Demon 4- God Squad 0

by David Dwan

  It had been the last hour or so, when they had turned off the main highway and continued on increasingly lesser maintained roads that the journey had really started to take its toll on both passenger and driver alike.

  Carlos’ stories had dried up and his already lined face had taken on a permanent look of concern as the taxi hit pothole after pothole. Until Ross had become so concerned that the man might give up all together and ditch him in the middle of nowhere to save his car shaking apart altogether, that he had felt obliged, both out of genuine concern and guilt at what the trip was doing to Carlos’ only form of livelihood, to offer the driver an extra hundred dollars U.S for his trouble.

  As Carlos gladly sped off back to civilisation leaving him there, Ross picked up his suitcase in one hand and pulled the strap of his laptop carrying case over his shoulder then set off. He was immediately was hit by two things in quick succession. One, the heat. The taxi had been thankfully air conditioned but now that he was out in the dry Mexican evening air, he felt his shirt sticking to his back as sweat broke out all over his body after just a few steps towards the large whitewashed arch way that seemed to be the only way in through the walled village exterior.

  Then two, the smell of wood smoke mixed with the undeniable aroma of barbeque. He could hear raised voices someway off as he made his way into the seemingly deserted outskirts of the village.

  Suddenly a volley of fireworks went off over head painting the darkening sky a myriad of colours followed by a roar of approval from an unseen small but vocal crowd still some way off. It was as if the village were heralding his arrival, but Ross quickly dismissed the notion. Going on what Mendez had said about Hauser, his visit would not be welcomed, even if the village had known he was coming.

  And with his Ross realised he didn’t have the first idea what he was going to say to the German in way of introduction. The man had no love for the Catholic church, Mendez had made that much clear.

  Ross suddenly felt a little self-conscious of his dog collar and even thought of taking it off for a brief moment, then thought better of it. No, the old man would have to take Ross as he found him. All he needed to do was show him the episode of demon time he had stored on his lap top and hope that was evidence enough for the man to help him. If indeed he could.

  Ross trudged on towards the sound of the gathering and could now hear music drifting through the buildings and the glow of what must be powerful lights in the near night sky above the roof tops.

  Up ahead through a narrow alley which snaked its way between two rows of thin two story houses, a flash of movement caught his eye. A child darted out from behind a building and ran down the alley towards where Ross was, furtively glancing behind him as he went.

  The child, a boy of perhaps ten let out a squeal as four other children, three girls and a boy appeared and gave chase.

  As they came closer, Ross could see the four pursuers were all wearing what looked like brightly coloured homemade Halloween masks and the priest wondered at first if it was perhaps a Mexican Day of the Dead celebration. But he seemed to remember that event was much later in the year, close to Halloween in the west if memory served.

  Either way, the children were so lost in their game that if they weren’t carful they would run right into him. Ross was about to move to one side to let them pass when the lead boy chanced a look up to see where he was going and saw the priest standing what was now perhaps twenty or so feet away.

  The boy, who had been laughing uproariously suddenly skidded to a hold, kicking up a cloud of dust as he did so. Seeing this, the others stopped also, some way back, panting audibly through their masks.

  Ross held up his hand in greeting but much to his astonishment the boy let out a yelp of genuine fear and staggered back. “Sorry,” Ross said cursing his lack of Spanish. “It’s alright my name’s...” The words caught in his throat, even in the dimly lit alley Ross could see the boy was terrified. He was staring wide eyed at of all things his dog collar.

  Ross’ hand instinctively went up his neck. “It’s okay,” he said again but this did nothing to ease the boy’s palpable fear.

  Another volley of fireworks exploded over head, much closer this time and this seemed to snap the boy out of his stupor. Then all five turned and ran back up the alley way like they had the Devil Himself on their tails and out of sight leaving Ross alone once more.

  Somewhat haunted by that look of terror in the boy’s eye, Ross set off again following the sound of the fiesta which took him deeper into the village and as he walked on, the narrow alleyways with their overbearing buildings on either side gradually gave way to a more open feel to the architecture.

  Up ahead he could see rows of multi-coloured lights strung from building to building. And with them the first real sign of life over the age of ten in the village.

  He passed a couple bathed in vivid reds and blues who were kissing in a doorway. Two old men were staggering down the street their arms interlocked for mutual support, each with a bottle of wine grasped in their free hand. Further on he had to politely push his way through a group of fifteen or more revellers several of whom Ross noticed eyeing him up somewhat suspiciously.

  Again it seemed to be his dog collar that drew the most attention. One moment they were lost in the music which was drifting from close by, or laughing in some shared joke amongst them, only to stop until he had passed on by.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he found himself saying. For his passing by or his attire he wasn’t entirely sure. Ross remembered Mendez had told him Hauser had little love for the church, but had the German infected the whole village with his distain?

  Mexico, he knew well was a mostly catholic country but not here. He was beginning to think that he might actually be wise to take off his collar. And couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t distain he was encountering this was of all things, fear.

