly accident for her.

That terrible branch slowed down too, still locked on my window, and then I saw that lodged in its trailing branches were the red blood eyes!

It wants to kill me, Good Lord sweet Jesus it wants to kill me, I thought frantically.

And then the Ford van was nosing forward, and soon it was opposite me, between my car and that hurtling piece of death…and I turned my attention to the driver…

Suddenly, my blood ran cold.

It was Ray Mensah…

It all made perfect sense suddenly, and I shuddered involuntarily, my body cringing from what was going to happen.

BOAT

(helplessly, horrified)

Oh no, no, no!

 

Ray Mensah’s thick chin was thrust out pugnaciously, his beady little eyes turned to mine, his expression mean, his right hand raised, making shooing gestures at me to get off the road.

But he wasn’t the one who scared me.

I could see that in the seat behind him, filling the whole of the back space, was that dark cloud-thing. It seemed to be sparking, static-like, barely held in check, breathing, alive, devouring!

My eyes were horrified, my heart agonized, as my attention was drawn to that evil-guided tree branch beyond Ray Mensah.

BOAT

(terrified)

Oh sweet Jesus, oh no, no, no!!

The huge branch exploded into Mensah’s car through his window.

 

The sharp edge entered Ray’s neck just below his chin, and sliced it right off. He never knew what caught him. His head shot off his neck in a thick spray of blood that flooded the windshield.

His severed head bounced off the window on the passenger side of the car, cannoned off, and fell out of sight.

For a moment Ray Mensah looked like somebody’s bad idea of a horror movie. His headless body was still in the seat, hands gripping the steering-wheel.

And then that black cloud covered him completely; the black thing appeared to be taking on a form now, a sort of macabre being with huge wings.

 

It reached into that body, and suddenly it was moving out of the Ford, streaming into the air in a thin line, and just for a moment – a very brief moment – I seemed to see something else in that formless black line: a screaming transparent face, a face which seemed to be formed from water, taking form, elongating, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Ray Mensah…screaming in agony, and then it was gone, lost in the deep clouds above.

The Messenger of Death had claimed another victim.

The huge Ford van screeched on the slick road, lurched off it, and smashed headlong into one of the trees. There was the nasty shriek of tearing metal as the Ford wasted itself on the tree.

 

I swung the wheel hard to the left and brought the car to a shuddering halt behind the maimed Ford.

My door was open even before it came to a complete stop, and I leapt out just as the pair of red eyes slammed out of the Ford and moved into the trees.

 

A VERY STRANGE EXPERIENCE

I was aware that Nicole was screaming out my name, but I was back in another world, another sphere of existence where danger was a living entity, and where death was as normal as sunshine and rain.

It was still raining hard, and now the sky had darkened even further.

A series of deafening thunder blasted through the air. Lightning flashed blindly, intimately close to me. I knew it was not a natural phenomenon that was going on; I knew it was evil at play, ready to devour, mad that its intentions had been foiled.

And I knew that a miscalculated step or a misplaced faith could be the end of me.

I slammed through the trees, whipping the branches from my face as I raced after the eyes. It jumped from tree to tree sluggishly, almost slowly, and I began to gain on it.

I jumped over a fallen branch, stepped into an ice-cold pool of water, and suddenly the trees petered out.

I found myself in a marshland; I was surrounded by tall green grass, and my feet squelched in ankle-deep mud.

It spread all around me…a sea of green grass, swaying wildly in the wind, bending and rising under the fierce shower of the rain.

And here I found the host that had housed those evil demons.

It was a duck!

A fat, ugly white duck!

No wonder it had seemed so sluggish, so slow!

Now it was bogged down in the mud, caught hard and unable to fly up.

It flapped its wings wildly, almost defiantly, as I approached. Its small eyes were a flaming red, just like a raw wound. Its neck was elongated, pointed straight at me like a weapon.

I wondered how a host of evil things could cram themselves into such a small duck, and I wondered why its flight seemed to be impeded; I had assumed that the evil presence in it could have carried it into the skies without any bother.

Why was it trapped then? Maybe, that same old good spirit of God that had been throwing freebies my way all through my tortuous journey was still at work, now giving me a chance to face my most bitter nemesis.

I smiled at that duck … that thing!

That despicable horde of demons called The Legion!

I was so elated that I barely felt stings of the rain on my skin, drenching me to the core. I was barely aware that the sky had suddenly turned crimson, as red as blood.

Thunder blasted incessantly, and the lightning were so violent that they seemed to split the very ground on which I was walking on.

I knew…way deep down I knew…that if I had not been favoured by divine powers I would have been sliced into two by those lightning blasts, or fried black on my feet.

I could see the evil spewing out of that duck, and I could feel its tangible latent poison all around me, but I bore down on it, spurred on by a power as alien as it was raw. The finesse had gone out of my heart, and in its place was only the singular urge to destroy.

That group of evil somehow sensed the fury boiling in me because the duck began to flap helplessly in the mud, and the eyes were now changing rapidly again, as if those terrible forces in there wanted to flee from me, none of them ready to stare at me.

I spoke through clenched teeth.

BOAT

(in a fierce whisper)

Got you at last, you piece of dung!”

I was about ten paces from it, and I raised my right hand and pointed.

And then Nicole’s cry rang out behind me was strained, scared, seeking.

NICOLE

(screaming)

Yaaaawww! Yaaaaw! Where are you, please? Yaaaaaaaww! Please answer me, please!!

I whirled round and saw Nicole tottering on the edge of the clearing, hugging herself against the slashing rain and screaming wind.

I knew, even as I hesitated, that I was losing ground, that somehow the Legion was gathering pace, preparing to counter my threat.

I felt a terrible rush behind me, and even as I began to turn I saw a white crow soaring forward from the trees, moving above Nicole’s head, squawking in a strident voice.

BOAT

Noooo!

It was cry of despair from my very depths.

As the crow passed over my head, almost in slow motion, I saw the Legion leaving the duck…and that sound was the terrible rush I had heard.

They left in a great horde, a never-ending stream of swift evil that slammed into the crow again and again. They moved too swiftly for my eyes to follow, and as another thunder crashed they all entered the crow, and it sailed into the sky, looking down at me with those red eyes once again filled with deep anger and evil intent.

The bitterness was a living poison in my mouth.

My head ached, and my heart hammered so severely that for a moment I felt suddenly dizzy. I trembled with the purest of rage as I looked up at that thing, getting farther and farther from me.

BOAT

No, you don’t!

I screamed into the rain, and then I raised my hand and leapt at it.

Madness!

For a moment I was sure I had gone stark crazy bonkers, because suddenly I found myself soaring into the sky at dazzling speed.

I felt no rain, no wind, no sensation!

I just saw that crow growing nearer and nearer…not because it was coming toward me, but because, somehow, I was flying toward it!

I saw the crow flapping wildly, screeching in terror now, weaving drunkenly from side to side as it tried to get away from me, but a followed it relentlessly, like a guided missile!

Its ugly head kept turning round, a full circle, like an owl, watching me getting nearer, and the eyes kept changing, all of them filled with terror…and all the while I kept up with it, getting nearer and nearer as crazy lightning flashed and mad thunder boomed in an incessant cacophony of sound and light.

But I was flying.

I was in the goddamn air!

Madness!

It couldn’t be!

That was not even remotely possible!

The rage disappeared, and so did the confidence. I brought up my hands into my field of vision and saw…nothing!

I looked down at my body and saw…nothing!

I was formless!

I was aware that I was soaring, but there was no sensation, no feeling, no solidity!

I was transparent, so not me!

Panic gripped me with sudden intensity, and my eyes traveled down…and then I saw it.

Way, way down, I saw my body lying in the grass, inert, evidently lifeless.

The woman was kneeling in the mud, her head bent over my body, and then she straightened and brought her clasped hands unto my chest and started pumping.

A moment later her head dropped, and her lips covered mine.

Mouth to mouth resuscitation!

She thought me obviously dead … or dying!

She was evidently screaming in distress as she put her lips to that of my body and blew air into it.

And finally I understood.

Somehow, without knowing how I had done it, my great rage and my wish to get that host of demons had lent me a very unbelievable ability.

My soul, or whatever really gave me life, that thing that was inside the body, had left it.

It was as if I had been emptied out. I could see my body way down in that marshland, devoid of all feelings, apparently dead…and yet I was soaring upward, as aware as ever, but without that solid body down there that made it me.

I freaked out, understandably.

What had happened?

Could I ever inhabit my body again?

Would I be like this forever, wandering around like a ghost?

Season 2 Eps. 18

TENSIONS

What the heck had happened to me?

I tried to scream, but no sound came. I was within touching distance of the agitated crow now, but in my great fear there was nothing I could do to it. I forced myself to halt and go back down!

I was aware of the crow flapping away, its squawks of terror changing to defiant daring.

I found myself going back down at terrible speed, more afraid than I had ever been in my whole life.

It was the most terrible sensation seeing my body down there in that muddy grass, being bawled over by that beautiful girl.

Suddenly the only important thing in life was to get back into that body. I wanted to see my feet, my hands, and feel the ground under my feet…to feel them squelching in that mud!

What was happening to me?

What were they doing to me?

I seemed to flow over the girl, through her…and then, somewhat surprisingly, I settled into that body gently, and not with the bang I had expected.

There was no bump, no shattering earth-shaking explosion!

One moment I was hovering, and in another moment I was sitting up, pushing away from Nicole, coughing slightly.

NICOLE

(shatteringly)

Yaw!

I just saw her mouth forming my name, but I heard nothing.

Her eyes were large and wide, and in their beautiful depths, as the rain ran off her face and across her lips…there was fear.

NICOLE

(stammering, frantic)

I th-thought y-you were d-dead, Yaw!

I got to my feet and when I reached down for her hand she almost shied away, but then she put a trembling hand in mine and I pulled her to her feet.

Her eyes roamed my face frantically, feverishly.

NICOLE

(shudderingly)

I was convinced you were dead! I felt your pulse, and there was none!

I held her shoulders and brushed a lock of wet hair from her forehead.

BOAT

I’m okay now, Nicole. Come, lady. We have to get out of here!

I spoke in a tired voice, striving hard to keep the panic from my voice.

Still she stared at me, her lips trembling slightly. There were questions in her eyes, and a trace of that fear still lingered.

NICOLE

(softly)

You had no pulse! None, whatsoever!

BOAT

Come, Nicole. In time you will know everything. Just trust me.

Still she fidgeted.

She did not look at me as she stepped past me. Her breathing was somewhat erratic, and as she brushed her wet hair from her face I could see that she was trying hard just to remain calm.

She began to walk past me, and just then the duck gave a confused squawk.

We both turned and looked at it.

It was well bogged down now, right to its white wings.

It was weak, and its dark eyes stared at us through the rain, dull and filled with confusion.

Nicole walked toward the duck, her movements mechanical and uncoordinated. She pulled it out of the mud, and it flapped violently, covering her face and hair with wet mud, giving her a look that might have looked really comical under other circumstances.

As it were, the last thing I felt like doing was laughing.

She held out the duck and began to clean it with the rain water, and for a brief moment her eyes finally met mine.

Her incomprehension was fast giving way to something close to anger, or even resentment.

She walked past me into the trees, still cleaning the duck, and after a short delay I followed.

I moved my car to the other side of the road.

Luckily no one had appeared on the scene yet.

It would’ve been a little awkward explaining why we had come out of the marshland covered with mud whilst our car was parked behind a smashed Ford with a decapitated body in it.

