Katherine's Prophecy

by Scott Wittenburg

  He sensed that John Hoffman held some kind of grudge against him, and the only possible explanation he could come up with was envy. Or perhaps jealousy might be a more fitting word. Because it was more than apparent that John Hoffman had no qualms with Nancy; in fact, he never hesitated to go out of his way to dote on her whenever he saw her.

  As Clem watched a rabbit hop across the meadow, he wondered if that was John Hoffman’s problem—the fact that he himself had something that John Hoffman could never have . . . Nancy. It wouldn’t surprise him. People with as much wealth and power as he possessed never seemed to get enough. There was always something else they wanted—it was almost like a little game for them to see how much they could acquire in a lifetime; many times going to great lengths, regardless of the risks involved . . .

  He was going to keep a very close eye on John Hoffman.

  Clem’s thoughts turned to Katie. Her birth had made his life complete, and every day he thanked the Lord for her coming into being. Ever since he and Nancy had gotten married, they’d expressed their mutual desire to have children and had wasted no time in trying to do so. But after a year of trying and getting no results, they realized that something must be wrong. So they both had themselves tested for fertility. As it turned out, Nancy was as fertile as could be. He, however, had an unusually low sperm count. So low in fact that the doctor told him that his odds of conceiving were next to zero.

  This news had of course been quite discouraging. But they never stopped trying—hoping to beat the odds and praying for a miracle to happen. Then finally, nearly a decade later, that miracle had happened and Katie was born.

  The first time he’d held her tiny body in his arms, Clem had literally cried for joy, and that moment had been the happiest moment in his life. For in his arms he held the consummation of the unyielding love that he and Nancy felt for each other.

  Katie, in that little body, embodied all that life and love was all about.

  Clem yawned and stretched. The drugs were finally beginning to work as he realized that the pain in both his head and his leg was beginning to subside and that he was beginning to feel drowsy. He would sleep well tonight, he thought, and it would probably be a good idea to turn in earlier than usual.

  He grasped the porch rail and managed to get himself up onto his feet. Although his leg still hurt considerably, he found that it wasn’t as hard to stand on it as it had been before. He limped over to the door and threw it open then stepped inside.

  “Clem Porter!” Nancy exclaimed the moment she saw him. “Why on earth didn’t you let me know you wanted to come in? I would’ve come out and helped you!”

  “I’m all right. The drugs are really helping; my leg doesn’t hurt half as bad as it did earlier,” he declared.

  Nancy ran over and put her arm around him. “You just think it doesn’t hurt because of the pills, but that doesn’t mean that you can walk on it like that!” she scolded.

  He grinned at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Nan, you’re probably right. I just hate being so damn helpless, that’s all. When will supper be ready?”

  “Not for another hour or so.” she replied.

  “I reckon I’ll just lie down for a spell, then. I’m feeling a little tired all of sudden.”

  “I think that’s a very good idea. Here, I’ll help you over to the bed.”

  Later that evening, they had eaten supper and Clem played with Katie for awhile before realizing that he could no longer keep his eyes open. He went back to bed and fell into a deep, much needed sleep.

  * * *

  He wasn’t sure how long he had been sleeping when he opened his eyes and saw Nancy sitting at the desk; writing on a tablet of paper in the dim glow of a kerosene lamp. He watched her for a moment and wondered in his half sleep who she would be writing to at that time of night. Then he saw her glance over at him as she folded several pages of paper in two and stood up from the desk.

  She went over to the fireplace and pulled out one of the loose stones below the mantle, revealing the hiding place where they stored their valuables and important documents. After pulling out the steel box, she removed the lid and placed the folded paper inside. Replacing the lid, she pushed the box back into the space and returned the stone back to its original position.

  As he looked on, Clem felt the urge to ask Nancy what she was doing but was too exhausted to do so. She snuffed out the lamp and removed her robe then slipped into bed with him just as he fell back asleep; making a mental note to himself to ask her about the letter in the morning.

