Absence of Faith

by Anthony S. Policastro

  "Isn't this great! We should be hanging out here soaking up some rays," Yanni yelled.

  She looked past Chantress and stared at the sand dune behind her.

  "I thought this was a nice neighborhood. Look at that bum sleeping over there," Yanni said. "I’m surprised the cops haven’t gotten him yet."

  Chantress turned and saw a body slumped against the side of the dune. Its right arm was extended and the hand held a glass bottle. Chantress walked closer. It was a young man dressed in green hospital scrubs. Yanni came up behind her.

  "He's no bum," Chantress said. "He's a doctor!"

  The man slowly opened his eyes and squinted at the two women.

  "Doctor Hyll?" Chantress ventured.

  "Huh? Where am I? Oh my head," he said, letting the empty whiskey bottle fall out of his hand. "Who are you?"

  "Chantress and I think I know where your wife is."

  "Nothing like getting right to the point, Chantress," Yanni said.

  Chantress frowned at her and Yanni shrugged her shoulders.

  Carson sat up and held his hand over his brow to block the sun.

  "Where?" he said slowly managing to stand up. "Oh, my head."

  He took a few moments to stabilize himself, and then stared at Chantress and Yanni in their tie-dyed t-shirts.

  "Come on. Let's get out of the sun. I can barely see you."

  Carson turned and slowly walked towards the wooden steps. He took each step with great difficulty. The two women followed.

  Carson approached his front door, reached into his pocket, and produced a large key ring with twenty or more keys. It took him several seconds of fumbling before he found the right key and unlocked the door.

  "Come in," he said as he held the door open for the two women.

  He left them in the living room and told them to have a seat. A few minutes later, he returned - his face fresh and alert, despite his pounding head. He sat in the love seat adjacent the sofa where the two women sat.

  "You know where Linda is?" he asked looking at Chantress and Yanni as if he saw them for the first time.

  "Yeah, she was taken by a cult called Daimon Seclorum to be used as the bride of Satan in a special ceremony only a few days from now," Chantress explained. "The name means demon generations, demon centuries, demon ages or ages of demons.

  "Daimon what? How do you know this?"

  "I used to be a member, and I still have friends there," Chantress said.

  "How do I know you're still not one of them and coming after me," Carson said.

  "You don't know, but listen Doctor Hyll, you're wife is about to be publicly raped by a bunch of sickos and kept prisoner until the baby is born. After that, they'll kill her!" Chantress said.

  Carson put his face into his hands and began to cry. Yanni went over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  "We're only trying to help," she said in a low voice.

  Carson cried for several minutes. Yanni rubbed his back.

  "I'm sorry you have to see me this way," Carson said. "I normally don’t get wasted and sleep on the beach all night. It’s just that this has been so awful. I haven’t slept in days. Raped...publicly? What are you talking about? Linda?"

  "They will have a ceremony for sex magick. They believe it's a way of influencing nature or people by supernatural means. Magick is spelled with a "k" at the end to distinguish it from magic done by a magician." Chantress explained. "They light red candles and wear red robes because red represents affairs of the heart, lust, and sex. They will place your wife up on a wooden table - sort of like an altar and she will be nude in front of all the members. Her significance is that she represents carnal power and lust and Satan represents indulgence rather than abstinence. The Magus will then approach her and rape her in front of the members. They will chant and recite secret sayings asking that Satan enter the Magus and plant his seed in your wife. Then they will kill off an animal or a person and drink the blood as a sacrifice to the devil. They will keep your wife a prisoner and take good care of her until the baby is born. If she does not want to join them after nine months, they will sacrifice her and drink her blood or eat her organs. I've never been to one, but I've heard this is what happens."

  "Really?" Yanni said.

  "What's a Magus?" Carson asked trying to hold back more tears.

  "The leader...the high priest...the guy that calls the shots," Chantress replied.

  "Are they really capable of this?" Carson asked.

  "They are capable of anything at this time because of what's been going on here with everyone believing they've been to hell and back," Chantress explained.

  "The Hellfire Syndrome," Carson added.

  "Yeah, that's it. Whatever it is, it has given the cults an edge...sort of like they're coming out of the closet now, and they no longer feel threatened. They have new confidence in themselves, a new faith, and more followers. Satanism was there all along like a weed, but no one really noticed because there weren't that many, but as times get harder, people's lives get more complex, more troubled, Satanism grows. Now, it's spreading everywhere because it is hard to resist when a lot of people feel down and out...powerless. Satanism is the easy way out. It appeals to one's desires to do what they want rather than to do what is right or expected. It is a selfish, self-indulgent religion that glorifies the self as the most important aspect of human existence. It gives confidence in a dangerous way to those who had none. But now it has gotten out of hand and this particular group feels it can do anything without consequence," Chantress explained.

