The Presence

by Shady Grim

  “There’s no point to this charade,” said Tim. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  Tim was used to The Presence’s tricks and how it liked to torment him, but this time it did something Tim had never seen before. The large shadow-like figure before him transformed into a shifting grey-white column of light and energy. Tim was certain the The Presence couldn’t harm him and stood his ground. The column enveloped him in an instant. Inside it, Tim was assaulted by a putrid odor that made him gag. He tried to back away, but was caught in an invisible gel-like trap. He felt himself being raised high in the air. The more he struggled against his invisible restraints, the more enmeshed he became. He felt the weighty thickness of the transparent gel as it moved up his body and covered his head and face. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he struggled to force air into his lungs. His muscles burned from lack of oxygen, and his struggling slowed. His vision began to go hazy and black just before he felt himself fall to the ground. He landed hard on his back, gasping for air. Ethan grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet.

  “Get outta here, yeh evil piece o’ shit!” The Presence shrieked in pain as Ethan squirted it with a copious amount of water from his squirt-gun. It disappeared almost instantly. “Do yeh see it, Tim?”

  “No...gone,” gasped Tim. Ethan took Tim’s arm and dragged him back to the house at a half run. He plopped Tim onto the steps of the back porch and let him catch his breath.

  “Hey, Tim?” Tim lifted his head and Ethan squirted him in the face. “Just makin’ sure yer not a vampire.”

  “You were serious about that?” said Tim as he wiped his face dry with the bottom of his olive-green shirt.

  “There’s a lot of evil in the world, Tim. Most people don’t notice it. It’s walkin’ all around ‘em and they don’t even know.” Tim was instantly reminded of the Fitzgeralds and how virtuous and devoutly religious the community thought they were. “Come on, let’s relax for a while.” Tim sat at the kitchen table while Ethan rummaged around in the cabinet beneath the sink. He pulled out a bottle of bourbon and sat it on the table. “Heather don’t know it’s there. Best way to hide somethin’ is to leave it in plain sight.” He took two juice glasses out of another cabinet and splashed a little bourbon in each. He slid one in front of Tim. “Drink up.”

  “I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Why not, are yeh recoverin’?”

  “No, I’ve just never drank it before.”

  “What kinda grown man ain’t never had a drink in his life?”

  “The disciplined kind.”

  Ethan frowned. “Yeh sound suspiciously like Heather, except that she talks more. What gives?”

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  Ethan sat back in his chair and observed Tim. “Yer a strange dude, Tim.”

  “Why have you stopped calling me Dirt Man, and how did you know I needed help? You were on the other side of the house.”

  “I heard a lady’s voice tell me to go help yeh. I didn’t see that thing that had a hold of yeh, but I sensed it when I got close. I’ve encountered it before, and I knew what it was. I knew yeh had to be a decent guy if that thing was tryin’ to kill yeh, so I’ve dropped yer nickname for the time bein’. I might think up a new one though.”

  “I’d prefer it if you just called me Tim.”

  “Gimme a show of friendship, and I’ll think it. Try the bourbon.” Ethan picked up his glass and knocked it back, draining the contents. Tim did the same and nearly choked on it. “Damn dude! Take it easy. Yeh gotta sip it when yer new to the stuff.”

  “Thanks for warning me.”

  “There wouldn’t be much fun in that, would there? There’s somethin’ else about yeh that’s been botherin’ me, Tim. That’s three outfits I’ve seen yeh wear, and they’ve all been green and brown. Are yeh colorblind or somethin’?”

  Tim dressed primarily in natural shades of green and brown. Blending in with foliage had been so strongly drummed into him as a child, that it became a subconscious habit. “I’m not colorblind. It’s just habit, I guess. I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “Yer wardrobe is as drab as my cousin’s. The more I learn about yeh, the more similarities yeh seem to have with ‘er, and I find that disturbing.”

  “How so?”

