The First Church

by Ron Ripley

He did it twice more before he finally pressed ‘stop’ and straightened up.

  “He wants to know where his friends are,” Shane said. “He doesn’t want to be alone.”

  “Damn,” Brian said, dropping into the chair.

  “You said there were two of them?” Shane said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  “Yes,” Brian answered, nodding. “But the ghost we spoke with, Mr. Boyd, he said there were six of them.”

  “And you have two?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where are the other four?” Shane asked.

  Brian shrugged. “There’s more, though.”

  “What?” Shane said.

  “Mr. Boyd said the dead men like to have saké,” Brian said.

  “Okay. Fair enough,” Shane said. “I mean, I prefer whiskey myself.”

  “Same here. The problem, though, is you have to have the skulls with you.”

  “Oh,” Shane said. “And we don’t know where the skulls are?”

  Brian shook his head.

  “Any idea of where the first two are?” Shane asked.

  “Nope,” Brian said, sighing. “Just somewhere in the church.”

  “But it still leaves four more to find?” Shane asked.

  “And we need to find how the damned things are getting into the building to begin with.”

  “True,” Shane agreed. After a minute, he said, “Do you want to go over there tonight?”

  “What, to the church?” Brian asked.

  “Sure,” Shane said. “Why not?”

  “No, not tonight,” Brian said. “We’ll have to clear it with the Reverend first. I really don’t want to go in without his permission, or without anyone knowing.”

  “Yeah,” Shane said, glancing at the laptop. “Our little, headless buddy there didn’t seem like he was a particularly pleasant fellow.”

  Brian remembered the sight of the boy being blinded.

  “No,” Brian said. “He’s not pleasant at all.”

  Chapter 31: In the Basement

  Miles was tired.

  Exhausted, really.

  But he had calmed Sato and the others down. He was still a little drunk, and foolishly he had driven back into the center of Rye.

  Sato’s skull was in the backpack, and he needed to get the ghost into the Church. He had even brought a bottle of saké for the others, too. They might not kill him, but they could certainly hurt him.

  And he didn’t want to be hurt.

  The wheels of the car scraped against the granite curb in front of the Church, and he swore. A flat tire wouldn’t help anyone at this point. Especially himself, if a cop rolled up and found him with a skull in the bag.

  And where did you get this, Mr. Cunningham? He thought.

  Well, officer, you see, there’s a funny story about this skull, Cunningham thought.

  I don’t think there’s anything funny about a skull.

  Cunningham shook away the imaginary conversation and turned the engine off. He took the key out, accidentally dropped it, grumbled and picked it back up. Carefully, he tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans and grabbed the bag from the passenger’s seat.

  Good God, I really am still drunk, Cunningham thought as he stumbled out of the car. He looked around furtively and was pleased to find himself alone on the street.

  It’s three in the morning, he told himself. Rye’s dead at this time of the night. Day. Whatever it is.

  He closed the door gently, just enough so the interior light went out.

  With cautious steps, he walked up the long path to the back of the Church, and he nearly giggled as the Scooby Doo theme song leaped into his head.

  He shushed himself and managed to remain quiet as he got to the side door.

  It took him a minute to dig the key out and let himself in, but he managed.

  Yet once he stepped inside, he froze.

  The lights were on in the basement.

  And he could hear voices.

  A moment later though, he realized he could understand the words. Someone was speaking in Japanese.

  Suddenly, his back became cold. Sato was awake.

  Cunningham hurried down the stairs, missed the last two and sprawled into the room. He landed in a thick, dark liquid and his hands slipped as he struggled to get back to his feet.

  Once he had gotten up, he looked around the room and came to a shocked stop.

  The old wooden floor was coated with blood.

  Far more blood than Cunningham had ever seen before. It was as though someone had taken buckets and mopped the floor in the dark, sticky fluid.

  Bits of flesh, bone and offal decorated the walls.

  A woman had been butchered.

