David had flipped ahead to the rear of the notebook and found the last entry. His heart raced madly in his chest as he remembered the passage. I can no longer contain myself; these horrible murders must stop. The only way I can warn others is to make this story public and step out of the shadows I have sprung from. I now know the true reason behind Long’s death, and the tragic lives of his later contemporaries. It is good for those that came after Long and have tried to emulate him have never discovered the true secret—
But wait! The damp odor of rot invades my nostrils. They’ve found out what my plans are! I don’t know how, but they’ve found—
It is there that the journal ends.
And it was that which sent David racing to his car, the ancient book and journal in hand. His mind pieced together the events by pure speculation. Justin moved into the house outside of Lancaster in January of 1939, a month after the former resident suddenly disappeared. Was it possible he’d moved into the home of a curious researcher delving into the dark secrets of the Necronomicon, a researcher who’d gotten too close to the truth and was silenced, only to discover the same ancient book and become possessed by the Watcher himself?
It was this thought that rose in his mind as he drove through town. Justin obviously intended The Watcher from the Grave to be a warning, and his enlisting in the armed services was most likely an attempt at escaping the horrors in that rambling farmhouse. Likewise, his moving around the country, his degeneration into alcoholism, were all results of the plans he now knew what the Watcher had in store for earth. Dr. Johnson’s words rang in his mind. Was it possible that upon his death Justin had received some sort of revelation? Could it have been that which sent his heart into complete arrest?
He parked in front of Justin Grave’s former home. A single light glowed from the porch, along with a light from the kitchen. A tan BMW was parked in the driveway; it looked like the real estate agent was still there.
David strode up to the front door, his mind already formulating a story to pitch to Geri about his sudden return. The door opened immediately after he knocked, and Geri’s face smiled up at him. “Hi! Surprised to see you back in this neck of the woods.”
David stepped hesitantly inside. “I was just wondering if I could take a look around the place,” he said. “Get a feel for what Justin lived in...you know.”
Geri nodded. “I understand. Help yourself.”
David nodded, relieved that she wasn’t putting up resistance. He moved into the barren living room with its large stone fireplace as Geri retreated to the kitchen. He could feel the cold mist of the night seeking its way inside the comfiness of the house. David stood and closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a feel for the room. He took a deep breath. He could imagine Justin living out his last days in this house, harboring the dark secrets that had plummeted him to depression and alcoholism, hiding the secrets that held the very fabric of sanity together. David exhaled and opened his eyes, taking a step toward the oak-paneled study off the living room. The room gave off a warm vibe, expelling the weird thoughts that had just clouded his mind. The hominess settled into his system, beckoning him to relax.
The sound of clicking heels on the bare floor caught his attention and he whirled around. Geri stood in the threshold of the study, a smoky silhouette that gained form and substance as she stepped into the room. “I was kind of hoping you’d come back,” she said, stepping into the room. David forced out a smile as she stepped into the light of the waning moon filtering through the trees outside and shining through the large French windows of the study. The top two buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned, exposing the creamy top of her luscious cleavage. Her lips were moist and slightly parted, her eyes holding a feral secret. She stood in front of him, smiling wanfully.
“Yeah, well, I’m kinda glad I came back, too,” David said. He thought that maybe after he checked the house out he would ask her to dinner or something, but she beat him to it.
She stepped closer to him, her hands reaching up to touch his chest lightly. “I was attracted to you the minute I saw you,” she whispered. David’s adrenaline surged, the breathing space in his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight. His mind fumbled for something else to say, like well, I think you’re attractive, too. Why don’t we split and have a drink, when his thoughts were obliterated by her kiss. He returned the kiss in surprise as her body melted into his. Before he knew it, her hands were roaming all over his body and his mind screamed for something rational to say.
