The Influence (Supernatural Thriller)

by Matthew John Slick

  Christian Community Fellowship, 1461 Twelfth Street, the City of Arbor, service at 10 a.m., Sunday mornings. Pastor Tim Doulos. There was even a picture of the pastor.

  Leech smiled with the discovery of his new victim. It was a wonderful plan. It would ensure his entrance into the gang, which meant a better supply of drugs, good ones. Paraptome again massaged Leech’s mind, causing pleasure to flow into him. He laughed out loud, enjoying how self-assured he was with the idea of killing a minister.

  Leech thought for a moment. How would he do it? Maybe if he went in early the next morning it would be easier. But he didn’t know what time the pastor would get there or if he would be alone. He could wait across the street and follow him home after the service. But he might not see him and even if he did, he might lose him in traffic. If he was going to give the gang a date and location, he better not mess up. Then it hit him. Kill the pastor during the service right in front of everyone! Just come in late, put on a mask without anyone seeing him, walk down the aisle, shoot the pastor, and escape. Everyone would be too shocked and terrified to do anything, and he would be gone before they knew it. It would be spectacular.

  He liked the idea. It was bold and dramatic. Paraptome continued to tweak his mind and feed Leech ideas. He was nodding slowly as he smiled. But, he would have to find the church first and case it. He would have to know if his plan was possible. “Go to the church and check it out,” whispered Paraptome. “That way, you could make sure.”

  Leech decided to go. He would check the place from the outside and if he was lucky, he could even get inside and take a look around. Churches were often open on Saturdays. Leech smiled. Paraptome, of course, was already smiling.

  He got up and walked over to the phone and dialed. After a few rings a voice responded. Leech recognized who it was and said, “It’s me. Did you hear about the killing on 13 Street?”

  “What killing?” responded the monotone voice.

  “The boy. I did it.”

  “That was you?”

  Leech waited as the phone was muffled for a few seconds.

  “Oh. He’s not dead,” said the voice.

  “What?” Leech almost yelled into the phone.

  “The news said the paramedics brought him back from death or something. He’s in the hospital recovering.”

  For a moment panic erupted in Leech, but Paraptome quickly calmed him and said, “He will never identify you,” and then it caressed Leech’s pleasure center. It worked.

  After a few seconds Leech said, “Well, it was me. I did it.”

  The other end of the line was silent.

  “I did it.”

  “Anyone can make claims,” came the voice.

  “I thought you’d say that so I will prove it. Tomorrow I’ll do a pastor at the Christian Community Fellowship on Twelfth Street over in Arbor. You’ll have your proof then.” He waited for a response but there wasn’t one. “Tomorrow you will have your proof. Just remember Twelfth Street in Arbor,” said Leech again as he hung up.

  Physically he was beginning to feel better, more clearheaded and awake but his body was still a little uncooperative as he turned away from the phone.

  “That kid should be dead. I shot him point-blank in the chest.”

  He walked over to the window and thought about the pastor. Killing him would go a long way to demonstrate his worthiness to the gang. They were his drug connection, and he wanted in. Besides, selling drugs was a great way to make a lot of cash, too. Initially, they were suspicious. He was too eager, so they were watching him. But he didn’t mind and he figured that they would have to let him in after he killed the minister.

  Leech labored to change his clothes. He ran a heavy comb through his matted hair, grabbed a jacket, and stuffed his gun into the pocket. He opened the apartment door, checked both ways, and headed downstairs. The only way anyone could connect him to the boy’s shooting was by the gun. He had to hide it. He went down into the basement. There was a stack of boxes with rags in them and old tools that had been sitting around for years, rusting. He found a box full of old oilcans and trash. He took the gun and wiped it off with a rag. After destroying all fingerprints, he slipped it underneath the cans. He put the lid back on and made sure that no one saw him as he left the basement. The police were all too familiar with him and if somehow they ever ended up asking him any questions about the shooting, there was no way they could pin it on him without the weapon, unless the boy and mother somehow identified him. “But that will never happen,” said Paraptome. “They can’t connect it to you. It was dark.” Leech believed the lie.

  Paraptome led him outside to his car. Leech drove off towards Twelfth Street.

  ***

  Kathy didn’t sleep well even though she had taken a sleeping pill. She woke frequently and had to force her mind to calm down. The terrifying memory of the night before was still too fresh. But morning finally came, and after eating a quick breakfast, she left for the hospital. As she drove, she remembered the hideous face and the paralyzing fear she had felt. It was too real, too different. She tried to focus on something else, so she concentrated on the traffic. She wondered if anyone else had experienced something similar. That caused her to think about the nightmare again, so she shook her mind away from it. All she wanted to do was get to the hospital and talk to her dad.

  Every red light tested her patience and every slow driver seemed to purposely be in her way. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, and rapidly tapped her fingertips while she waited at red lights. By the time she finally walked into her father’s room, she was agitated. She pushed the door open. John was awake and watching TV.

  “Hi, Kathy,” he said cheerfully.

  As anxious as she was to talk about last night, she decided to suppress her anxiety and inquire about how he was feeling before she dove in. She wanted to make sure that he was up to it.

