by Mike Wech
The same theory I read about days earlier. This was why I had been given that highlighted passage from the Bible. To these men, SEVEN-X, was not just a theory, it was a fact.
“It’s a constant,” Billings told me. In all six of his previous exorcisms, the demon brought back seven more demons to torment the victim, until they could reclaim possession of the body.
And the final condition of that victim was much worse, or as Billings would comment, “Precisely what Jesus told his followers.”
Only two of his exorcisms remained successful for an extended period. The other patients, Billings claimed wore down over time. He said they let their old ways of thinking; these patterns of thought begin to consume them again. They became aware of their past again and something inside them began to crave the comfort of that former life.
Billings then told me that although the voices they heard were no longer a part of them, as was evidenced through post exorcism therapy, they were consistently around the victim, offering suggestions and insight.
As the victim began to associate and act out on these demonic suggestions, the demons would resume their occupation of the body. This is what Reverend Billings explained as we walked over to meet Tyler. I’m about to see in person what they are talking about, and unlike Annette Dobson’s interview, I have permission to ask or say anything I want. I’m looking forward to this.
AUDIO LOG/ JOURNAL ENTRY:
MONDAY DECEMBER 13, 2010 4:15 PM
I think this is the ward I was confined in overnight. As I walked with Billings a strong feeling came over me. My mind grasped on to the patterns of my footsteps, recalling an earlier progression of grass and concrete. Grass then concrete. Without the glare of the sun, I could see my surroundings and take note of the path we traveled.
Ward D was for the dangerous patients; the one’s who needed restraint and isolation. It was an unspoken place. Upon its mention, patients tensed up, bodies cringed and mouths sealed shut. There was genuine fear about Ward’s D and E. Fear that could be cut with a knife. Rumors of the whispering kind settled around.
No one wanted to see it, or talk about it, much less go there. A sentence to Ward E was a death sentence. No one ever returned from there.
Ward D Crazy Donald coined, “the cutting room.” The place where they drilled into your head to find answers. Where ice picks slid through eyeballs, plunging into the depths of the brain, killing independence and slaughtering personality. Cold steel gouged through your head, from the hands of whom the patients say are truly, the mad men.
Rev. Billings and I proceeded down the stairs through a dark, tunneled area that could only be entered with a set of keys and keypad combinations. I listened closely as we entered, trying to hear the dripping water, or the echoes of screams, but it was unruly silent. Too silent. As if everything here were dead, or abandoned long ago.
The only sound I could hear was the constant rhythm of our shoes clicking on the cold pavement, and the occasional interjection of Rev. Billings.
“Remember Eddie, it’s not Timothy, it’s the demons speaking through him. You have to identify which one, so you know how he’ll try to attack you.”
“I’ll remember,” I said as he led me to the end of the hallway where a security guard opened the door. This guy was big. He looked like a UFC Fighter. I’ve never seen him before, so I introduced myself. You want to be on this guy's good side.
“How ya doing man, I’m Eddie.”
“Curtis," he answered. "You guys can go in. I got Tyler restrained.”
Billings nodded with approval then asked me, “You sure you want to go in alone?”
“I’ll be fine, Rev. Don’t you worry yourself.”
They opened the cast iron door and I slipped inside. The entire ward was empty, except for the last cell. There was no glass like Silence of the Lambs, just bars that separated us. I certainly didn’t feel like Clarice when I entered that cell area.
For the record, Tyler was worse than Hannibal Lechter. Hannibal was civilized. Tyler was a pure monster. And yet, there he was sitting there quietly, in his straitjacket. As I approached, he gleefully yelled, “Alrighty! I got myself some company.”
I pulled up a seat and placed it about three feet from the cell bars. Timothy Nathan Tyler walked up and stuck his head between the tiny steel bars asking, “What’s your name buddy boy?”
“You don’t remember me?” I told him.
“I don’t get out often, my friend. Got this castle to myself. My own private Idaho.”
“I see,” I said, examining him cautiously.
“So what brings you round?” he asked, scratching himself up against the steel doors.
“I need someone regular to talk to. I’m sick of all the psycho babble,” I told him.
“Hell yeah!” Tyler said enthusiastically, pushing his head further between the bars before noticing, “That’s a pretty little tape recorder you got there. You know you got to have permission round here, for everything. Can’t just tape me.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Well you got?”
“Yeah,” I told him.
“Not from me," Tyler answered, shuffling around with excitement. "Nobody asked ole’ Timmy if they could go running tapes of his golden voice.”
“May I?” I said, holding the recorder close to the cell door.
“You may not.”
“No problem," I said assuredly. "I’ll turn it off. I just want to chat.”
After a little negotiation, we came to an agreement. I got to turn my recorder on, if I loosened up his straitjacket and let his arms out. He said his shoulder was hurting and the bastards here took joy in seeing him suffer. I couldn’t just sit there and let him suffer, he told me. I’m not that kind of animal. So I moved in close to him when I started feeling that presence again.