As if reading his mind, she said, “It’s okay baby, nobody will disturb us.” Her fingers fumbled on the buttons of his cotton shirt as her lips kissed his chest. David was filled with an insane feeling that was beginning to make him feel a little stupid. Don’t you think we’d have the patience and maturity to wait till we get to her place, or my hotel room, before we begin commencing the bone dance? But proper sexual etiquette seemed the farthest thing from Geri’s mind as she undid his jeans and took him hungrily in her mouth.
David groaned and a moment later they were both nude on the floor. Geri straddled him, riding him furiously. David cupped and kneaded her large breasts as he moved inside her, not caring anymore about what was proper anymore, just going with the natural flow of sexual adrenaline. Geri moaned and bucked more frantically, impaling herself on him as they raced toward climax, spurning his orgasm on until sweet release came.
She collapsed on top of him in a heap, her face buried in the hollow of his shoulder. He held her, still inside her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The sudden coolness of the night air pricked his skin, raising it to gooseflesh. The sudden change in the atmosphere raised a warning of awareness as Geri kissed his neck and raised herself up.
There were shadows materializing in the study.
David raised his head at the sudden intrusion, an icy stab of fear penetrating his gut as Geri pushed him down, the expression on her face changed to an icy, cold mask. The shadowy shapes moved forward and David’s eyes grew wide with fright as he saw what entered the room.
Most of them were living, breathing human beings. But they were silent, unemotional and rigid. They stood staring down at him as a lone figure stepped forward from the circle. David’s mind reeled as recognition set in. His throat locked in a sudden scream.
Justin Grave’s rotting visage peered down at him with a leering grin. Twin orbs of blazing light from beyond the stars shined from the hollow eye sockets of his skull. The black suit he had been buried in was dirt-ridden and crusty with mold and white squirming things. He smelled of ripe, rotting flesh. A silent hiss escaped from his parted jaws. David’s mind reeled as his body tried to scramble to his feet. Geri slipped off him and pinned him down with her knees as two others moved in to assist her. A rag was stuffed in his mouth and David writhed and kicked at his attackers. The rotting remnants of Justin Grave hunkered down before him.
“The same thing almost happened to Justin fifty years ago,” Geri said, her voice dead to emotion. “Lucky for him, he chose to later embrace us rather than expose us. James Long wasn’t so lucky.”
David squirmed in his captor’s grip as the rest of the congregation moved forward. Geri’s regal features hovered over David, a grinning parody of evil. “When you become one with us, you become immortal. All it takes is the willingness to serve the Master.”
David squirmed more frantically as Geri moved aside to allow Justin Grave’s rotting corpse to shamble over him. It lowered its pasty, stinking bulk over him, its lichen gray hands grasping David firmly. David’s skin recoiled from their damp, sticky touch. His stomach lurched like a tilt ‘o wheel, threatening to upheave its contents.
“And now,” Geri whispered, standing nude with the others who formed a rough semi-circle around David’s prostrate body struggling on the ground, “Justin Grave will make his sacrifice that will throw open the gates from beyond the spheres.”
Another muffled scream was launched out of David’s parched throat as Justin lowered his head to David’s throat
. But it wasn’t Justin’s gaping jaws that made him scream, rather it was the sudden sense of recognition that flooded his senses. For the insane light that burned in the hollows of Justin Grave’s eye sockets had been described in The Watcher from the Grave and they were the livid, burning evil of the Watcher himself!
The last thing David felt was Justin sinking his rotting, yellow teeth into the tender meat of his throat as he began to feed.
Sending Them Home
SUNDAY NIGHT, AUGUST 16.
Like most of the women I killed, when I killed Brenda Thomason it was flawless.
First things first: I don’t kill just women. I kill men, too, but I generally find women easier. I just want to make it known now that I am not some woman hater or something. I have no preference over men or women. I just find, through experience, that women are much easier to kill then men.
