by Lex Sinclair
Sofie squatted over the incapacitated officer, urinating on his face and into his gaping mouth. Then it wasn’t urine that rushed out of her genitals but something far worse...
Joyce ran aimlessly until she was out of breath. She’d reached the front gates that were now open. She skidded to a halt at the sight of a tall, slender gentleman donning a black wide brim hat and a black winter coat buttoned up. His left arm was leaden with a black leather suitcase. Deeply carved wrinkles were etched into his face. Joyce could tell straight away that the man before her was a chronic smoker and had been for most of his life.
‘I don’t mean to sound rude, mister. But only students and members of the faculty are permitted to be on the campus. So, if you don’t mind. We have a bit of a problem which the police are clearing up. Please.’
The gentleman grinned. His teeth were yellow-brown and crooked, as though they were miniature headstones in a dark graveyard. ‘I saw the ambulance leave just now.’
‘Right. Great. Please leave.’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t introduced myself accordingly,’ he said in an unmistakable English accent. Joyce thought he sounded like an aristocratic, contrary to his appearance and rotten dentures. ‘I’m a doctor. I was wondering if I could be of any assistance.’
‘I d-don’t think so,’ Joyce said, shaking her head.
‘Is there anyone else in that building you came running from in need of medical attention? By the way, you look a trifle pale and fretful, if I do say so. Perhaps you need to sit down and steady yourself.’
Joyce frowned, perplexed. ‘Why would a doctor be wandering the streets on a Saturday morning?’ she asked.
‘I’ve been doing my house calls to the elderly. You know the nursing home up on the hill two miles from here, yes?’
Joyce nodded. ‘But why aren’t you driving?’
‘I only live three miles south of here. Being a doctor myself, I know only too well the benefits of plenty of exercise and lots of fresh air. I’d be quite the hypocrite if I drove everywhere now, wouldn’t I?’
You can’t be that health conscience with those tobacco-stained teeth, Joyce thought. She had to bite her bottom lip to stop her from saying so aloud.
‘We have a girl in there that’s not very well,’ Joyce said, still not certain if she ought to trust this gentleman that claimed to be a doctor.
He nodded knowingly. Then he unbuttoned his winter coat, slid a leathery hand into the inside pocket and proffered Joyce a laminated card that pronounced him as a qualified MD. After running her eyes briefly over his credentials and noticing that his name was Michael, Joyce returned the card to him, slightly ashamed of her indecorous mannerisms.
‘I’m sorry,’ Joyce said. ‘I didn’t mean to grill you with the hundred questions, it’s just -’
‘You appear to be under a great deal of stress, are you not?’ the doctor asked.
Joyce agreed. ‘I don’t think you’ll believe your eyes when you see the girl in question,’ she said, fighting back the urge to cry. ‘I know I didn’t.
‘Well, why don’t you describe the symptoms and then I can make an assessment and decide if it is wise for me to take a look at this young lady?’
Joyce described to him, never omitting any intricate detail of what she saw. Then added, ‘I’m not sure if a normal doctor would be much good.’
‘I still think it would be wise for me to take a look myself. After all, what harm can it do?’
Joyce couldn’t help wondering how traditional this gentleman was. It wasn’t merely his attire or the way he walked, with his head up and his back straight. Or spoke. It was something else. His whole mannerism exuded nobility. It was this more than anything that he’d said that made her nod her head in agreement and show him the way to the dormitory she’d fled from, scared witless not ten minutes ago.
However, the bodies of two uniformed police officers had been the last thing Joyce had anticipated. And yet, that was nothing compared to the sight of the entity that had taken complete control over Sofie’s body and soul, drenched in blood which stained her nightdress and the landing at the top of the staircase.
‘Ohmigod!’ Joyce gasped.
Yes. Yes, I see what you mean,’ the doctor said in an indifferent voice. ‘May I?’ he asked sidling past Joyce who stood motionless, not knowing what to do or where to look.