We changed in the car.

Nicole first, whilst I waited outside in the rain. It had reduced in intensity just after I repossessed my body, and the lightning flashes had stopped.

It had become a steady drizzle, and as she waited in the front seat I had climbed into the back and changed.

She was quiet and subdued all along, and had not uttered more than a few sentences.

We could have driven away, but it never crossed my mind to, and I knew Nicole would’ve considered me a monster if I had even breathed about it to her.

I used my cell phone to call Guy Grant, and I explained everything to him.

The moment I mentioned Ray Mensah, Guy made a sudden hissing sound.

GUY GRANT

(shocked)

Don’t tell me! He’s dead, isn’t he?

I hesitated a moment.

BOAT

Yes.

GUY GRANT

Decapitated?

Again I hesitated.

BOAT

Yes.

He was quiet for a long time, and soft static had ensued over the line. Finally he exhaled audibly.

GUY GRANT

I’ll call the cops then. And Yaw?

BOAT

Yeah?

GUY GRANT

Whatever your powers are, please let remain good.

BOAT

I had nothing to do with it, Guy, trust me.

GUY GRANT

(sadly)

Yeah, I trust you, bro. Dude had it coming to him. As sad as it is, I think I’m sort of relieved, y’know, for the sake of his wife and kids. He was a complete asshole. Hold on, bro. I’m gonna inform the cops.

The cops arrived thirty minutes later.

Two sedans arrived with an ambulance, and a surly sergeant and a soft-faced rookie trying to act like Clint Eastwood took our statements.

By the time the police towing truck arrived the rain had all but stopped.

They took taken our numbers and told us we could leave.

Nicole, of course, had insisted they took the duck along, and give it a good home.

They exchanged looks, but they politely took the duck and put it in an empty beer box in the boot.

She made sure they punched holes in the carton to aerate the box before she climbed into the car beside me.

Our conversation from then was perfunctory.

Questions lurked in her eyes, and her looks truly told me that she mistrusted me.

Twice I began to tell her about all that had happened to me, but on each occasion I held back, somehow feeling that the time was not ripe yet.

I could not tell her anything until I had spoken to her father.

That strained wall slowly but steadily rose up between us, and by the time we got to the beautiful city of Portville we were almost complete strangers again.

Portville.

It was one of those places you described as ‘clean’.

Bob had once told me that Portville probably had no vices, that it was a city where even the whores were likely to quote a Bible verse or two to you before they got down to business.

He had tried to establish a drug market in Portville once, and had totally regretted it; his whole consignment had been burnt to ashes, and he always wondered who had known where he was keeping his stash and decided to turn it to zit.

It had one of the lowest crime rates in the country, due mainly to the fact that its police took great pride in the town’s reputation, and worked as a well-knit unit that clamped down on crime with the force of a hurricane.

PORTVILLE

It had once been rumored that most of the cops posted to Portville were known to be dedicated Christians.

One politician had even adopted it as a model town, and had sung its praises so long and so high that even the citizens had taken a measured pride in maintaining its squeaky-clean reputation.

Skyscrapers rose majestically into the sky. The streets were clean and the road signs looked as if they were freshened up each day. The buildings were mostly glass, the grounds mostly grass.

Hotels, schools, restaurants, amusement spots, churches…everything in its proper place, and nothing odd anywhere.

The street cops I saw had nice sedans and uniforms.

The streets glinted, and were smooth and neat. Most of the buildings that faced the streets had a lot of glass.  It was as if somebody had drawn his fantasy town and then cut it out and pasted it here.

I didn’t like it.

It was just like the Airport Residential Area of Beach County, all nice and saintly, showing none of its rotten core, the home of the rich and famous who, inadvertently, consisted of some of the sickest and loneliest personalities I had ever known.

Lonely men like me father who had been forced to endure years of sheer horror.

I spoke as we cruised along, following her directions.

BOAT

Fragile town.

She paused briefly with her hand outstretched; she had been showing me some of the nice sights.

NICOLE

(puzzled)

Sorry, what did you say?

BOAT

(smiling)

Your town. It looks fragile, as if a sneeze could knock it down flat.

She looked at me, startled.

NICOLE

(softly)

You don’t like it, do you?

BOAT

(tightly)

No, I don’t.

She said nothing.

She dropped her hand and regarded me thoughtfully, and then she nodded unperceptively as if she had come to a secret confirmation.

NICOLE

(coldly)

What did you expect to see? Huge casinos, prostitutes baring their bare breasts, maybe cops beating up a drug adduct mercilessly on the curb?

There wasn’t any trace of sarcasm in her voice.

If anything she sounded sincerely baffled, but her words triggered off a primitive reaction within me.

BOAT

(annoyed)

Your opinion of me, I think, diminishes with every passing second, right? You probably grew up in this town, and it is understandable that you feel good about it. I don’t like it, simple.

She shook her head slowly, and she leaned forward a bit to peer at my face.

NICOLE

I’ve never met a man who exudes so much confidence and shows so much vulnerability at the same time like you. What’s this anger that you’ve kept bottled up in you? Yaw, I’m not fighting you. I want to know you, I guess.

I looked at her, horrified by the sudden emotions of exasperation I felt toward her. Suddenly she had lost that magic she had over me.

Suddenly I felt tensed-up and worried inside, my spirit not quite right.

I felt the town – sensed it – pressing in around me. It was waiting, huffing with a tangible malice, and I knew that this was where it was all going to end.

It was a total realization, an unimpeachable fact that settled on my heart, and the sheer weight of it dragged my heart down so that a sudden and complete depression settled over me, and I gripped the steering-wheel tightly.

I was aware that I had lost my sense of reality, that my ears were filled with a terrible silence and that my eyes were now sharp protrusions that could look beyond the glitter around me, and settle on the other world that lay beyond.

This was it.

For me and the Legion.

One of us would perish.

Right here in this town.

This was the final battlefield.

It was as simple as that. In this town death was stalking me with sharp fangs and a secret sinister smile. The Stand was here … and the end was near.

NICOLE

(sharply)

Yaw, please watch out!

Her voice was a sudden whiplash that cut through the fog, dissipating the terrible webs of madness that had woven themselves into my brain.

I was aware of the car bearing down on a shiny Volkswagen Beetle, and I eased back on the accelerator and stomped down on the brake.

The car lurch forward and came to a shuddering halt. The engine went off, but the ignition stayed on, and a low burr came from the hood.

Her seat belt had prevented her from being thrown hard against the dashboard.

I turned to her, but I did not find fear and anger on her face as I had expected. Her angelic face was only filled with concern.

A pretty little arm adorned with shiny bracelets shot out of the driver’s window of the Beetle, and a delicately nice middle finger shot into the air.

I was being given the bird, and somehow that little gesture of unhealthy defiance set my soul at ease and cooled down the embers of the great distress boiling in my breast.

It was a symbol of sanity in a world gone totally mad, and suddenly Portville began to seem more like a town than the cemetery I had envisaged it to be.

Slowly I exhaled, and let some of the tension creep out of my bones.

Nicole was leaning forward and shaking my arm quite insistently.

NICOLE

(concerned)

What happened? You seemed to blank out! Are you okay?

Behind me a car blew its horn, and I looked into the rear-view mirror.

A little traffic was piling up behind us.

BOAT

(wanly)

I’m okay. I’m fine.

I started up again, and she directed me once more as we cruised through the golden streets of Portville.

Soon we left the commercial face of the town behind and entered a quieter neighborhood. The houses were mostly flat here, and were well-spaced. Beautiful streets, green and lush grass, well-trimmed hedges and neat fencing were all around.

The trees were many and bordered almost all the streets. There were pristine parks, patrolled by uniformed cops who seemed to wear fixed plastic smiles on their faces.

I wondered idly whether it came with the job down here – all the cops I had seen so far seemed to be grinning all the time. This area too seemed planned – too perfect and beautiful – and it seemed to be the safest part of town.

Its lack of blemish was its major imperfection, and again I found myself distrusting and hating it.

Sleek cars lined the curb. Over-dressed teenagers looking prim and proper lolled about. Soft lights were already showing in the windows and on the porches.

Dull, listless, routine – a town to hate, and a neighborhood to detest.

With a strong effort I checked the train of my thoughts.

It wouldn’t do at all for the depression to set in again.

I followed Nicole’s directions like an automaton, and although I felt her eyes drilling rather sharply at me now and again, I couldn’t shake myself out of the dark moods caressing my heart.

I crested a knoll, and as the car straightened out of the gentle descent and  a wide arc in the road the sign loomed out at me suddenly; huge, bold blue lettering on a white background:

Christ Redeemed Church

                   Portville

                   General Headquarters

                   You Are Warmly Welcome!

THE ARRIVAL

And there it was; spread out on a wide expanse of grass.

It was a huge, flat edifice, so white that it almost hurt the eyes. It wasn’t as grand as my old man’s church, but its sheer elegance and the air of peace it exuded greatly impressed me.

There were no walls, and there were other buildings on the land, spread out nicely around the church. The car park was jammed with vehicles.

NICOLE

There’s a smaller road on your right just ahead, Yaw…yes, right here! That leads to the mission house. My family is right there!

I could faintly hear loud music coming out of the church; a praise medley of some sorts.

The people outside the church room were dancing rather insanely on the grass, throwing up their hands and staring with fevered adoration into the rapidly darkening sky as if they could see the angels descending from heaven.

Fanatics for Christ.

They were everywhere. A few days ago I would have had nothing but absolute disdain for them. Not now, though.

If shouting and screaming and offering absolute devotion to a Supreme Being above could keep the uglies from their doorsteps, then it was worth every little second of it.

The road I had taken swerved away from the main church premises.

It was bordered on both sides by tall trees. The dry leaves crackled beneath the wheels as I eased the huge car forward gently.

The trees suddenly gave way to a breathtaking view of a lake. It spread out gently, its surface glittering with the night lights.

A stone bridge ran over it, and on its opposite side were more grass, and a beautiful two-story building.

The house was spectacular, its beauty enhanced by the wide expanse of very green grass all around it, and the majestic fold mountains way back behind it, rising from the ground and towering above the trees.

The house was white and not walled in.

There were balconies on each side of the upper building, and the view from there across the lake, on a cool lazy night, would be rather fetching indeed.

It had tall double mahogany doors at the head of a beautiful marble staircase.

Two cars were parked in front of it: a fairly new GMC van and a beautiful Lexus.

I parked my Chrysler next to the Lexus and killed the engine.

BOAT

(with unfeigned admiration)

This is beautiful.

NICOLE

(coolly)

Welcome to the Manse. I’m glad you like it.

I turned to her, drawn by something in her voice.

The frost had melted, and the wall that had sprung up unwanted between us was down for the moment. There was a hint of a smile on her lips that transformed that awesome beauty into something ethereal.

I stared at her, entranced, but before I could speak the huge doors opened, and we both turned toward it.

I was aware of a sweet moment gone.

I wondered what would have happened if we hadn’t been distracted, but then again I was a little bit happy that our mood had been broken. The lady was a successful woman, older than I was, and totally devoted to another man.

All that added up to a war not worth fighting.

I was suddenly aware of something dark hurtling toward the car, and my reverie quickly cleared.

My heart had already started pounding hard as I focused, sure that I was seeing one of the damn apparitions.

But it was just a dog.

Quite simply, it was the biggest dog I had ever seen.

It was completely black with a white head. It was a well-kept dog, I saw at first glance. Its body was hard all over with little fat, and it could easily have weighed two hundred pounds.

