Absence of Faith

by Anthony S. Policastro

  Again, something moved. It was by her belly. It moved again slowly and Chantress pressed her teeth together tightly to control her fear. It moved again and the cold sensation started. At first, the cold feeling was at the base of her stomach, and then it increased and moved towards her side and moved around to her back. Chantress remained stone still, although her mind screamed in total chaos. The slithering creature moved along her back, then moved upward towards her neck, then went back down towards her waist. It tried to slither into her jeans, but her jeans were too tight. It turned and slithered up her back again. The police officer was still close by enjoying the cigarette. The snake made its way under her armpit and then slithered along her arm. Chantress clenched her teeth harder and beads of sweat dripped into her eyes. Her mind was a fog of fear. The snake continued along her arm and exited her shirtsleeve. The police officer threw his cigarette and it landed on Chantress' back. Almost immediately, she could feel the heat of the cigarette intensify. The police officer lingered - the heat on her back increased. She clenched her teeth again - this time harder. The heat from the cigarette felt like a small knife slowly pushed into her back. The police officer stepped forward right over her head and vanished into the swamp grass. Chantress sprung up like a coiled spring and shook off the cigarette. She stamped it into the ground in a mad dance of hatred and frustration. When she stopped, she noticed a dim orange light lit up the horizon in front of her. She started running towards the light.

  As she moved up to higher, dryer ground, the sky grew brighter. She followed the misty orange light to the end of the woods and a marina came into view. She picked up her pace and began running again until she reached the docks. Several mercury vapor lights cast the eerie orange light onto the boats creating ominous angled shapes. A slight breeze caught a sailboat halyard occasionally slamming it against the aluminum mast causing a metallic pinging. The water rippled from a light wind. Chantress walked along one of four floating docks as silently as a cat. Her weight caused the dock to move and creak. Fear and anger raced through her body at an uncontrolled pace. A fish broke the surface nearby - Chantress instantly pointed the gun towards the splashing. Her emotions swirled in a stew of chaos, confusion, hate, anger, and fear. Did she really want to kill Kyle? Would she go through with it? What had she gotten mixed up in? Revenge? Murder? Had she become like them, she thought. She wedged the gun between her jeans and her butt and walked off the dock. What did I think I was going to do when I found the coven stead? Shoot everybody who resisted? Take them hostage? I should have called the police, she thought. She walked towards a large wooden house that resembled an oversized shanty that served as the marina bar and office. She moved alongside the building towards the parking lot scolding herself for letting her emotions turn her into a savage beast out for revenge. She had had enough. Let the police handle it, she thought. Kyle will cause his own downfall. Why should I lower myself to his level? she thought.

  When she reached the end of the building, she looked up at the starry sky and noticed the Big Dipper. She had never really seen it - only in pictures. Suddenly, her head was pulled back violently and she felt herself falling. She was slammed to the ground and the pain spread throughout her entire body. A dark shadow was suddenly on top of her and it grabbed her neck and began to squeeze.

  "I should have done this earlier," the voice said.

  She knew immediately who it was.

  Chantress felt her stomach heave as her lungs tried to suck in air. Fear took hold of her body and she began to kick her legs and pivot her abdomen like a fish out of water. But, the dark weight on her was too heavy and her lungs screamed for more air. She was beginning to feel tired, very tired and her thoughts were beginning to cloud. Her chest burned and the pain in her neck intensified. Not this time, you son-of-a-bitch! she screamed in her mind. She moved her arm behind her and her arm felt like it weighed hundreds of pounds. Her fingers could barely feel the gun, but then the cold metal of felt like the water in a pond in mid winter. She ignored the sensation and got her hand around the handle and her finger on the trigger. Her arm felt heavier now, but she had to go through with it. She was very sleepy now and thought it might be better just to sleep. Sleep felt so good, so good. Then the voice in her head screamed again. Not this time! Never! With all that she could muster, she focused what little energy remained on moving her arm. Her arm moved out behind her and she saw her finger pull on the silver trigger.

  "Tap!" and everything turned white and vanished.

  Chantress awoke and sucked in large gulps of the damp night air insatiably. The darkness returned and her hand was touching something warm and sticky. She looked at her hand - the gun was still there. She sat up on the dusty driveway and looked at the gun covered with blood. As her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight, she quickly looked around, but no one was there. The clouds in her mind began to evaporate and she attempted to stand up, but when she stood, the surroundings swam around as if she were on a merry-go-around. She stumbled to the building and leaned against the wall, still vigorously filling her lungs with air. Her stomach tightened and she touched her throat - it was sore. She smiled slightly as she realized she had beaten death, beaten Kyle. She saw death coming and that frightened her more than what had happened.

  The whirling, steel rattling of an outboard starting suddenly pierced the night silence and she ran quickly towards the docks. She saw a small powerboat quickly back out of its slip and hit an adjacent piling. The figure driving the boat was dressed in black.

  "Nooooooooooo!" Chantress screamed.

