Seven-X

by Mike Wech

  It seemed like Tyler’s voice and Gonzalez swore to its authenticity. Then he confessed this whole conspiracy to me. He said that Tyler’s death was staged and they were going to ship him out of the prison.

  Guess where? Uphir! The town that doesn’t exist. It makes perfect sense with Aida Mae seeing prison trucks.

  Now Renaldo Gonzalez wasn’t sure where Uphir was because they had a driver who wouldn’t talk for fear of his life. Gonzalez had an idea of the general area based on some phone calls he overheard.

  So him and I took a trip out here, but never found anything. I figured he was lying and gave up on the whole thing. Then the first week of September, Gonzalez comes to me again and says he’s got a good tip on the location and wants to check it out with me. I declined and that was the last time I heard from him. He just disappeared off the face of the earth, and the search and investigation for his disappearance slowly faded from the headlines. After rummaging through his place, I found a hand written note with the name Haworth, a few photos and a map of the area.

  Then in early October, Kevin Dobson came to me upset about his wife’s request. “It was an uncharacteristic change,” he said.

  Coming from the guy who didn’t know his wife murdered six of their kids, I didn’t put much stock into uncharacteristic. But after reviewing news clips and doing a little investigative research I found this.

  Every four to five years going back to 1982 when the death penalty was re-instated, someone’s record slipped through the cracks. Paperwork was missing, there was an accidental cremation, some mistake was made filing the case or complaints were filed by family members with suspicion of misconduct.

  Nothing seemed highly unusual until you put all the pieces together and could see the pattern. It piqued my interest, so I followed up on this lead.

  Following Gonzalez’s tip, I found Uphir and made my first uninvited visit. Trying to get into the fortress was difficult, but when I mentioned Haworth’s name, the guard at the gate called in. When I mentioned Renaldo Gonzalez to Haworth over the intercom, the password must have worked and the gates opened. I didn’t get to see much that visit. Haworth kept me at a distance and we chatted in the main lobby for a few minutes.

  When I mentioned I was a reporter, his upper lip stiffened and I could see his breath shorten. He danced around clearances being needed to enter the facility and proper channels of authorization, consent and disclosure regarding information I may want.

  When I mentioned Timothy Nathan Tyler, I guess that’s what stirred the cauldron and my hint of Annette Dobson visiting probably warranted my official invite.

  So if this is Tyler I’m looking at, then the good doctor wants me to see him. Tyler’s tattooed neckline is a very distinct calling card and his eyes are unmistakably cold. In fact, he’s frozen like a corpse, sitting straight up, barely breathing, locked in a straitjacket with his legs in restraints.

  He’s so stiff you’d swear he’s dead. He hasn’t moved in at least five minutes. I think they’re all praying or doing some weird ritual. Everyone looks catatonic. It’s like Night of The Living Dead in there.

  There are three of them in the room with Billings.

  Next to Tyler is that freak Donald from breakfast who looks like Sling Blade. He’s rocking back and forth rhythmically, murmuring to himself.

  And finally there is this skinny, old lady who reminds me of that Wendy’s commercial, “Where’s the beef?” It probably would take a cattle prod to snap her ass back to life.

  She is actually the most disturbing to look at. Her eyes are wide open. She hasn’t blinked in over a minute and there’s no emotion on her face at all. She’s completely in another world. She reminds me of Jamie when I’d beg for sex after Kennedy was born. I seriously have to go in and get a gander at this freak show. What’s the harm? I’ll turn this speaker up and put my recorder next to it. Here we go.

  “Test one. Two. Test one. Two. This is Eddie Hansen getting ready join the cast of Trancing With The Stars!”

  AUDIO LOG:

  THURSDAY DECEMBER 9, 2010 – 1:35 PM

  RECEIVED BY MELODY SWANN:

  This is the first set of audio recordings I received from Eddie on December 13. This was a few days after our first phone conversation. He told me to write what I hear and assemble it so it makes sense.