It was a Saint Bernard, and it glided with smooth grace over the grass, black eyes fixed on the car, tail waving slowly, ears perked up.

I was aware of Nicole getting out of the car and dropping to her knees as the huge beast rushed at her.

For a wild moment I thought it was going to knock her flat out, but it pulled in and began a kind of silly dance, bending itself into a tight arc and moving rhythmically sideways, all the time wagging its huge tail like mad.

I breathed with relief and got out of the car.

For a moment my eyes left the beautiful lady and the dog and settled on the two people who were coming down the marble steps.

One was a tall thin boy of about fifteen; he bore an uncanny resemblance to Paul Anderson, and I knew that this could be his second child.

He was dressed in baggy jeans and a huge white T-shirt that had a picture of Jesus sitting beside a rough-surfaced rock and staring piously into the sky.

Below that picture were the words: “He saved my life.”

As I got out of the car my eyes went to the woman on the steps.

She had just stepped out of the door, and she was looking at me intensely. I knew immediately where Nicole had gotten her extraordinary good looks.

Even though she was well past her prime the woman exuded sculptured grace and beauty. She was wearing a long white dress, and her hair, still with a lot of dark patches, was gathered up in a bun.

The lines on her face could not have marred that dreamlike beauty had it not been the fact that she could hardly hide the fear in the depths of her eyes.

As she gazed at me I could sense the despondent cry in her heart, as if she was utterly disappointed by my appearance.

I thought I knew where she was coming from.

Judging by what Nicole had told me about Paul Anderson, this fine woman could have been expecting a savior, someone with an almost visible halo who could help her husband.

A young guy like me had definitely not been what she had expected. And of course she couldn’t hide her true feelings as she gazed at me.

She was a good woman, a pillar of strength that had encompassed her family and kept it safe. She was a loving wife who had always been able to keep her husband out of the wind, but now that tight control was threatened.

Her man was in a storm, whatever it might be, and she could only gaze helplessly at me with her heart written on her face.

Somehow, as I looked at her, fear filled my heart. It was the same kind of crippling fear that assailed me when I entered Portville.

Looking at her I could feel her reaching out for support, pinning hopes on me, and deep down I knew I could fail her and her family.

I didn’t know what exactly was wrong with Paul Anderson to cause the kind of drastic change Nicole had described to me, but inwardly I knew what it was.

It was all kind of confusing, a suffocating kind of experience that was threatening to drown me; on a physical plain I didn’t know what was going on, but inwardly, on a different level of existence, I knew what was happening, and recognized it as a potent evil.

It was like some form of a strange antennae that kept on beating within my soul, probing, recognizing signs and scents, separating the darkness from the light, the good from the deadly.

I knew…and I was scared.

A weight hit my back, and I would certainly have fallen over if the young boy had not reached out and steadied me.

The giant dog reared up and planted its front paws on my chest, making funny whining noises in its throat and wagging its tail like crazy.

The young boy spoke with a happy giggle.

BOY

Bruno wants a pat on the head. He’s really fond of that.

I looked into its black eyes and noticed how huge its canines and incisors were.

Tentatively I patted its head, and it licked my hand furiously and wagged its tail.

A DIFFERENT ANDERSON

NICOLE

(with a shaky laugh)

That’s okay, Bruno.

Nicole pried the huge beast loose.

The young boy held out a slender hand to me.

ANDERSON JUNIOR

(with a smile)

I’m Paul Anderson Junior.

I gripped his hand.

He had a firm grip, and I nodded appreciatively.

BOAT

(smiling)

Yaw Boat at your service, sir.”

He smiled at his sister, still holding my hand.

ANDERSON JUNIOR

(smiling)

He’s very handsome, isn’t he, sis?

Her answering smile was not full as her eyes dwelled briefly on my face.

She turns to the woman on the stairs.

NICOLE

Oh, hello, Mother. Come on down. Come and meet Yaw Boat.

She came down haltingly, hesitantly, a strained smile on her lips. She held out a slender, beautiful hand, and I clasped it lightly.

MRS. ANDERSON

Rosemary Anderson. I’m so glad that you came, Mr. Boat.

BOAT

(smiling)

Yaw will do just fine, Mrs. Anderson.

She smiled back, again tentatively, but it seemed some of the pent-up tension was leaving her body.

MRS. ANDERSON

You must be tired. Do come inside and make yourself at home. I’ve got a hot plate of sweet food for you.

I rubbed my stomach and nodded appreciatively.

BOAT

Oh, yeah! Now you’re talking.

The four of us laughed at that, but then the door suddenly opened again…and he came out.

He was wearing a red cardigan over a white shirt, and grey slacks, a casual appearance that was belied by the expensive shoes he was wearing. They were of good leather, and they seemed to shine even in the fading light.

Paul Anderson!

I tried to keep the shock off my face as I stared at him.

I had seen him just that once, but his image had been permanently stamped on my memory. The man I was staring at just couldn’t have been the Anderson I had met.

He seemed to have aged a decade more since the last time I saw him.

His face was drawn and gaunt, and underneath his eyes were huge bags of fatigue – or something worse.

The lines on his face were deeper, more pronounced, and instead of making his face look strong and wise, it made him look old now and strangely haggard. He seemed to have less hair and had gone even greyer than the last time we met.

He just couldn’t have been the same man!

The Paul Anderson I had seen had been strong, enigmatic, hard and totally confident; his magnetism was something that had stayed on in my mind.

The one I was looking at now seemed like an empty shell, like he had been drained of substance, of something tangible, and all that was left of him was a shell.

But, despite that, my fury sizzled as I glared up at him.

Here was the man who had come to me – a poor silly little unbeliever – and given me a message that had turned my life upside down … and he had not stayed around to watch the fun, even when he knew it all could have blown my mind.

The least he could have done was stay around and helped me out of the whole crazy affair, and maybe – just maybe – my old man would have been alive.

He came down the steps with his right hand outstretched and a plastic smile on his thin lips.

He spoke in a voice which had lost all its powerful vibrancy.

PAUL ANDERSON

(wearily)

Hello, son. Welcome to our home.

I ignored his hand and glared at him, my body shaking with the urge to knock him down.

BOAT

(in a bitterly whisper)

I could kill you!

Nicole’s drawn breath behind me was enough reason for me to hold my fury in check, and I took a deep shuddering breath.

Paul Anderson junior was staring at me in some sort of shocked incomprehension, and I could see the desperate look in the eyes of the older woman.

Anderson grabbed my upper arms and looked straight into my eyes.

For a moment the steel was there in his eyes. He looked at me with compassion, and there was something else there too … a glimpse of fear, a desperate plea that he was trying to keep hidden.

PAUL ANDERSON

(sadly)

You’ve gone through hell, young man. I understand your anger, and I am cognizant of your bitterness. But believe me, Yaw, the Lord wanted it that way. I had no say in it, and there was absolutely nothing I could have done about that. You’ve seen enough, and God knows you’ve done enough to believe what I’m saying to you.

We stared at each other, two people who had operated on a higher level, a plane where lies and deceit were not necessary, where death was always a step away, and terror was a constant bedfellow.

Looking into his sad old eyes I believed, and from that belief was born a sudden flow of compassion for the old warrior.

Compassion not only for him, but for me, because I knew that there was a transition going on, that we represented a handing over in a game where souls were for the taking, where horror in its undiluted form was always breathing down your neck.

We were the past and the present, and looking at him I realized how my life was going to be.

There was all probability that a decade from now I would be looking as scared as he was, and as hopelessly helpless.

No one could survive the life of an Unblind, and that realization sent chills down my spine and strengthened my resolution to avoid that life at all cost.

All that passed between us, and when he stepped back there was a bit more color on his cheeks.

PAUL ANDERSON

(gently)

Do come inside, Yaw. Come get something to eat, take a bath and rest. We have a lot to talk about.

I walked beside him as we climbed the steps, and suddenly the air felt chilly.

I felt sudden goose bumps on my skin and I whirled suddenly.

I had felt it … evil had been staring at me.

My eyes roved the grounds, but there was nothing.

Nicole suddenly spoke with some alarm, and I realized suddenly that they were staring at me with sudden trepidation.

NICOLE

(NICOLE

(anxiously)

Yaw, what’s wrong?

I smiled wanly.

BOAT

Its ok, there’s nothing wrong.

I walked inside quickly.

But I knew there was a lot wrong.

I had felt the malevolent stare and the associated chill that always accompanied it. I had smelt the sickening stench that was a companion to it.

The Legion.

They had arrived.

And they had found me.

A TROUBLED WOMAN

The guest room they gave me was located at the end of a long corridor.

It was a spacious comfortable room. The bed was huge, the mattress firm. Low leather chairs were arranged in the middle, and close to that was a dark mahogany desk and a matching leather-backed chair.

The sliding doors of the wardrobe were made with mirrors. A little refrigerator hummed in the corner. A fifteen-inch Sony television was fixed in one corner, about eight feet off the ground.

The bathroom had a real bath and a neat WC. Huge glass doors opened unto a little porch that had a wonderful view of the garden beyond and the hills rising into the sky beyond.

I took a long cold bath and slipped into black slacks and a clean white shirt.

The tentative knock came when I was slipping a gold cufflink on my left sleeve.

BOAT

Please come in.

I said, my breath catching for a moment as I imagined Nicole entering with a sweet smile on her face just for me.

It was Mrs. Rosemary Anderson though.

She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. She looked at me, trying to see something which was way beyond her.

Somehow I felt stripped under her stare, and just a little bit piqued. She wanted answers I wasn’t sure I could give her, and that forced me into a mental state of defensiveness that I hated very much.

MRS. ANDERSON

Dinner is served, Yaw. Please do join us.

BOAT

(calmly)

I’m hungry enough to eat a horse. But dinner is really not why you’re here, is it?

My directness threw her off guard, and for a brief moment she clasped her hands together and almost wringed them.

The look on her face was suddenly real and desperate, the look of a terrified woman who was trying unsuccessfully to hold onto her sanity. She crossed the room quickly, and her hands gripped mine in a strong hold.

She looked at my face, and all her fears poured out of her soul as sudden tears welled up in her eyes.

MRS. ANDERSON

(desperately, voice strained)

Oh, Yaw! I think I’m going out of my mind! Please, please promise me you’ll not let harm come to my husband!

I shook my head, exasperated.

BOAT

(softly)

Ma’am, really, I need your husband more than he needs me. I don’t know what is going on here but –

I was trying to pry myself free from her vice-like grip.

MRS. ANDERSON

(desperately, eyes wild)

Promise me! Promise me!

BOAT

Alright, alright, I promise!

She released me. She looked down at her feet, and a faint color began up her cheeks. She took quick steps backward.

She brushed the tears from her cheeks with a quick violent movement of her lower wrist, and then she gave me a brief nod and quickly left the room.

I stared at the closed door for a long time.

I felt hemmed in, and I needed some respite. She was a good woman, and was obviously just following the dictates of her heart, but in doing so she was slowly eroding my confidence and the deep anger I felt for the Legion.

I had lost my father under rather barbaric circumstances, and that sight had kept me moving, and had kept the fire burning.

That deep anger had somehow bolstered my confidence, and there was nothing I would have wanted more than an immediate showdown with the hostile demons that had done my old man in.

At least that had been the way I had been feeling; suddenly, Portville was doing something awful to my resolve and determination.

Slowly my armor was being peeled away, layer by layer. Suddenly my inward inclination was to get the hell out of Portville.