  The figure steering the boat turned and the sickly orange glow from the mercury vapor lights washed over his face. She raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The shot lit up the docks in front of her, and the boat surged forward out of the marina towards the inlet.

  The boat had to travel west for about 200 yards to clear the jetty to enter the inlet. Chantress knew that if she reached the jetty, she could head him off. She ran as fast as she could and her chest hurt. The moon, now a tiny spot in the sky, did not provide much light. When she reached the blackened rocks, she could barely see them. She slowed down somewhat, but not enough. Her right foot slipped and slid into a crevice.

  "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Chantress screamed, and fell flat on the rocks, landing on her hands. Her shin scrapped against the edge of jagged rock and the sharp pain ran up her leg. The rock scrapped the skin off like a fine chisel. Blood oozed out of her leg, her left forearm, elbow and palm. The roar of the boat engine loomed in the darkness, increasing in volume as it sped closer to the end of the inlet. She dragged herself up and stood shakily on the black jetty like a drunk. She moved closer to the water, stepping carefully onto the slimy, slippery rocks making sure she had a foothold. The engine roared on and she could see a dark mass moving rapidly towards her. She raised the gun, took aim, and put her finger on the trigger. Suddenly, her left foot gave out and she fell backward.

  "Boom!" the gun went off sending the bullet harmlessly into the air. The boat roared past, creating a bow wave that washed up on the first two rows of rocks. Chantress hit the jetty hard and everything began to swirl around. Ignoring her pain, she turned over onto her belly and took aim at the boat, which was nearly clear of the jetty. The boat seemed to move sideways and she felt like the jetty was one big carousel going round and round.

  "Boom! Click! Click! Click!" The boat turned right at the end of the jetty and roared out into the quiet inlet.

  "No! No!" she screamed.

  She stood up still dizzy, her body on fire with pain and her eyes filled with tears. She sat down on the jetty hoping the dizziness would go away. Suddenly, there was a flash of orange light followed by a loud explosion. She turned quickly and saw an orange ball of fire rise up out of the water. The fireball died down seconds later and drifted out to sea slowly vanishing under the calm water.

  "Now you can go where you belong," she said as she watched the flames slowly burn away all of her hate and anger.

  The Anti-Ch
rist - Chapter 50

  "We'll never find that boat," Vandergarde told the balding, overweight prosecutor. "The Coast Guard said there are strong currents and it was an extremely high tide because of the full moon. The remains of that boat could be in Europe by now and the body, too."

  He sat down at a small brown desk that bore decades of coffee rings on its dulled and marred surface. The desk was in the middle of an equally worn and messy office. The prosecutor moved a gray metal chair near Chantress and stared at her menacingly. His large, overweight body ballooned off the sides of the chair.

  "Now Miss O'Connell, tell me one more time why you followed Kyle Mabus with a loaded gun?" the interrogator asked her a fifth time.

  "I told you a thousand times. He tried to kill me; he was going to kill everybody. I didn't kill him. He was the third Anti-Christ that was predicted to appear in this century by Nostradamus. Nostradamus said he would be the evil man of blood. He was obsessed with blood. Nostradamus said the man would be from the Middle East. Kyle was born in Vietnam. Nostradamus called him Mabus...that was Kyle's last name! Nostradamus said the Anti-Christ would be at home in Europe. Kyle longed to return to France, where he grew up. Nostradamus said the Anti-Christ would help with the fall of the church. Didn't he almost do that by leading all those people to follow Satan and give up Christianity?"

  "Miss O'Connell. We're not buying that. You've been watching too many horror flicks," he said moving his hand over the skin of his head in frustration.

  "You will when he shows up somewhere causing more trouble," she said.

  "You're saying he's alive?" Vandergarde asked.

  "I don't know," Chantress said. "I saw the boat blow up, but I'm not sure he blew up with it."

  "It's a possibility," Vandergarde added. "We don't have a body and we don’t know one way or another. If he is alive, he’s wanted for murder and a laundry list of felonies. And we have no evidence linking her to a crime."

  "I fired at the boat, but I missed. I fell and the gun went off into the air. I don't know why the boat blew up," Chantress explained.

  "Where is the gun now?"

  "It’s home; it's my father’s. Please don’t get him involved. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t know I took the gun."

  "Is it registered?" the prosecutor said looking at Vandergarde.

  "Perfectly legal. I know her father. I competed with him at several ranges. He’s quite a marksman. Besides, the marina is out of city limits so it’s perfectly legal to fire a weapon there. I think you’ve wasted enough of her time. I'm sorry we had to put you through this. It's our job. You're free to go, now."

  "Just a minute. I'm not through yet!" the prosecutor said.

  "You have nothing to hold her on and she doesn’t have to answer your questions. Let her go, Scalapino!" Vandergarde said.

  The prosecutor tapped his fingers on the table. He was silent and his face was drawn in a tight smirk. Chantress didn't smile as she got up to leave.

  "I hope you're going to look for him. He's out there and he's dangerous."