We were sitting in her parked car in the parking lot of the Grace Baptist Church in Whittier, California when I did it. I’d just met her that afternoon at church services. She struck me as a very devout Christian lady, devoted to her faith and her Lord. That much I was able to get when we met after services and, without even knowing me, embraced me lovingly, much in the way you would expect Jesus Himself to take you in his arms and love you. I hugged her back and we started talking immediately. Naturally, because I was new to the church (I’d just stumbled on the church that morning; in fact, I’d only been in the Los Angeles area for twenty-four hours) she wanted to welcome me appropriately as a member of the congregation. I made it obvious to her that I was saved, reborn in the spirit, and she introduced me to some of the other congregation members. Then after some spirited conversation and prayer, she invited me to join her and other congregation members for an early Sunday dinner at a nearby Denny’s. I was mighty hungry, and said yes.
After dinner we sat in our booth and talked awhile. Once in the parking lot we said our goodbyes to the other folks, prayed together again, and the other church members started heading toward their cars. We’d had a highly spirited conversation at the restaurant; I told them little about my own Christian walk and sought to learn more about them. And talk they did! They were just as fired up for the Lord as I assumed, and more than once references were made that although it was much better to walk in the spirit than to live in the flesh, they couldn’t wait till their eternal reward in Heaven with Jesus. Brenda had been very adamant about this, a look of ecstatic bliss on her face as she confessed that she “just could not wait to be up in Heaven with her Heavenly Father.” Everybody was smiling in anticipation, the way a child will smile in glee when told that he was going to be getting his favorite toy very soon. Anticipation. What a wonderful thing that is!
It was dark when we finally left the restaurant. I’d ridden with Brenda in her car, and after we left I asked if she would drive me back to the church where I’d left my car. We pulled into the parking lot but it was empty. I explained to her that I’d parked out on the street and she nodded. Then she killed the engine, and I turned to her and laid a gentle hand on her forearm. “Thank you for your wonderful hospitality, Brenda. I feel very blessed to have met you and your friends. I think I’m really going to enjoy Grace Baptist Church.”
Brenda smiled, a glazed look on her face that was so easily common with born-agains. “I just thank the Lord that he brought you here into our lives, Cliff.” (I’d told them my name was Cliff Roberts, I was twenty-four, and had just moved to Whittier to take care of my ailing parents. Truth is I don’t know where my daddy is, and my momma is dead, but I’ll get to that later).
“So am I,” I said.
“Let’s pray,” she murmured. She closed her eyes and took my hands, bowing her head. I bowed my head but kept my eyes open as she prayed. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for bringing Cliff into our lives today. I pray that you draw us closer to you Lord, so that we may do your will. I pray that you continue to work through us to glorify you. Lord, I thank you for preparing your Kingdom for us, and cannot wait to be with you. God, it is such a burden to be here on this wicked earth, but I know you have prepared a place for me in Heaven. I pray that until then you continue to enrich us in your blessings. In Christ’s name, Amen.”
“Amen,” I said, then I leaned forward, motivated now after hearing her confirm her wishes in her prayer. I locked my hands around her throat and strangled her.
It didn’t take long. Less than a minute later she got her wish.
She bounced up to meet Jesus.
WHEN BRENDA THOMASON was dead and with Jesus in Heaven, I opened the passenger side door and carefully dragged her body out. There was a trash bin at the end of the parking lot and I carried her over to it. The lid was open, so I dumped her in. I smiled down at her for a moment, that warm feeling after I have helped a Christian get to Heaven rushing through me. Then I moved some garbage over her to conceal her, then headed back to her car. I leaned into the passenger side, rifled through Brenda’s purse for her keys and wallet. I took out the money she had in her wallet–a little over two hundred dollars–and trotted back to the garbage bin and tossed the purse in the bin. Then I went back to the car, got behind the wheel, started the car, and eased out of the parking lot. I didn’t turn the headlights on until I was on the street, heading toward Whittier Boulevard.