I made my way to the dining room slowly. I was still hungry, but the pangs were somehow dulled by the woman’s strange behavior.

The room was warm, and aglow with soft lighting.

The dining-table was oval and glass-topped. The chairs had high backs and made with polished silver. Exquisite chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The rug on the floor was maroon and soft, muting my footsteps as I entered.

The Andersons had guests for dinner.

I took it all in with one glance.

One was a tall dark man in an excellently-tailored tuxedo.

He was sitting at a medium-sized piano in one corner of the room, doing a rendition of a Mozart piece – I was familiar with the tune, but I didn’t know the title of the classic; all classics sort of bored me, naturally, and I had never bothered to find out the salient facts about them.

The rendition was decent, but the man’s face bore nothing; he wasn’t happy, and yet he wasn’t sad. It was a strange kind of thing watching that cold face methodically following the movements of the fingers as they danced over the piano keys.

There was also an elderly distinguished couple and a younger man.

The couples looked upper-class; the man was dressed in a flowing, embroidered white attire that looked African and fitted him well.

The woman – whom I assumed was his wife – was ageing well, her silver-grey hair well-groomed. Her light grey gown fitted her buxom figure well.

I noticed, however, the proud thrust of her aristocratic nose, as if she were sniffing out the air, trying to separate herself from the unwanted attention of other inferior elements.

Her husband was lean and straight with the true bearing of a retired military man. He was also aloof, but it was more controlled.

He was holding a tumbler of wine, and as I entered he turned and gave me a slow full look.

The younger man beside him could have been an exact replica of his father – yeah, I had guessed the family tie because it was that obvious – save for the fact that he was a full head taller, and had the long beaked nose of his mother.

His face was lean and pleasant, a rugged athletic type that could draw more than a single look from ladies. His tux suited him well; he portrayed the icon of bachelorhood, and I disliked him instantly, maybe because he was standing next to Nicole.

His right arm was draped carelessly around her waist as he sipped from the glass in his left hand.

He was whispering something into her ears as I entered, and she giggled, her pretty face alight with vibrant life.

She had changed into a simple green dress that fitted her like a dream, setting off her breathtaking beauty in a way I had never beheld so far.

She took my breath away, and as I watched them I felt an inkling of something basic and raw stirring within me, a feeling of anger mixed with intensified pain, a kind of lousy emotion I had never experienced before.

Anderson, his wife and young son were already seated at the dining-table.

He was at the head, his wife on his right and the boy on his left.

The table was already laid and the pastor was patiently waiting for everyone to be seated. He was in quiet conversation with his wife, and even from where I was standing I could see the strain on their faces.

THE DINNER

All eyes were suddenly riveted on me, and all sounds ceased.

I felt like the drop of blood on virgin snow, and as I walked in Nicole extricated herself from the immoral grasp of the man and approached me, her eyes roving my face.

The look I gave her was stony and cold, and even as something pricked my conscience that I was beginning to behave like a silly little spoilt child I paid no heed to it.

The man followed her, his eyes also riveted on me, a quizzical smile on his lips.

He stopped right beside her and deftly put his drink in his right hand and put his left arm around her waist again.

She turned to look up at him, and in doing so she extricated herself from his grasp again. If he noticed her disapproving look he paid no heed as he transferred his drink to his left hand again.

He spoke, and his voice was deep and low to give a kind of sexy effect, and I wondered idly how many years he had spent practicing that false tone.

MAN

This must be our esteemed visitor. Introductions are in order, I presume.

Andrew Okai is my name.

He took a sip from his glass and held out his hand.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

I noticed that his eyes were an intense grey, and for a wild moment I imagined him with one of the uglies squirming right in his gullet, dancing in his eyes and sucking stuff from his nostrils.

I took the proffered hand and shook it briefly. I noticed how tightly he held my hand and tried to squeeze it.

He turned to the elderly couple and beckoned them over, but he still held unto my hand. I pulled my hand free and took a step back from him.

I didn’t like his perfume very much.

It reminded me of bird shit.

Nicole spoke quickly when the elderly couple joined our little group.

NICOLE

(in a rush)

This is Mr. Yaw Boat. He’s here to impart some of his great knowledge in evangelism to our congregation. Boat, please meet Mr. and Mrs. Okai, owners of Dash Systems.

I wanted to raise my eyebrows at the evangelism bit, but I felt too offended to react, and my face was dead-pan as I shook hands with them.

I had heard of Dash Systems – a powerhouse in space designs or something like that. I had heard some of their inventions formed the core base of some of NASA’s trusted spaceships.

Millionaires for sure, and that was why the lady behaved as if the world was one hell of a stinking package she could wipe her feet on.

1. OKAI

(pleasantly)

Sorry about your father, young man. A mighty man he was. He hosted a seminar for industrialists once. I was quite impressed with him.

I began to say something adequate, but I realized his wife was still holding unto my hand, and I stared at her for the first time.

Her nose was down to earth now, and her gaze was like many I had seen on the faces of matured women who had wanted to use my body to satisfy impure lusts.

There had been some I had taken advantage of, and been paid well for it.

There had been some I had taken to bed because I had found them attractive and willing, and who had satisfied that hidden crave of every young man to be desired and seduced by an older woman.

Some had lasted for a spell, and the benefits had been mutual; almost all of them had been married women, though.

All that was past now, and as I looked at her I felt nothing but a sudden revulsion that made me pry my hand loose firmly.

MRS. OKAI

(eyes dancing)

Glad to meet you, Mr. Boat. Tell me, are you running Golgotha Heights now?

BOAT

(calmly)

No, ma’am. Pleased to meet you too. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some food to eat.

I left them, but not before I had seen a little frown on the face of the older man at my apparent rudeness.

I kicked myself for behaving so childishly, but I was fast losing control of myself. Another moment in their company and I would’ve forcibly pried that oaf’s arm from around Nicole’s waist.

I sat next to the young Paul Anderson, and wasn’t at all surprised when Mrs. Okai lowered herself on the chair beside me, forcing her husband to sit on her left.

Nicole and Andrew sat beside Mrs. Anderson.

Nicole was facing me directly, and I had to keep a tight reign on myself from staring at her.

She was that beautiful.

The tall cold man in the beautiful tux sat at the foot of the table, alone, and I began to think that he would always be like that: alone.

It kind of suited him. He had probably spent most of his life being alone, and had grown up like that in his reinforced shell.

Pastor Anderson blessed the food, and from then I ignored everybody and concentrated on the best dinner I had eaten in years.

I had barely eaten home-made food since my old man bought it, and my hunger was a seasoning that propelled me on to attack the food that evening.

The others ate with finesse and decorum, but I dug down and tried to satiate my hunger the only way I knew how.

When my plate was empty I ladled more steaming goat meat gravy into it, topping it with soft sweet lobsters from another bowl. I forked more boiled yam from a shiny silver, and then I drew the whole load forward toward me.

A soft thigh pressed against mine, nudging me in a persistent sort of way, and I looked up with my mouth full to see that everybody was virtually staring at me.

Nicole looked amused, but I could see the look of revulsion on Andrew’s face.

Rosemary Anderson, for the first time since I met her, was smiling gently as she shook her head at me.

MRS. ANDERSON

(jovially)

It’s always pleasing to see a real man eating.

She had obviously because seen my embarrassment and decided to speak to ease the tension.

Giggles went round the table as I reached for a glass of water to hide my uneasiness.

BOAT

(smiling)

You cook a mean dinner, Mrs. Anderson. This is the best food I’ve tasted in years.

MRS. ANDERSON

(beaming with pleasure)

Why, thank you! I don’t remember the last time my food was praised around the corners of this house!

Her husband feigned shock at that and said something funny.

Again the giggles ran out, and the moment of unease passed.

I suddenly felt pressure on my inner thigh.

It was Mrs. Okai’s left hand, probing hotly up my right thigh.

I was too experienced to jump or turn, but I knew Mrs. Okai was pressing a point home.

I reached down to pry her hand lose, and she pressed a piece of card into my hand. I took it and pushed it down the front of my trousers, again without looking at her and with the minimum of movements.

Soon they were conversing softly among themselves again, and I quickly finished the rest of my food.

I excused myself, telling them I wanted to take some fresh air outside.

The man in the nice tuxedo also pushed his chair back and stood up.

He walked quickly out of the door with a mumbled excuse, and climbed the stairs leading upstairs almost in a rush, leaving me staring after him for a moment.

There was something really odd about that man, something I couldn’t just put my finger on, but it disturbed me greatly. After a while however I forgot about him and moved out of the house.

I made a mental note to ask Nicole about the man.

I walked into the garden and raised my eyes to the cloudless skies. I fought hard for control as I recollected how close Nicole and Andrew had been together.

I grudgingly admitted to myself that they indeed looked good together, and from the snippets of their conversation which I had overhead they really were in love with each other.

ATTACK COMMAND

Why then was I feeling so gloomy and so vacuous inside?

What were those strong emotions that I was feeling – emotions that drove me to the edge of madness as I imagined the terrible things I wanted to happen to Andrew Okai?

I paced the garden angrily, barely noticing the sweet flowers and the lush green grass underneath.

I stopped when I came to the end of the garden area and found myself faced with great trees that rose proudly into the sky, dark and strong.

Darkness spread into the trees, and suddenly I realized how alone I was, and how scary the trees could be.

I shuddered suddenly as I peered into the darkness of the trees. For one wild moment I thought I saw hundreds of multi –colored eyes in the trees, staring down at me balefully.

For a moment the angles seemed to shift, and I became aware of hundreds of hideous creatures slowly coming toward me, shuffling and making low growling noises in their inhumane throats.

Eerie dark fingers reached out for my throat, and evil mouths with ghoulish teeth opened wide to sink into me.

My breath caught as I took several steps backward, blinking rapidly.

Nothing.

Just a vast expanse of huge trees and darkness.

I turned and made my way slowly back toward the house, resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder and walk faster.

Soon I was in the fragrant garden where soft lights illuminated every blade of grass.

And then I saw them: Nicole and Andrew.

She had her back to me, and had not heard me approaching.

Andrew was facing me, and by the sudden movement of his head downward I knew immediately that he had seen me and was pretending otherwise.

Bruno was squatting near Nicole’s legs, wagging his huge tail happily. When the dog saw me it broke into a run, stopped beside me and rubbed his head against my knees.

I patted his head absently as I watched them.

Andrew’s head came down, and when their lips met in a tender kiss the fury and pain pierced me like a two-edged serrated knife being pulled out of my heart.

I wasn’t aware that my hand had halted on top of the dog’s head, or that I was trembling. I heard the low growl beside me, but I paid no heed to it.

My attention was focused on that dark head poised over her face, just like one of those uglies sucking stuff out of innocent victims.

At that point I finally faced the painful truth.

Nicole was suddenly an important part of my life. She was no longer a mere body made up of beautiful curves and contours to please a thirst.

She was not an object to be enjoyed and put aside disdainfully.

She was not like any woman I had ever met, and suddenly I was beginning to experience a whole lot of confusing emotions, and I loathed that man mauling her.

She was a pure goddess I wanted to do silly things to – things like sticking flowers into her hair; silly things like slowly lifting her up and spinning her on a moonlit summer night.

Yeah, crazy stuff like that.

She was suddenly more than just someone I wanted to know.

My heart thudded painfully as I watched them, and my jealousy was pure green, and because I had never experienced anything like it ever in my life, I mistook it for anger.

That was why I looked at the dog and whispered to him – no, commanded him – with a voice filled with authority.