  “How are you feeling, Dad? You look great.”

  “I feel great. My side hardly hurts and the doctor says that he probably will let me go home today. That is good news.”

  Kathy sat in the chair next to his bed and held his hand. Somehow, her father made her feel safe.

  “That’s great.” Her voice was a little strained. Her eyes drifted away as she realized how much she wanted John to be released today and home tonight because she did not want to be there alone again.

  “What is it?” asked John.

  Kathy brought her eyes back to him and paused to consider what it was she was actually going to say. She sighed and scooted the chair closer to the bed and looked deeply into his eyes. He became concerned.

  “Is Mark okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, he’s fine.” She waited for a moment. “But I don’t think I am.”

  John instinctively tried to sit up to be more prepared. He winced slightly and abandoned that idea as he gripped her hand and waited for her to speak.

  “Dad, I know that you believe in God and all this church stuff. You know that I haven’t put any credence in what you’ve been telling me. But something happened last night at your place that I can’t explain.”

  “What happened? Are you all right?” He studied her face.

  Kathy wanted to tell him everything that happened, the terror, and the vision of the creature. But she was unsure of what to say. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  She looked down at the strong, weathered hand holding hers, then back to her father’s eyes. She did not want to cause him any discomfort by being too suspenseful, but she just didn’t know how to begin. She figured the best thing to do was just say it. Just get it over with.

  “I… I think I saw some sort of demon last night.”

  “What?” John raised his eyebrows.

  “It was horrible. It was the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  John moved himself in the bed to face her more directly. He ignored the pain. “Please, tell me what happened.”

  “It was the strangest thing. I was sitting on the couch w
atching TV and…” She was staring blankly at the bedsheets, not seeing them. “Now that I think about it, it was as though there was another person there, but there wasn’t. I was feeling a little paranoid because I thought someone was watching me, so I checked out the whole house.” She looked back at John. “Everything was fine, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. The feeling went on for a while and then… then… these images…the images of that car accident we saw when I was a little girl.”

  John knew exactly what she was talking about, and immediately, it brought back the discomfort and guilt he felt over it. His heart sank.

  “Those images of that body kept flooding my mind. I don’t know how to describe it because it was so strange. But it was weird, too. They kept coming and coming. I couldn’t stop it. And, then, this intense feeling of fear came over me and I became very agitated and started to get scared. It was horrible. I kept getting this idea there was someone who wanted to kill me, that there was someone in the room with me but I knew there wasn’t because I had just checked everything.”

  John was listening intently, motionless, holding her hand firmly.

  She looked at him. “The feeling grew stronger and stronger and horrible images kept coming into my mind. I couldn’t shake the idea that there was something wrong and I felt like my life was in danger. It was so bad, so awful that I ended up screaming and that’s when I saw it. Dad, I saw it. I saw this horrible thing. It was only for a second, but I saw it. It was so ugly and I was so terrified that I passed out.” She was throwing the words out rapidly as she became more and more agitated.

  John examined her face with its raised eyebrows and wide-open eyes. Her voice had quavered slightly, and then the corners of her mouth dropped before she abruptly stopped talking. She had been gripping his hand tighter and tighter, shaking it with each syllable. But now she was still and quiet.

  John tightened his grip on her hand and ached as he watched the tears well up in her eyes.

  “You passed out? Are you okay?” She didn’t say anything, so he decided to wait and see if she was going to cry or not. She didn’t. And after about a minute, he sensed she was better.

  “Can you tell me what you saw? Can you describe it, if that’s okay?”

  Kathy took a breath, preparing herself. “It was horrible. It was red and had horns. It had lots of bones with ugly skin stretched over it and…” she paused for a moment, “it had holes in its head. And I—well, it was like I could see into its brain.” Her voice was becoming strained again and her expression was full of revulsion. She paused, obviously having difficulty. Then she continued.

  “It had lots of teeth and…” Kathy stopped abruptly again, but this time the tears came. She laid her head on the bed next to John’s chest. He put his hand on her head and gently stroked her hair as she cried. It was obvious to John that something traumatic had happened. He prayed silently and held his daughter with both arms. She wept for about half a minute and then forced herself to stop. She sat up. Her father gripped her hands.

  John handed her a tissue box from the table next to the bed. She took a tissue and dabbed under her eyes.

  “I know I saw something, but was it my imagination? I mean, I could have been dreaming it. After all, I was a little tired and maybe because of all the stress…” she faded off. “I just don’t know.”

  “Kathy,” he said tenderly. “Do you think what you saw was real or not?”

  Kathy closed her eyes again and shook her head. She did not like the answer she knew she was going to give. She exhaled hard and said, “I think it was real. I have never experienced anything like that before. It was looking at me. I can still see it. It was hideous. I will never be able to forget it.”

  John held her hand. He knew it was difficult for her and he didn’t want to offer some lame “I know how you feel” kind of comment. She did not believe in God, or at least she hadn’t shown any interest in knowing anything about spiritual things. John knew that this was a great opportunity, so he silently and quickly asked God to guide him.