  Miles Cunningham knew the person had been female because the dead men had neatly arranged her clothes on the floor in the center of the room. They were stained with blood, but they were undeniably feminine.

  Hideaki and Tenchi sat in a pair of folding chairs by the door to the furnace. They stared at him with hate-filled eyes, and suddenly he was quite glad he had bothered to bring a bottle of saké. The thought of another cup of the liquor turned his stomach, but it would be better to be sick than to be dead.

  When Cunningham looked at them, he remembered his manners and bowed low.

  Sato appeared at his side, and as Miles turned to look at him, the ghost struck him. The blow was cold and terrible. It sent Cunningham sprawling into the blood, and he closed his mouth in time to avoid a mouthful of foul remains.

  “Fool!” Sato shouted. “Why haven’t you brought the others?”

  Cunningham got to his hands and knees. He kept his head bent, and his eyes averted.

  “I cannot risk moving you all at once, Sir,” Cunningham said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

  “You shouldn’t have moved any of us at all,” Sato snapped, stepping closer. It was strange to see the ghost’s boots so clearly, and yet observe how they left no trace through the blood.

  “Did he bring us anything to drink?” Tenchi asked.

  “Saké,” Sato replied.

  “Well, let him serve it,” Tenchi continued. “We’re thirsty. The woman took a long time to die.”

  “Who was she?” Sato asked.

  “Practice,” Tenchi answered. “Now come, brother, let him serve us. The work was harder than it looks.”

  “Get up,” Sato snarled.

  Cunningham hurried to his feet and raced to get the saké ready.

  He ignored what little remained of the murdered woman.

  He had his own life to save.

  Chapter 32: A Ridiculous Discussion

  Luke Allen’s apartment was small and austere, with no decorations of any kind.

  Dan sat in an uncomfortable ladder-back chair while Luke sat on the couch. The Reverend sat in a kitchen chair which had been brought into the small parlor for the occasion. He held what looked to be the phone in question, and Dan resisted the urge to snatch it out of the man’s hands.

  Patience, Dan told himself. Patience.

  “Detective,” Luke said, “in a minute, the Reverend is going to hand you the phone, which I’m sure he’s holding onto for dear life right now.”

  Dan nodded, remembered Luke couldn’t see, and said, “Yes. He is.”

  “I know. His breathing hasn’t slowed down since he heard you walking up my stairs,” Luke said easily. “What you’re going to see is going to be disturbing. I heard it all, and I know what screams of pain sound like, having voiced a few myself. I’m hoping you have an open mind, and after you see it, well, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves here, Mr. Allen,” Dan said, putting on his best ‘don’t mess with me, I’m a trooper’ voice.

  Luke merely smiled at the tone. “I’m not, Detective. I’m just letting you know what I’m hoping for.”

  “Fair enough,” Dan said.

  “Reverend,” Luke said. “Would you be kind enough to hand the phone to the det
ective, please?”

  The Reverend nodded and wordlessly gave the cell to Dan.

  Dan smiled his thanks, took the device and saw a video had been set ready to play. He glanced at Reverend Joseph and the man nodded.

  With a shrug, Dan started the recording.

  When it had finished Dan’s heart thumped loudly against his chest. Silently, he played it again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Finally, he pressed ‘stop’ and put the phone down on his lap.

  “Is this real?” he asked after a minute. He knew it was. Felt the horrific truth of it deep in his gut. But still, he needed to ask.

  “Yes,” the Reverend answered.

  Dan didn’t want it to be true. He wanted it to be a terrible joke. Some sick prank.

  There were two boys, blinded by something, and in the hospital. And Officer Raelynn was dead.

  The situation was a serious one, and Dan needed to think out of the box.

  The kids had said it was a ghost who had blinded them, Dan remembered.

  And why would the teenagers lie about it? There would have been every reason in the world to tell the truth. Who’s going to lie about being blinded by a ghost?

  There was also no reason for grown men to tell the same lie, if indeed it was a lie.

  Dan sighed, shook his head and looked up at Luke and asked, “What’s the favor?”

