The Last Customer

by Daniel Coughlin

  6

  With all of his strength, Gardner wrapped his aching arms around Jezebeth’s neck and pulled her down the cement steps. Her head tilted backward as she strained. Together, they fell to the ground. Anger, adrenaline and rage coursed through him. He felt the presence of good working through him—using him as tool.

  Jezebeth’s skin was incredibly hot beneath his palm. She began to growl. She was spitting, trying to shuck free of him. He pushed her into the ground, then straddled her. Her hips thrust upward, trying to buck him like a rodeo horse. He clamped down and forced her arms into the ground. Her wrists shook violently with the rest of her body.

  Gardner dug his knees into the soft portion of her arms, where the biceps met her forearms. Her wiggling continued, violently. Her eyes shot forward, protruding from their sockets. They locked on his. He felt the fire of hell in her stare. A thin ring of hazy white-fire danced around her pupils. She looked like a viscous wolf.

  “I shall see you in hell,” she hissed at him, and her convulsing stopped.

  Gardner closed his eyes. He leaned forward and began to whisper.

  Jezebeth’s mouth heaved open. Sickly yellow foam spilled out. It burned her lips as it oozed out. The putrid substance trickled across her cheeks. It was scalding hot against Gardner’s hands as it seeped between his fingers. Her voice became deep, almost harmonic and she began to chant. Gardner couldn’t make out the words, but knew they were in Latin.

  “In the name of all that is good, I command you out of this vessel,” Gardner commanded.

  When he opened his eyes, he experienced deep sorrow. He watched the girl beneath him die.

  The demon had left. The girl’s body was no longer possessed by Jezebeth. She expelled her last demonic breath. Her chest rose, fell, and stopped. A mist of vapor escaped her mouth. The final pocket of life escaped this body.

  Gardner turned toward the field when a snake slithered past him. He didn’t know if he was imagining the snake or if it existed. It seemed to have slithered from the sickly fluid expelled from the girl’s mouth.

  Maybe it was Jezebeth slithering through the grass?

  Everything became silent. Gardner sat up, still straddling the body of the girl.

  Patty was dead.

  Gardner felt strong again. The lord had used him. God breathed life into him. His body shook. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, soaking between the creases of his aging skin. The drops detached from his pores and ran down his face. They slid down his jaw-line and fell to the grass. He closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped. He inhaled deeply.

  Before he stood, he thought about the girl beneath him. A vision took hold. He saw the awful things that she’d done. This girl—Patty King—had taken lives from the innocent and the damned alike. In his vision, he was shown images of Patty and Rod Barton—killing her parents. They had tied them to a pole in the basement and they’d desecrated them.

  Gardner didn’t want to see this vision, but if he was being shown, then it was necessary. Patty’s mother and father had been tortured for days while she and Rod laughed and sought pleasure in their misery. Their murder was a cruel joke.

  Patty was evil. Still, Gardner shed a tear for her. She hadn’t been born evil, she’d been taught evil. Now, she would endure torment for eternity. It was the consequence for her cruelty.

  The vision stopped.

  A pair of headlights emerged from the driveway. It was a truck.

  It must be the girl, Cherri.

  The dead girl began breathing.

  7

  Patty King awoke from her nightmare and faced hell. Fully alert now, she was locked in some kind of dungeon. It was dark, almost black and the walls were lined with black sludge. The last thing Patty could remember was brutalizing Judy, the young professional that she and Rod had tortured. She had been in her basement. Rod had cut her throat. Patty’s memory started to flow. She remembered being sick. Her stomach had twisted in knots. She’d become faint. A sensation had sizzled inside of her and her organs had felt like they were burning.

  That was the last she remembered; before opening her eyes to this dark place. She wanted out. Her insides were sour and rotten. A bitter stench arose in the room, emanating from all around her.

  Looking to her left, she saw Rod plastered to the wall. But she could only see a glimpse as he was propped against the wall which was wet and slimy with running ooze. There was a thin layer of clear skin blanketing him with suction. It was wrapped tightly to him, almost like shrink-wrap. His eyes were pried wide open and pinned back. His expression reflected great horror.