  "When did you become the philosopher?" Yanni asked.

  Carson shuddered as if he caught a chill.

  "Do you know where my wife is?"

  "Yeah, they are using an abandoned farm in Howell as a coven stead. It's the place they meet to perform their ceremonies. They are holding her there," Chantress replied. "The marriage ceremony will take place Saturday night at midnight."

  "How do you know that?" Yanni asked.

  "Husk told me," she replied.

  "How would he know?"

  "Believe me. He would know," Chantress said.

  "Do you know where the farm is?" Carson asked.

  "No, only Husk knows. He said he would lead us there, but he's not going anywhere near it."

  "We should call the police," Carson said.

  "I've already been there, and they don't believe a word. Besides, if they see the police around that farm, they'll disappear and we may never find them."

  "Who did you talk to?"

  "I don't know some detective. He wasn't listening," Chantress explained. "I could tell."

  "Did you talk to a Detective Vandergarde," Carson asked.

  "I don't know. I don’t remember his name."

  Carson looked towards the front window.

  "Why do you want to help me?" he asked.

  "I have my reasons," she said.

  Carson stared into her emerald green eyes. She stared back just as intensely.

  "Let me have your phone number. I'll call you," Carson said. He got up, went into the kitchen and returned with a small pad and a pen. Chantress wrote down her name and phone number. When she finished, she pushed the pad towards Carson. He looked at the number and nodded.

  "Is that your wife?"

  Chantress reached over and picked up a small-framed wedding photo of Carson and Linda.

  "She's very pretty."

  "Can I see it?" Yanni asked.

  Chantress handed the photo to Yanni, but it slipped from her fingers and crashed onto the coffee table. The glass shattered and the frame broke apart.

  "Oh no!" Carson yelled. "Linda! Linda!"

  He picked up the photo as if the image would suddenly vanish. His face flushed.

  "GET OUT! GET OUT! NOW!" he screamed. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

  Chantress and Yanni stood up and rushed to the door. Yanni went out first. Chantress stopped.

  "I'm the only one that can save your wife!" and she closed the door.

/>   Carson sat on the couch, stared at the photo, and then felt an intense pressure building in the pit of his stomach. The pressure moved upward like a volcano into his chest and mouth until he could hardly contain it. He ran into the bathroom and leaned over the toilet until it stopped.

  Depression - Chapter 45

  "The door! Someone's knocking on the door," he yelled. "It's Linda! I know it is! She's come back!"

  Carson raced towards the door and opened it. He was greeted by sunlight so bright that it hurt his eyes and he had to squint. The bright light slowly lost its intensity and he found himself looking off the edge of a steep cliff. Sand colored boulders dotted the bottom and gray jagged rocks were wedged between the boulders. He instinctively knew that if he fell, he would die. As soon as he thought it, he felt himself falling, and he had to use all of his strength to hold onto the doorknob to keep from falling. The door swung open wider and he pulled it back using all his strength. He began to sweat copiously. It was as if something was pulling the door open from the other side. Still, the knocking continued and it was louder now.

  "Boom! Boom! Boom!"

  He sensed something behind him and turned around. It was Linda. She was crying.

  "Linda!" he yelled. "Where have you been? I've been worried to death!"

  "I know. Good-bye, Carson. I love you," she said tears streaming down her face.

  "Noooooooooooooooooooo!" he yelled. "You can't go now!"

  "Good-bye, Carson," she said and pushed him out the door.

  "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he screamed as he fell. The rocks moved toward him like rockets that knew where to strike.

  "Noooooooooooooo!" he screamed. The rocks were only several feet away now.

  "Boom! Boom! Boom!"

  Carson awoke in his bed just as he was about to hit the rocks - the sheets were scattered onto the floor and he was wet with sweat. The dusk colored light from the window painted the walls a burnt orange.

  "Boom! Boom! Boom!"

  Carson sat up and looked around the room like an animal being stalked.

  "Boom! Boom! Boom!"

  He rushed to the door and began releasing the locks. He opened the door slowly.

  "A few more minutes and I was going to break in," Frank Tessler said.

  Carson waved on his feet and Frank grabbed him in a bear hug to prevent him from falling. Carson took hold of the floor again.

  "What's going on? I haven't heard from you in two days," Frank looked at his friend closely. "You look like shit! What the hell are you doing?"

  "Nothing," Carson said moving nervously into the house.

  "Gosh, you reek," Frank said.

  Carson walked into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa. Frank sat on the love seat. Empty glasses with dried liquid peppered the coffee table along with a few empty beer cans. Several bags of potato chips and pretzels lay opened on the table. The glass tabletop was stained with watermarks and spilled sour beer.