  FIFTEEN

  The reason for the near deserted streets soon became apparent after Ross negotiated a large group of teenagers who were having a very disorganised football/wrestling match while several on lookers hooted support whilst eating large portions of delicious looking barbeque and sipping on cola bottles. Ross’ stomach growled at the smell and he realised he hadn’t eaten since leaving the airport, hours ago now.

  The area opened up into a surprisingly large village square which was filled with perhaps two hundred revellers. All the buildings surrounding the square were festooned with brightly coloured flags, lights and streamers. At the far end was a prefabricated stage some three feet off the ground where a six piece band were playing what sounded like a mash up of traditional mariachi music and some kind of heavy Mexican rock to Ross’ untrained ears.

  Off to his right, Ross followed his nose to see three massive wood burning barbeques, going full blast, piled high with sumptuous looking meats of all kinds. Each manned my three cooks who cheerfully filled plate after plate which were then passed out into the nearby crowd.

  Next to this was a large open fronted bar that had several tables out front all of which were packed with merry looking drinkers from late teens to late eighties by the look of things. Young and old alike lost in the festivities.

  Ross couldn’t help but smile at the scene and definitely thought about taking his dog collar off for a while if it would snag him a cold beer or two and a plate of food before seeking out the elusive German. He put down his suitcase and laptop bag and unbuttoned his shirt to his chest and wafted the material to try and raise a breeze.

  Ross was contemplating the bar when he caught sight of the group of children he had inadvertently scared earlier. They were gathered around two women, one was about fifty with a long floral skirt and simple white blouse with her black hair tied up in a bun, the other was a good twenty or so younger wearing jeans and a t-shirt with her dark hair loose around her shoulders.

  They looked quite similar to the priest who instantly pegged them as perhaps mother and daughter. The children were chatting animatedly to the two women,
each trying to get their attention whilst clearly talking over each other. The younger woman looked across the square to Ross while the other tried to calm the children who were now all pointing in his direction.

  The two women exchanged words and then the younger prised herself away from the children and made her way through the thong of merrymakers and over to where Ross was standing.

  He tensed, trying in vain to read the young woman’s demeanour. He tried a smile which he could only imagine how forced it looked but he almost sighed out loud in relief as the woman smiled warmly back.

  “Hi,” Ross said lamely but she cocked an ear and pointed to the band clearly not hearing him.

  “Por favour, perdona a los niños, ha sido algún momento, ya que han visto a un sacerdote.” She shouted over the music until she finally got to him.

  Ross just looked blankly at her so she tried again, softer this time. “Es el collar de perro, los malos recuerdos.” She said with a smile, pointing to his collar.

  “I’m really sorry,” Ross said awkwardly. “No Spanish I’m afraid?”

  “Oh, you’re American?” She asked.

  “No, English. I’ve come from England.”

  “England?” She said with no little surprise. “You are a long way from home, Padre.” She continued in very good English.

  “Tell me about it,” he replied. He looked across to the older woman and the children, who were still glaring at him.

  “I think I scared the children earlier,” he said. “I’m sorry, not sure what happened.”

  “It’s the collar,” she said pointing to his dog collar once more. “They have mad memories I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Ross said with growing unease, unsure exactly what that could mean. He held out a sweaty hand. “I’m Father Ross, Shane.”

  The young woman seemed a little amused at his formality but took his hand nevertheless. “Very pleased to meet, Father. My name is Alicia.

  “Please, call me Shane.”

  The woman nodded with a smile, but a moment later her face grew serious. She gestured to the older woman and children. All of whom had now taken off their masks save one, a girl who now appeared to have forgotten her earlier fright and was seemingly lost in the music, judging by the way she was swaying in time with the beat. “My mother says you have been sent by the Vatican.”

  Ross hadn’t expected that and had to think about this for a moment, yes he supposed he had. “I guess you could say that. I’m looking for...”

  “Hauser,” she cut him off. “My mother was afraid someone might try again to take him from us.”

  “No,” Ross insisted. “It’s nothing like that. I just, well I really need his help with something.

  Alicia turned to her mother and nodded grimly. With this the older woman shooed the children away and they ran off across the square to a small stall selling ice-creams and treats.

  “Please,” Alicia said to Ross and gestured for him to follow her. Ross picked up his suitcase and looped the laptop strap over his head and followed her across to her mother, who had now taken a seat at a picnic table which was cluttered with empty plates and spent beer bottles.

  “Mama, this is Shane, he is from England.” This won a raise of the eyebrow from her mother and Ross got the feeling he was going to have to go through this woman if he were to have any chance of meeting the elusive German. “Please, take a seat,” Alicia said to Ross and moved off. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

  “Thank you,” Ross called after her and took a seat on the bench across from ‘Mama’. Much to his surprise the woman’s face softened as she studied the flustered looking priest.

  “Can I respectfully ask you to remove your collar, padre?” She said. Although like her daughter, her English was good, her accent was much stronger than Alicia’s so the priest had to concentrate on what she was saying, especially above the music blasting from across the square. “I mean no offence,” she continued. “It’s just some of the younger men who are, shall we say, a little worse for the drink, might cause you some trouble later.”