  “We believe we may know how to stop anything else bad from happening,” Luke said carefully.

  “What do you need from me?” Dan asked.

  “Years ago,” Luke said, “back in nineteen sixty-one, I think, Mr. Jonathan Boyd stopped an attempted burglary. The name of the burglar was never released. He was under eighteen.”

  “What does it have to do with this?” Dan said, gesturing towards the phone.

  “The ghost you see in the film,” Luke continued, “belongs to a skull that Mr. Boyd had in his possession. There were six skulls altogether. Yesterday, a second ghost appeared, which means a second skull was placed somewhere in the Church. Not only do we need to find the skulls in the Church, detective, but we need to find the skulls which haven’t been brought in yet, as well.”

  “And you think the original burglar might have something to do with this?” Dan asked, not quite following Luke’s line of reasoning.

  “When Mr. Boyd died in January of nineteen sixty-eight, all of his memorabilia disappeared,” Luke said. “I know because I asked around after I got home from Vietnam. The young man who was arrested was found, according to the newspaper, to have other stolen items.”

  “And you think he may have gone for Mr. Boyd’s items after the man’s death in nineteen sixty-eight,” Dan said, nodding his head. “Yes. I can see how it can work. So, what happens after we find these skulls? Do we destroy them?”

  “Not according to Mr. Boyd,” the Reverend said, speaking up for the first time. “You see, we managed to speak with him in the morning, and he says the men like to drink their saké. And to be left alone, essentially.”

  Dan frowned, tapped on the phone with one finger and then he nodded. “Hold on, hold, Reverend. You’re telling me you actually spoke with a ghost? Now listen, I’m having a hard enough time wrapping my head around the whole concept of ghosts. But are you saying you not only had a conversation with one, but the damned things drink, too?

  “Yes,” the Reverend said hesitantly. “It’s difficult for me as well. But I can only tell you what I have been told, Detective.”

  “Alright,” Dan said with a sigh, shaking his head “Alright. I guess it can’t get any crazier, can it? I’ll try and dig around. See if anything comes up. I’m not going to put this phone into evidence because, quite frankly, no one will believe what’s on it. I’m still not sure I fully believe it myself, but I don’t know if there’s any other explanation for what was seen. What I do know, though, Reverend Malleus, is you need to keep everyone out of the Church. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” the Reverend said. “We were already planning on doing so. We don’t want anyone else hurt.”

  “No,” Dan said, looking down at the phone on his leg. “No, we don’t want anyone else hurt at all.”

  Chapter 33: Jim Makes a Friend

  Jim sat on the porch on the side of the house and watched Lisa get home from shopping. She caught sight of him on the porch and waved. He blushed and waved back as she smiled, grabbed a couple of grocery bags out of the trunk of her mom’s minivan and helped to bring them in.

  “She is a very pretty young woman.”

  Jim nearly jumped out of his seat and stared, surprised at a man who stood on the porch. Yet the man didn’t look right, almost as if he was fuzzy around the edges.

  Jim wondered if it was a trick of the light.

  The man gave him a quick, awkward smile. “I am sorry. I certainly did not mean to frighten you.”

  Jim cleared his throat. “It’s okay. Can I help you?”

  The man shook his head. He was curious looking, almost a little flat, as though he was on the porch, but he wasn’t on the porch.

  The stranger flashed Jim a tight smile.

  “Please forgive my awkwardness,” the man said.

  “Sure,” Jim said, grinning. “No worries.”

  “I do not have any worries,” he said, frowning. “Or are you saying you have no worries?”

  Jim opened his mouth to answer, but the man continued to speak.

  “Is it just a phrase?” the man asked.

  “Yes,” Jim nodded. “Just a saying.”

  The stranger nodded. “Excellent.”

  “May I help you?” Jim asked.

  “Yes, please,” the man said. “You, your grandfather, and Brian Roy, you are all going to attempt to restrain and detain half a dozen ghosts?”

  “How do you know?” Jim said, confused.