  Light shined into the room, a fiery glow. The bright rays danced in the dark, behind Rod. For a moment, Patty’s attention was drawn away from Rod. Someone had opened the door to this dark place. Hopelessness set in as she felt something worse than death behind the door.

  Or maybe she could go now? She hoped, but didn’t believe.

  She promised herself that she would be back for Rod.

  Her slimy restraints ceased and she could move. She turned and when her body twisted, she saw that the light led to a brick house. The world opened up to her. It was someone’s house on a hill. The light ceased and it was dark. It was a farmhouse. The cool air surrounded her. Her lungs suddenly filled with heaviness. She was drowning and she was removed from the dark place. It no longer surrounded her. Her sight became filled with the night. Millions of stars lined the sky. To her right, she saw the moon. It was fully engorged and luminescent.

  Pain seized her. She was lying on the ground and the grass beneath her was wet. She looked up and saw an aging man, probably sixty years old. He stared down upon her. His eyes were intense and he was sweating profusely. She wanted him to help. She tried to scream. Wetness erupted from within her. She felt pain sear through her body like wildfire. For all the atrocities she’d committed—torture, sorrow, agony—she felt regret. Regret so deep that it peeled her apart from the core outward.

  And then it was dark again.

  She was falling, burning.

  She was scared.

  Chapter 14

  1

  The truck that Timmy, Terrance and Cherri had arrived in sped up Gardner’s driveway. Cherri hit the brakes, put the truck in park and hopped out. Her feet hit the ground and she ran, hurrying when her shoe soles touched gravel. Her desire to help—to fight—was incredible. She looked into the backyard. Gardner was leaning over the blonde woman from the store.

  Hesitant at first, Cherri continued toward Gardner. She slowed to a shuffle. Fear encompassed her. She didn’t know what evils lurked in the darkness. Also, she didn’t know Gardner, or what he would do to her, what he thought of her. But right then, she wanted to help him and she needed to trust him. Her intuition insisted that he was good.

  “Are Winny and Garth all right?” She asked, searching the backyard. Nothing crawled from the shadows. Genuine concern accented her voice and she hoped that both Gasper brothers were okay, but mostly she hoped that Winny was all right. There was something happening between her and Winny on a level that she couldn’t explain. No words could describe it. It was a bond of some sort. She wanted to be with him. Maybe later, if they got out of this night alive, they could get to know each other. Right now, she only hoped that he was okay. Her anxiety created a twist in her stomach. She wished it would loosen because she wasn’t able to think clearly.

  “Let’s check,” Gardner said after quickly inspecting Cherri. He stood and they ran toward the back door of Gardner’s house.

  Before they could enter the house, Garth and Winny blasted out the screen door, nearly knocking Gardner and Cherri to the ground.

  “Father Gardner, what the hell are these people? I’m freaked out and I need answers,” Garth demanded.

  Gardner turned and began walking with Garth, Winny and Cherri. He was struggling for breath but managed to say, “They’re unholy, demonic spirits. The bodies they wear are stolen. I know that’s hard to believe, but it’s real and it’s happening, and
if we don’t come together and unite, we’ll be picked apart,” Gardner answered, wondering how crazy he sounded to these boys of simple, logical, thought.

  Judging by the look of disbelief plastered across Garth’s face, he imagined very crazy.

  “What do they want with us? What did we do to…the demons?” Winny asked, humbly.

  “I don’t know, but it isn’t good. You might not have done anything. They want me and I think that the two of you were used as bait. There’s a reason He sent this upon you. Part of it was that they used you and your store to lure me in. They knew that I’d come and the three of you were just pawns to hook me. They’ll enjoy killing anything they’re permitted to in the process.” Gardner cocked an eyebrow. “Which means we’re all in danger—the both of you…me.” Then he turned to Cherri. “I don’t know who you are, but I know that you…”

  Garth cut Gardner off and said, “Her and her boyfriends were in the middle of robbing us when those two showed up—the unholy or whatever you say they are. And as far as I’m concerned she can go anytime.”