It’s hard to describe it, but it’s like the moment before a panic attack. The closer I got, the more my heart raced. I’m not scared of this guy. It wasn’t fear. It was just this queasy, uneasy feeling, like something's crawling on you. My chest knotted up and I had this feeling of deep dread.
Maybe it was the smell. His stench was putrid. It was like decay. Like something was dead inside him. Maybe he was suffering from Cotard’s Syndrome. Maybe he was already dead. His breath smelt like rotten garbage and acid. Were they afraid to let him bathe himself or brush his teeth? Would he stab himself or someone with the toothbrush, or ram it down his own throat until he bled, or choked himself to death.
I don’t know. I tried to hold my breath as I stuck my fingers inside the small metal opening and loosened up the straps that held his arms in. Part of me felt like he was going to spin around and stab me with something, or bite my fingers off, but he stood there perfectly calm. Maybe that was what seemed most disturbing.
Tyler never moved or spoke. He acted perfectly normal, not psychotic. I almost felt sorry for him, strapped up, isolated and not cared for. I know what one night in these conditions did to me. I couldn’t imagine what six years in this place could do to a man. He seemed grateful for the company and the chance to move his arms.
“Feel better?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Thanks man,” he said stretching himself against the iron bars. I didn’t waste any time and went straight for the kill, asking him, “What do you remember about your exorcism?”
Suddenly his demeanor changed, and he pushed himself hard, pressing his face as far as he could through the bars groaning, “Exorcism. Is that what they told you they did to me?”
“Yeah. They rid you of your demons.”
“Bullshit. Don’t let that fake priest and gay quack put one past you brother. They’re the crazy ones.”
“How?” I asked, watching him carefully to see if there was any way he could break free, now that he was unrestrained.
“They told me I’d get to see mama before she died. You know, at least let her visit me. Just so she knew I was all right. But no, man. They lied! I got pissed. Called ‘em on their bullsh
it. And you know what they did?"
I shook my head, "no" as he continued, "Son of a bitch took the knife to my head, and cut me up. See these scars.”
“That’s wrong.”
“Fuck right, it’s wrong! Know what else they did?”
“What?”
“Put acid on my arm. Chemicals or something. Burned me so bad, I had to bite it out and suck that shit out, before it chewed up my whole arm. You believe that!”
“That’s messed up,” I said, remembering the video and thinking to myself, "who's trying to put one over on me?"
Tyler continued his story, “They’re gonna get to you too. You’re staying in crazy house. Out by the gate.”
“How’d you know?”
“I see you. Got my eyes on the prize. This is bonus money. Big business,” Tyler said.
“What do you mean?”
“Turn that off, man!" Tyler howled, making his way back to the metal bars and pressing his face through them. "They know you know.”
He paused and looked me straight in the eyes, saying, “You’re here forever.” Then he mashed his face even harder between the bars and whispered. “Turn it off. This is for your ears only. If you want out of here, then put your ear right here.”
I did what Tyler asked, shut off my recorder and moved toward the bars, pressing my ear to the metal. I felt a chill go through me as he pressed his face even deeper into the metal, only inches from my ear. Close enough to bite it off. But instead he whispered with a foul breath that turned my stomach.
He told me that the government was in on this experiment and were forking over millions to develop mind control techniques and drugs to put fear into people, so they could take over. If they could keep people passive, poor and fearful, they could control them. He told me his whole murder trial was a set-up and they drugged him and tortured him. They made him tell everyone he was the vampire killer, so people wouldn’t believe his story. He said the pharmaceutical company he worked for was putting drugs into foods. He was going to blow the whistle and they made their move and set up the murders.
I wasn’t sure if he was crazy or not, but I wanted to know more. There was something about his story that intrigued me. And just then, Billings came back in, telling me my time was up. That’s when Tyler said something that really shook me.
“Hey Eddie. Them two blondes in El Paso. Careful! When your outcome’s the devil. You hear me! Death and the devil. No turning back from those cards.”
I spun around quick and tried to go back, but that security guard Curtis blocked me and escorted me out. Tyler continued ranting, “Come back and see me. You want to know what happened that night, right? Or should I say two nights. I was there, man. I’ll fill ya in. ‘Cuz I like you!”
His voice got fainter as I was forced out the door, which sealed shut behind me. Tyler kept ranting in muffled tones, trapped behind iron walls, and Billings acted too innocent about the subject matter. He seemed convinced it was a demon speaking through Tyler, and I wasn’t going to get a straight answer about anything.
According to Reverend Billings, I had met “Ipos,” a cunning, but powerful demon who has special insight into the past and future. His possession turns a man proud and gives him charismatic appeal.
I must be shopping in the Costco demon section, because they got one for everything. Mix and match personality traits, pop them into the “Demonatic” and presto you got your custom-made, demonic possession. Order in the next ten minutes and we’ll throw in the voice modulation kit free!
Nobody is going to manipulate me. I have to get my battle plan ready.
First, it’s back to Dell City. The Post Office will be closed by the time I get there, but I can stock up on food and supplies.
