by Tom Lewis
“I laughed so fucking hard when Daryl said that,” Cassie heard Tina say to Cindy, and then she mimicked Daryl’s voice: “Uh. No.”
Cindy exploded in laughter. “I know, right? Oh, and the way Cassie just sat there with her mouth open.”
“Duh!” Came Tina’s voice again. “Loser. You couldn’t even die right.”
Both girls burst out in laughter.
“I mean, seriously,” Cindy jumped back in. “How hard is it? You’re halfway there already.”
“Just don’t start breathing,” came Tina’s voice again. “Boom! Done!”
They were laughing again. Cassie heard the faucets turn on briefly then the air dryers.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll forget to wake up tomorrow,” said Cindy, and they laughed as they walked to the door and headed out.
“Fingers crossed on that one,” came Tina’s voice, then the door clicked shut.
Cassie waited inside the stall for the bell to ring. When it finished ringing, she grabbed her backpack and hurried from the bathroom. The hallway was empty as she raced down it and out the double doors at the end.
****
The cafes and shops along the town’s Main Street were closing down for the night. Many already had their “Closed” signs in the windows as Cassie strolled past.
Main Street passed for downtown in Capetown. It had its rows of elms like the rest of the town, and its sidewalks were lined with gas lamps. Cassie hated that it closed so early, because it’s where most of the cool shops were at.
She stopped outside the pet shop, which had already closed for the night, and looked in the long window that lined its front. The lights were already off inside, but there was enough light from the gas lamps to see in.
A cage of young puppies sat near the window, and they watched excitedly at the stranger staring in at them. It reminded her of when they picked up Rex as a pup, and she wanted to adopt them all.
Something stood behind her in the reflection. It was tall and dark, like the silhouette of a man.
She startled and spun around... but no one was there. She looked both ways down the block, but there were only a handful of pedestrians at the far end. She turned back to the window, but there was nothing in the reflection this time.
The hairs on her arms prickled. She hurried off down the block to the wharf district, where its cafes and taverns stayed open late. She bought a soda, then took it with her down to the pier.
She strolled out onto the town’s wooden pier, passing boats that rocked gently in the tide. She sat down at the end and let her feet dangle over the side. A crescent moon hung in the sky, and its light rippled across the black waters of the sound.
Just a hallucination, she told herself. Nothing had been behind her in the reflection. It had been the gas lamps playing tricks on her eyes.
A chill breeze had picked up while she sat there, and it whistled through the masts of the nearby boats. Something in its sound caught her attention. It was subtle, and there wasn’t any particular quality in it she could pick out; it just felt off. She looked back at the masts as they swayed gently, and flags flapped in the breeze. It was gone now, whatever that odd feeling was.
It would be much later, as she looked back on that night, that she realized the breeze had borne a warning.
He was coming.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Lighthouse
It was her second day of school, and Cassie woke up already dreading it. Alison had breakfast cooking by the time she stumbled downstairs and plopped down at the table.
Alison looked over from the stove and gave her a smile. “There’s coffee made, if you want some.”
She did. “Thanks,” Cassie mumbled as she shuffled over, poured herself a cup, and took it back to the table. She’d barely slept at all that night after returning from the pier. That reflection, or hallucination, or whatever it was she’d seen in the window, had her worried.
“Eggs?” Alison asked.
“Okay.”
Alison scooped some eggs on a plate and set it on the table in front of Cassie. “You ready for your second day of school?”
Cassie shook her head. “Nope.”
“How was your first day?”
Cassie poked at her eggs. “Sucked.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Were the kids being mean?”
“Can we not talk about it.”
“Okay,” Alison said and walked back over to the stove. There was a photo on the counter next to the stove that she picked up. “I found this photo in an old scrapbook last night and thought you might like it.”
She took it over to the table and set it in front of Cassie. It showed two eight-year-old kids in their Halloween costumes — they were Cassie and Justin, dressed as a princess and a cowboy.
Alison couldn’t resist a chuckle. “You two were so cute. Have you talked to Justin lately?”
Cassie shook her head, continuing to stare at the photo. It was yet another reminder of the happy days of the before. “No. Not in a while,” she said.
“That’s too bad. You two always seemed so happy together.”
Cassie nodded. They had been. And she missed it. She set the photo down and poked at her eggs again.
Alison watched this. She had hoped the photo would make Cassie happy, but it obviously hadn’t. She wrapped her arms around her from behind and gave her a kiss on top of her head. “I love you, Cass. Things are gonna get better. I promise.”
“I hope so.”
****
It was a lot more of the same for Cassie as she walked through the school hallway that day. There were the blatant stares and abrupt stops to conversations, but there seemed to be less snickering. Hopefully that meant the novelty was wearing off.
She spotted Justin down the hallway as he tugged his backpack from his locker. He and the other jocks were in their football jerseys for game day, and the cheer squad was running around in their cheerleader skirts. It was all part of the school spirit camaraderie Cassie had once felt a part of, back in the before. And along with goofy Halloween costumes, and dollar nights at the Mayflower, it was something she missed.