  “I love Heather dearly, almost as much as my daughter, but she’s as dull as they come. She gets caught up in ‘er own head too much. There are too many things in life that can’t be learned from books, and she needs someone like me to remind ‘er o’ that, to keep ‘er from bein’ too closed-minded. Another university-made egghead like yerself would just reinforce it. Yeh’d make ‘er even duller...if that’s actually possible.”

  “I was homeschooled. I’ve never been inside a school, and I’ve never been college educated. I was raised in a home without electricity. I was taught how to hunt and live off the land. I can make my own clothes, and medicines, and anything else I would need to survive. I wouldn’t describe myself as an egghead.”

  “Wow, just when I thought yeh couldn’t get any weirder.” Ethan rubbed his eyes. “I must be outta practice. I’m feelin’ kinda buzzed.”

  Tim wobbled a little in his chair. His vision was getting blurry. “I think we’ve been drugged.” He tried to rise from his chair, but fell to the floor. He started crawling toward the hall telephone. Ethan, whose body was more accustomed to potent chemical substances, managed to stand upright and grabbed Tim’s ankle. He dragged him toward the back door while fishing his mobile phone from his pocket. “Hall phone,” slurred Tim.

  “Shell’s back there, can’t trust ‘er. We need to get to my truck. If we can make it halfway up the driveway, I’ll be able to use my cell phone.” Ethan stooped, grabbed hold of Tim’s belt, and hoisted him in the air as he staggered down the porch steps. “Damn yer a skinny bastard.” Ethan had moved his truck earlier and had left the keys in the ignition. He opened the door and threw Tim inside. Tim rolled off the seat onto the floor unconscious. Ethan started the engine and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. His vision began to blur. His long fingers danced over his phone in an attempt to tell Heather to call the police. The driveway appeared to get longer and narrower as the edges of Ethan’s vision darkened. Everything went black.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dr. and Mrs. Zee lived in a huge white colonial. It was the third-oldest house in the area, and it lorded over twenty acres of wood and meadowland. It was situated on the opposite side of the lake from my home, and it also overlooked the water, which made it most easily accessible by boat. It took thirty minutes to arrive at the Zee residence and the kids were out of my truck and banging on the front door before I had the keys out of the ignition.

  Mrs. Zee answered the door and the children nearly bowled her over as they ran inside. “Heather, you look terrible. Oh, now what’s all this?” she said, looking at the children’s cases.

  “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but could you–?”

  “Of course we can,” she answered with a wave of her hand and ushered the children into the kitchen for ice-cream. “He’s in the den, go and talk to him.” Emmy was already busy telling her about the goings-on at home. I walked to the den and knocked on the door.

  “Come in. Oh, Heather, sit down. What brings you?”

  “I need to talk to you. I had to bring the kids over to stay for a day or two. They’re in the kitchen with Mrs. Zee.”

  “Is that burnt hair I smell?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Did you have another fight with Ethan?”

  I told Zee everything. I told him about Thor disappearing, the bullet in the tree, meeting Tim in the woods, and all the things that Carly had said. “I always thought of myself as a reasonable person, but I admit that some of this stuff is starting to get to me. I feel worried about something I’m not even sure I believe in. Naturally, Ethan swallowed everything whole. I mean, he’s drenching the house in holy water as we speak. He even stole my jewelry to make silver bulle
ts. I’m living in a madhouse.”

  “That boy always did let his imagination get the better of him,” said Zee, shaking his head and laughing.

  “Do you think that demonic possession is possible, or is all of this just a bunch of crap?”

  “Do you remember the first thing that I taught you?”

  “There are no absolutes in medicine,” I answered, unsure of where he was going.

  “That’s right, science itself is not absolute. Reality is relative. Our perception of it is only a fraction of what could actually be. Who’s to say what’s possible and what isn’t in this world? Who’s to say if God exists, or angels and demons? Belief in such things requires a leap of faith. I can’t tell you what to believe, you have to decide that for yourself.” He reached over to open a table drawer. “Here, I want you to have this. I’ve had it for years, and it’s just been lying in that drawer. It’s about time it was put to good use.”

