by Gerry Tate
“Gone,” he muttered, and smiled nervously.
Dan glanced down at the radio and stabbed at the button, and the car filled with the sound of Metallica. ‘Back to never never land,’ the gravelled voice loudly sang, as Dan gripped the steering wheel hard. Suddenly the music stopped, and an excitable host talked noisily.
‘For all of you people driving on interstate18, I have a message for one driver in particular.’
Dan was driving on interstate 18, and he stared at the set for a moment. He didn’t know why, but he had a bad feeling about this.
The radio seemed to crackle for much too long, and Dan pushed the change channel button. Still the static continued, before the voice suddenly boomed out again.
‘This one is for you, Dan Winters,’ the voice stated.
Dan, puzzled and surprised, reached back across and turned the volume up.
“Who the hells sending me a message on the radi…?”
‘Dan Winters,’ the voice interrupted. ‘If you are out there listening, someone has sent you this personal message.’
The radio went silent again, except for a loud hiss and Dan clumsily pawed at the buttons.
“Shit,” he spat.
Suddenly the deep voice burst forth, almost blowing the speakers out from the doors, and almost deafening him in its loudness.
‘Lynn belongs to us, and we are coming for her. We are coming you fucker,’ the voice promised. Then the music of Metallica sounded once more and Dan pushed at the radio button as though it were a red hot coal, and turned it off.
He checked the mirror again, and although he could see no sign of the Cadillac, he had already decided to leave at the next exit. It would take him much longer to get home this way, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get off, anywhere away from this madness. He would go to the nearest Macdonald’s and buy a coke and some fries. He just had to get away from the car he felt, and try to get his head around this frightening incident.
He slowly started to cross to the inside lane. ‘THREE MILES TO EXIT,’ the welcoming sign said. He looked into his mirror, and for a moment he felt foolish. Out in front the cop car was still cruising along, and he sort of felt safe tucked in behind it somehow.
Suddenly a black flash appeared beside him, but was quickly gone as the old Cadillac sped past and veered onto and along the hard shoulder. The hooded child like figure in the back stared out from the rear window and waved the scythe to and fro as the car disappeared into the distance at a breathtaking speed. One hundred ten and then some, Dan thought.
It may simply have been a child in the rear seat, Dan felt, but at the same time it may also have been something else. He did not imagine the radio message, even though he was certain that had his family been with him, he would probably have been the only one to actually hear it.
He watched to see if the police car would give chase to the Cadillac, but the cops didn’t even seem to notice it. It appeared now as a small dot in the distance, and then it was gone.
“I’m imagining all of this,” Dan whispered. “Now I know it, ‘cause the cops didn’t even see it.”
Suddenly the radio flicked on again.
‘Your gonna fucking regret the day you ever got involved with us Winters,’ the voice rasped. Dan pulled the car off the interstate and stopped in a garage forecourt, shaking. He held his hands to his head and cried. He just didn’t know how much more of this he could take. It was a full fifteen minutes before he pulled himself together.
Death was in the rear seat of that car, Dan believed. And now he was frightened. He was frightened for his wife and children.
* * * * *
A still shaken Dan pulled up at the house and was relieved to see Lynn through the kitchen window. He stared suspiciously around, as though someone was watching him. He even scanned the now clouded sky, and he knew this would soon be a familiar ritual that would be a part of his everyday life from here on in.
Lynn spied him through the swirling patterned curtains and wondered why he was staring into the sky. She ran out to meet him, and threw her arms around him tightly.
“What? A UFO,” she laughed.
“Um something like that,” he replied.
When she next spoke it was in a whisper, as though it was the most secret thing since time began. A secret that even their cat, Moses, who was purring around her shapely legs, wasn’t allowed to hear.
“Well, what do they say about you at the clinic Dan? Can they help you? Huh?”
Dan moved from her grip and stepped back a pace.
“It may not be just that simple honey,” he answered meekly.
“Oh God Dan, I knew it; you didn’t show up for the tests, right?” Dan couldn’t tell Lynn the truth. How could he tell her that she had died in an automobile accident whilst pregnant all those years ago, and that he had then met and been re-married to Beatrice for umpteen years after this? That they never had a life or children together? And now maybe death was about to come claim her back.
“Yeah, I showed up all right, but they have to run some other tests first is all,” he lied.
“Other tests, what do you mean other tests? What kind of tests?”
He felt agitated now as Lynn just wouldn’t let it drop, and now she wasn’t whispering anymore.
“Tests, you know, to see if my boxing days are somehow responsible. They think um, my brains have been rattled.”
Now it was Lynn’s turn to back off, and she walked quickly into the house, head moving from side to side. She just wasn’t buying it, he felt.
But Dan already knew what he had to do. He would have to go talk with Griff. Then he could travel across to Ireland to search out Tully and Donald O’Shea, and the rest of the band that had confronted the demons at the mine. If he wanted to save his wife and children then there was just no other way.
He would also travel across to the Isabella Indian reservation and visit with Thomas Lapahie again. This he believed was where the real answers lay.