  PLEASE NOTE: I took this recording to the Beverly Hills Lingual Institute for translation and accuracy for the following transcript.

  Melody: I hear a door slam shut. Now footsteps cross the room. Someone is moaning like they’re in a lot of pain. Another door just creaked open. I hear a man’s voice.

  “Shhh! Quiet. Come. Sit down. You were supposed to wait.”

  “Why are we whispering, Reverend?”

  Melody: That was Eddie asking! The other man must be the priest Eddie told me about, because he called him Reverend. I hear Eddie pull up a chair.

  Now the priest explains. “They are in a deep meditative state. It’s dangerous if they come out of it improperly. Stay quiet and sit here. Don’t move. Please.”

  Melody: It’s silent except for these snorts and moans I hear. Some sound sadistic. Some sexual. Some just painful. It’s been going on about a minute. This is weird. Now I hear a woman’s voice. It’s raspy and sad and she is not speaking English. She sounds like she’s dying or in tremendous pain as she cries out:

  “Gno̱rízoume o énas ton állon”

  “What was that?” Eddie asked.

  The priest tells Eddie. “She’s speaking Greek.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She said, ‘we know each other."

  “What?” Eddie asked.

  “Í̱moun mazí sas ótan Jamie Aristerá,” the old lady said.

  “Feel free to translate,” Eddie tells the priest.

  The priest moved. I hear his chair squeaking as he moves closer to Eddie. “I was with you when Jamie left.”

  "Excuse me," Eddie interrupted.

  “Sto motél éxi sto San Ntiénko,” the old lady continues in her raspy voice.

  “At the Motel Six in San Diego,” the priest tells Eddie.

  “Nomízate óti tha érthei píso se sas”

  “You thought she would come back to you.”

  “Allá eseís me epélexe.”

  “But you chose me.”

  “Fuck you!” Eddie yelled back at the old lady.

  Melody: I know that tone in Eddie's voice. He’s gonna lose it. The priest just scolded him, “Sit down!”

  It sounds like something is about to go down. Somebody broke something.

  The priest warns, “Eddie, you have to respect them!”

  Melody: Something just banged hard! Like a chair was thrown. I hear the priest again! “Control yourself! We’re not dealing with flesh, Eddie! Watch carefully.”

  The priest got up. I hear him grab something off a table. He’s got something clanging in his hand as he asks, “Gloria. May I speak with Gloria?”

  “Den,” said that creepy old voice.

  “I want to speak with Gloria”

  “Den! To ónomá mou eínai Achlys.”

  She said “No! ‘My name is Achlys,” the priest tells Eddie.

  “Eímai dystychía.”

  “I am misery,” translates the priest.

  “Sýntrofós sas Eddie”

  “Your companion, Eddie”

  “Aftó pou agapáte”

  “The one you love." The priest pauses before asking the old woman, "I want to speak with Gloria.”

  “Den!!” she replied with a spiteful inflection. I think she spit on him.

  The priest yells! “Achlys. Sto ónoma tou Iisoú, anachoroún apó aftín.”

  Melody: That was the most disturbing sound I’ve ever heard. It ran right through me like acid in my stomach. The priest said, “In the name of Jesus, I command you to leave her.”

  My chest is burning. I feel sick to my stomach listening to this. It sounds like something is moving around, like a wind or a flapping noi
se, like a bird in the room with me here as I play this back.

  Now the priest says to Eddie, “The demon left her. She’s circling here. Feel the room change. Feel the air. It’s dry. Arid means its void of spiritual substance. Achlys can’t survive like this. She’s looking for a home. A mind to feed on… Gloria!” yelled the priest.

  “Yes,” she answered in an expressionless monotone voice.

  “Who are you?” commanded the priest.

  “Gloria Casey King”

  Melody: My laptop just shook. Like there’s some energy around it, or a power surge. I want to shut it off, but I can't. I hit the power button but the laptop stays on. I tried to close this quicktime window but I get the spinning ball of death. The program froze and I still hear the priest. He's talking to Eddie.