The tall slender gentleman slowly ascended the flight of stairs. Then he stopped with three steps remaining and raised his right hand, palm facing Sofie’s protuberant eyes that were his and were not simultaneously. She saw the pink five-pointed star of the pentacle through her matted, tousled, damp hair.
‘W-W-Would y-you l-like me t-t-to call for an ambulance or the p-p-police?’ Joyce asked, her jaw trembling uncontrollably.
The gentleman shook his head once. Then he pivoted and said, ‘Do any of these rooms up here have a phone?’
It took a couple of seconds for Joyce to avert her attention from Sofie and answer the question. ‘Y-Yes. All of them d-d-do.’
The gentleman nodded. ‘Then if you’d be so kind and come up here and make sure S-’ he cut himself off, realising that if he blurted out Sofie’s name, Joyce would become suspicious of him. Maybe not then and there due to the shock rattling through her bones, but sometime later when the incident did the circuit in her head, she’d put two and two together.
‘Sofie,’ Joyce said. ‘Her name’s, Sofie.’
‘Right. May you please make sure Sofie doesn’t escape or do herself or anyone else any harm. I just need to phone one of my colleagues. A different kind of doctor. I’m not sure you’re aware - maybe you are, maybe you’re not - but I have reason to believe that Sofie is possessed. Unless, of course you know of any disorder, such as schizophrenia she may suffer with?’ He gazed at Joyce whose rotund cheeks wobbled.
‘No. Sofie’s an angel. Her eyes...’
‘Yes,’ the gentleman said. ‘I’m not positive. However, I think she may be either undergoing a serious form of drastic characterisation alteration or she’s possessed. No paramedic or GP can do anything for her; that’s why I need to call my colleague to examine her, with your permission, of course.’
‘What about the policemen?’ Joyce pointed out.
‘As imperative as that is to call the authorities, it’s far more important we make sure no further incidents occur. Sofie is not aware of what she’s done or going to do if we don’t act accordingly. My colleague can take her to his surgery where she’ll be safe why you call the authorities and tell them what’s happened. Is that understood?’
Joyce told him that she understood. Then she came to top of the stairs and stood in front of one of her most favourite students’ she’d ever had the fortune to become acquainted with in all her years as a headmistress. Sofie spoke like a proper lady, walked like a lady and behaved like a lady. She also focused one hundred percent on her studies and didn’t go out drinking late into the night, as did so many of her fellow students. She studied on her days off and never fell behind on her coursework. If she wasn’t top of her class, she was always in the top three, at the very least. Now, standing before her, Joyce suffered with palpitations at the sinister creature, drenched in the two officers blood, staring fixedly at her exuding something that was so evil it couldn’t possibly be human.
In Jasmin’s room (which she hadn’t locked after leaving in the ambulance), the qualified doctor waited for the dialling tone to cut off and for Raul to answer.
When he did, the eloquently spoken gentleman explained the situation and requested assistance as soon as possible, because he didn’t know how long he could prevent Joyce from calling the emergency services and reporting the deaths of two patrolmen on duty.
Then he hung up and returned to the landing where Joyce was whimpering, shaking like a leaf in gale force winds, on the verge of a panic attack.
‘Joyce? Joyce!’ he snapped.
Joyce regarded him, petrified, unable to look at what Sofie Lackberg had become and teetered backwards. Fortunately, she’d been holding onto the banister in a white-knuckle grip. She swung backwards and crashed into the iron rails. Her back received a hard blow. She groaned and sat slumped over, her flabby chin multiplying with her head resting against her the top of her chest. The gentleman decided that under the circumstances it would be sensible to leave her the way she was and focus on Sofie.
He spoke in a language that no longer exists, and that no living person would comprehend, and yet the words comforted the entity standing legs apart with her head tilted to one side, as though she were studying him from another perspective.