BOAT

(tightly)

Go get the bastard, Bruno. Rip his guts out!

I turned away from them, preferring the eeriness of the forest to that kind of sight. I brushed a hand through my hair furiously. If that was what she wanted so be it.

She could have him for all I cared. That was all pretty silly, considering the fact that I had said or done nothing to make her aware that I cared that much for her.

Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to have anything to do with her now.

She was older than I was – well, just two years and totally negligible – but hell, I was a different breed now. I needed no emotional attachments in that department.

I needed to stay focused and…

The dog!

It suddenly intruded into my mind that the dog was growling … not with pleasure, but with a real fiendish tone! Its deep voice was pouring with furious menace, and I whirled round sharply.

The hair was standing up like hackles on Bruno’s back. His ears were up, and his shoulders were hunched.

His great head was thrust forward, and although I could not see his face I knew it was full of hatred … and had the total look of a killer.

Go get the bastard, Bruno. Rip his guts out!

Oh, Lord! Oh, no!

I had commanded it!

Even as I watched, horrified, Bruno began to inch forward, hunching his shoulders and gathering momentum.

NICOLE

(voice unsteady)

Bruno…boy? Settle down, boy! Ease up, Bruno. Back off, boy!

I could hear her voice trembling with mounting horror, and I noticed that Andrew had moved slightly behind her, unintentionally – maybe – using her as a shield

The dog was maddened, and he did not hear her familiar voice. Bruno’s dark eyes were fixed on Andrew as his steps quickened.

His growls were almost inaudible now, reduced to deep-chest rumblings that were meaner and absolutely more frightening than the loudest of barks.

Andrew screamed with sheer terror as he turned and began to flee.

ANDREW

Run, Nicole, run!

NICOLE

(shouting)

Bruno! What’s the matter with you, boy? Settle down!

The dog was not making any sound now. Its head was down, its eyes fixed on its target, its steps now a full-blown flight, measured to that of its prey, ready to pounce and bring it down.

Fear crystallized in my veins, and my arms pumped as I took off after them.

Andrew was shrieking now, a maniacal prolonged sound that jarred the nerves. The dog swerved round the trembling body of Nicole and bore down on the hapless man.

Andrew was looking over his shoulder as he fled. The house was in sight now, and I could see people rushing out unto the back porch, drawn by the man’s screams.

And then Andrew slipped and went crashing down.

Bruno leapt, front paws extended to grip and rip, huge mouth gaping open and dripping, ugly teeth ready to maul.

Andrew rolled unto his back, and I saw his face fully, and the expression I beheld was one that no human being should wear.

It was look of  terror so stark that it twisted his features into that of a gargoyle. His hands came up, feebly trying to hold that beast back.

BOAT

(shouting)

Bruno…stop!

I commanded, my voice high as I feared that I might be too late.

The dog landed on Andrew’s chest and knocked the air out of his lungs.

I finally got to them and reached out blindly, ready to tear him off the man’s body, but Bruno’s eyes were clear now, and all the evil had gone out of its body.

It was wagging its tail happily now.

THE FEAR FACTOR

The dog yawned greatly, regarded the screaming face of Andrew with his head cocked to one side, obviously confused, and then bent and tried to lick the man’s face.

ANDREW

(screeching)

Get off me get off me get off me GET OFF MEEEEEE!

His hands beat feebly at the great dog’s chest.

Bruno regarded him for a moment more, then decided the squirming man wasn’t his kind of play. He bounced off the man’s chest, bounded up the stairs, wagged its tail at Anderson, and then he disappeared inside.

I reached down and pulled Andrew to his feet. He had gone into some sort of temporal insanity because of his fear, and he still jabbered and slapped at my hands, his face wet with tears and sweat.

I shook him hard, and his teeth rattled, and he became still.

BOAT

You’re okay, man.

Suddenly I was thrust aside and Nicole was there, greatly distressed.

NICOLE

(concerned)

Andy! Oh, Andy!

MRS. ANDERSON

(anxious)

What happened?

I heard Mrs. Rosemary Anderson asking the question, but without a word I walked past them straight to my room.

I closed the door and leaned on it, and allowed the tremors to grip my body as reaction set in.

I had almost killed a man.

In my moment of tantrum I had innocently whispered foolishly, and it had almost caused the death of a man. I hadn’t meant it! I had been jealous and the pain had been bad, and maybe I had meant it, but I didn’t mean it to come true!

How was I to know that my words would have that evil effect on the dog?

What the hell is happening to me now?

I slowly slid to the floor, covering my face with trembling hands.

What the hell have you done to me, Lord?

The door opened inward sharply, its progress impeded by my body.

BOAT

(agonized)

Go away! Just go away from me!

PAUL ANDERSON

(harshly)

Yaw! Cut it out! Come with me, boy. There are things for you to do!

I got to my feet and stepped backward as the door opened all the way.

We faced each other, and then I saw what was hidden deep in the soul of Pastor Paul Anderson.

His face was gaunt now, devoid of all contrived emotions.

His soul had been bared, and now he had no control over the lines of his ashen face. The man facing me had lost all pride, and what I saw reflected on his face was terror and helplessness.

Behind him, standing ashen-faced and trying hard not to wring her hands, was his wife, looking equally agitated as her round dark eyes sought me out, seeking for a comfort that I couldn’t give.

Slowly I put my own fears aside as I came to the full realization that I had come to another crossroad.

I could just pick up my small bag and leave them right there; I didn’t know what life I would live after that act, but I had a feeling that it would be comparatively better than the one I would be forced to live if I stayed with them a second longer.

Anderson took a deep breath, and I noticed that for once he could not meet my eyes. His gaze was fastened somewhere along the lines of my chest.

PAUL ANDERSON

(softly)

Come with me, Yaw.

He turned, and headed down the corridor.

I hesitated for a moment, but like an aged hawk that had sighted a lame chick the woman swooped down on me and grasped my right hand in both of hers, flooding me with her fear and desperation, trying to pull me along.

MRS. ANDERSON

(stressed out)

Oh, please, please! Please!

She was a nice person, and I had no doubt that I was going to be very fond of her if I stayed in Portville. Presently, however, her behavior sickened me, and I was immensely irritated by her.

They were living in a world of acute fear, and they had allowed it to rule them. By her desperation she was also slowly dragging me down into that cesspool of terror, and I didn’t want that one bit.

With an effort I disengaged my hand from her wet ones and followed Anderson.

The library-study was located at the end of the hallway on the second floor.

It was immense with tall bookcases glistening with fresh-looking publications in paperbacks and hardbacks. Each section was elaborately labeled in stylish white lettering on red metal plates.

The rugs on the floor were rich and lush, the curtains thick and stretching from floor to ceiling. Tables and chairs, each housing a desktop computer, were placed at vantage points of the study.

A beautiful aquarium was against one wall, immediately catching the attention of anyone who entered, and giving a serene restful quality to a room which otherwise might had seemed a trifle severe and unwelcoming.

A large mahogany desk stood in the centre, a huge elegant swivel chair behind it; it was surrounded by five high-backed chairs, and this dominated the other furniture, claiming a prestigious position as the throne of the king.

There was a musty kind of odour in the room, as if it lacked fresh air. I surmised that the curtains were rarely drawn.

On the ceiling was an array of little lamps encased in partitioned glass enclosures, throwing a warm bright light on everything in the room.

Anderson was lowering himself into the swivel chair when I entered. His wife quickly went to him and sat on a low chair beside him. Unconsciously they reached for each other, their fingers intertwining and holding fast, her free hand gently soothing his upper arm.

I stopped in front of the desk, regarding them awkwardly, feeling like an intruder witnessing a particularly intimate and private moment.

For a long time we were all silent, and I noticed that they did their best to keep their eyes off me, preferring instead the intimacy of their private world as they stared at each other with little sad smiles and gentle rubbing of each other’s hands.

After a moment it got to me, and I coughed politely.

Anderson looked up, startled, and gestured quickly to one of the high-backed chairs.

PAUL ANDERSON

(in a rush)

Do sit down, Yaw! Sorry, forgive me. I was miles away.”

Before I could speak there was a sudden movement behind him, and I looked up.

A man materialized behind Anderson, seemingly out of nowhere. So profound was the moment of unreality that I took an involuntary step backward.

I realized that the man had been in the room all along, his wine shirt blending perfectly with the heavy maroon curtains.

He was a tall man, and very old at that.

He was walking with the aid of a cane. His aquiline face was much wrinkled, and his cheeks were hollowed out. Green veins stood out angrily on his wrists.

He was not wearing glasses, and his eyes blinked rapidly as he entered the zone of the lights.

He was wearing dark slacks that were inches short of his slightly-swollen ankles.

His eyes watered quickly and he pressed a huge stripped handkerchief to the corners of eyes.

His silver-grey hair was surprisingly long, falling gently to his shoulders. His eyebrows were an overgrown white, and I wondered briefly if he ever groomed the hair on any part of his body.

MEETING BONNER

He shuffled forward and stood at the side of the mahogany desk appraising me. His eyes were still a piercing grey as he gazed unblinkingly at me.

I felt uncomfortable, but I did not blink or look away, and returned his look.

Mrs. Anderson stood up approached the old man. He held unto her arm as he lowered himself gently into an armchair to the right of Anderson.

He leaned back with a contented sigh as the woman took his walking-stick and hooked it along the back of one of the high-backed chairs.

He spoke, holding out his right hand, and his voice was deep and soft .

OLD MAN

Come, young man, come.

As I approached him I felt a sudden closeness, a blast of comfort that was as scary as it was nostalgic. I knew deep within me that I was going to like him profoundly. He reminded me so much of my father, somehow, and for a moment I felt a deep ache in my breast.

Anderson stood up as I shook the old man’s hand.

PAUL ANDERSON

Yaw, meet Pastor Charles Bonner, retired, co-founder of our church. You already know all about Yaw, Charles.

CHARLES BONNER

Hmm, a fine grip you have, son. The grip of a man. But do sit down. We have so much to talk about. Feel at home, son. I am also a retired Unblind, for your information.

I looked at him as I sat, startled.

BOAT

(with sudden interest)

Really? You lived the life of an Unblind?

CHARLES BONNER

(smiling)

Close to twenty years, son.

I noticed that he had most of his teeth and wondered idly if they were fake.

CHARLES BONNER

(somberly)

But don’t let us dwell so much on that now. Before you ask questions, and above all else, I want you to tell me everything you have been through, son. Begin from the moment Paul met you … and please, try not to leave anything out.

Coming from any other man I might have been offended to be commanded to lay my life on the table, but from him it sounded just right, and I wanted to do it.

I faced him, deliberately cutting off Anderson … and talked.

It poured out, and as my words fell and I re-lived the horrors I found my heart steadying, and warm peace began to wash over me.

It was a balm over the raw parts, the still hurting parts that I could not let go. At times they had to sit through lengthy pauses as I tried to overcome the pains that my story invoked in me, but no one tried to stop or interrupt me.

They sat and listened attentively, and for that I was grateful.

Finally, when it was done, I took a deep breath and covered my face with my hands.

I found moisture in my palms, and realized that I had shed a few tears.

For my parents, yes.

Especially for my unknown mother who had died so helplessly.

Anderson and his wife were still holding on to each other, but now with more intensity. Anderson had a lot of remorse on his face, and his wife wiped tears from her eyes.

Bonner seemed to have sunk deeper into his chair, his arms resting limply on the broad supports, but he had lost none of his alertness.