  “It’s beautiful. What is it?” I said, turning over an elegantly plain brass cylinder in my hands.

  “It’s called a mezuzah. It’ll protect your home from harm.”

  “But I’m Catholic.”

  “I won’t hold that against you. It doesn’t matter what the action is as long as the intention is good. Customs change from culture to culture and from generation to generation. It’s what’s in your heart that matters, that’s timeless and that’s what God sees.”

  “So you do believe in this stuff?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe, it only matters what you believe.”

  “I’m not sure what to believe.”

  “Sometimes out hearts know things that our minds don’t want to accept.”

  “Another riddle?”

  “If I told you the answer to everything, you’d never learn to think for yourself! Now, don’t you open that, I know what your like,” he warned, wagging his finger at me. “It’s just a prayer inside it. You don’t need to look at it. You won’t know what it says anyway. If you damage it in any way it renders it invalid, so you tell Ethan that I said to leave it alone.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “I’ll write the instructions down for you.” Zee handed me a small piece of paper. “You have to say this prayer before you install it. Put the mezuzah on the right side of the doorway as you walk in. Make sure the top is tilted towards the house. Install it at about shoulder height.”

  “My shoulder height or Ethan’s shoulder height?”

  “Oh Lord! Give me the paper back, and I’ll write it down.” He scribbled a few more lines and handed the paper back to me.

  “Do you remember Mrs. Fitzgerald’s oldest son?”

  “Why would you want to know about him?” Zee disliked sudden changes in conversational direction, and regarded them as a form of deliberate distraction. He frowned at me suspiciously. “You’re not thinking that stranger you met could be him, are you? He’s probably just another weird tourist. We get all sorts of nature-loving eccentrics up here this time of year, you know that.”

  “I don’t know. It just popped into my mind. I’d feel better if you could tell me what you remember about him.”

  Zee sat back in his chair and appeared to be pondering whether he was going to answer me. “I think he was a teenager when he disappeared, possibly just entering his twenties. I don’t really remember him that well. It was a long time ago, and I had very little dealings with him.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “He was small, about your size I think, maybe a little taller. I think he had dark hair.”

  “Did he have blue eyes?”

  “Maybe, I don’t remember.”

  “Did he look anything like his brothers?”

  “Oh no, he was adopted. The Fitzgerald’s didn’t think they were going to have any children of their own, so they adopted him. Some years later, Mrs. Fitzgerald had Byron and then Gerald came along. Mrs. Fitzgerald lost several babies before she finally had Byron.”

  “What was he like, his personality I mean?”

  “He was a quiet kid, that’s really all I remember,” he said scratching his head. “You know, that was a remarkable pair of pregnancies. Mrs. Fitzgerald was sixty when she had Gerald. She had fast uncomplicated deliveries, and she had both of them at home. Some of the old biddies around here called it unnatural, but I think that’s as close to a miracle as I’m ever going to see in my lifetime.”

  “That is remarkable. I’m not sure what to make of that. Are you sure her age was correct?”

  “She claimed to be sixty, and she certainly looked to be around that age.”

  My cell phone rang, and I pulled it out of my back pocket. “Excuse me while I check this. It’s a text from Ethan. ‘Cols polsice’...what the hell? Oh, he must mean ‘cold poultice,’ he probably fell off the ladder again. I have to be going, thanks, Dr. Zee.” I rose and gave him a hug. I held up the mezuzah and said, “I’ll put this up right away. Thank you.” As I turned to leave, he assured me that the kids would be safe with them. I found Mrs. Zee and thanked her again for watching the kids. Before I left, I took Emmy to the side and told her about the rope ladder, and that I left something for her under my bed.

  “What would I need that stuff for?”

  “Just in case something happens at home, like an emergency of some kind, you should try to get to my bedroom. You’ll be able to get outside using the ladder, and then I want you to take the canoe and come here.”

  “What’s gonna happen?”