  Gardner shook his head.

  “There’s meaning to everything about this night, Garth. Right now, we need to stick together. There’s strength in numbers,” Gardner explained.

  Cherri stood near Winny, hoping that Garth would listen to Gardner. She was sure that he was good. She could feel it. She would follow him, trust in him, and do what he asked.

  Cherri lightly grabbed Garth’s shirt. He shrugged her off and frowned at her. She stepped forward and said, “I didn’t want to rob your store. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. My…” She couldn’t say the word boyfriend in front of Winny. It would turn him off to her. But, right now, she needed to be honest. “I was in a bad relationship and I felt stuck. They robbed stores like yours for traveling money. We were on our way to Detroit and they needed more money. They’ve never killed anyone before…and I guess I’ve always been too weak to turn away from them.”

  Gardner turned to Cherri, reached out and took her hand. It was warm and comforting. He smiled.

  “There’s good in you and you are not weak. You can be strong, but you need to choose your strengths and staying with us is a good start,” Gardner told her. She felt ashamed, vulnerable. She couldn’t help but to agree with everything that Gardener said.

  “Right now, I need to find my wife,” Gardner continued.

  “Why does he want you?” Garth asked.

  “He is the demon Sammael. I exorcised him from my wife, Donna, many years ago. He wants to kill us both, but mostly he wants to torment me. I took what he was intent on taking, and the demon holds grudges. Donna is in danger.”

  “What kind of a priest were you?” Garth asked.

  “The kind that deals with the vilest of evils imaginable; there’s a supernatural realm living all around us and we don’t see it unless it slips out, as it has tonight. I was born with the gift to see it and to fight it. I gave up my fight decades ago, which is why I believe this night is happening. I don’t know the level of your involvement in this fight, between Sammael and me, but you have been chosen, for one reason or another.”

  Garth looked to Winny and then down at Cherri and said, “I don’t trust her. For all I know, she’s one of those devil-things too.”

  “You’re going to have to trust her, or you’ll weaken our strength,” Gardner said.

  “Why can’t I just get the hell out of here, find the cops, and let them take care of this?” Garth asked.

  “It’s not that simple. If you must, you must, but I’ll tell you this. I believe that the result of bringing more people into this fight…is going to be the rise in body count and I don’t want anyone else to be hurt at my expense. Garth, there’s been too much death tonight. We need to find my wife and Sammael. I will fight him and I can beat him. I have before. I will do my best to protect you from him.” He shook his head. “But if you want to go your own way, there’s no one stopping you. I’m saving my fight for the demon.”

  With total disregard for Gardner, Garth turned toward Winny. “Are you coming with me?” he asked and then walked toward the cornfields.

  “Wait. We need to stick together. If you leave…” Winny started.

  “If I leave, I’ll get help, moron. You can stay here if you like and get ripped apart by whatever the hell those things are.”

  Cherri stepped toward Garth, but stopped when he locked angry eyes on her. “Garth, I know you don’t care for me. You have no reason to, but we need to stick together. It’s like Gardner said, there’s strength in numbers.”

  “Yeah, like you and your two dumb-fuck boyfriends robbing my store. They had strength in numbers too.” Garth turned to Gardner. “Why is it that the bad guys always win? I’m an honest man and I can’t get a fucking break!” Garth finished, stepping away toward the cornfield.

  A light breeze kicked up. It flung Cherri’s hair in front of her face.

  The cornfield rustled.

  “Let him go,” Gardner said. “His anger will only tear at our group.”

  “I can’t.” Winny pleaded while walking toward his brother. “Garth, wait up.”

  Cherri could no longer hear what they were saying. Garth pushed Winny away from him and then darted into the concealment of the corn.

  Winny didn’t attempt to run after him. He came back, looked from Gardner to Cherri and asked, “What do we do now?”