His gaze fixed me with more intensity, and behind that brow I seemed to hear an active brain working overtime.

When he spoke his voice was not quite steady as he too seemed affected by the extent of the horrors I had gone through.

PAUL ANDERSON

(remorsefully)

You’ve been through real hell, Yaw, and for that I’m profoundly sorry. I never expected all that to happen to you under the circumstances.

BOAT

(fiercely, angrily)

And why not? You should have expected worse! You knew I wasn’t ready for it.

CHARLES BONNER

(calmly)

Settle down, boy. This is not the time to play the blaming game. What had to happen happened. That was how our great God, in all His infinite wisdom, wanted to happen.

And that really made me mad.

I spun on him, my voice low but filled with bitterness.

BOAT

(fiercely, passionately)

Now don’t give me that, sir, please! Why did Pastor Anderson here have to leave me alone? Sure, I didn’t believe the story he fed me at first, but who would have? It sounded like the drivel of a mad man, but he knew damn well it was going to happen! The least he could have done was to stick around and help me out! I could’ve died easily out there! And I lost my father, have you thought about that? If he had been around maybe my father could’ve been saved! Damn, he told me he was guided by his predecessor, and that even seasoned pastors who had foreknowledge of the gift sometimes couldn’t handle it. I was an unbelieving pagan, and suddenly I was thrust into the horror of another world. He should’ve been there for me and seen me through, and that was the least he could’ve done!

Bonner lifted a placating hand.

CHARLES BONNER

There are a lot of things you don’t understand about the gift, and yourself, son. No human could’ve seen you through, as you put it. Paul here was specifically commanded by God to leave you alone, and he did just that. Now, let me ask you this, are you scared of the Legion?

I didn’t hesitate.

BOAT

No. I wish more than anything to meet it again.

There was a pregnant silence in the room. I saw Anderson and his wife exchanging looks, but Bonner kept his icy gaze on me.

CHARLES BONNER

(softly)

There, you have your answer.

BOAT

To what?

CHARLES BONNER

(calmly)

You wanted to know why Paul didn’t stay with you. God wanted you to have the encounter with the Legion without the help of anybody. You see, that group of demons – the one we refer to as the Legion – was spawned centuries ago, and it has plagued the people of God since the death of Christ. Many Unblinds have faced it, but sadly it triumphed over every single one of them due to one factor … our fear of it! It is the most vicious evil entity ever known, and no Unblind has ever faced it alone. In your story you mentioned an old Unblind called Paul V. Clement…

BOAT

Yes, he tried to exorcise the Legion from my father. He was killed by the Legion. It later turned out that he had been having an affair with a teenaged prostitute for a long time. My father told me that, anyway.

CHARLES BONNER

(regretfully)

Yes, a sad and sordid affair. Clement was my student.

Bonner said and rubbed his pointed chin.

BOAT

(shocked)

No shit!

I exclaimed, shocked, and then shook my head in embarrassment.

BOAT

(shame-faced)

Aw, sorry, Mrs. Andersons, sirs. My bad mouth. I’m extremely sorry!

Bonner waved the apology aside impatiently.

CHARLES BONNER

Yes, Clement succeeded me, and he was Paul Anderson’s teacher.

BOAT

(genuinely baffled)

Then what happened? According to my father his death was nasty. Why? Surely he served God long and hard enough – even though he erred in the end – to deserve a more decent death?

Bonner nodded his great white head.

CHARLES BONNER

(gently)

There are a lot of things you need to learn, son. With God there is no middle road. You’re either for Him, or not for Him. Sin is sin, no matter its shade or quantum, and sin puts a divide between us and God. It has been my hope that Clement, in his final hour, was able to find his way back to God. If that didn’t happen, then all his faithful years of service would not account to much. But that is the way it is. Let me tell you this. Years previously, when Clement was my student, we met the Legion. It had by then occupied a young man who was my son. We almost succeeded in casting him out.

BOAT

(fascinated)

Why ‘almost’? If you were men of God, and you were Unblinds, why didn’t you deal with that thing?

Again there was silence in the room. I saw that Bonner’s eyes had taken on a faraway look, obviously re-living a terrible past.

CHARLES BONNER

(haunted)

Faith, my son, faith. Being confronted with the true face of that thing, seeing its basic and raw evil, its terrible resolve to destroy … Clement lost faith and fled the room, I lost faith too, and the Legion murdered my son, the only child I ever had. Faith is the only weapon of any Unblind, and once it is gone, he’s next to useless.

KNOWING THE ENEMY

Charles Bonner still spoke in a rather sad, unsettling kind of way as his mind dwelt on the past.

CHARLES BONNER

Eventually it comes to each of us, though. Fighting those demons demands a daily devotion and total dedication to God, a building up of your faith to heights unimaginable, but the life of an Unblind is a hard one, and it slowly erodes one’s faith. And once faith wanes…

Finally it began to dawn on me, and my startled eyes turned slowly and fixed on Paul Anderson.

His face was awash with sweat, and his eyes seemed large and haunted.

Yes, I finally understood their irrational frenzy, the underlying terror that had virtually taken over the woman. It was like looking at a raw wound, and it turned my mind.

I shook my head numbly.

Now I understood clearly why the woman had put so much trust in me, a trust I wasn’t sure I could live up to.

The implication staggered me!

Anderson had seemed as solid as a rock when he was speaking to me in my car.

He had seemed the epitome of unshakeable faith.

But I could see clearly now that it is no longer the case.

The man has changed drastically.

BOAT

You too, Pastor Anderson? Your faith is gone?

Anderson could not look at me.

He looked down quickly, but not before I glimpsed the sudden anguish in his eyes, the sudden blast of tears on his lashes.

CHARLES BONNER

(sighing)

Yes, Yaw. Paul’s faith is gone, and he’s scared of living the rest of his life cooped up like I was. He’s scared of living virtually in the house of God, wasting the rest of his life away, scared of the wonderful life outside. Living and yet dying … rotting away, each day more painful than the rest.

BOAT

(anguished, perplexed)

But why? I don’t understand it. Why does it have to be that?

Bonner stared at me for a long.

CHARLES BONNER

(softly)

It has to be like that, son, because venturing outside the protected house of God, going out into the sin-filled world, is an invitation for death. The Legion is waiting out there. It never forgives, boy, and it never forgets. The moment it separates one of us, we will be dead men.

I looked from one man to the other. They made no attempt to hide the torture of their fears.

Suddenly I could feel the walls of the room closing in on me. I shivered hard … and it wasn’t because I was feeling cold.

It was fear.

Bonner spoke, taking a sip of orange juice from a straw.

There had been a little break when Mrs. Anderson had brought us water, orange juice and a tray of home-baked apple pies.

The pies were delicious, but only I was eating

CHARLES BONNER

Fifty years ago it is, when I had the chance to banish the Legion. As I said I was with Clement. It had possessed my twenty-year old boy, Philip. I never knew where I went wrong with that boy. By the age of sixteen he was already doing drugs and … well, had also achieved a sort of a reputation as a pornographic star. He was starring in porn movies.

His old face was screwed up with pain now. Obviously he was muddying waters he would have preferred to stay settled. I understood his pain, and shared it.

Somehow, by laying our souls bare, that strange harmonious tie I had experienced with him was being strengthened.

That bond was stronger now, and although I felt sorry for him for the horrors he was again experiencing, on another level it exhilarated me, and drew me up to his platform where I could see everything through his eyes.

CHARLES BONNER

My dear wife was long dead by then – she had cancer when Philip was ten, and died a year later. I tried to be with him, but I guess he had always been more his Mother’s son than mine. I was filled with the zeal for the Lord’s work by then, and I guess I neglected him pretty much when he was a kid. By the time I realized there was a gulf between us, and tried to bridge it, it was too late. He came home one Christmas, when he was twenty-three and I had not seen him for six years. The Legion was living in him.

He gently patted his dry lips and leaned forward slightly.

CHARLES BONNER

Clement was filled with fire, but I guess the fact that my son whom I loved so much was the one possessed threw me hard from the onset. I had doubts, you know, and there had been times when I had wondered whether it would have been wise to let Clement perform the banishment all alone. I would never know, though. We were doing pretty well, and had it in a tight spot, when suddenly it manifested. My teacher had told me that from generation to generation men of God had panicked before the Legion, and fled before it. Well, Clement clean fled the room when it manifested, and my faith was pretty much gone by then. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that my son was in there. But the Legion knew I was operating on adrenaline alone, and it moved in with its lies and half-truths, confusing and torturing me until I felt completely alienated from God. I lost my nerve completely, and no amount of prayers could save me. I cowered and begged that vile heap of evil to leave my son. It laughed triumphantly and began to squeeze itself inward, and when I heard the screams I knew my son was being squeezed dry, was being cruelly murdered. The Legion left, and I still hear the echoes of its derisive laughter in my sleep. Philip was on the floor – dead, with blood oozing out of his nostrils, eyes, ears and mouth. That was the end for me as an Unblind. Clement took the mantle.

BOAT

(shocked)

My word! What’s the meaning of all this? If your God is such a loving father why does He allow these terrible things to happen? Why doesn’t He just get rid of the Legion and get it over with? I mean, if the damn thing is killing you guys in such great numbers why doesn’t God simply quarantine it somewhere safe?

CHARLES BONNER

(gently)

I’ve asked myself that question, son. I don’t know how to explain it, but suppose you have a kid, a son you loved very much, and that boy is always being bullied mercilessly, what would you do about it? You have two options: either take on the bully yourself, or teach your boy to stand up to him. Now, which would give your son more confidence in you … and in himself? I think the latter option, right?

BOAT

(explosively)

That is different! Man, we’re talking about life and death here!

Bonner held up a finger.

CHARLES BONNER

(calmly)

It is not different, son. You just don’t understand the principle. No man of God is a weakling. The Legion has absolutely no power over any man of God. Even the newest believer – like a pagan who has been converted into Christ just for ten seconds – has been given the power to triumph over any demon. The trouble is with us, our imperfections, our doubts in ourselves, and our inability to cultivate our faith to a level where it becomes fixed and unshakeable. That alone has always been our undoing. . You understand that?

BOAT

No, frankly I don’t. If it is that simple, why do you all suffer so?

CHARLES BONNER

(calmly)

I never said it is simple, son. Yes, it should be simple, but it isn’t. This is because we are human, made up of blood and flesh and emotions. We have fear and doubt in our system, because we were born into sin, and even though in Christ we are cleansed of all sins, the truth still remains that naturally the human heart freezes at the sight of latent evil, and that limits our ability to develop faith to that ultimate point where we could tell a mountain to move into the sea and it would obey.

BOAT

(puzzled, disappointed)

Why should that be the case? Look at me; I don’t know half the things you know. Hell, I don’t even have a pea’s worth of your experience, but I was able to deal with that little demon at Jackson Peak, the one that possessed Samantha Gaisie. You should be able to deal with the Legion easily!

This time Bonner and Anderson exchanged looks, and for a moment there was an awkward silence. I was aware that I had just rebuked them, touched a raw spot, and I was instantly embarrassed again.

BOAT

(hesitant, embarrassed)

Look, I’m sorry. It didn’t come out right. What I meant was –

Again Bonner held up a hand.

CHARLES BONNER

Don’t fret yourself, son. We understand what you meant. You’re right, we should be able to do more because we know more and have had more experience. In other words, we understand the turf as it is. But has it occurred to you yet, that maybe you’re able to do more because you don’t know more? What happened at Jackson Peak was extraordinary, but has it occurred to you that maybe it just didn’t happen out of the blue, that maybe it was all a part of your training?

