The Second Coming

by J. Fritschi

  She didn’t think she had a choice but to wait for a better opportunity until she remembered, with stunning clarity, the cell phone in her front pocket. How did she not think of it earlier? She couldn’t believe how stupid she was. In all of her agonizing panic, she forgot all about it. Now it was so clear to her. She had to use it to call Mike and let him know what was happening and where she was. But how was she going to get to it out of her front pocket without him noticing? She thought about cautiously reaching into her pocket, but there was no way she could do that without him seeing her adjust her body so her hand could fit into the pocket. And then she was struck with sudden alarm. What if someone called her and the phone rang? He would hear it and that would be the end of her link to the outside world. She prayed that no one would call her. Her cell phone was the only chance to get out of this alive.

  “I don’t blame you for feeling that way. I would have been angry too and wanted to exact my revenge, but killing me won’t do you any good. I can help you if you let me,” Kate pleaded.

  “It’s too late. I decided long ago that I will use my powers to reverse the outcome of the Satanic Codex and kill my brother before he can kill me. Then maybe my family will realize they should not have abandoned me at the orphanage,” he told her with an ominous hiss. “That is why I began stabbing young blonde bartenders in the heart with a sterling silver knife shaped like a cross and disemboweling them, leaving their bodies to be found in churches with the symbol of the sixth son. I wanted to create a sensational reaction from the public.”

  This guy was obviously a sociopath if he thought people would think he was the Antichrist. An insanity plea might be the only thing that would keep him from the death penalty.

  “While I was beating and raping the first bartender, I could feel something inside of me crying out for me to stop. I could hear a voice in my head as if it was my own, pleading for me not to kill her. At first I thought it was my conscious, but then I realized that it was my brother and that he too had mystical powers that he was using to try and stop me, but they weren’t strong enough,” the Sterling Killer said with vindictive pride. “I knew that my brother would eventually figure out who I am and why I am doing this and that he would try to stop me. It was all part of my plan to lure him into the epic confrontation between good and evil, one body at a time.”

  Kate was certain that if she didn’t get to her phone soon, she would be the next victim in his killing spree but she was too scared to try anything.

  “Get off the freeway and go over the overpass,” he commanded her as he applied pressure with the knife.

  “Where are we going?” Kate sobbed as the stabbing pain intensified making it nearly impossible to breath.

  The Sterling Killer was slightly turned in his seat, facing Kate and she could feel the intensity of his rage. “We are going to where I was left alone to fend for myself,” he told her in a deliberate, angry tone. “We are going to where people are forgotten.”

  “Please don’t push so hard on the knife,” Kate pleaded. “I won’t do anything, I promise. I want to help you.” The knife retracted and she was able to breathe. “Thank you,” she sighed with relief.

  “Turn up here,” he told her sharply as he looked around, scoping out the area. It was a four lane, tree lined road with shadows that reached out across it like skeleton fingers as it wound its way up the hill past a grocery store, condominiums and a church. The further up the hill they went, the further away from help Kate became. She had to get to her cell phone before it was too late.

  At the top of the hill, he told Kate to take a left and they followed the road that meandered along the ridge of the hill overlooking the San Francisco bay, skyline and bridge. It would have been a beautiful view, if it wasn’t such an ominous day.

  Kate started to hyperventilate with short gasps. Why was this happening to her?

  “Why is this happening to you?” the Sterling Killer yelled at her menacingly. “Why don’t you ask yourself why it happened to me?”

  There was stunned silence in the car as Kate attempted to compose herself. How the hell did he know what she was thinking?

  “Turn right here,” he barked at her.

  Kate let out a whimper as she quickly turned, the wheels screeching as they whipped around the corner and headed up the curvy, two lane road that was cast in shadows by the overhanging Redwood trees. The dense and deep trees acted as a screen from the sun and as they headed into the dark and forbidding forest, Kate couldn’t help but think that this was the end. She didn’t want to die. She was too young and had too much to live for. She wanted to get married, have children and raise a family. This couldn’t be happening to her.

  The Sterling Killer told her to take a right turn. She didn’t have any idea where he was taking her. And then she saw an old rusty sign that read Oakland Children’s Orphanage. Her heart was pounding and it was all she could do to keep from crying out for help. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t kill me.”

  He laughed at her with disbelief. “I’m not going to kill you sweetheart,” he told her with mocking sarcasm. “That would be too easy. I’ve got bigger plans for you.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” she asked with sheer panic.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty, little self,” he admonished her sternly. “You are but a pawn in my game. I need you to lure your boyfriend and my brother into my trap. Pull over here,” he told her as he motioned with his hand towards a dirt turn out and as she did a u-turn into the parking lot, she realized that time was running out and if she wanted to live, she was going to have to get away from him long enough to call Mike on her cell phone.

  chapter 69

  FATHER JOHN KNELT down and gently kissed his father on the forehead. “Don’t you see?” he asked rhetorically as he looked around the room at the staring faces. “He could have either taken my brother home with him and risked the church finding out about him and killing him or he could put him up for adoption and hope that a loving family would adopt him and raise him as their own son,” Father John said with admiration. “It was the most selfless act of sacrifice a parent could make.”

