The Bucktown Babies

by Janine R Pestel

  “Those of us in the church have all heard of you. We are all aware of who you are and what you do. To many of us, you're a hero. A hero to be praised and adored. To some of us, you are what would be called a loose cannon. To the rest of us,” he paused and dropped his gaze for only a moment before he glanced back at Johann. “To the rest of us, you're simply an embarrassment. One who harkens back to an earlier time. A time when the Catholic Church believed in exorcisms, demon hunting and such.”

  Johann maintained eye contact with the priest. “You, father,” he said, “Which group do you belong to?”

  Father Tuttle stood up and began to pace. “My diocese says I should stay away from you. I should denounce you and curse you -”

  “If what you say is true, why are you here,” Johann said, as he started to become a little angered.

  The priest stopped pacing momentarily and glanced at Johann.

  “Because,” he said, “I am here in this town and they are not. I am seeing what is happening here and I can tell you, this is not the work, or the will, of our God.” He sat back down in the chair and smiled at Johann. “And, also, because I am in the first group,” he paused a moment, “Father Gunther.”

  Johann studied the priest for a moment, to understand if he was telling the truth, and really believed in him and what he did, or if he was merely leading him on, for whatever reason he may have had.

  “Gunter,” Johann responded, after a few seconds.

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Gunter,” said Johann. “There is no 'h' in my last name. It's Gunter.”

  “Oh,” the good priest was a little embarrassed to have mispronounced Johann's name, “Pardon me.”

  “It's okay, father. It happens all the time,” Johann said. He smiled at Father Tuttle.

  Johann sat, and remained quiet for a moment, as he let the father's words sink in.

  “How did you know who I am,” he inquired, the smile slowly disappeared from his face.

  “I didn't know how to contact you, so I did what I thought was the next best thing. I went to the television news,” the priest said, “The moment I phoned in to the news what was happening here, I knew if you saw the broadcast, you would immediately be wise to what is really going on.” He gave Father Gunter a sly look “Besides; the CDC doesn't work as fast as you made it appear. They probably wouldn't have someone here the day after the news breaks. As soon as you gave me your phony alias, I was pretty sure I had succeeded in bringing you here. I'm only glad I happened to call in to a news station you watch.”

  Johann made a facial gesture, signifying he agreed with his new-found ally.

  “Can you point me to who the demon is,” Johann asked.

  “No,” the priest said, with a sad tone in his voice. “I have a few suspicions, but nothing which allows me to accuse anyone with any degree of certainty.”

  “The hospital administrator told me the people in this town aren't very religious. Is this true,” Johann asked.

  “Yes,” answered the priest, “But, it has been that way for years. The demon is not someone who has been living here. It is someone new. I believe the lack of religion of the people is what made it so much easier for the demon to manifest itself here.”

  Johann glanced at the priest as though he was going to say something, but stopped himself.

  “What is it, my son,” Father Tuttle asked.

  “Ever since I arrived here,” Johann said, “I've had a few near misses with a car -”

  “Yes,” the priest said, “The black car. It came at you when you were at the church this morning. I was coming out to talk to you at the same time the car came around the corner.” He said, as he shuddered, “Vile creature.”

  “You think the car is tied to the demon,” Father Gunter asked.

  “Oh, quite possibly. It showed up around these parts right after this whole thing started. But, not everyone can see it. When I saw that you could, and it was tormenting you, I knew who you were beyond the shadow of any doubt.”

  That last statement made a lot of sense to Johann. He recalled the incident with the police officer, who was not able to see the car.

  Father Tuttle's face changed slightly, as a thought suddenly came to him.

  “You've been to our hospital,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Johann, “I met the administrator and some of the doctors and the coroner.”

  The priest leaned in closer to Johann as though he was going to whisper a secret to him. Johann turned his head to the side to allow the priest to whisper in his ear.

  “I believe the demon is in the hospital someplace,” Father Tuttle whispered, very softly. After his revelation, he sat back in his chair for a moment. Johann turned his head and gazed at the father. That would make sense, since he did detect a sulphur odor in the elevator, and he did have a little scuffle with a demon at the hospital.

  “I think you might be right, father,” Johann said.

  “I know I am,” Father Tuttle said, confidently.

  The priest glanced down at his timepiece and stood up.

  “I do apologize, but I really must be going,” he said as he extended his hand to Johann. “The Woman's Club is expecting me, and I must not disappoint them.”

  Johann grasped the priest's hand and shook it.

  “Thank you for coming by, father. Our little talk has been,” he paused a moment, as he searched for the right word, “informative, to say the least.”

  Father Gunter walked the priest to the door. As he was exiting, the priest stopped and turned to Johann.

  “Why don't you stop by the church rectory tomorrow morning, I have something I need to give to you. A little present of sorts,” he said.

  “Thank you, father,” responded Johann, “I will.” He stood at the door and watched the priest walk away for a few moments, then went back into his room and closed the door. He picked up the ice bucket and walked into the bathroom, where he retrieved a wash cloth and filled the ice bucket with hot, soapy water. He then came back out to the bedroom with his cleaning implements in hand.