  “I can’t explain, just do what I tell you.” I gave her and Jimmy a hug and left for home.

  “I DON’T SEE A PASSENGER, sir,” whispered Byron to his father. Ethan had driven his truck into a tree. Somehow he’d managed to slow his truck enough to have only caused minor damage to both it and the tree. He was sitting upright in the driver’s seat with his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

  “I’ll get him,” replied Herbert, and he pointed for Byron to retrieve Ethan from the truck. Herbert silently emerged from the tree line and cautiously approached the truck. He knew that Royal was in the truck because the Lord had told Lizbet of Royal’s return, and Shelly had phoned to tell Gerald that Ethan and Royal had drunk the tainted bottle of bourbon and left in Ethan’s truck. Ethan, being much larger than Royal, would appear to most people to be the greater threat, but Herbert knew better. He knew how clever Royal was, and how well trained in survival tactics. The boy was exceptionally fast and deceptively strong. He could easily outsmart, outmaneuver, and overpower the much larger and much slower, Byron. Herbert was the only one skilled enough the handle Royal. He opened the passenger’s door, and was sorely disappointed when he discovered that Royal was unconscious, and wouldn’t give the fight that Herbert was hoping for. He lifted Royal out of the truck and threw his limp body over his shoulder with ease. Although Herbert was in his early eighties, he was as agile and as strong as he’d ever been. The Lord kept him youthful.

  Byron limped out of his hiding place and opened the driver’s door. He poked Ethan’s shoulder to make sure he was fully asleep. Byron stooped to lift Ethan’s legs out of the truck so he’d be easier to pick up. Ethan’s eyes fluttered open, his uncoordinated body became rigid. He swung his fists wildly and hit Bryon several times about the face. Byron folded his arms around his head and backed away. Ethan pursued him. He was unsteady on his feet and his vision was blurred, but he pressed on. Herbert was just about to throw Royal to the ground and take on Ethan himself when his sensitive hearing detected a vehicle approaching. He shouted at Bryon to run, and sprinted off into the woods with Royal over his shoulder. Byron limped after him, his face bloodied and bruised.

  Ethan stood in the middle of the driveway swinging his fists at the air. He staggered as he moved in tight circles to fight off phantoms that only he could see. I stopped my truck and beeped the horn before I jumped out. It would have been more prudent to stay in the truck until Ethan calmed a little, but I was so angry with him that I feared I would run
him over. I’d seen Ethan like this many times before and knew how dangerous he could be. Most people who knew him weren’t aware that he sometimes became combative when he was high, depending on the drug he’d taken. He had his tonsils out when he was eleven and woke up in such an agitated state that he knocked out the nurse who was tending to him. I was furious with Ethan. All the talk of spirits and demonic battles had a fear brewing in me that I couldn’t explain or control. The climax of that fear boiled and frothed until I saw that Ethan was on drugs again. Now I was left with an icy stagnant rage.

  “Ethan, sit down so I can examine you.”

  “Heather?”

  “Who else would it be?”

  “I know what yer thinkin’, but I swear to yeh, I ain’t on drugs.”

  “Please sit down; I can’t reach you when you’re standing.”

  “I don’t need yeh to examine me!”

  “You hit a tree, Ethan! You might have a head injury or whiplash.”

  Ethan wiped his sweating forehead, lurched forward without warning, and vomited something the color of molasses. “I was drugged. Somebody spiked my bourbon.”

  “What bourbon?”

  “I hid a bottle of it in the kitchen, but I swear I didn’t touch it until today. Tim and I–”

  “You’re both high?”

  “Just look at the truck dammit!”

  I walked to Ethan’s truck with the intention of looking at the damage done to the frontend and nothing else, but I immediately noticed footprints coming from the woods and examined them closely. They were definitely not Ethan’s size fourteen footprints. A set of footprints slightly smaller than Ethan’s lead to the driver’s door and back into the woods. The right foot left an impression of a dragging motion in the loose dirt. I was so stunned that I couldn’t speak or even think clearly.