“Hey,” she said as she strolled up to Justin. “Remember me?” She had decided to wear a smile to see how it felt, but right now it was feeling really forced and fake. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.
“Hey,” he said back as he slammed his locker shut, then noticed her hair. “You got your old hair back.”
She had forgotten about the hair. She drew several strands in front of her face to give herself something to fidget with.
“Yeah. Black wasn’t really doing it for me.”
“Brown looks better.”
“Thanks,” she said, and this time her smile was real.
Cassie was lucky that Justin had never encountered her up close during the months of the Disturbances, so what he knew of them came only second hand. They mostly sounded to him like BS, or people exaggerating. He’d seen her with the black hair and goth clothes from a distance but didn’t see how that made her dangerous or scary.
But still, a lot of people did fear her, or at least used to, and even more disliked her, as was becoming apparent from the stares they were receiving as people walked past.
Cassie seemed oblivious to the stares; she wasn’t, but over the years she’d gotten used to them.
“So. Game tonight?” she said, nodding to his jersey.
“Yeah. We play Oakwood.”
“Oh. Cool. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” He noticed even more stares now and felt like he had broken some rule. Cassie also noticed, and now she noticed Justin noticing.
“I should get to class,” he said. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he felt like he was under a microscope from all those stares.
“My mom found this in a scrapbook,” she quickly cut in before he could escape. She dug through her backpack and handed him
the photo of them.
He cringed and let out a chuckle as he looked at the eight-year-old him. “My cowboy phase.”
“And my princess phase,” she said with a cringe herself.
“How old were we back then?” he asked.
“Eight. And I’m using temporary insanity as my excuse.”
“I’ll use that one too.”
He handed it back to her, and finally let his eyes meet hers. They were that light shade of blue he remembered, almost like the sky, and for a brief moment he forgot about all those stares.
“You doing okay, Cass? I heard about the accident.”
She thought about it and nodded. “I think so. Except these stupid broken ribs. They make it suck trying to sleep.”
He cringed and nodded. “Been there. It does suck.”
“Hey, Mahoney, you pussy,” came a boy’s voice from the adjoining hallway behind him. “Drop and give me twenty.”
Justin looked back and saw his buddies Daryl and Tim watching him. They were also in jerseys.
Cassie knew Daryl — he was the asshole who had ripped on her in class the day before. Tim, she didn’t know, but she knew who he was.
Justin turned back to Cassie and this time had difficulty meeting her eyes. The weight of peer pressure was back on.
“I should get going,” he said.
“Yeah. Me too. I’ll let you know if my mom finds any more blackmail photos.”
He smiled at this, then headed over to the boys.
Daryl shook his head with dismay. “The fuck were you doing with that weird chick?”
Cassie had only taken a few steps down the hallway when she overheard this. She stepped into the doorway of an empty classroom and stood there to listen.
“Talking,” replied Justin, sounding defensive. “What’d it look like?”
“Looked like you two was being all friendly.”
“Do you know her?” Tim asked.
“Sort of. Her dad used to coach my baseball team.”
“Well, she ain’t her dad,” Daryl said. “That chick is seriously messed up.”
“What was the picture she showed you?” Tim asked.
“Just some picture.” This was feeling like an interrogation now.
“Of what?”
“None of your fucking business. Okay?”
“So there is something between you guys,” Daryl said with a smug smile.
“No. I told you. I knew her dad.”
“Then why are you getting all defensive about it?”
“I’m not. Why are you guys up my ass about it?”
“Just looking out for you, man,” said Tim. “That is one fucked-up chick.”
“Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I’m friends with her.”
“Hope not,” said Daryl with a smirk.
“Fuck off,” said Justin. “Let’s get to class.”
Cassie missed the rest of their conversation as the boys disappeared down the adjoining hallway. But she had heard enough. She slipped from the classroom doorway and hurried off down the hallway.
Once outside the building, she raced across the parking lot to the bus stop on the far side. She was cutting her last two classes and getting out of there before she did something stupid. Like cry.
She boarded the bus and headed down the aisle to the backseat. She slid across it to the window, then put in her earbuds and pulled up a playlist on her phone. She turned up the music loud enough to drown out her thoughts.
Normally the ride across town took about fifteen minutes, but traffic that day was at a slow crawl. Cassie removed her earbuds and looked out the window on her right to see what was causing the delay.
They were nearing an intersection, and she saw that traffic had backed up behind a crash. She could only see one of the cars — it was flipped on its side in the middle of the intersection, with its front end completely crushed. There was glass and metal parts everywhere; enough to let her know that someone had probably died.
On the sidewalk was the usual crowd of spectators that gathered like vultures at wrecks.
Cassie glanced up the aisle to the large front windshield and saw police directing traffic around the wreckage.