  The next thing he knew, he was being rustled out of his sleep.

  “Clem, wake up! He’s coming!” he heard Nancy’s hushed voice in his ear.

  He opened his eyes. “What? Who’s coming?”

  Just then, he heard the shattering of glass coming from the direction of the front of the house.

  It was pitch dark—the only source of light being the glowing embers in the fireplace. In the dim glow, Clem saw Nancy bound out of bed and run toward the corner of the room where his shotgun was leaning against the wall.

  In an instant, the window slammed open and a bright shaft of light suddenly fell on Nancy.

  “Hold it right there, Missy!” a man’s voice demanded from the direction of the window. There, standing outside, was John Hoffman, holding a flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other. Both were aimed directly at Nancy.

  On impulse, Clem jolted upright and started to leap out of bed. He screamed out loud as a sharp jolt of pain ripped through his right leg, causing him to fall back onto the mattress. Nancy was frozen in her tracks, racked with fear.

  “Clem!” she half-screamed and half-whispered.

  “You both had better shut the hell up or the little lady gets a bullet hole in that pretty little head of hers,” John Hoffman threatened, his words slurring together as though he was drunk.

  Clem stared across the room at him. By the light of the flashlight, he could see John Hoffman’s face set in an expression of rage and malice. He sensed that he was drunk, but apparently not drunk enough to impair his coordination. In a flash, he leaped through the opened window and into the house, the barrel of his pistol remaining pointed at Nancy.

  “That’s a little more like it,” he scowled. “Now, Mrs. Porter, I’d be very grateful if you’d get some light on in this place. Perhaps you could light that lamp over there,” he said, pointing his flashlight at the desk.

  Nancy started moving toward the desk.

  “Slowly,” he warned.

  Nancy reached the desk and picked up a box of matches, her hands trembling. She struck a match and lit the wick of the lamp.

  “There now, that’s much better.”

  Just then, Katie started crying. Nancy looked over at the crib and started moving toward it.

  “Hold it right there!” Hoffman snapped.

  “But the baby . . .”

  “Shut up! One more word and I’ll silence you forever!” he threatened.

  Clem’s mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to get the gun from Hoffman. A sickening feeling came to the pit of his stomach as he realized that he was virtually powerless. Hoffman meant business, and he didn’t doubt for a second that he would shoot Nancy if provoked enough.

  Hoffman sauntered over to Katie’s crib, keeping the pistol pointed at Nancy. “You don’t think I know how to make a baby stop crying?” he said and then reached down and caressed Katie’s chin. “There now, my little girl. Daddy’s come to take you home.”

  “What the hell . . ?” Clem sputtered, his eyes darting from Hoffman to Nancy, stupefied.

  Hoffman glanced over at Clem and said, “You surely don’t think that you are the father of this beautiful child, do you, Clem?”

  Clem let out a gasp. “I am her father!”

  Hoffman guffawed. “Clem, nearly everyone in town knows you aren’t capable of siring a child!”

  Clem’s heart was thumping hard in his chest. “You have no right—”

 
; “Enough!” Hoffman exploded. “I don’t recall telling you that you could speak, Clem. Or have you forgotten?”

  Clem stared at the gun Hoffman was holding and then over at Nancy. When he saw her, his heart skipped a beat. Her expression was not at all what he’d expected to see. He realized then that she knew more about all of this than he did, and he wanted an explanation.

  But he couldn’t speak.

  And Nancy couldn’t speak.

  Katie continued to cry. “Come over here, Mother, and settle down our baby.” Hoffman commanded.

  Nancy glanced over at Clem, her eyes conveying grief and frustration. She walked slowly over to the crib and picked up Katie and then held her close to her bosom. Hoffman touched her chin once again.

  “Take your hands off her!” Clem screamed.

  In a flash, Hoffman ran over and hammered Clem’s jaw with the butt of the pistol.

