by C R Langille
This moment was distinct for him—not just the place, but the time as well. The cogs clicked into place, and he remembered. This was a very specific fishing trip. It wasn’t the weekend when most of his fishing trips happened. This time, it was the middle of the day during the school week. The school had suspended him for fighting with Kris Jefferies. Toby didn’t crawl along the shores this time because his face hurt. Kris gave him a black eye and a split lip. Evard cast upstream and reeled the lure in. Then he cast a little ways off from the first throw and continued to work the river in a counter-clockwise pattern.
Evard didn’t say a word for at least an hour. Toby sat and pushed a beetle around with a twig. He wished his father would say something, anything at all.
“Dad?”
There was a slight pause, and then Evard started to crank the reel again.
“Tobias, how did you feel when you fought that boy?”
What did he mean, what did he feel? Toby thought about it for a moment.
“It hurt.”
“No, boy, not what did the beating feel like. What did you feel in your body when you fought?”
Evard continued to cast downstream. He kept his back turned to Toby throughout the conversation.
Toby thought back to the incident. Kris had pushed Toby’s friend, Lenny, onto the ground and was about to rub the boy’s face into a pile of dog poop. Toby’s anger boiled, and he charged Kris, only to end up face down on the grass next to Lenny. He tried to get up, but Kris was older and stronger. Kris’ donkey chuckles echoed in Toby’s mind.
The twig snapped in Toby’s hands. The beetle crawled away under a large rock.
“Well?” Evard asked.
“It made me angry,” Toby said. He whispered the words, ashamed the moment he admitted the feeling. But the truth was, he still wanted to hurt Kris. Wanted to push the older boy into the river and watch him float away.
Drown the brat! Put him in the river and don’t let him out, the voices yelled, laughed, and cooed.
The memory skipped like a bad tape recording. After a second, it started back, crystal clear. This time, Evard sat next to him on a large rock. His father tied a new spinner onto the end of the fishing line.
“Tobias, sometimes we get angry, and we want to do bad things.”
Do bad things, Toby. Do horrible things!
Evard put the excess line in his teeth and broke it away. He reeled the lure back to the top of the rod. Toby looked up into his father’s eyes. His father always had stern eyes, a look full of no nonsense.
“But you need to fight those urges, especially with our situation. What we got inside us will react to our emotions and make things more than they are supposed to be. Sometimes it’s a good thing, boy. Sometimes, it ain’t.”
His stern look took on a worried aspect. Toby never saw his father give such an expression, and it scared him. He turned his head away and searched for the beetle again.
“What’s inside us?” Toby asked.
Let us show you, the voices pleaded and hung on the last word, letting it drag on for an eternity.
“We got something different inside us. I’ve got it, my father had it, and his father before him. It follows the men in the family. I’m sure you have it too. When it starts to show itself, you’ll know. For now, it will turn those emotions up a notch.”
Toby looked at his hands, expecting they could jump off and scurry under the rocks with the beetle.
“Can it hurt me?”
We can hurt you, Tobias. We won’t hurt you. Let us hurt you. Let us.
Evard let out a sigh and nodded.
“Yes, if you let it get the best of you.”
“Did it hurt you?”
Evard nodded again. He tapped his forehead and stood up. He grabbed his fishing pole and returned to fishing. The rod bent, and Evard pulled back. He worked the reel fast, and out in the middle of the water, a large brown trout jumped and fought against the pull. Toby got to his feet and rushed to the water’s edge. He happened to glance down at his feet.
Toby’s reflection stared back at him from the lazy water. The fish jumped again, and Toby looked up to see it, but something caught the corner of his eye. His reflection didn’t move. It smiled at him from under the water. The grin spread across Toby’s face, wider than any human’s. Toby took a step back from the water, no longer concerned with the fish.
The surface of the water rippled, and then the top of a head appeared. Hair plastered the head, brown hair too much like Toby’s, followed by a face. Toby backed away from the river’s edge.