* * * * *
Next day, Dan drove around town, searching for Griff, even stopping and asking people if they had seen him. Why under normal circumstances Dan could have driven into town a hundred times a day, and he was positive he would see Griff on almost every occasion. Now though, he was nowhere to be found. He remembered that Griff was also in Ireland during the last encounter in the village, but then Griff was a messenger of God, and he supposed he could be anywhere in the world at anytime, and maybe even more than one place at the same time.
He parked the car and moved quickly along the sidewalk, stopping every thirty or so steps to glance around. He felt as though someone was watching him and he scanned the unfamiliar faces of the crowds.
As Dan turned a corner he saw the woman. She was dishevelled and angry looking, just like she was at the restaurant, and Dan recognised her immediately. It was the same woman all right, and she was staring at him from across the road. It was Beatrice!
She quickly turned to walk away, but Dan gave chase. A car skidded as the driver braked hard and another honked loudly, as Dan carelessly sprinted across the road without looking.
“Get off the road you damn asshole,” a woman’s angry voice shouted.
Dan focused on the woman in front, his eyes never leaving her. She was quick though, and Dan was struggling to keep up with her.
Beatrice turned into a large furniture store, with the large plastic elephant in front, with its foot on a chair, signifying the furniture inside was tough, but Dan instinctively knew Beatrice wasn’t going in there to buy anything. She knows I’m onto her, he thought.
A large welcome sign adorned the furniture store window.
He moved inside and scanned around, but Beatrice was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly a movement caught his eye and he saw her climb the escalator to his right.
An advertising sign pointed upward. Warren’s Dynamic Bedroom furniture-Wardrobes, King, Queen, double and single sized beds at knock-em-dead prices, the sign read out in large bold orange let
ters.
Dan ran across to the escalator, but he had already drawn the attention of the fat, heavy sweating security guard who was eyeballing him suspiciously.
When he reached the first floor the first thing he noticed was the rows and rows of cabinets and wardrobes, but no sign of Beatrice.
She must be hiding, he thought.
He moved quickly along the first row, yanking each door open as he passed, before almost slamming them shut, unaware he was being watched.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” the sweating security guard whispered, as he excused himself from the female saleswoman he was trying to make a hit on. He walked off and quickened his pace up the escalator.
“No one is going to come into John Tanners work place and act like a dumb ass,” he panted.
Tanner squeezed through a gap and moved along the next row, almost parallel with Dan.
As Dan moved forward, banging each door shut, Tanners rage increased. He was sweating profusely now, and his anger was at boiling point.
Who is this asshole? Tanner thought, as the doors continued to slam.
Dan scanned every nook and cranny, but it was clear Beatrice had gone. As he reached the last wardrobe, he noticed the fat security guy come briskly, almost menacingly around the side, toward him.
As Tanner approached Dan, his face was like thunder, and Dan guessed what was coming next. He could read it in the man’s body language.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing mister? What’re you looking for?”
Dan cut the attitude problem right away. What became of ‘Can I help you sir?’ He wondered.
Never the less, he supposed he may have been behaving kind of suspiciously. He muttered an excuse.
“My little dog, it pulled off the leash, and it ran inside here, to your building,” Dan lied. “Um, I followed it, and yo…”
“Do you take me for some dumb ass mister? I’ve been standing at the front all morning, and no damn dog passed me. Besides, when did dogs learn to open wardrobe doors so they could hide in em?” Tanner spat.
“He’s a very intelligent dog. Definitely not the sort of canine you normally come across, well trained and very obedi…”
“Yeah, well I’m asking you to leave right now,” tanner ordered, interrupting him again, and Dan sheepishly walked away with Tanner pushing him roughly in the back, downstairs to the ground floor.
“Are you sure that sort of rough treatment toward potential buyers is allowed?” Dan asked.
Tanner ignored the question and once again shoved hard at Dan’s shoulders, as both concerned staff and customers looked on.
The boss of fittings and accessories on the ground floor was folding a cushion back inside its cover, when he heard the commotion. He had spoken to Tanner just last week about his attitude to an elderly couple when the old man sat on a bedroom chair. He had asked the old man to get up, and in no friendly manner. ‘No sitting on the damn furniture, can’t you read?’ Tanner had spat at the old couple. He just hadn’t taken into account that the old man wasn’t trying the chair out to buy it. He had just taken a dizzy spell, and had been helped into it by his frail wife. It had taken some grovelling apologies and a few freebies before he could undo the damage Tanner had caused. And now here he was again, roughly manhandling a customer in full view of everyone.
He pushed Dan hard one last time as his boss moved his hands to his head in disbelief.
As he walked out through the door though, Dan called loudly back to Tanner.
“Remind me to give your boss a call sometime, maybe congratulate him on the friendly courteous staff he employs here.”
“Fuck you, you smug piece of shit. Come back here and I’ll tear you a new asshole,” Tanner threatened, as his boss looked on in anger.
Dan turned back. “Say what?” Dan spat, as he angrily clenched his fists and moved back toward Tanner.
“Let’s go you fucker,” Dan stated as he raised his arms and clenched his fists. “Let’s see what you’re fat ass is really made off. So you’re gonna tear me a new ass, huh? Well, why don’t you just come show old Dan here just how you intend to do that.”