  "We have warrants out for his arrest and we’ll do what we can," Vandergarde added. "Thanks for your cooperation. Wait. I'll walk you out."

  Chantress hesitated and then nodded slightly. Vandergarde joined her and the two walked out of the tiny conference room.

  "I hope you catch him," Chantress said.

  "Why do you want him caught?"

  "Because he's dangerous," she replied. "You saw what he did, kidnapping the doctor's wife, and one of your own detectives!"

  Vandergarde bowed his head as they walked.

  "How is he?" she asked.

  "Nick?"

  "Yeah."

  "He died this morning," Vandergarde's voice trailed off to a whisper.

  "I'm sorry," Chantress said and touched his arm.

  "I think he wanted that all along. He was just never the same after he lost his family in a car accident years back. He really missed them. He didn't believe in anything anymore. I think he's happy now."

  The Homecoming - Chapter 51

  "Our house never looked so good," Linda told Carson as they pulled into their driveway. "I couldn't wait to get out of the hospital."

  "You can say that again," Carson said. "The house is probably a mess since we haven't been here in two weeks."

  "I don't care what it looks like, I'm just glad to be here," Linda smiled. "I'm glad you stayed with me at the hospital the whole time."

  "Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way. I wanted to be with you as much as possible and working the night shift was perfect. I don't think I'll eat there again. I'm sick of that awful stuff they call food."

  "You should have eaten what they gave me," she replied.

  He helped Linda up the porch steps. She was still weak from malnutrition and walked slowly. He placed the key in the door and opened it.

  "Surprise!" A chorus of voices struck them like a crashing wave.

  "Welcome home," Frank said reaching for Linda's hand and shaking it.

  "I can’t believe this!"

  "You're crazy, Frank!" Carson added.

  "Not at all," he said.

  Multi-colored balloons danced along the ceiling and the dining room table was covered with hors d'oeuvres, lunchmeats, rolls, salads, and heated foil pans. Someone turned on the stereo and music mixed in with the cornucopia of conversation and laughter. Everyone waited their turn to greet Linda and Carson.

  "Come on in. Here Linda, sit here," Frank said leading them to the sofa. Frank sat on the love seat with his wife, Lori.

  "I haven't seen you in ages. It's really good to see you!" Linda said to Lori.

  "I wouldn't miss this for the world," she said. "I'm glad you're back and well."

  "Thanks for coming," Linda said.

  Lori nodded and smiled.

  "We found it," Frank said to Carson.

  "What?"

  "The cause of the Hellfire Syndrome," Frank said his face beaming.

  "YOU DID!" Carson said his eyes wide and mouth open.

  "It's a retrovirus, a variant of the Creutzfeldt-Jacob Disease, and similar to Mad Cow disease."

  "I knew it! I knew it all along!"

  "HFS is very similar to the Creutzfeldt-Jacob Disease, which affects men and woman 55 to 75 years old. It's rare - about one case per million in most metropolitan areas. The symptoms begin with a progressive mental deterioration - memory loss, mood changes, errors in judgment, dizziness, and headaches. The patient may also experience hallucinations, confusion, and see distortions in the shapes of objects," Frank explained.

  "That's exactly HFS!" Carson said.

  "Yes and no," Frank added. "HFS seems to be a mutant of the Creutzfeldt-Jacob Disease and affects any age. Both are retroviruses, but Creutzfeldt-Jacobs runs its course in about eight to ten months, HFS in several weeks. Like Creutzfeldt-Jacob, HFS was transmitted by an agent, and we found that agent in the jam in your basement!"

  "What! The jam in my basement was infected?"

  "Sort of. Something in the jam entered the body and stayed dormant. By itself, it was harmless, but after someone ate the jam and then was exposed to certain levels of ultraviolet radiation from the sun, the reaction occurred. We found that the agent infiltrated only skin cells, the coatings of certain organs and the nervous system. When the reaction starts, it puts the nervous system on overload and causes the skin cells to burn. We believe the agent is a mutant strain. Mrs. Hibbins may have had a virus and contaminated the jam when she made it. Over the years sealed in a perfect environment, the virus flourished. Somewhere along the line, it mutated."

  "And Linda sold that stuff at the Englishtown Auction and the town fair, plus we gave quite a bit of it away at one of the hospital fund raisers," Carson added.

  "That's how we found it. We asked all the patients if they had eaten anything different in the past few weeks. We found the agent in the liver, kidney and spleen - that's how we knew it came from something they ate," Frank explained.

  "A
nd all that craziness about going to hell was caused by the virus?" Carson said.

  "Yeah, that’s why you passed out and drove off the bridge. The same thing happened to Mrs. Whitehead - she might have hallucinated while driving. After she passed out, her nervous system overloaded, and then shut down - that's why she appeared dead. HFS has the characteristics of two virus types. It behaves like a lentivirus or slow virus, which slowly attacks the nervous system and it acts like an oncornvirus, which causes malignant symptoms - the burnt skin," Frank explained. "The UV light accelerated the symptoms to unprecedented levels."