I knew I couldn’t hold on to her car forever. She would be reported missing by tomorrow at the earliest (the body would be found by tomorrow morning I was sure). But I had a few hours, and the car had a full tank of gas in it. I thought it best that I drive east towards Palm Springs and get a motel room for the night. I was tired and I needed to sleep (I almost always feel a tremendous sense of what I can only describe as a combination of fatigue and relief after I send a Christian home), but I also knew I had to get as far away from Whittier as possible.
As I drove I thought about the last two years. The only truth to what I told Brenda and her church friends was my age. I turned twenty-four this past April. Other than that, everything else was a lie.
(And how I wanted to send all of them home. That was on my mind almost the whole time we sat in that restaurant, replaying my main fantasy, which is sending a whole bunch of them home at once. Perhaps someday I can do this. I can drive a moving truck full of what Timothy McVeigh used to bomb the Federal building in Oklahoma City to a football stadium where a Promise Keepers Rally was going and hope for the best.)
I’ll only tell you my first name in this account, which is Gary. But not my last name, just in case I ever get separated from this notebook and the wrong people find it. But I will say that I was born and raised in northern Alabama, and that I never knew my daddy. Don’t know how I could have since I later found out he was one of momma’s regular customers. She thought she had it pegged between five or six guys, but one of them was a nigger, and I know I ain’t got no nigger blood in me otherwise momma probably would have treated me worse than she did when I was growing up. The other two or three I never even seen, and another one was incredibly fat and oily looking (I’m very thin and don’t have the broad forehead or fish lips this guy has), and another one just didn’t resemble me in any way.
The first twelve or thirteen years of my life are pretty unremarkable; momma and I lived in a trailer just north of Montgomery and I had many friends. Mom had a lot of biker type friends with tattoos and big motorcycles. She also used to do a lot of speed and coke, and sometimes when she was on the stuff she could be a heller. Knocked me around more than once, I might add (I have a two inch scar that runs along the base of my temple that was caused when the side of my head hit a nail sticking out of the wall when she hit me). But then when I was fourteen or so, she and her boyfriend went to church one day and came back changed people (this boyfriend was one of the nicer ones, guy named Frank Johnson who was a real southern gentleman; never hit my momma and never raised a hand towards me. I felt bad killing him, but he wanted to go home and the reason I killed him was to send him home to Jesus). Momma said she was saved and that she had been reborn
again.
From that point on life sure was different.
For one, instead of never going to church, or only going to church when she felt guilty about something she’d done, she was going to church every Sunday and even on weekdays. Her and Frank went to Bible studies and church socials. Mom stopped wearing jeans and t-shirts, started dressing more lady-like, and such. Frank even got himself a haircut and a shave. They still looked like hard-asses, what with all them tattoos and such, especially Frank’s (Frank had once spent time in prison and some of his prison tattoos snaked up his neck to the bottom of his jaw). They even changed personality-wise a little bit. Got more nicer. Stopped snorting speed and smoking dope so much (Frank sometimes still dipped in the till, but Momma stopped completely). Even paid more attention to me.
This went on for about three years. By this time I was a teenager, and like all teenagers I rebelled at first. I surely hated church, hated even more their new lifestyle. See, shortly before they got themselves saved I was rarin’ to go to this big biker rally they went to every year. The year before they got themselves saved I got to go to one of their parties and the sight of seeing all those crazed, drunken biker women dancing to the Allman Brothers Band and Lynyrd Skynyrd music got me right horny, ‘cause sometimes the girls would go topless and shake their titties. The older guys that would befriend me at these parties promised me that the next year when I came to the rally they would get me laid. Well, the following year momma and Frank got themselves saved and the biker rally was now seen as a big den of sin and I was deprived of not only fun, but getting some pussy as well. Because they tried to shelter me more now, it took another year before I finally did get some pussy and even then it was from some old whore on the west side of town who was twice as old as momma. But hey, pussy’s pussy, right?
When the Darkness Falls Page 15