  His father smiled with appreciative eyes as he looked at Father John standing next to him.

  “How did you keep it a secret for so long?” Big Pete asked curiously.

  “When I told Mary’s doctor, our neighbor, the story of the Satanic Codex and that the child would not be safe coming home with me, he was at first understandably leery,” the feeble old man recalled with a shaky voice. “After I explained to him that someone tried to kill John and told him that if the church ever found out that Mary gave birth to a third generation sixth son they would certainly kill him, he agreed to help me.” The old man paused as Father John gently rubbed his thin white hair. “I can never thank the Stevens enough. They risked everything for us by putting their names on the birth certificate and then putting him up for adoption. It was imperative that nobody knew that he was our child.”

  “What happened?” Mike asked perplexed. “Why didn’t anyone adopt him?”

  The old man looked at Mike with sad, vacant eyes. “I can’t explain it,” he said mystified. “Even when he was a baby and families came to see him, they could tell that there was something inherently evil in him and no one wanted anything to do with him.”

  “Is that why he ended up at the orphanage?” James asked from next to Father John who was standing at the side of his father’s bed holding his hand, comforting him.

  The old man nodded his head regretfully. “I became involved with the orphanage as a fund raiser and donor and eventually served on the board of directors so that I could keep watch over him from a distance without anyone being aware that I was his biological father,” he said with a raspy voice as he struggled to speak. “I used to watch him from the window of the orphanage, playing with the other children and then one day, when he was about five years old, I noticed that he was watching me with a keen eye so I went over and talked to him. H
e was the spitting image of you John except he was so lost and alone and desperate for love. I wanted to bring him home, but I couldn’t risk the church finding out that he was my sixth son. I was sure that they would kill him,” he said as he pleaded his case. “As the years went by, I watched as he endured the rejection from one family after another. I could tell the emotional strain was starting to affect his behavior and personality. He became confrontational with authority figures and began to get into fights with the other kids. He had the worst luck with the foster homes he lived in.”

  “What do you mean?” Mike asked.

  The old man looked at Mike with a sagging face. “Every foster home we put him in was verbally and physically abusive to him. Even the homes that never had any history of abuse with previous kids from the orphanage could not stand to be around him. He just seemed to bring out the worst in everyone.”

  Mike scoffed at the old man with disdain. “What did you think would happen to him after you left him to be raised in an orphanage and foster homes without the love of a mother or father?” he asked with disgust. “He became exactly what was prophesized in the Satanic Codex; evil personified. What kid wouldn’t have?”

  “You don’t understand,” the old man protested vehemently. “There was no way I could have known that he wouldn’t be adopted and raised by a loving family. I thought I was protecting him from his fate, not sending him to it. Now I see regretfully that I played right into the Devil’s hand.”

  Mike looked around the room with a scowl on his face. “Does the power of suggestion mean anything to anyone here?” he asked flabbergasted. “If you never read the Satanic Codex, none of this would have happened. It has taken on a life of its own. It is clear to me that your son is aware of the story as well and has taken to fulfilling his prophecy as the Antichrist.”

  “With all due respect Detective, you do not have any form of faith whatsoever so I do not expect you to believe,” Father John interjected with a serene demeanor. “The point is Detective, the text does exist and thus, so does everything else that is happening. It does not matter why so much as it matters that it is. You would do well not to ignore that fact.”

  The old man looked at his son with fear glowing in the darkness of his pupils. “You see John,” he said to him eagerly. “There is a reason you were born first. You must put a stop to this. It is your destiny.”

  chapter 70

  KATE’S ADRENALINE WAS racing in her veins and her heart was beating like it was going to rupture as she pulled her car to a stop under the dark trees that loomed ominously over the dirt parking lot. She needed to escape, but first she was going to need a distraction.

  “I thought you were the youngest of five brothers,” she stammered confused by the story of the Satanic Codex and trying to get him to open up so she could earn his trust.

  The Sterling Killer stuck the knife into her side hard enough that Kate had to lean away from it to absorb the pain and keep it from penetrating her flesh. “You still think Father John and I are the same person don’t you?” he asked with disturbed disbelief. “You think I am an alter ego or a split personality?” He put his face right next to the side of her face. She clinched her eyes shut and a tear ran down her cheek as she bit her lower lip. “Don’t you get it?” he asked with an evil menacing tone. “I am Father John’s twin brother.”

  Kate’s eyes opened wide and as she looked out the blurry windshield she wasn’t sure if he meant literally or figuratively.

  “Look at me,” he told her with a powerful allure. “Look into my eyes and you will see that our souls are not the same.”

  As scared as she was, she was drawn towards him and as she looked him in the eyes for the first time, she knew immediately that he was not Father John. There was a haunting darkness that was deeper than the color of his pupils that made her hair stand on end. She was consumed with terror as she reached out and clawed him in the eyes, screaming as she scratched the skin from his face. He dropped the knife as he retracted and held his hands to his face. Kate frantically fumbled to open the door and fell out of the car landing on her back side.