  “Why me?” asked Kathy. “What did I do? I mean, I don’t get it. I didn’t hurt anyone. I am a nice person and I do good things for people. Why would…?” she stopped. She was going to mention God and ask why he would let something like that happen to her. But to do so would mean she was acknowledging his existence, and the ramification of that, combined with what she saw, made her instantly reconsider the validity of her father’s faith.

  She looked him in the eyes. “Am I crazy, or did I really see something?”

  John could see the stress and bewilderment in her face. He wanted so much to say the right thing, but the words failed him.

  “Maybe it has something to do with Mark,” she said. “Remember how your pastor said Mark was important? Maybe something is happening with him or maybe your pastor knows something. What do you think? Should we call him? Do you think he’d believe me?”

  John looked at her with mixed emotions. On one hand, he was thrilled that something had happened and caused her to talk to him about this but, on the other hand, he was deeply saddened that it had hurt her.

  “Yes, Kathy. I think he will believe you. I know I do.”

  Chapter 9

  LEECH DROVE TOWARDS THE church. He figured that the pastor might be there, so he developed a plan just in case. He would tell him he was new in the area and was thinking about coming to his church. Then, he could ask the pastor to show him around. It would be a perfect ruse to be able to case the place and check out all the exits. He smiled. Thinking about killing the pastor brought Leech both fear and pleasure. It was a big risk to do something like this in the middle of the church service. But he wanted to impress the gang so he knew he had to do something bold.

  As he drove to the neighboring town, he realized that the next day he would have to steal a car and park near an exit at the church. He figured he could wear a mask and run in through a door, shoot the pastor, run out, get into the car, and disappear. He could then drive it to a parking lot filled with other vehicles. That way, it would be harder to find. About that time, he noticed a large grocery store in a strip mall. There’d be a car in the parking lot he could steal tomorrow morning. He could park his vehicle there and retrieve it when he dumped the other one off. He figured that getting to the church and back would take no more than ten minutes from this location. So, if he were to spot someone who had just entered the grocery store, he could steal the car, shoot the pastor, and maybe get it back before anyone knew it had been taken. If he did it right, the owner would never know the car was stolen and would drive off with it. Leech knew how to pick locks and hotwire just about anything, so it would be easy. He had done it many times before.

  It didn’t take him long to navigate the streets. “There it is,” said Leech as he spotted the church. He parked across the street. There was only one car in the lot. “I’m in luck.” He got out and quickly scoped the building. It wasn’t large and had double doors in the front with a lobby visible through the window. Leech walked to the side and could see an alley behind the church and a door at the other end. He could park the car in the alley and escape through the rear.

  “May I help you?”

  Leech didn’t see Pastor Tim open the front door.

  Paraptome was repulsed. Leech felt the same revulsion and had the urge to kill him right away. Paraptome retained control. Now was not the time. He had no gun, the pastor was not a small man, and he didn’t know if anyone else was in the church.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come out,” responded Leech as he struggled to control his disgust and appear casual.

  “I hope I didn’t startle you. I was just coming back from the restroom and saw you walking outside. Is everything okay? Do you need anything?”

  Leech was approaching Tim, sizing him up, hating him. “Well, I’m new to the neighborhood and was checking out different churches. I hope you don’t mind me looking around.”

  “Not at all. Why don’t y
ou come on in and I can answer any questions you might have?”

  “That would be great,” said Leech with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked up the steps to the church where Tim was waiting and holding the door open. The pastor extended his hand to shake Leech’s. “I’m Pastor Tim.”

  He shook Tim’s hand and thought to himself, You’re dead.

  “My name is David Smith,” said Leech, offering a false name. “I just moved here from out of town.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Smith. Please come in.”

  Leech squeezed in through the doorway as Pastor Tim held it open for him. “Please, call me Dave,” said Leech with fake politeness.

  “Okay, Dave.”

  The pastor let the door close and for a few seconds he looked Leech over. He was poorly dressed and a bit unkempt. Tim looked into Leech’s eyes and saw that they were slightly bloodshot. He was thin and seemed weather worn. It took only a moment for him to surmise that Leech might have had a rough life. But it didn’t matter. He was glad to see him.

  “Can I get you a drink of water, or a soda or something?” asked Pastor Tim.

  “No, that’s okay.” Leech didn’t want to touch anything and leave any fingerprints. “Well, I was just wondering what time your service was and if you had Sunday school or not.”

  “Service begins at 10 a.m. and goes to 11:15. We have a time of fellowship where we have cookies and coffee for fifteen minutes and then at 11:30 we have a Sunday school class. You are welcome to join us.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said. “Can I look around?”

  “Of course,” said Tim automatically as he started to walk towards the sanctuary door.

  Tim watched as Leech scanned the windows and hallway. Leech seemed normal, but there was something odd, something wrong that Tim couldn’t put his finger on.

  Paraptome was seething with revulsion. It wanted to rip out the pastor’s heart, but it knew that now was not the time. Leech was still recovering from the repossession and didn’t have his weapon. He wasn’t in good enough shape to ensure killing the pastor.