  Again this mistrust of priests and in such a Catholic country. Ross nodded and removed the plastic strip from his collar and put it in his jacket pocket, this wasn’t the time and certainly not the place to argue the point.

  “Thank you. By the way, my name is Rosa.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Rosa.” Ross said with a nod. He got a flash of good old fashioned Catholic guilt at feeling much better having removed his collar which made him smile without realising it.

  Rosa lifted an eye brow at this and smiled herself. “Some of us were a little concerned someone might come. Hauser received another letter from your Vatican some days ago.”

  “I understand he doesn’t like my kind very much, Rosa,” Ross said. “But all I ask is just a little of his time.”

  He was contemplating showing the woman the video when Alicia came back with two ice cold beers, she handed one to her mother and placed the other on the table in front of Ross.

  “Oh, thank you.” Ross said gratefully and took a sip of beer. It was so cool and refreshing he gasped out loud much to the amusement of the two women. “Tut, sorry,” he said and felt his cheeks burning.

  “I’ll see you later, Mama. Father.” Alicia said with a nod to him and set off towards the stage which the band were now vacating. The singer took his mic stand and placed it front and centre of the stage and lowered the stand so the mic was about at his waist.

  “Thank you,” Ross called after her as she broke into a jog to join a large crowd which had gathered in front of the stage in anticipation of the next act.

  “You must forgive us, we are very protective of our Hauser. We owe him so much.” Rosa said and Ross turned his attention back to her. “Do you know anything about what happened here, Father?” Rosa asked. “About why we hold senôr Hauser in such high regard?”

  “To honest Rosa, no. Let’s just say I’m flying blind here. I’ve heard some things about him.” He faltered, things? That he was a demon catcher? Could he tell this woman that? Something he didn’t truly believe himself, despite demon time? “To be honest, I don’t even really know why I’m here.”

  She smiled. “You are here because there are things in this world that cannot be easily explained. Things that our prayers, our faith even cannot always protect us from.”

  There was such understanding and compassion in her eyes that Ross found himself lost for words. He had thought he would have to somehow justify why he was here, but she knew. Perhaps not about Michael Davis’ freak show back in Europe, but certainly that thing’s aren’t always what they seem in the waking world.

  He was about to speak when something akin to a wicked grin crossed the woman’s face. “Speak of the Devil,” she said with no little glee.

  SIXTEEN

  A cheer went up from the crowd gathered by the stage and Ross’ attention was drawn to a balcony covered in lights and bunting to his right which looked down on the square. A grey haired man appeared and waved almost dismissively to the people below, as if slightly ill at ease with the attention. He was dressed casually in a white shirt with white flannel trousers and had on a cream coloured Panama type hat.

  He shouted something in Spanish down to his audience and waved them away with his hands which raised a laugh from them then he sat in a chair and rested his elbows on the balcony’s ornate balustrade to watch proceedings.

  “Hauser?” Ross said.

  “Hauser,” Rosa confirmed.

  A middle aged woman carrying a tray came out onto the balcony and placed a glass and a bottle of what looked like wine on a table next to the German. The two exchanged a few words, the woman laughed at whatever he said and made a friendly swipe at him with the tray which he easily ducked to avoid.

  It was such a curious scene, the man had the air of reluctant authority about him. Not like a mayor or politician but something else. Ross looked at the almost adoring faces in the crowd, young and o
ld alike, looking up at him. And could quite easily imagine Hauser as some kind of mythical revolutionary type. In only a few moments, Ross could tell this man had a hold over these people. More Che Guevara than El presidente but a hold nevertheless.

  A shriek of feedback through the PA system brought everyone’s attention back to the stage. A young girl of perhaps twelve clutching a piece of paper walked onto the stage and over to the microphone with a quiet formality.

  When she got to the mic the crowd moved away from the stage in a hushed silence and settled around the edges of the square leaving a large open area and waited for her to speak. The lights dimmed until one spotlight remained shining down on the girl.

  Ross looked at the now shadowy faces of the crowd, set in anticipation of what was to come. The silence that had now descended on the square was almost oppressive compared to the cacophony of music and laugher it followed. The mood had changed in mere moments from one of carefree frivolity to one bordering on the ritualistic.

  The girl began reading from her notes, her voice clear and confident as she spoke, but with a note of palpable emotion to it which caught Ross off guard somewhat. He had half expected an amateurish school play type performance from the girl, but this had a raw edge to it that took the priest aback. Although he had no idea what she was saying he felt his skin breakout in goose flesh despite the heat.

  As she continued, another spot light came on hitting six children, three girls and three boys their ages ranging from perhaps six up to sixteen. It followed them as they came through the crowd in procession two by two and walked slowly towards the centre of the square. They were wearing what looked to Ross like choir cassocks and each had their hands were clasped together in front of their faces as if in prayer.