  Johann was surprised to find it only took a few minutes to clean his mirror of the menacing message completely. He went back into the bathroom, emptied the ice bucket and rinsed the washcloth until it was as clean as can be. “I don't need anyone asking why I have a blood-soaked washcloth in my room, do I?” he thought.

  He decided the time had come to have some nourishment, so Johann rebuttoned his suit jacket, to keep his shoulder holster concealed, and left his room. He got in his car, headed for a local fast food drive-thru, and ordered some hamburgers, fries and a chocolate shake. His last stop was at a local convenience store to get a six-pack of his favorite beer. Afterward, Johann traveled back to his room to settle in for the night and take in the news before it was time for sleep.

  The whole time Johann was in his car, he constantly scanned the surroundings, looking for the black Dodge Challenger. At one point, he thought he spotted the offending vehicle in the parking lot for the pharmacy, but quickly realized it wasn't the car when a young couple emerged from it and walked, hand in hand, into the store.

  “Damn it,” he said to himself, “Where the Hell is it?” He almost chuckled to himself when he realized the irony in what he had just asked. “Hell,” he said as though he found the answer to a question, “Of course…that's where it is,”

  When Johann arrived back at his room, he was slow to open his door, being very careful in case there were any unpleasant surprises. With the door partially open, Johann poked his head in and sniffed the air, so as to inspect for any tell-tale sulphur odor. Pleased and relieved the air was clean, he entered his room and closed the door.

  After he stashed the six-pack of beer in the small refrigerator in the corner of the room, He removed his jacket and tie, which he hated wearing, and couldn't wait to get out of. The next thing he removed was his shoulder holster containing his .45 handgun. He placed the weapon on his end table, next to the bed, just in case he needed it quickly
during the night.

  He lay on his bed with his hamburgers, fries, and shake and turned on the television. Channel surfing for a few moments, he, at last, came to the local news station; the same one he was watching last night.

  He followed the program for a while, and it all seemed like the same old news that's on during any given night of the week. He was about to click it off when the anchor mentioned an update to the Bucktown story from the evening before when they came back from commercial break.

  Johann watched the television, anxious to see what this update was. The ads seemed to drag on forever, but finally, they ended, and the news program continued.

  “Last night, Belinda Carstone reported on something strange that seems to be going on in Bucktown,” starts the anchor. “But tonight, KMTN has learned more,” the camera shot widened to show both reporters, “Is that correct, Belinda?”

  “Yes, Simon. That is correct. We have learned the CDC…the Centers for Disease Control, in Atlanta, Georgia…has become very interested in what is going on here.”

  Johann smiled, assuming they were referring to him, but his smile quickly faded as the report goes on.

  “We have confirmed,” continued Belinda, “that the director of the CDC spoke with the administrator of the hospital today and informed her that the CDC would be sending an inspector in the morning to investigate.”

  “Well,” said Simon, as he smiled at the camera, “That certainly is good news for the good folks in Bucktown.” He paused a moment, before beginning the next story. “In sports today -.”

  Johann turned off the television.

  “Damn it,” he grumbled to himself, “This is going to be a little more difficult now.” He finished eating his hamburgers and fries and took the remainder of his chocolate shake with him as he walked to the closet.

  Johann took his suitcase out of the closet and laid it on the bed. He opened it and retrieved the box of shotgun shells which were sitting on top of his clothing. He also took out a framed photo of his sister, which he took with him everywhere he went. Father Gunter placed the picture on the end table next to the bed, with the image facing him.

  “Time to go hunting,” he said, as he removed the shells and laid them on the coffee table near the bed. “Have to get you ready to kill some demons,” he whispered. He retrieved his flask of holy water, opened it and splashed a little on the shells. His experience had shown him this was the best way to actually kill a demon. He gathered the shells together and placed them back in the box, which he then put in his suitcase. Without thinking, he left his flask of holy water on the coffee table.

  Now he had to come up with a new plan to find the demon. The most obvious thing to him now was, he can't go back to the hospital. The administrator now knew he wasn't who he said he was. Going there would jeopardize everything. He also couldn't chance meeting with the coroner, assuming Administrator Olson had, by now, alerted everyone to his masquerade.

  He would have to conduct his investigation without them. He had one glimmer of hope right now in the form of Father Tuttle. The priest did say he wanted Johann to stop by the church tomorrow to give him something. Johann wondered if, perchance, the good father might actually have an idea who the demon was, but was afraid to say so when he was there in Johann's room.

  He stripped down to his underwear and crawled under the covers on his bed. He glanced over at the photo of his sister, and began what had almost become a nightly ritual. He touched the frame and then gently ran his fingers over the image. “I will find you, sis,” he said, softly, “I promise.” He placed the picture back on the nightstand, then Johann closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep.

  -7-

  Johann lay on his bed. Thoughts of the day started to whirl in his mind. His encounter in the elevator with a demon, the marks on the deceased infants' heads, the visit by Father Tuttle. He was trying to relax, but couldn't seem to do so. Mixed in with all the thoughts of the day were the memories of his missing sister Theresa. He thought back to a day when they were young children, walking to school.