  Chapter 15

  1

  Pain stabbed at every joint in her body. The pounding in Donna Gardner’s head brought her back to consciousness. She hoped that when she opened her eyes, this would have all been a dream. But it wasn’t. She forced her eyes open. Dried blood crusted her eyelashes shut. Her muscles ached. Hot burning sensations exploded from her every extremity.

  Shakily, she sat up straight and adjusted to see. She looked out the front windshield. She was in the squad car. Her stomach felt like it was filled with twisted metal. The outline of the man in the driver’s seat was overwhelming.

  The night’s canvas whipped passed as she looked out the window of the speeding squad car. The man sitting behind the steering wheel looked young. His body was beaten, rotting and foul, but appeared young. The demon inside of him was old, ancient and powerful. There was something familiar about this demon. She knew him. It wasn’t his physical appearance that she recognized. It was his presence. She knew what this evil man was, what was inside of him. She’d felt the same evil three decades ago.

  How could she forget?

  It was the demon, her demon.

  Never again, would she allow herself to become so weak that her soul would allow her body to be taken by a foul thing like the demon sitting in front of her. She didn’t care if he killed her—she would fight until her body quit. She would die before she became a victim of possession, again. Looking out the back windshield, she saw more headlights in the distance. Red and blue swirled above the headlights. The colorful illumination should have been reassuring, but Donna knew what the demon was capable of.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  When he turned his head toward her—this time—his face appeared pale, almost green. His eyes were pure white and his smile stretched upward. His lips were torn in the corners. Dried blood was caked to his chin. It fell like flaking rust.

  “I’m going to take your body…”

  When he smiled, his face peeled back around the jagged tears on his mouth. Donna could see his teeth and gums. He looked viscous, like a rabid dog. His comically perverted demeanor was put on hold. “…and tear you to pieces from the inside out. You’ll beg for death while I rip your limbs to pieces and eat them in front of you.” His white, fiery eyes settled. He smiled as if pretending to be sweet-natured. “And, of course, that will be right after I take care of our little problem back there,” he said and then nodded toward the approaching police car. “It’s your fault that the officer driving behind us is going to…you know. If you’d only let me have you thirty years ago, this could
have all been avoided.”

  There was an awful screeching noise. The squad car felt like it was lifting forward. Donna was thrown into the passenger seat. Sammael had slammed on the brakes. He spun the steering wheel left. The rubber tires grabbed on the pavement and she was jolted forward. She closed her eyes when her head smacked the glass of the passenger side window. For a moment, she was certain that the car would flip.

  The cruiser stopped. They were moving forward again, picking up speed. Donna was slammed over the back seat and landed in the front passenger side.

  She was blinded. The police cruiser heading straight for them had hit the high-beams.

  Laughing, Sammael stomped on the gas pedal, hammering it to the floor.

  3

  For the last few hours, Officer Fred Thompson had been searching for Officer’s Zastrow and Zoelick. He’d been patrolling the small town for nearly forty-five minutes. Finally, he saw their squad car. He attempted to call them on his radio, but he got nothing. The squad should have stopped when Thompson hit the red and blue lights. Instead, it zipped past him. The cruiser headed down Highway 26, headed outside of Dodge Junction. For a moment, Thompson wondered if he was imagining all of this.

  What were they thinking?

  If they were in pursuit, they would have checked-in with dispatch, and dispatch would have alerted all officers on duty. That hadn’t happened. Zoelick and Zastrow had been missing for over two hours.

  Maybe this wasn’t Zoelick’s squad car?

  But he was sure that it was. Thompson knew exactly how many squad cars were on patrol; three. There was his, there was the squad sitting in the parking lot at the small station, two blocks from the edge of Main Street, and there was Zoelick’s. There were also two spare cruisers in the station garage near the back entrance to the jail.

  Why was Zoelick speeding? Thompson wondered.

  Zoelick was the responsible-type. Normally, he checked in with dispatch every hour on the hour. He was like clockwork. He was reliable. It wasn’t like him to not check-in after investigating a break-in, even if the call amounted to nothing.