I looked at him blankly.

BOAT

You’ve lost me.

MULTIPLE GIFTS

The old man nodded.

CHARLES BONNER

I know, but presently everything would be made clear to you. In Jackson Peak two things happened. First you were given what we call Death’s Eyes. No, don’t interrupt, let me finish. You saw the Shadow of Death the moment it began to follow that man – Ray Mensah, right? – yes. You saw that. I have heard of men of God with that gift, but I have never met one. Have you, Paul?

Anderson shook his head and stuffed a piece of pie into his mouth.

CHARLES BONNER

Now, secondly, you did something else I have never heard of. You had an out-of-body experience. When you were pursuing the Legion in the marshes, you soul left your body! Now, that is simply incredible, and I was really shook up by that. I have never heard, read or seen anything like that! That goes to prove what we were told all along and yet disputed. And then, thirdly, we come to the Bruno incident.

My heart missed a beat, and the Andersons sat up straighter.

PAUL ANDERSON

(puzzled)

Bruno? Are you talking about what happened this evening, Charles? What about Bruno? He went berserk for the first time since I have known him. I was worried. We all were, and I’ve instructed Junior to send him to the Vet tomorrow.

CHARLES BONNER

There’s nothing wrong with Bruno. It is Yaw Boat who set him on Andrew Okai in a moment of childish jealousy.

Bonner kept his eyes on me.

They were all looking at me now. I could feel the heat rising up around my neck. Twice I tried to speak, and failed.

Anderson and his wife seemed a trifle bewildered and doubtful. I could feel the guilt written all over my face, and I looked at Bonner with new eyes.

BOAT

(lamely)

I didn’t set no dog on anybody. Well, at least not willingly. I just spoke out loud, innocently, and I didn’t know that was what was going to happen. And I definitely didn’t want that to happen! How the hell did you know anyway? Pardon my language, Ma’am.

MRS. ANDERSON

(in a horrified whisper)

Dear Lord, is it really true?

PAUL ANDERSON

If Charles Bonner said it then it is true, dear.

CHARLES BONNER

(softly)

I am also a Seer, son. It is one of those divine gifts that God gives to some of his faithful servants. Let just say God still reveals things to me. You underestimate your power. God has given you multiple gifts… more than I have ever witnessed in any other Unblind. You’re destined for a greatness far higher than any of us ever imagined. You, young man, are destined to deal with the Legion once and for all … if you will only avail yourself.

I shook my head lamely.

BOAT

I don’t want any of it, Mr. Bonner. Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t your God understand that?

The old man leaned forward, his eyes seeming to drill a hole right through me.

CHARLES BONNER

Do you really mean that? I know for a fact that you set off here primarily to deal with the Legion. Your young heart was filled with vengeance, and nothing could have stopped you from that showdown you craved so much. What has changed now? Is it the fear of the unknown, or is it that you feel pressured by Paul here and his wife who, sadly, seemed to have placed you under undue stress in their moment of need?

Nothing escaped this man.

Looking at him I knew that I would never have my own way. He was there, as solid as a rock, picking thoughts and feelings off me as if I were an open book before him.

There was no need to fight him. He had to be reasoned with. His was an intellect I had never been exposed to.

After a moment I leaned back resignedly and looked at the old man.

BOAT

(wearily)

Speak to me. Please make me understand.

CHARLES BONNER

Truth be said, Paul V. Clement was the best Unblind I ever saw. I think he took Philip’s death personally; he never really stopped blaming himself for the death of my son. He pursued demons relentlessly. He searched for the Legion, and never stopped even when Paul Anderson became his protégé. The hour of truth came when they finally caught up with the Legion. He had possessed a mad self-styled archbishop in Italy. Quite a powerful man, revered by the church in that part of the world. Paul and Paul, as I used to call them, practically broke into the man’s room like thieves, and confronted the host of demons. Their faiths were strong, and they were vibrant. Their faith was fuelled by their wrath, and the Legion had no chance. It couldn’t manifest, and it fled with terrible screams. It was a moment of triumph and profound joy for all of us. For years – seven years, precisely – we never heard anything about it. And then, Clement’s wife died. No, don’t look like that. She died naturally, yes. No sickness, no prolonged fight for life. They had a normal evening, and went to bed quite happy. Next morning she was gone, just like that. Paul Clement had been devastated. He had no children, and she was virtually his angel. He turned away from our help, and refused to take solace in the arms of the Lord. He was very bitter, you know. He had dedicated his whole life to God, and felt that the least the Creator should’ve done was keep his wife alive.

BOAT

(wearily)

I cant’ say I fault him on that. It would’ve been pretty hard for him.

I spoke sadly, my heart reaching out to a broken man whose source of joy had been snuffed out like a candle without warning.

CHARLES BONNER

It was hard for Clement, yes. His anger and bitterness against God grew, and he began to drink. His faith suffered, and tried as hard as we could we could not really bring him back into the barn. He was craving death, and day in day out he cursed God for what had happened to his wife. It was during that terrible time that he started visiting the teenaged prostitute, although he kept it a secret. In the midst of all that confusion your parents and your grandfather found him and asked him to exorcise the Legion, which by then had gained roots in your father’s body. It was suicide, and that terrible night your mother, grandfather and Clement lost their lives. The Legion was back, craving for revenge, and Clement was at an all-time low. I’m pretty sure he knew that he was not prepared for it, but deep down he didn’t really care. He wanted to die. The Legion tore him to pieces, yes.

This time the old man’s silence was longer, and as I slowly looked from one to the other I had the distinct feeling that his reluctance was not borne out of tiredness, as I had feared, but by the sheer unsavoury nature of what was to follow.

Anderson’s haunted face was tinged with a generous amount of guilt, his wife’s nervousness and fear, and the old man’s sudden aversion to looking directly at the pastor slowly told me that somehow Paul Anderson was in greater mud than I had presumed.

I cleared my throat and painfully broached the subject.

BOAT

(carefully)

You told me Pastor Anderson was working with Pastor Paul Clement that time in Italy when the Legion fled from them. It has been more than twenty-five years since Pastor Clement died. Why didn’t Pastor Anderson go after my father, whose body was hosting the Legion?

CHARLES BONNER

(sharply)

You’re making hasty assumptions, son. Forgive me, boy. I didn’t mean to bark at you. Yes, you’re right, it has been a long time. But we didn’t know your father was the vessel. Remember he fled the scene before the cops arrived, and there wasn’t any evidence to show that your father had been present the day Clement, your grandfather and mother were killed. Remember that the official police record showed that it was a terrible case of robbery gone wrong, that was all. Of course we knew better after we saw Clement’s mutilated body. It never occurred to us that your father, a most renowned man of God, could be the vessel.

BOAT

Still I figured he could easily have –

CHARLES BONNER

(interrupting)

You figured wrong, boy. The Legion is not like your common friendly poltergeist. It keeps a permanent host, yes, but it leaves its host at regular intervals and occupies other hosts, especially when it wants to do something drastic. Pastor Anderson was full of power; quite frankly I thought he was also going to be the one to bring the Legion down. But as I told you, he didn’t have to go after the Legion. That host of demons never forgot that Paul and Clement exorcised it, and once it had dealt with Clement we all knew it was coming after Paul next, who had no fear of it. In fact Paul was eagerly awaiting the confrontation. However, one night both of us – that is, Paul Anderson and me – had the same dream. In it there was a war going on between you and the Legion, and the two of us were just spectators. In the dream you were wearing a series of halo-like rings from head to feet. Now, before you start shooting off your mouth again, I want you to know that it is the way God always reveals our successors to us. Now that you’re an Unblind, you shall one day have a dream and see the next Unblind wearing those halos. God showed us where to find you, and what message to give you. When Paul came back and told me that you were a complete novice who didn’t even believe in the existence of God I was so sad because it meant God had lost faith in us. We all knew that as soon as you became the next Unblind the Legion would move in on Paul and his family. Of course Paul Anderson isn’t so concerned for his safety, but he is scared, as we all are, for his family.

SCAREDY-CAT ANDERSON

I leaned forward, my expression probably very confused.

BOAT

(exasperated)

Well, you’re losing me. What kind of God are you serving anyway? Why does He give you this gift and then in the end you fall prey to this same demon you’re supposed to have absolute power over? Now why should Pastor Anderson be afraid of this thing? Surely he and his family have that glorious force-field? Isn’t it written somewhere in the Bible that you Christians have some kind of armor that defies attacks from principalities and dark forces?

Bonner was unperturbed.

He raised his glass and sipped some orange juice in quick jerky drags, and then he set it down carefully.

CHARLES BONNER

Force-field, that’s nice. We call it the Glow. Well, yes, you’re once again right. The Legion will have no dominion over us so long as our faiths remain full. But, alas, so many things can happen and drag your faith down, and make you vulnerable to the malicious atrocities of the Legion and demons like it. Once your faith begins to ebb, and you know you’ve infuriated the Legion, you begin to get worried. Listen, I’ll cut to the chase where Anderson is concerned. No need to bore you with lengthy rhetoric. You see, barely a year ago something terrible happened to Paul Anderson here.  A young couple who had been married for barely three months had a disagreement in our church. The distraught husband appealed…no, begged, Anderson to intercede on his behalf.  Paul summoned the young wife, right there in his office. She had the Glow, and no one was a more passionate lover of the Lord than that lady was. Truth of the matter was, it was all an illusion. You remember that false glow Elaine had? Well, the dark forces are getting better at making copies of it to deceive the Unblinds. Bottom line … she seduced Paul, right there in the church house.

I was chilled to the bone.

It was a painful story, one that needed to be kept between the couple whose perfect life had been shattered no doubt by that single act of infidelity.

A man of God whose call was to get rid of the uglies had himself fallen prey, and by that act had laid his soul bare.

I understood their pain and felt the terror that had pushed them to the brink and made them tell me – a perfect stranger – the sordid side of an otherwise good man.

I looked at the woman; her head was bowed, but not with shame.

Her hands were still linked with her husband, and I knew that she understood the sin as something that couldn’t have been avoided, as something that happened on a realm higher than what humans existed in.

She had obviously forgiven and forgotten about it.

Her look of solemnity stemmed from the fact that her husband’s image had no doubt dropped a shade in the eyes of a stranger like me, and she was also affected, and felt a part of the shame her man could be feeling at that moment.

That was the power of unbridled love.

CHARLES BONNER

It happened five years ago. He should’ve confessed it to his wife, and she would’ve helped him out of it. We all would’ve helped him, but he was so ashamed and so devastated that he kept it a secret, and it ate into him, completely rusting his armor. He didn’t tell us about it until the killings started a week ago.

BOAT

(hollowly)

Killings? What killings?

Bonner sighed and waved a hand.

CHARLES BONNER

Oh, I put it badly. Forgive me. I should’ve said the slaughtering. Not of human beings, but large herds of sheep and cattle, littered all over town. For the past seven days we have woken up and found decapitated animals on the streets and on the farms, their entrails forcibly pulled out. Even dogs, ducks and chicken have not been spared. Country folk wake up to the horror of their entire livestock brutally massacred. It has thrown a scare into the citizens of Portville who don’t know what is going on.

I was chilled to the bone as I stared at them in horror.

BOAT

That’s how it begins, isn’t it? My father told me the Legion forced him to kill animals in the beginning.