  “Feel that Eddie,” he said.

  “What?”

  “She’s hovering over you,” the priest tells him.

  Oh my God. It feels like something is in the room with me. Hovering over me. Watching me listen to this. I want to turn it off. But I can't. I'm afraid to move. I feel something here with me. I feel like I better keep writing. I don’t know what that priest is doing but I wish he’d stop. It’s like I feel him moving through me. His voice is calm, but it terrifies me as he asks. “May I speak with Donald?”

  “Yes,” says another voice.

  “Who are you?” the priest commands.

  “Donald Allen Lambeck.”

  That man Donald, he sounds older.. His voice is slow and choppy. The priest is moving. Something is moving again. I hear it flapping around.

  “May I speak with Timothy.”

  “Yes,” said another voice. He sounds demented. His voice is sick, growling, like a rabid animal.

  “Who are you?” the priest asks.

  “Timothy Nath- aaaaa.

  I hear him gasp for air. Like someone is choking him, it’s deep and guttural. Demented. I don’t want to listen anymore. His voice is rushing down my spine. I feel it penetrating me as he moans, “Kennedy den sas leípei”

  My hair is standing up. It feels like his voice is right behind me in the room. Like it's with me. It rips through me, charging down my spine. I got chills. My body is tightening up. Goosebumps jump off my arms and I want to scream. His voice hurts. As I listen I feel pain burning through my chest. And i can't stop it as he groans,

  “Kennedy chreiázetai éna pragmatikó patéra”

  “What’d you say about Kennedy?” Eddie fumed.

  Oh shit! Eddie’s pissed. I hear him breathing hard. He's going to lose it.

  “What the fuck did he say?” Eddie exploded.

  “She said. It’s Achlys talking through him,” said the priest.

  “Tell me what he said or I’ll smack it out of him,” Eddie ordered.

  There's a moment of silence. I hear that voice hissing, Eddie's breathing heavy. The priest finally tells him, “Kennedy doesn’t miss you. Kennedy needs a real father”

  It almost sounds like venom hissing out as the voice continues, “Kai Scott eínai ó, ti den eínai”

  “And Scott is everything you are not,” the priest responds.

  Den boreíte na deíte. Den agapás.

  “Can’t you see. We don’t love you.”

  Thé loume eseís dont sti̱ zo̱í̱ mas

  We don’t want…

  “Want you in our life!” Eddie screamed back finishing the priest’s sentence with a storm of violence. I hear screaming. They’re fighting. There’s a sick-shrieking sound like an animal dying or struggling to breathe. That priest is yelling in Greek. Something broke. It sounds bad. The priest is screaming at Eddie. “Stop! Stop!

  The door just slammed open. I hear people rushing in. They grabbed Eddie. He’s furious, yelling, “Let go. I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you!

  The door slammed shut. They dragged him out kicking and screaming. The priest is praying or something. I can’t hear the others anymore. Maybe they took them too. Another door just opened. I hear footsteps. They shut the recorder off. That’s it.

  That was insane. I can't shut this computer off still. I just heard that voice again. That Greek voice. I hear it talking to me. I hear it like it’s inside me. Invading my mind. The file ended, but I still hear it. That voice is in here with me. I know it. “Stop Please.” “STOP!”

  It’s saying the same thing over and over. The same words. Over and over. The same words. Over and over. I hear it. It's driving me crazy. It's tormenting me. I have to write this down. I have to write it down. I have to. To make this stop. I have to write this down!

  “Egó eímai o Theós tou myaloú sas tha Eímai pánta mazí sas”

  I don’t even know what I just wrote. What is that? I don’t now how I typed that. My fingers felt glued to the keyboard. I don’t even know if my eyes were open. I was so scared. I couldn’t breathe. I just wanted that voice gone. I needed it gone, so I put my hands on the computer and typed. I felt like I couldn’t control my fingers, but they echoed the sound in my head. So I wrote this. And as soon as I finished, that evil voice was gone.