If Evard noticed any of this, he didn’t show it. His father continued to reel in the fish. Toby tried to say something, but his throat burned, and he couldn’t breathe.
The thing in the water cocked its head to the side and then opened its mouth. Screams from a thousand different people poured out along with a smoke blacker than anything Toby had ever seen before. The smoke raced from the boy in the water and hit Toby in the face. Darkness consumed the memory, and only the screams remained.
Toby threw up on the asphalt next to the wrecked Jeep. As he did, the world came to blurry life.
Tobias! Are you okay, Love?
Somebody screamed at him. He couldn’t tell who though and didn’t care. The road’s warmth was nice against his face, and Toby wanted to stay there. Just close his eyes and take a five-minute snooze. Kick back a little.
Tobias, answer me!
He tried to ignore her. All he wanted to do was sleep. Toby would feel better when he woke up.
No, you gob shite. Get the bloody hell up and get moving.
Speak the Queen’s English. Toby let out a soft chuckle.
What? Are you, daft?
He did feel surprisingly good. The aches and pains from his recent run-ins with the evil baddies on the mountain disappeared behind a haze of smoke. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged the pain, but it didn’t matter anymore.
Smoke. Ash.
I’ve had about enough of your attitude, Love. Get moving, or else.
“Or else what?”
A match lit inside his heart. Toby’s heart spasmed and clutched at his chest. All thoughts escaped him other than to get it out. He clawed at his shirt and rolled across the ground. The blood that pumped through his body was molten lava and burned his veins. Then, it was gone, replaced by soothing ice.
Or pain, Love. Now get up and get moving. One of those motors down in the car park of the destroyed factory may yet function.
Toby grumbled, and the flame in his chest heated.
“Okay, okay. I’m going.”
He got to his feet and retrieved his gear from the Jeep. Toby put one foot in front of the other and made his way down the road. The fact that every bone in his body didn’t scream at him to stop, curl up in a ball, and cry until sleep took over amazed his sluggish mind.
Sluggish, like the smoke that drifted on the wind. Smoke. Ash.
And you think that’s a good sign, Love?
“What do you mean? I feel awesome.”
Bloody hell, you’re an idiot. You think it’s normal given the circumstances?
The haze in his thoughts thickened. It didn’t matter. He rode the sensation and enjoyed it. Toby wanted to take advantage of any edge given to him.
Even if that advantage means your soul? That crumpet’s mine, Love.
He ignored her and jogged down to the burned-out power plant. Toby needed to get back to his family. He needed to save Linda.
She’s a whore, buddy.
And get Sebastian to safety.
Tear the brat’s guts out, T.D, and use them to decorate the walls of your house. Consume the little shit and spit out his husk.
Toby stopped and rubbed his temples. Where did these thoughts come from? The mere ideas disturbed him, but even more so was the fact they
didn’t disturb him enough.
That’s what I’m talking about, Love. I think that being’s essence is still inside you.
“Inside me? Am I possessed?”
Not so much. More like it’s a parasite, and you’re the host.
He didn’t know which was worse, a parasite or possession. Toby took a couple more steps before he stopped again.
“Aren’t you inside me?”
Yes, but think of it this way, I’m the peanut butter, and you’re the jelly. We work, Love. Two peas in a pod and all that rubbish.
“Right.”
The more he talked to Jezebel, the more natural it became. He’d have to figure out how to shut down her ability to cause him pain, but otherwise, her voice was melted butter on popcorn.
We can use her, Toby Dick. Consume her. The appetizer before we eat your little shit of a kid. Then, you’ll be a big deal. The traveler will have to notice you then.
“Shut up!”
I’m trying to help, Love.
If she could hear the other voices, she didn’t let on.
No, but I can hear your thoughts. It shouldn’t be able to cut me out. Be careful and don’t listen to its lies.
Who’s lying, Toby Dick? Us or the demon piggy-backing your soul?
“Both of you,” Toby said.