  “I know,” the stranger said. “I must speak with Brian Roy, but I am not sure he will speak with me.”

  “Why?” Jim asked.

  “I gave him a gift,” the man said. “I do not speak the exact truth. I forced a gift upon him. Yes, it was forced. Therefore, it is not unreasonable to believe Brian Roy may not wish to speak with me. I have come, then, to see if you will ask him to speak with me.”

  “Um, sure,” Jim said, feeling confused. “I don’t know who you are, though.”

  “Oh yes,” the man said, his eyes widening. “A name would help. I am sorry. I had forgotten. My name is Leonidas. But you can call me Leo.”

  Chapter 34: Interrupted

  Brian was almost asleep when there was a knock at his door.

  He sat up and listened.

  Wrong room? he thought sleepily, stifling a yawn.

  “Hello? Brian?”

  Damn it, he sighed. He got out of bed, pulled on his jeans and a tee shirt and walked to the door. He looked through the peephole and saw Jim Bogue.

  Brian unlocked the door and opened it. “Hey Jim, everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Jim said, shuffling his feet and looking embarrassed. “Someone asked me to speak to you because he’s afraid you won’t want to speak to him.”

  Brian frowned, confused. “Come on in. Take a seat, kid.”

  He stepped aside and let the teenager walk past him. Brian closed the door but left it unlocked. Jim went to the room’s desk, pulled its chair out and sat down.

  Brian went to the easy chair, grabbed a bottle of water off the small table and had a drink. “Sorry, I don’t have anything to offer you.”

  “No worries,” Jim said, smiling. “You know, I’ve never been in a hotel room before.”

  “What do you think?” Brian asked, chuckling.

  “Just makes me think of Law and Order,” Jim said, “like someone’s hiding from the police.”

  “Well, thankfully, I’m not,” Brian said. “Anyway, how’d you know where I was?”

  “I figured you’d be here,” Jim said. “Closest hotel. And I called my cousin, Freddy, he works in the lobby down
stairs. He told me you were here and what room you were in.”

  Brian laughed and shook his head. “Fair enough. So, let me get this straight, someone came to you and asked if you could come speak to me?”

  “Yeah,” Jim nodded. “I was sitting on my porch, Grandpa and the Rev were upstairs with the Detective, and all of a sudden there was this guy there beside me. I never even heard him come up the stairs or anything. And our porch, it’s really, really squeaky. He was kind of odd, though.”

  “How so?” Brian asked.

  “Just, I don’t know, awkward? Like he wasn’t sure if he should say certain things. And he talked kind of funny.”

  “Did he have an accent?” Brian said.

  “No, nothing like that. I mean,” Jim paused, frowned and then he said, “It’s like, instead of using a contraction, he uses both words. Instead of ‘don’t’, he said ‘do not.’”

  Brian frowned. “Why is he afraid to talk to me?”

  “He said he gave you a gift, but he isn’t sure if you liked it,” Jim said, shaking his head. “Like I said, he was a little strange.”

  “Did he tell you his name?” Brian asked, taking a drink of water.

  Jim nodded. “He said his name was Leo.”

  Brian put the bottle on the table and looked at the young teenager. “I’m sorry, Jim, could you say his name again, please?”

  “Leo,” Jim said. “Well, Leonidas, but he told me I could call him Leo if I wanted.”

  “And he talked a little differently?” Brian asked softly.

  “Yup,” Jim said, nodding.

  “And he wants to speak with me?” Brian said.

  “He told me he did,” Jim answered. He looked at Brian. “Are you okay? You look kind of sick.”

  “No, no. I’m okay. Did he say how he would get back in touch with you? Once you got my answer?”

  Jim nodded. “He said he would stop by my house again.”

  “Alright,” Brian said. He cleared his throat, had another drink and smiled tiredly at Jim. “When he visits, please tell him he can see me whenever he wants. I would be very happy to talk with him.”

  “Okay,” Jim said, standing up. “It was really strange, you know.”