  “One more word, and your wife is a dead lady,” he snarled, staring directly into Clem’s eyes. “Come over here!” he ordered Nancy.

  Nancy, now in tears, walked slowly over to the bed.

  “Sit down,” Hoffman ordered.

  Nancy sat down, holding Katie firmly against her.

  He eyed Clem again. “I hear you had an accident today down at the creek, Clem. Nasty bump on the head, eh? Seems you messed up your leg, too. Hard to get around on that leg, eh? Well, I can’t chance you interfering with me, in spite of your unfortunate injuries, so I’d better make damn sure you can’t.”

  With that, he pulled out a length of rope from the pocket of his hunting jacket. He tossed it onto Nancy’s lap and said, “Tie this around your husband’s arms, Nancy. And tie it tight—I’ll be watching.”

  He reached over and tried to take Katie away from Nancy but she refused to let go of her daughter.

  Hoffman cocked the trigger of his pistol and pointed it directly at Nancy’s head. “Let me have her,” he demanded.

  Nancy glanced at Clem and then reluctantly allowed Hoffman to take Katie into his arms. He carried her over to the crib and gently laid her down.

  He came back and said, “Tie him up.”

  Nancy grasped the rope and then stood up and walked over to where Clem was lying. He sat upright then tucked his arms against his sides and nodded at her helplessly. She slowly wrapped the rope around him several times then tied it in a knot. When she was finished, she gazed at Clem in the way a loved one would look upon a condemned man who was about to be executed. Clem knew for certain at that moment that he was going to die.

  “Very good, Mrs. Porter. Now, I would like you to remove that little nightgown that you’re wearing.”

  Clem shot a glance at Nancy and then glared at Hoffman. “No!” he cried.

  Hoffman struck Clem on the side of his head with the pistol so fiercely that Clem fell sideways and nearly blacked out.

  “No more, Clem. Or you’re both dead,” Hoffman warned. “Now, are you going to oblige me, Mrs. Porter, or not?”

  As she began removing her nightgown, Nancy wore an expression of utter hopelessness. Clem, reeling in pain from the blow, clenched his teeth and wanted to close his eyes but couldn’t. He watched in dread as his beautiful wife stood naked before him, realizing that he was about to be forced to look on in vain as John Hoffman raped her.

  “My, you’re lovely!” Hoffman gushed. “You look even better than you did the last time I saw you like this. Now, come over here. I want to take a closer look at you.”

  Nancy stepped mechanically toward him, her eyes fixed on Clem. Eyes that said, “Please forgive me. I love you.”

  Clem stared at her in horror and disbelief. Although it was now apparent that something had occurred between his wife and John Hoffman prior to that night, it was irrelevant at the moment. All that was relevant was what was happening now: His wife was being terrorized and forced into submission by a raging lunatic claiming to be the father of his baby.

  “Ah, very nice,” Hoffman wheezed, gaping at Nancy’s breasts. He gently prodded her nipple with the barrel of the pistol and then ran the tip of the barrel slowly over her breast and down her chest to her belly. He poked her navel and then brought it down to her mound of brown hair.

  Clem struggled to free himself but to no avail. Then he bit his tongue nearly in two to keep himself from screaming, feeling the warm, rusty-tasting blood running out the corner of his mouth.

  Nancy’s eyes were shut tight, her head thrown back as Hoffman suddenly rammed the barrel of the pistol into her.

  Nancy screamed. She screamed so hysterically that it startled Hoffman, and he quickly withdrew the pistol. Nancy continued screaming louder and louder, her head still thrown back and her eyelids fluttering. Clem saw the look of panic on Hoffman’s face; as if he had no idea what to do next.