  Jesus, Eddie! Why you get me involved in your crazy shit. I don’t want to do this anymore!

  JOURNAL ENTRY:

  THURSDAY DECEMBER 9, 2010 - 4:33PM

  I finally got my computer back. Guess where I am? Sitting in stink ass seclusion waiting for someone to let me out. It’s disgusting here. The kind of place where you really can go crazy, so I’m gonna write and keep my mind off everything.

  Haworth told me if I touch anyone again, I could become a patient here against my will. The sad part is, I think I might be at their mercy. I signed away consent and liability. I screwed myself. I should have thought about my escape route better.

  I’m in a self-contained town with no police, no contact with the outside world, and a thirty-minute drive for help. By foot in this cold, it’s probably a day’s walk. And at night the temperature drops below freezing.

  When the dust settles, if I get out of here, I’m taking off to Dell City to check in with Melody. I need to send her my tapes and email these notes since there’s no post office here.

  Then I’m going to El Paso to get my camera fixed. I don’t trust making phone calls from Dell City.

  I know they listen to everything. They have complete control out here. And they’re playing with me. The demonic circus act was freaky. It scared the shit out me. They all looked possessed, like in Carrie or The Omen. They rehearsed this. A well-played one act by the Haworth Theater Company.

  The last hour I’ve been replaying that whole scene in my head and these guys did their homework. They probably found my divorce records filed online, got credit card statements and followed up on Jamie’s new last name from her marriage license. Almost anything can be public record on the Internet if you pay enough money. If anyone knows that, it’s me. And yet, I still fell for it.

  The only thing that still really bothers me is how Tyler said exactly what Jamie told me in the hotel room five years ago. That’s what put me over the edge. It was the way he said it.

  He said it just like her, with the same inflection and the same disdain she vomited to me with those exact words, “We don’t want you in our life.”

  I felt that moment of complete emptiness again. Like someone was pulling my heart out of my chest and holding it mockingly in front of my face.

  How Jamie got complete custody and used my DUI to seal it shut was heartless. The woman that I loved for so long, suddenly had this disdain for me and took away the only person who gave me unconditional love.

  I know that dickhead Scott was in on it. He was so jealous of me. He was never going to be daddy with me in the picture. She probably doesn’t even know that I’m aware she had another kid with him last year.

  Now they’re the perfect little family and it pisses me off! I can’t stop thinking about them. A couple of breaks, better timing and that’s us. That’s my family!

  It was like all of it hit me in that instant again and I just
snapped. I got Tyler to the ground and I was about to punch him in the head when his eyes went black and rolled back in his head. He went limp and I could feel this energy around him. Like something was pulling me off him. I felt someone grab my ear and pull me up hard. I thought it was Billings and I swung around to stop him. But it was that old lady and she had that same sick look in her eye that Tyler had before. As I broke free she grabbed me by the throat and practically lifted me off the ground. Maybe Billings helped her. I felt a force take my feet out from under me. She snarled like a rabid animal.

  Everything happened fast. The next thing I knew two guards tackled me and put me in restraints. They had me shackled up like a rodeo bull and it was pretty much over. I couldn’t fight it. They rushed me out fast while Billings was praying.

  Then the crazy old bitch scratched me across my arm with her nails. She got me real good and took my skin with her. I still feel my arm burning.

  I think they might have shot me up with something because one minute I was bound and being carried down the hall and the next thing I remember, I’m here. I woke up to the sound of dripping water just outside this confinement room. There’s one tiny window, but it’s sealed from the other side.

  They left me with a ham sandwich, some potato chips, water and my thoughts. No silverware. I can’t even eat this crap because the smell in here is so nauseating.

  It’s been a little while since I woke and the battery is going to die soon on this computer. Obviously there’s no outlet here either.

  It’s dirty walls and a fluorescent light outside that flickers like a silent movie reminding me how far back in time I’m trapped. Who knows how long they’ll hold me here.