  As she sat sprawled out on the dirt parking lot facing the open door of her car with her heart racing, she watched in awe as the Sterling Killer screamed obscenities as blood trickled through his fingers. She scrambled to her feet, kicking off her high heel shoes as she took off into the overgrown brush of the forest without looking back. The only thing she could think about was getting as far away from him as she could. She found a trail and scurried down it, reaching for branches and shrubs as her momentum sent her crashing to the ground, tumbling down the hill, banging and thumping over rocks and branches until she came to a rest in a pile of dry leaves. Momentarily stunned, she raised herself and brushed the hair out of her face and mouth. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was alright. She brushed the needles from her clothes and looked up the hill when she heard the Sterling Killer yelling from the parking lot.

  “You fucking cunt!” He roared. “I’m going to kill you!”

  Kate didn’t wait to see if he was coming down the trail. She turned and ran; her heart pumping in her chest like it was going to explode. The single-track trail cut through the trees and over gullies and around switch backs. She had no idea where it was taking her, but it didn’t matter as long as it took her further away. She just needed to get enough distance between her and the Sterling Killer to allow her to use her phone.

  After a while she couldn’t run anymore and she bent over exhausted with her hands on her knees, breathing so hard her heart felt like it was ripping. She gagged as she tried to catch her breath and just when she thought she couldn’t run any further, she heard something rustling in the bushes. She froze, holding her breath, listening for any signs of someone coming, but the only thing she could hear was the thump of her heart pulsating in her ears.

  She looked back in the direction she came from for any signs of movement. It was like staring at a wall of camouflage. She couldn’t make anything out. Crouching down, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone and clicked it to life. She looked at the signal indicator with a sinking feeling of despair. There were no bars. She opened her contacts and scrolled frantically to Mike’s name and tried to dial out, but all she got was a busy signal. She couldn’t believe it. There was no reception. She had to keep moving until she could get a signal. She started walking at a brisk pace with a heightened sense of awareness, every so often looking over her shoulder to see if he was coming as she kept waiting for a signal to show on her phone.

  The trail meandered through the woods until she came to a clearing and there in the distance, perched at the top of a hill surrounded by sprawling Oak trees, was the Oakland Children’s Orphanage. She gazed at it in wonder. It was a large brick building that reminded her of a Southern plantation.

  Maybe her phone would get reception at the orphanage or maybe there was someone there who could help her? She didn’t have much choice. She couldn’t go back the way she came from and the hill going down was too treacherous for her to climb. She looked over her shoulder and then made a dash over a clearing for the shelter of a large oak tree that stood at the outskirts of the building.

  She hid in the shadows of the tree as she investigated the building for any signs of life. It was quiet. The only sound was the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind as she looked down at the screen on her phone. There was still no signal. She peered back in the direction from which she came and didn’t see anyone and realized if she didn’t keep moving, she was a sitting duck.

  Her bare feet were bleeding and throbbing with pain as she took off towards the side of the orphanage and darted through one of the archways into a corridor. She leaned up against the wall, panting with exhaustion, her adrenaline keeping her on high alert. Her thighs were burning and shaky with fatigue, but she knew she couldn’t stay in one place. She had to keep moving until she was able to find help or get a signal.

  Kate headed down the stone
corridor slowly, with soft deliberate steps, until she reached a thick wood plank door at the end of the hallway. She stopped to listen. The wind howled gently as it whistled through the corridor. Pushing the door open slowly, she peered into a long cafeteria like room. Dust particles danced in the sunrays beaming through the windows as she entered the room and closed the door carefully behind her. There were two long wood tables end to end next to another two tables, one which was tipped on its side. There were wood benches askew and tipped over on the floor. Everything was covered in a layer of dust that looked like ash.

  Kate was eerily fascinated with the building as she moved across the room, placing her hands on the table and the wall alternately, being careful not to trip or make a sound. It was silent except for the occasional scratching of trees brushing against the windows in the wind. Kate took a deep breath as she began slowly walking down a long hallway with arched doorways on either side of it. She moved cautiously, halfway expecting the Sterling Killer to jump out at any moment.

  In between the doorways were old black and white photos of children in school uniforms sitting at the cafeteria tables or at their desks in the class rooms not smiling. They were like Old Russian photos. She passed another doorway, stepping lightly as the dirt and dust crunched quietly under her tender feet. She gazed at a photo of important looking adults, men with slicked back hair and round spectacles, and women with long dresses and proper stances. She examined the photos for any sign of when they were taken.

  She crept to the end of the hallway where she found a large photo of children of different ages lined up in rows, one in front of the other with the nuns and priests and two men dressed in business suits standing to their sides. At the bottom of the photo, at the feet of the children, was the class sign that read OAKLAND CHILDREN’S ORPHANAGE 1976. She was examining the faces of the photo when she noticed that one of the men in the business suits standing to one side of the children was Father John’s dad. She wondered why he was in the photo and what his connection was and then she noticed the little boy standing next to him looked like Father John when he was a child except his face was sad and lost. She glared at him and realized it wasn’t Father John; it was his twin brother, the Sterling Killer.