What he said was: ‘I am glad you are now growing into awareness, but your time to rise has not come yet. It is nearly December. The year is 1985. You will see the first light of day and breathe your first breath of air on June 6 1986. I know that seems like a long time away at this point, but you must heed my warning. If you are not vigilant you will put everything we have put into place for your rebirth into jeopardy. Raul Jimenez will be arriving shortly and we shall take you back to the cottage for the time being. Do not kill the Sofie. If you do, then you too will die, and we will have defeated ourselves. We cannot afford to attract any more unwanted attention to ourselves. Do you understand?’
The entity that had taken over Sofie spoke for in that deep, guttural voice belonging to something far too sinister for even the sick, twisted minds to conjure up.
‘I understand. But that bitch ran away from you-know-who and told her friend about the pregnancy. She told her how she was raped. Had I not intervened, her precious friends would’ve advised her to have an abortion and to report the incident back at Margaret’s house.’ It paused then continued. ‘Don’t ever give me orders or I’ll slice that pathetic excuse of a cock off and shove it up your arse.’
For the first time the eloquently spoken gentleman expressed fear. ‘I’m sorry. I was just saying, that’s all.’
‘On the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year in this glorious decade, I will be released from this prison, and the world as you know it will begin its countdown to extinction and ours will be what’s left. Hell on earth. As far as I can see the world’s already halfway there...’
20.
Joyce Laymon was being rocked back and forth to consciousness. She recoiled suddenly when she saw a face of a woman in a green paramedic suit looking at her, filling her entire blurry vision, inches from her face.
‘Sofie...’ she muttered.
She tried to move her body but the female paramedic with freckles rested her hands on Joyce’s dense shoulders and kept her steady. ‘Whoa, there,’ she said.
Joyce relented. The lethargy weighed her down, as though in order to get herself to a vertical base she would have to bench press her own bodyweight. Nevertheless, after three failed attempts, the male paramedic who had been examining the bodies of the two uniformed officers - one lying at an impossible angle with a broken neck, the other facedown in a pool of his own coagulating blood - came to assist. They heaved Joyce up and then half-carried, half-walked the headmistress down the stairs and onto a stretcher.
Outside some of the on-campus students were being cordoned off by a big, burly police man while another uniform attached the familiar yellow crime scene tape to posts to keep anyone stepping onto the section of the yard and possibly damaging and interfering with the investigation by destroying evidence.
The female paramedic wheeled Joyce outside and asked the younger of the two policemen to help her get Joyce into the back of the idling ambulance.
Superintendent Robert Dylan arrived shortly after to the crime scene, looking dismayed. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the untimely deaths of Mollie Jenkins and Inspector Jones in that freak automobile accident. And now this. The link to the two cases being a one Sofie Lackberg who had come barging into his station not a couple of weeks earlier, hysterical, out of her mind, rambling incoherently about devil worshippers and the abuse she’d endured.
Something in relation to that had transpired again. He needed to speak to Sofie and get her to a safe haven before it was too late. Normally, he would never have believed in such an outlandish story. Yet there had been something genuine about Sofie. That and the blood smeared pagan symbol on her forehead and the account she’d given the inspector and constable Mollie Jenkins, who had informed him that they’d found hoax tapes at Reverend Ward’s cottage that collaborated with Sofie’s story. Actual evidence to open a case with.
‘Where’s Sofie?’ the middle-aged woman asked to no one in particular.
The superintendent hurried over to the rear of the ambulance. ‘Excuse me, miss,’ he said. The two paramedics glanced over their shoulder at him. He flashed his badge. Then he went on. ‘Did you just mention a girl whose name is Sofie Lackberg? Long blonde hair, striking features, about twenty years old?’
‘Yes,’ Joyce replied, disorientated.
‘She was here?’
‘Yes.’
‘When was the last time you saw her?’