I’m not eating any more of the food here. Why take chances? I got to get a hold of Mel, and let her know what I got. I’m going to dump all my media, all the video, audio and my notes up to today on a hard drive, and ship it out tomorrow.
I better get moving. It’s going to take a few hours to copy all this data.
I’m out of here. I’ll let you know my next move when I get there.
AUDIO LOG/JOURNAL ENTRY:
MONDAY DECEMBER 13, 2010 7:42 PM
I hate that it gets dark so damn early. I had to drive down those non-lit, back ass, country roads with no streetlights. I finally got reception and I’m back at the diner, logging in with my favorite waitress, Aida Mae. Well, now that I’m in civilization and my food is ordered, I should step out back and give Mel a call.
“Hey.”
“Hey what asshole!" Mel replied harshly. "Didn’t you get my messages?”
“No. I didn’t check anything. My voice mail is full.”
“No shit. I’ve been trying to reach you for days. I’m worried, Eddie.”
I could sense it in her voice as I told her, “Relax babe. I’m way out of cell range. I was gonna…”
“You’re in some deep shit!” she interrupted.
“Hmm?”
“You’re in deep shit. Please come home,” she begged me.
“What?”
“Eddie, please. Get in the car and drive back. Now!”
“I can’t,” I told her.
“You have to.”
“What?”
“Eddie, please.”
“Mel. Relax. I got it under control,” I said, still feeling her energy on the other side of the line.
“No you don’t," she snapped. "No you don’t! No you don’t! I did what you asked okay. That writing. It’s not Greek. It’s Latin. I went to this Lingual school in Beverly Hills, and you know what it says. You wanna know!”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You really wanna know,” she bellowed.
“Yeah.”
“Really.”
“Mel.”
“You really want to know, Eddie. Okay here goes. It says 'Your Soul is Mine!' You hear that. YOUR SOUL IS MINE!"
“Relax!”
“No. No Eddie, No! I’m not. I’m not. I’m not relaxed. That shit is fucked up. That tape said, 'I will inhabit your soul like I inhabit this recording.' When I listened, I felt something in the room with me. It touched me! I swear! It kept saying the same thing over and over. I didn’t know what it meant. The translator even freaked out. I’m having bad dreams. Really bad.”
“Sweetie. Calm down. I’m sorry. Don’t let your imagination get to you. Okay… Hear me out. Mel, can you do that?” I pleaded.
“What?” she said softly.
“Hear me out baby, just listen. Can you do that?”
“Okay,” she whined.
“Good. These guys are the ones in deep shit. I got the goods on them, really good stuff. This is big and when we break this case. Girl, you and I are going to be rich and famous. Can you handle that?”
“Okay.”
“And we’ll finish that album of yours.”
“Really?” she perked.
“Yeah baby, of course. We can do this. You can’t let them get to you. They know who you are, and know you’re helping me. So stay tough!”
“Alright,” she answered.
I knew she' be alright now as I broke the good news, “Annette Dobson’s here. I got her on tape.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. In the flesh! And on camera. I’m going to send it tomorrow, when the post office opens. That bitch is pregnant and they are going to deliver her baby."
"Oh my God," Mel gasped.
"Yeah. They told me she had an exorcism. Now she’s acting like the Virgin Fucking Mary. They got her and Tyler here.”
“You saw them?” Mel asked, perking up.
“Yeah. And get this. Tyler claims he was framed for spilling the beans on the pharmaceutical company he worked for. Remember anything about that?”
She paused for a second then said, “He worked for Dow Lantra way back, before his trial. I remember you saved that story. I got it here with all the notes.”
“Exactly," I told her. "See if you can
find anything about Dow developing new food preservatives. Tyler said they were making preservatives and additives with drugs to induce fear. I think they conducted some of these experiments here.”
“Are you serious?” she asked.
“Yeah. They’re big players. Someone at the FDA had to let this pass through. You know what? Check FDA records. Get me a list of all new FDA approved drugs, food additives and preservatives. Alright.”
“I’m scared, Eddie.”
“Don’t be. People prey on fear. That’s how power is established. We’re on to something big. I need you to follow through.”
She paused again, and I know that silence. Finally she whimpered, “Eddie.”
“What babe?” I said, knowing something was wrong.
“The priest wasn’t lying. He was speaking Greek.”
“Okay.”
“Everything he said was true. The whole translation was true..." She paused.
"So?" I said.
After a moment, she came out with it. "Jamie, at the hotel. Did that happen?”
“Don’t worry about that?” I told her.
“Did it happen?”
“Mel!”
“Answer me damn it. Eddie. Be honest for once. If we’re ever going to have anything you have to be honest with me.”
That’s when it hit me. She’s gonna find out sooner or later about El Paso and the girls. What do I do? I mean it’s not like we’re married. Should I tell her, now?
“Eddie. Eddie you there?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, now at a loss for words.
“Tell me! Did it happen?”
“Yeah, it did. I went there to kill Scott. But I couldn’t... Okay.”
“How would that lady know, Eddie? In fucking Greek! What if these demons are real? You’re in deep shit. I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do this!”