  Johann was twelve at the time. He was dressed, as he remembered, in blue jeans and a sweater with a baseball cap. Theresa was wearing a pink and white dress. He remembered thinking how well the dress matched with her blond hair, which was curled and sporting pink bows. This made her, he thought at the time, appear very mature. They neared the school, and a boy who approached them was, perhaps two years older.

  “Hey, Terri,” the boy said, as he put his arm around Theresa.

  “Danny, stop,” Theresa said, as she pulled softly away from him, “Can't you see my brother's here?”

  “Hey, little guy,” Danny said, as he tapped the brim of Johann's baseball cap, which caused the hat brim to come down over his eyes.

  “Knock it off, Danny,” Johann said, as he tried his best to sound threatening. The older boy chuckled.

  “Wanna come with me an' the guys to Carter's Soda Shop after school,” he asked Theresa.

  “I don't know, Danny,” Theresa answered, glancing at her kid brother, “I'll have to think about it, and tell you later.”

  “You can go if you want to,” Johann said, “I'm big enough to take care of myself.”

  Theresa didn't answer him. She merely put her arm around him and hugged him as they walked.

  Theresa was two and a half years older than Johann, and he admired his older sister. They had a troubled childhood. Their father had been killed in a job-related accident when Johann was eight, and after that, their mother became a reclusive alcoholic. That having been the case, the duty fell upon Theresa to take care of her younger brother, which she did without complaint.

  The boy in Johann's memory was Danny Branson. Johann and Danny would later become close friends, and Danny would go on to eventually become engaged to Theresa. They were to marry in 2002, but a terrible day in September of 2001 changed everything for them.

  After the New York terror attack on September 11, 2001, Danny realized his calling was to join the Marine Corps and help defend our Country. He enlisted, and after training, he deployed to Afghanistan. Johann remembered how proud both he and his sister were of Danny.

  About a year later, Theresa received a letter to inform her that her fiancé had been killed in action in a small town in Afghanistan. For a while after that, Johann was compelled to be with his sister, no matter how much she seemed to be trying to make life difficult. She would cry over anything that made her think about Danny. She became very cynical about everything and at one point even started blaming God for what had happened.

  Johann realized he had to take care of his sister as she had done for him, and slowly he was able to break through her shell and bring her back to almost the way she was before Danny was killed. Almost, but not quite. A very short time later, Johann entered the seminary to become a priest.

  Johann rolled over on the bed to lay on his other side and tried to sleep. Slowly, he became aware that he was not alone. He lifted his head and glanced around the room. Although no one was physically standing there, where he would be able to see them, Johann's intuition told him someone, or something, was in the room with him. He sat up in the bed, so as not to be taken off guard.

  A small sound grabbed his attention, and he cocked his head to one side, as a dog would do when trying to listen and understand something. A few moments later, the sound struck his ears again.

  “Johann,” the voice whispered very softly, “Johann, help me.”

  He recognized the voice that was speaking to him, and slowly removed his blankets and got out of bed.

  “Theresa,” he asked, looking around the room, “Is that you? Where are ya, sis? I'm coming for ya.” His heart began to race. This was the first time since his sister disappeared, he had been able to almost reach out and touch her.

  “Theresa,” he asked, this time a little louder, “Talk to me. Where are you?”

  “Right here,” the voice said, as it came from behind Johann, this time quite a bit louder.
Johann tilted his head back slightly and sniffed the air, which, all of a sudden, was filled with the fragrance of lilies; Theresa's favorite flower. He turned quickly, and standing before him was his sister, Theresa, looking exactly as she did the day she disappeared almost five years ago. He instinctively backed away from her. Johann wanted with all his heart to believe that his sister had returned, but his experience was telling him otherwise.

  “Johann,” she said, as she reached her hand out to him, “What's wrong? Why are you backing away from me?”

  “You're not Theresa,” he said. He dropped his eyes from her to the flask of holy water on the coffee table between the apparition and himself.

  “Of course, I am,” the ghostly presence said, sweetly.

  “No. You're not,” Johann said. Sweat was beading on his brow as his nerves began twitching. He was trying to figure out the best way to quickly take the flask off the table, before the apparition could stop him.

  He glanced again at the vial, then back to the ghostly figure before him. The apparition realized what he was doing, and its facial expression changed from a smile to a very baleful and evil gaze.

  “You don't want to do that,” the creature said with a very malevolent sound in its voice. Johann glanced at the ghostly figure for a moment and moved a little bit closer to his target.

  “I said 'No,' priest,” the ghostly figure said, as it hissed. The word “priest” rolled from the apparition like a dirty word. At that moment, Johann decided to make his move. He lunged for the flask. As he did that, the phantom changed from his sister Theresa into a hideous creature. The body of the beast became gaunt, almost skeleton-like. Its face became drawn, as a corpse, with jagged, pointed teeth and just white for eyes. Opening its mouth, Johann recoiled at the foul stench that exuded from the disgusting cavity.

  Johann stood before the monster, mesmerized by the ghoulish appearance, and gagged. The room seemed to disappear and become a netherworld-like place. Gone were the room's furnishings and small-town charm, replaced by only cold and blackness. The only things here visible to Johann were himself and his adversary.