Bonner drank all the juice and carefully set the empty glass down. He pursed his ancient lips, and when he looked at me I saw something close to apprehension in his eyes for the first time.

BOAT

That’s not the connection, son. I don’t know for certain that each time the Legion occupies a new soul it forces him to kill animals first as prelude to the taking of human life. What I know for certain is this: animals died in hordes before the Legion killed my son. Ten years later I was almost killed when a possessed man almost ripped me open. Seven days before that attack animals also died. Hundreds of livestock died before Clement was murdered. And now, here in Portville, animals are also being ruthlessly slaughtered.

I turned horror-struck eyes toward Anderson, and found him staring at me with wide frightened eyes.

His face was wet with perspiration even though the room was very cool. He nodded wanly.

PAUL ANDERSON

(unsteadily)

Yes, Yaw, the Legion is right here in Portville … and it has come for me. The sad thing is that my faith is completely gone. I never forgave myself for the sin I committed, and now try as hard as I could, I still feel alienated from God, and you know the consequences of that.

I chuckled nervously and leaned back, evidently looking puzzled.

BOAT

(puzzled)

Wow, does it work that way? I mean, isn’t there something in the Bible that says all a sinner needs to do is to confess his sins to God and repent of them and voila, the slate is wiped clean?

Once again Bonner and Anderson exchanged looks, and the old man nodded once, as if he was being given an insight into something that had eluded him for a long time.

CHARLES BONNER

It is supposed to be even simpler than that. A contrite heart is always a joy to the Lord, and we all know that the moment Paul regretted the incidence in his heart God forgave him. That aside, the life of the Unblind is a hard one, and the Legion has the propensity of kicking fear into your heart. Trust me, once that vile thing lays his eyes on you, you’re a goner. Even with a wee little bit of self-doubt no Unblind can take on the Legion. That thing is from old, and it has battled great men of God for a long time. It is dangerous, and only a faith-filled man of God can have a chance against it.

BOAT

(exasperated)

Why does it have to be a man filled with faith? Damn it, but wouldn’t it be thrilling if, even without faith, a man of God can face that thing and deal with it, fuelled by the fact that God is with him?

Again there was silence, and then Bonner sighed softly.

CHARLES BONNER

You remember that I told you I was sad when we realized that God has chosen a complete novice as the next Unblind? I was even confused and for a moment I was scared, thinking that we made a mistake and couldn’t interpret the prophecy well. Now I’m beginning to understand. With that kind of one-track mind, maybe the Legion will finally meet its match. Now it is here, but we don’t know who its host is. That’s what makes it so frightening. It could be anywhere, and it has sensed Paul’s fear. It thrives on fear, and it will come soon. It is now up to you, Yaw. I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but you have to find it before it gets to Paul.

I shook my head numbly; suddenly I needed some air. The enclosed tightness of the room was suffocating me, crushing in on me.

I looked at them, and felt the paralyzing weight of their dependence, and for one moment I balked. I couldn’t have that responsibility on me.

I had come to Portville to find help from them, to be possibly rid of the gift, or whatever it was, but now the scene had changed, and the rules were a whole lot nastier.

The game plan had become one of death, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for anything like that.

Desperately I got to my feet and faced Bonner.

BOAT

(earnestly)

There just might be a little problem with that. Look, I came here to get some help, ok? Sure, I exorcised that demon in Samantha Gaisie. I dealt with the Legion when it occupied that duck, and maybe somehow I set Bruno on Andy Okai. Fine, cool. That shows I still have some power, right? But guess what, until I got to Jackson Peak, my life had suddenly become like that of any ordinary man.

CHARLES BONNER

(warily)

Explain yourself, son.

BOAT

Well, sure. Why not? What I mean to say is that ever since my father’s death I haven’t seen any demons, taking out Jackson Peak, that is. I haven’t seen anybody with a force-field, or the Glow, whatever. My eyes are normal. I think maybe I have lost the gift of the Second Sight, or that I’m close to losing it!

THE ATTACK

Bonner smiled wanly again, and I saw the relief on his craggy face.

CHARLES BONNER

(gently)

You still have it, son. What has happened is that you’ve entered a transition. You can’t take out what happened in Jackson Peak and look at things in isolation. When you received the gift you were a sinner. You hadn’t repented of your sins then. You were just like a kid with a precious diamond. You virtually had no power in you, and the demons and minions were not afraid of you. At that point in your life you had not been covered with the complete armor and weapons of an Unblind, and apart from the fact that you could see those vile things your gift was simply uselss. Now things have changed. When you repented of your sins at the time your father was in agony, and when you finally accepted Christ into your life – you became an Unblind, and became fully clothed with the power of your gift. Now you’ve become a symbol of terror to those same minions and demons that had no respect for you. Are you beginning to understand now?

I sat down again slowly, reached for my glass and took a mouthful of orange juice.

I nodded slowly.

BOAT

I think I’m beginning to understand. What you’re telling me is that now the demons avoid me, right?

CHARLES BONNER

Avoid? That’s a passive word. No, now they flee from your presence. Consider this; a person is standing in the middle of a road, lazing around, nonchalant to the world. Now there’s a bend in the road, okay? Now, if a car is approaching from the bend, that person’s ear will pick out the sound of the car long before it rounds the bend, right? That person then takes evasive actions by moving away from the middle of the road so that the car does not run him over. That’s how it works. Evil is now afraid of the presence of God’s power in you, and long before you get to them they sense that power and flee! Now, if that continues, you may always be a step too late. It is now up to you to hone your skills, to understand the power that is in you and let it guide you. Now more than ever you have to learn fast! You also have that power in you to sense them before they know you’re close. You have the power to come upon them so suddenly that fleeing would be too late. You have to develop that ability. It is of great importance.

BOAT

(humbled)

And you’ll teach me?

CHARLES BONNER

We can share our experiences with you, son, but we can’t teach you. You’re God’s chosen one, and He himself shall teach you the rest.

That was about all we talked about that night.

Eventually Anderson and his wife left us in the study, and I was happy inside to see a little relief on their faces when they knew I was going to stay, and face the Legion.

I stayed long into the night with Charles Bonner, and later walked with him out of the study to his room, which was on the ground floor, two doors away from mine, and as I helped him into bed he asked me to draw up a chair and sit for a while with him if I wasn’t feeling too tired.

I was fast beginning to like him.

Maybe we complemented each other in a way, and our souls were on the same course. He had lost a son violently to the Legion, and I had lost both parents to the same vile being.

Silently we reached out to each other, and clung to the belief – though none of us voiced it – that we have found what we lost somehow.

I plagued him with questions, and he gave me an insight into the Bible and the life of an Unblind, teaching me in a way that kept me craving for more.

And then, finally, I asked a question with a yawn, rubbing my eyes hard … and he answered me with a series of deep-throated snores. I smiled tiredly, stood up, drew the sheets to his chest and turned off the lamp.

When I opened the door his tired voice floated up to me.

CHARLES BONNER

Good night, Yaw Boat.

For a moment I stood frozen in the doorway, experiencing a terrible bout of déjà vu. I felt the sudden crushing waves of sorrow again as thoughts of my father flooded my heart.

BOAT

(hoarsely)

Sleep tight, old man.

I stepped into the hallway quickly, closing the door gently behind me.

I undressed slowly, and then I took a cold shower.

I put on my boxers and lay in the huge warm bed. Various thoughts crossed my mind, both nice and nasty, but finally – as usual – thoughts of Nicole intruded, and I welcomed her fresh beauty as she floated there in my brain with her warm smile and wonderful eyes.

Nicole…

She lured me to sleep, and she was never far away from my arms, and even in sleep I could smell her perfume and feel her right there beside me.

I didn’t know how long I slept, but suddenly I came awake and found myself covered with sweat.

I was practically awash with it; my heart was pounding so loudly that I could hear it hammering forcibly against my ribs. I had a splitting headache, so painful that for a moment I could barely move.

And then, from long away, I seemed to hear Bonner’s words, uttered in a sleepy voice:

…each of us has his own unique way of telling evil is near. It could be sweat, or a headache, or sometimes even an abnormal thirst for water…whatever it is, there’ll be a sign, a beating of the antennae. You have to find it, hone it, make it work for you, so that you’re always a step ahead of evil…

This was it!

I had no doubt about it.

Wickedness filled the air, and it was choking me with its stink. Yes, it was there … a strong smell, a terrible blast of something cheap and nasty, a dank vile odor, a stink, an explosion so ugly that I almost threw up.

I shot off the bed and almost tore the door off its hinges, flinging it back so hard that the brittle brass handle broke as it cannoned off the wall.

I was aware that Bonner was also in the hallway, gripping his walking-stick hard, face awash with fear.

PAUL ANDERSON

It is here!

He spoke in a crusty voice, his fear lending his voice an unreal thick slurring pitch, but I was already running down the hallway.

The stink! The vile odor. It was everywhere, all around me, choking me!

Where?

Oh, Lord, where is that vile piece of dung?

A scream! A shrill scream above me!

Upstairs. The library-study?

No, Anderson’s bedroom! 

I took the stairs four at a time, rounded it, found myself in another hallway. Doors were opening on each side. At the far end of the hallway, near the library-study, a door opened and Nicole came flying out.

I barely paid attention to her. The scream came again, from an opened door on my left, about five paces away.

A door on my right opened, and a tall man wearing only the bottoms of his pajamas emerged. He was holding a double-barreled shotgun, the type that used a bolt action.

It took me a while to recognize him; he was the tall man at dinner earlier, the one who had played a Mozart classic on the piano so well … a man no one had introduced to me.

He was ahead of me, and he entered the room first.

BOAT

(shouting)

No, stay out!

I rushed forward.

I entered Anderson’s room and paused briefly.

The room was almost dark, the only source of light coming from an overturned bedside lamp on the floor.

Anderson and his wife were standing up on the huge bed, hugging each other, the woman screaming, drawing as far away as possible from Bruno.

The woman was glowing, I saw … but Anderson wasn’t.

The huge dog was crouched at the side of the bed, ready to pounce on them.

It was making terrible growling sounds, and judging by the whitish stuff on the floor I knew that the mean animal was drooling savagely.

The tall man with the shotgun was aiming now, and I could see his finger tightening on the trigger as he focused on Bruno’s huge head, and then suddenly the dog spun away and shot into the air, as if warned by invisible radar of the threat behind it.

The shotgun went off, its flash blinding me momentarily, the heavy slugs gouging into the rich rug on the floor. Bruno was still in midair, growling, spinning toward his attacker.

And I saw its eyes blazing a terrible crimson!

Legion!

The breath caught in my throat as I watched, momentarily frozen with horror.

The tall man worked the bolt action, desperately trying to bring the shotgun round to bear on the mad dog once more, his face changing rapidly from a look of confidence into total horror.

He had no chance.

Two hundred pounds of sheer muscle sank into his naked torso.

Even as I screamed and rushed forward the huge animal bore him to the floor, and the huge head of the dog came up, jaws gaping open, exposing its ugly teeth, and then that horror of sheer malice dropped down savagely and sank its reinforced jaws into the stomach of the man.

The man screamed … but it wasn’t like any scream I had ever heard.

It sounded like a strident wail, an incredibly high-pitched shattering sound that no human throat was supposed to express – and it was a sound I never wanted to hear ever again.

It was dragged from his very soul, and all his heart was in that ear-splitting expression of pain.

I heard the ugly sound of skin separating.

The teeth sank deep, and the dog shook its head savagely, madly, expanding its purchase of flesh, digging deeper into the entrails of the hapless man.