Suddenly Tanner realised this guy was serious, and like most bullies, he quickly felt his stomach tighten and his fear increase. He turned and high tailed it deeper into the store, almost colliding with his boss as he ran past.
“Don’t let him hurt me,” he shouted to some female staff who were busily attending to some customers. “Someone phone 911 and get the damn cops out here. This guys a maniac,” Tanner groaned. “He’s going to kill me.”
“You fat cowardly piece of shit,” Dan shouted across the store, before walking away.
Behind the counter some of the female staff stifled a laugh, as the fat guard cowered down behind the counter, eyes peering over it. His boss shook his head and threw his hands up in disgust.
Now Dan had lost Beatrice, and he strolled back toward his car, the incident at the furniture store already forgotten.
Tanner stood up, relieved that the man had gone, but as he looked around his face reddened at the situation he now found himself in. Customers and staff were staring open mouthed at him, and a small boy pointed and laughed loudly.
“You sure showed him mister,” the boy laughed.
“Tanner,” his boss’s voice boomed from behind him. “Into my office, now!”
CHAPTER 10
Back in Ireland, Tully had just finished his incredible story to Tim O’Neill, the priest.
Tim put his hands to his chin and swayed back and forth in the seat.
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me Tim, and I can’t say I blame you,” Tully stated.
The silence lasted for a full two minutes, as the priest stared hard at the floor, and Dan felt uncomfortable.
When he lifted his head he was biting his lip, and staring directly at Tully.
“No, Tully, I most certainly do believe you. You see, I too have witnessed the paranormal. I am not supposed to talk of these things outside of the church you understand. However, if we have a bigger problem over in this place, then all bets are off. Do you wish me to tell you about it?”
Tully sat upright in his chair and nodded eagerly, as the young priest spoke of an event some years previous which he claimed was to change his perspective on life.
* * * * *
“It was in a little village called Wellington,” he began. A village on the East coast of County Wexford.”
“I know of it,” Tully stated.
“Yes, well, I had only arrived at the old church a matter of days, when I was awoken in the middle of the night. I had heard some noise’s coming from down the corridor, um, voices, and so I went out to investigate. As I peered from my open doorway, I noticed two of the older priests; Fathers, McAllister and Rice, turn the far corner and move quickly down the small spiral staircase. This staircase only led to an exit door and I wondered where they where going at half past one in the morning.
Well, being the curious man that I am, I soon followed in hot pursuit. I had kept my distance though, unseen, as I tagged along behind the two men. They moved along two pathways, walking for about a half hour, until they finally stopped at an old set of rusted iron gates. In the glow of the moon I could just make out old stone and slate headstones, strutting out at odd angles. It was the old village graveyard, which had headstones dating back as far as the seventeenth century, and had been long since closed for burials. What in Gods name are they doing here? I wondered.
The two priests sat behind a large headstone, and whispered to each other. It was a warm summer’s night, with the beautiful trees in full bloom, but the place still seemed creepy.
Now I felt somehow frightened and was almost sorry I had followed them.
At this stage I was totally confused and kept down low behind a tree, wondering where this was all going to lead me.
It was almost an hour later and I yawned, almost giving my position away. I was tired and feeling guilty about following the men. If they somehow
got some sort of unnatural pleasure sitting together in lonely graveyards at night, I thought, then what concern was that of mine?
I crouched down and was about to sneak away, back to the church, when a movement caught my eye. Along the lane, about eight hundred yards away, something was moving, coming toward us. The small white figure in the distance, a lamb perhaps, seemed to be moving with great purpose.
As I looked across to the graveyard, the two others were now on their feet. They had seen the shape as well, and both had crucifixes in their hands, and something, I couldn’t tell what, in the other.
Then as the figure neared, I could see it was a very young little girl, in a white dress. Something isn’t right here, I thought. No young girl at maybe, eight or nine years of age, I figured, walks along country lanes at this ungodly hour of the morning.
I stepped out in front of her before she could reach the cemetery gate, and she stopped and stared at me, sobbing and seemingly frightened.
‘Don’t be afraid child,” I whispered. “Who are yo…?’
A loud voice interrupted from the rusted gatepost, behind me.
‘No! Stay away from her, stay awa…’
The two priests were waving their arms about, and were very agitated. I’m telling you Tully. Had I known then what I know now, I would have taken to my heels. However, I had rather naively approached her, and now I leaned across to her.
The young girl shrieked and tore at my face, before running off down the lane, and quickly disappeared through a hedge.
“You ruddy fool,” the older priest bellowed at me as I held my bleeding face with a handkerchief.
“Why did you follow us?” Father McAllister demanded.
“Yes, and why are you interfering in this?” Father Rice cut in.
“I’m not interfering,” I pleaded to them. “I saw you leave, and I’m sorry, but I was inquisitive, and so I followed you.”
“You were inquisitive all right. Do you know what you have done here Father O’Neill? Well, do you?”
“No, I don’t really. I’m sorry I followed you. But can you please tell me what’s going on here?”