  "This place is a pigsty!" Frank said. "Listen, I know it's tough with Linda missing, but you can't just sit here and drink your life away. You've got to help find her. People at the hospital are worried about you and we have to find out what's causing this craziness."

  "I have nothing without Linda and you sound like my mother. What good doing anything without her? She is everything."

  "She's is everything and she isn’t. You have to go on and especially now if you want her back. You have to pull yourself together and fight back!"

  "Oh what the fuck do I know? The devil may really have risen up, taking people to hell. Maybe, it's the end of the world. Maybe, we're all being punished for being so greedy, and heartless, and unconcerned about our fellow human beings! I don't know what to believe anymore," Carson said between tears.

  He watched his friend cry for a few moments and then took a deep breath.

  "But, if you want Linda back you have to do something! Get out of this rut."

  Carson looked at him and then looked away in disgust at his surroundings.

  "I know, but it seems so hopeless. I really don't know what to do."

  The two men sat in silence for a few moments.

  "Two women came by yesterday, and they said they could find Linda," Carson said. "But, I didn't believe them and threw them out. They were weird and I didn't trust them. One said this cult kidnapped Linda and they planned to make her the devil's bride. I just couldn’t take it."

  "Can you get in touch with them?" Frank said. "They could be the only lead we have right now."

  "I think so. Look around for a small pad. It's around here somewhere," Carson said looking around. "It has her number on it."

  "This it?" Frank said picking up a small white pad from under the coffee table.

  Carson looked at it.

  "Yeah, that's it."

  "Chantress? What kind of name is that?" Frank asked staring at the handwriting.

  Carson shrugged.

  "Maybe, she made it up. It’s nice. I like it," Frank said. "What she look like?"

  "I don't know," Carson said. "Tall, thin, long black hair, clear skin. What else you want to know?"

  "Oh."

  "Her friend is better looking."

  "Really? What’s her name?"

  "Yanni."

  "Ok, now I’m convinced you’re on something."

  "No, really that’s her name, the same as the famous musician. That’s how I remembered it."

  "Well, here. Call her!" Frank said handing the pad to Carson.

  "I sort of don't want to talk to her. I was wasted when I saw them."

  "You want your wife back or not? Now call!" Frank said.

  Carson walked into the kitchen and picked the telephone. His head ached. He stared at the phone not wanting to call, but he did.

  The Hunter - Chapter 46

  People who met Jack Graham said he was like a cloud floating through life, being pushed in this direction or that at the slightest breeze or suggestion. But people who were his friends knew he was different. Beneath his easy-going, fluid personality was an aggressive, cunning, and clever predator, who held the record for the most deer bagged in one season at the Red Bank Gun Club. Some said his passiveness was an act, but his real friends knew he was staking out those around him as if they were prey, and his easy-going charm left them all the more unsuspecting. His modus operandi worked well for him in the jungles of Vietnam, and it worked well for him now in business. Jack was not malicious. His stalking had just become a way of life for him, almost an unconscious habit that he sometimes didn't realize he was doing. It was one of the reasons Jack wasn't surprised when Homer Whitehead called him one evening.

  "Hello, Jack. We need your help. It may require two weeks of your time for a few hours each day. You think you can do it?"

  "Sure. Why not? What it is?" he said in his usual agreeable tone.

  Homer explained the details to Jack and Jack agreed.

  On the first night of his assignment, Jack went to Stokes' office dressed in a light gray suit. Big-boned and muscular with a full-face and a red beard, Jack's presence had an intimidating effect on most people he approached. It was one of the reasons he had done so well in his own business selling security equipment. He literally scared people into buying his equipment and services, he would say. Stokes told other doctors that Jack was a new candidate for the hospital board of trustees and that he had to give him a brief tour of the facility, but the real reason was so he could point out Nurse Janice Doherty to him. Jack memorized her face, her figure and noticed her walk for several minutes as she moved between patient's rooms and the nursing station. The whole time Jack talked and joked with another nurse sitting behind the nursing station.

  That evening Jack returned to the hospital about an hour before Nurse Doherty would end her shift. He parked his four-wheel Jeep Cherokee about 300 feet away from the rear employee's entrance and waited. He turned on the radio to a New York rock station and pulled out a Tom Clancy novel. While he read, he kept a vigilant eye on the e
ntrance watching everyone who entered and exited. Around 7:10 p.m., a thin, willowy woman with red hair pushed open the double glass doors and walked out into the orange light of dusk. Jack watched her walk towards the left to the end of the parking lot. He was sure it was her by the stance of her walk. He opened the glove compartment and took out a small pair of Nikon binoculars. He zoomed in on the woman and made a positive identification. When the gray BMW pulled out of its parking space, he watched closely through the binoculars. He grabbed a short, black pen that was attached to a small clipboard secured to the inside of his windshield and wrote the plate number down. Then he put the Jeep in gear and followed.