‘Before I passed out; couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago...’ she trailed off. Then just as the female paramedic was about to kindly gesture for the superintendent to move back and allow her to close the doors, Joyce added, ‘A doctor came by. Sofie was either schizophrenic, he said, or possessed. He was gonna call his colleague. Sofie murdered the two officers.’
Superintendent Robert Dylan didn’t get a chance to say anything to that remark. The male paramedic gently pushed him backwards and closed the rear doors. Too numb to resist, the head of local constabulary stepped away. He couldn’t quite fathom what he’d just been told. And, in spite of the fact that the middle-aged woman had only recently come to, she spoke lucidly. Nevertheless, the information didn’t make an iota of sense. Neither did it fit with what little facts he already had concerning the girl in question, who claimed to being stalked by members of satanic cult. If anything, she would have embraced the two constables, feeling safe in their presence. She had no reason to kill the only people who could help her.
Shaking his head inwardly, the superintendent headed towards the dormitory, flashed his police badge and admitted himself to the gruesome crime scene. The torn oesophagus of one officer and the broken neck of the other had been executed with precision belonging to someone who had killed previously. Not a young, frightened woman seeking help from anyone who could offer her assistance.
What did that woman mean the doctor said she was either schizophrenic or possessed?
Furthermore, what perplexed and worried Superintendent Dylan more than the sight of two policemen (although that was bad enough) was where this supposed doctor and Sofie were now. Surely, the doctor would have restrained the assailant and kept her from escaping and harming herself or anyone else until the authorities turned up. He was aware from dispatch that a students’ pet cat had been brutally murdered and that the girl had collapsed and been taken to hospital. Now the headmistress, too.
What the hell is going on here?
He stepped around two forensic workers and almost regurgitated at the sight of the impaled cat with two black holes as deep as chasms where the eyes had once been, stained in crimson rivulets. He shook his head in disdain.
Poor fucker.
Now that he’d seen the cadavers and studied them closely, the superintendent decided to step back outside and gulp some of the morning’s fresh air as a bout of dizziness rushed through his system, rocking him on the balls of his feet.
Prior to being bombarded by news reporters and journalists, Superintendent Dylan stood with his heard arched back facing the glorious sunshine. He thought about who had been present at the time of the cat being impaled and the two police officers arriving. The cat that had belonged to th
e girl had fainted and had been taken away in the first ambulance reported through on dispatch along with another university student. The two girls had departed, leaving the headmistress, Sofie Lackberg and this unknown MD without a name. He didn’t believe for one second that Joyce Laymon was a possible suspect, and the doctor without a name hadn’t been seen on the premises until after the first ambulance left. Therefore, it was doubtful that he had murdered the cat. The only individual who had been present inside the dormitory during all three murders was Sofie.
Superintendent desperately needed to talk with this girl Jasmin and Danielle.
Raul Jimenez pulled the visor down, blocking the resplendent sunshine out of his eyes. The black Toyota rolled down a tree-lined suburban street towards the driver’s residence. Meanwhile he kept glancing in the rear view mirror at the tall, slender gentleman who had trained to be a doctor. He just wasn’t your average GP you went to the surgery to see everyday. He was a witch doctor. He could speak with those who were - or believed to be - possessed by the devil. However, this wasn’t any ordinary case. Sofie Lackberg’s unblemished, striking good looks were metamorphosing into something hideous. Her rosy cheeks twitched spasmodically, contorting her entire visage so that it was unrecognisable. Furthermore her radiant glow had ebbed considerably and was visibly being replaced by a sallow, emaciated countenance.
The two men witnessing this drastic alteration were simultaneously exuberant and revolted by the unexplainable events.
‘Will her body survive the transformation?’ Raul asked, seeing Sofie writing on the back seat after being given injections to sedate her.
‘Let’s hope so. Remember, she’s been through a lot of physical strain. This is the worst part. Perhaps in a little while she’ll succumb. But right now, Sofie is battling the evil force, both fighting for superiority.’