With a lurch, the bus groaned forward and steered into the left turn lane. Cassie sat back and was inserting her earbuds back into her ears when she felt that sudden tingle again of being watched. She looked around at the other passengers, but their focus was on the wreck. Even passengers on the left side of the aisle were craning for a peek out the right-side window.
Was it outside?
Before she could look, the Stench hit.
It was the fetid odor of rot and decay, of maggot-infested meat left in the sun; or a bloated corpse whose organs had liquefied. Her stomach heaved, and bile filled her mouth. It burned as she tried to choke it back down...
Something was outside her window.
A ghoulish Face was there, staring at her from its hollow eyes. She only caught a quick glimpse before it vanished, and she noticed the Stench fade off with it. But she was sure something had been there, and a deep crushing fear gripped her as she continued to stare at the empty window.
It was back.
****
Father Jenkins’ study was on the second floor of the parish rectory. It was decorated like a small shrine, with dark paneled walls, paintings of Christ and the saints, a small angel statue on his desk, and rows of bookcases. His desk was near the back wall, and behind it was a window that overlooked the school’s courtyard.
Jenkins was at his desk reading, when a knock came at the door on the far side of the room. He set the book aside and looked over.
“Yes?”
The door opened, and Sean poked his head in. “You wanted to see me, Father?”
“Yes. Yes, Sean. Please, come in.”
Sean closed the door behind him and walked over. “Is something wrong?”
“That’s what I’d like to find out,” Jenkins said. “I had several parents call and tell me you were teaching their kids that demons don’t exist. Is that so?”
“What I told them was that the Bible uses them as metaphors. Not literal demons.”
Jenkins looked aghast. “And wherever did you get such an idea?”
“It’s what they taught us in the seminary.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Jenkins muttered and ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. “I’m going to need you to forget everything they taught you about demons, Sean, because they’re wrong. And dangerously so.”
“So, you believe demons are literally real?”
“Oh, yes, Sean,” Jenkins said with a big nod. “In fact, I’m quite certain of it. And not only are they real, their actions can have dire consequences for us.”
Sean couldn’t get over how much Jenkins reminded him of Ian at that moment. “What kind of consequences?”
“Well, it varies considerably, depending on the individual. In lesser instances, you might find inexplicable mood swings, or sudden thoughts that feel alien to you. But as it progresses, you might find yourself compelled to behaviors, or presented with thoughts you feel are abhorrent, and yet an inexplicable attraction draws you to them. The common factor in all these stages is that these outside thoughts are presented to you as your own. It’s the way in which the demon disguises itself. You see, by presenting these thoughts to you as your own, it’s much more likely you’ll consent to them and act on them. And eventually, if you continue to allow your consent, it can reach a stage known as possession. This is where the demon now inhabits its victim and exerts direct dominion and control over them.
As Sean listened, that odd feeling of resistance stirred again. It was more than a simple disagreement with Jenkins over his superstitious beliefs; he felt resentment toward the old man for believing that way.
“You believe that actually happens?” Sean asked, and it held a note of condescension that surprised Sean. But Jenkins didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, yes, Sean,” replied Jenkins, “I have n
o doubt whatsoever. You see, I’ve had the unfortunate experience to have encountered such an individual, and to have felt the threat presented by the demon that inhabited her.”
****
The bus groaned to a stop at the turnoff to the lighthouse. Cassie climbed out and headed down the wooded path that lead past the lighthouse and over to a grassy the bluff at the end. From there, it plunged steeply to the rocky shore below.
This was where she had always come for inspiration for her poems. On a clear day, she could sit and watch the ocean roll out over the horizon. But this day wasn’t clear — it was gray and murky, which matched her spirits.
She sat down and unpacked her journal from her backpack, then spent several minutes staring out over the haze. She had spent the rest of the bus ride convincing herself that the Face she saw in the bus window was only her own reflection. And that thing she had seen reflected in the pet store window? It had been the gas lamps creating an illusion.
It couldn’t be back. She almost didn’t survive it the first time.
What she couldn’t deny so easily was Justin’s rejection. He was ashamed of me. Her heart ached in a way it hadn’t in a long time — maybe even since her dad died.
She needed to escape her thoughts and hoped immersing herself in poetry would work like it had in the past. She picked up her journal and browsed through her old poems. The earlier ones she recalled vividly — she had written them during the happy days of the before. Her dad was alive to her again in those memories, and life was filled with simple wonderments and innocence.
A pronounced shift in tone came with the loss of her dad, and the advent of the after. They became bleak, and dark, and filled with ruminations on death and all things of darkness and night. Particularly disturbing was one she had titled “A Requiem in Black.” It had been an ode to Death.
Cassie shivered as she read the dark words on those pages. She and her friends had been idiots to think they could seduce something as cold, powerful, and uncaring as Death. And now that she had seen its face, and the eternity of horror it held for her, she wanted nothing to do with it. It would come someday, as it did for everyone, but until then it was to be resisted.