  Then Katie started crying, as if sensing her mother’s distress. Clem watched as Hoffman looked first at Katie’s crib, then at Nancy, and back at Katie again. His eyes were troubled, confused. He glanced down at the gun, which was still pointed at Nancy. Clem could tell that he was deciding whether or not to pull the trigger.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, in a confused fit of insanity, John Hoffman suddenly raised his hand up and brought the butt of the pistol down on Nancy’s head, causing her to fall to the floor. Clem screamed in rage and lunged forward in the bed, only to fall flat on his face.

  Hoffman stared at Clem and then sprung over and cold-cocked his jaw with the pistol.

  Clem saw the flashing of bright lights and fell into semi-consciousness. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and stared down at where Nancy’s limp, lifeless body lay on the floor, her head lying in a pool of blood. Her beautiful eyes were wide-open, frozen in the terror of the moment . . .

  Nancy, his wife; the love of his life, was dead.

  Overwhelmed by grief, Clem felt the tears flowing out of his eyes and down his cheeks, stinging his open wounds. He knew that he should be unconscious now, but adrenaline was preventing it from happening. Grief eventually gave way to vengeance; and he began looking around the room from his limited vantage point for John Hoffman.

  He saw him ranting around the room as if he searching for something. He was at the desk now, opening the drawers and slamming them shut in frustration. He went over to the fireplace and looked around the hearth, cursed and then ran over to the corner of the room where he kept his shotgun. Clem thought for a moment that he was going to take the shotgun and finish him off, but then realized that he could have used his pistol for the same purpose if that had been his intention. Then Hoffman suddenly leaned over and picked something up off the floor that was lying near the shotgun. Clem couldn’t tell what it was at first. Then he started moving toward him; and soon he saw what it was that he’d been looking for.

  A can of kerosene—

  He was going to burn the place down!

  Hoffman glanced over at Clem and then screwed the cap off and began splashing kerosene all over the house in a wild and random fashion. Clem tried to scream in protest, but found that he couldn’t. He tried to move, but he couldn’t.

  He was paralyzed.

  Hoffman continued pouring kerosene everywhere until the can was empty. He then ran over to where Clem was and stared down at him with the eyes of a madman.

  “I’m sorry it had to turn out this way, Clem. But I must take what is rightfully mine. And the little child is mine.”

  Clem’s heart palpitated madly. Katie! he thought. That’s what this is all about! He is going to take his baby daughter and then torch the house with Nancy and himself in it—destroying any evidence of what happened!

  And then it hit him. That was why he hadn’t shot either of them! The slugs would have given him away once the authorities had investigated the remains of their bodies.

  Hoffman turned and ran over to the crib. He swooped Katie up in one arm and ran toward the door. When he reached the door, he opened it up and then pulled out a box of matches and struck one on the bottom of his shoe. He waited
a moment until the flame was strong and then tossed the match onto the floor.

  In a matter of seconds, there were flames everywhere. Hoffman watched for a moment and then fled out the door and into the darkness of the night.

  Clem lay frozen and watched as his house caught fire all around him. The fire spread quickly, and before long the bed was totally engulfed in flames. He could feel the intensity of the heat, and eventually could smell his own flesh burning as the flames swiftly engulfed him.

  He stared through the inferno at his wife lying on the floor, her entire body aflame. He thought about her and his daughter as he breathed in his last few gulps of smoke-laden air and felt a stab of sorrow.

  It should never have ended this way.

  He prayed to God to save their souls—and prayed that somehow, some day, Katie could avenge this unholy act of treachery.

  “Somehow, God, let this murderous man be punished for his sins.”

  And then, Clem took his final breath of life . . .

  CHAPTER 12

  It was nearly five in the morning when Emily Hoffman wearily opened the door and stepped inside her house. The moment she saw Cassie, she knelt down and hugged her tight, tears streaming down her face.

  “God, Cassie. What have I done?” she cried mournfully.

  She sat down on the floor and wept as Cassie licked her face affectionately, sensing that her master was distraught. Emily shut her eyes and tried desperately to blot out the events of the day, but was unable to. The images were just too real, too fresh in her mind.