The voices laughed, cried, and screamed. Toby laughed along with them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Evard awoke to a myriad of aches and pains. The worst came from his chest. Each ragged breath cut his lungs and triggered a series of coughs and hacks that left him teary eyed. Something warm and moist pressed against his head and soothed a headache he didn’t notice before.
“Evard? How you holding up?”
Linda’s voice. Her tone held a quality women sometimes exuded. It only appeared when they cared for a young child or a senior. Kelly had sounded the same when he pushed too hard in the yard.
Evard guessed he was the senior in this case. Kelly used to take care of him when he got a bad cough. Kelly….
“I’m not dead yet,” Evard said.
Talking hurt, and he started to cough again. This time, he spit up a chunk of blood-infused phlegm. The ground rocked beneath him, and Evard slid across the ground.
“Sorry!” Doyle yelled.
He realized he was in a van. Tools, cables, and unused satellite dishes littered the inside of the vehicle. Evard craned his neck and looked up. Doyle sat in a captain’s chair and drove. Sebastian peeked out from behind the passenger seat and waved.
“Where’d we get the wheels?”
“Special Agent Doyle proc… pro…” Sebastian’s face scrunched up, and he looked to the ceiling.
“Procured,” Doyle said. “Cable man didn’t need it anymore. At least from the looks of it. He was in a bad place at a wrong time. No more action news at eleven, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, procured it,” Sebastian said with a big grin on his face.
“Where are we?”
Evard propped himself up on his elbows, and the van crested as if on a wave. He shut his eyes; the waves turned into a tsunami.
“Stop the van,” Evard said.
“What?” Doyle asked.
“Stop the van!”
Doyle hit on the brakes. Linda slammed into the back of the driver’s seat. Evard slid across the ground and into the passenger’s side. The movement helped keep his stomach down. Once the vehicle came to a complete stop, Evard opened the side door and threw up all over the asphalt. The night air filled with the stink of burnt brakes and vomit, but the cool breeze soothed the fire in his body.
When the waves ebbed, he stretched. His back popped and cracked.
“That’s a bit better.”
The front of the van belched a plume of steam. The bumper was gone, and a large dent caved the hood in. Blood splattered the top of the buckled metal and continued to the spider-webbed windshield.
“What happened?” Evard asked.
“Getting away from the house almost didn’t happen,” Linda said.
Doyle got out of the van and stretched with Evard.
“You threw your power around and attracted a lot of baddies,” Doyle said.
Doyle stretched and then started doing jumping jacks.
“Grandpa, I could feel it. When you fried the unisprite my skin tickled all over.”
Evard rubbed his head and then pointed at the van.
“And this?”
“You don’t want to know,” Linda said. She looked away from Doyle.
“We need to get moving,” Doyle said. The special agent put a finger up to his neck and checked his pulse.
“What are you doing?” Sebastian asked.
“I don’t really know,” Doyle said. “I never can find my pulse.”
Sebastian put a hand up to his neck. The boy’s face bunched up again, and then his eyes lit up.
“I can feel mine!”
They piled back into the van. Doyle turned the key, and the van sputtered but wouldn’t fire up. He tried again with the same results.
“No joy, I think this one’s done for,” Doyle said.
“Now what?” Linda asked.
“We keep moving. Find another vehicle. Gotta keep rollin’.”
“Keep rollin’” Sebastian said.
“You going to be able to make it?” Linda asked.
Evard nodded. His body protested, but he did his best to keep it quiet. They gathered their supplies and set out into the dark streets. No lamps, porch lights, or houselights were on, and clouds covered the moon. The dark coupled with the silence gave the impression there was no one left alive, but given the circumstances, the feeling didn’t mean much. At any moment, he half expected some lunatic to run out onto the street and shout for Neville. He wanted to yell out for help, or just to see if anyone else was around, but common sense kept his voice down.
Something in the darkness didn’t have the same qualms. An ear-piercing squeal blasted the silence to pieces. Doyle drew his gun. Evard spun on his feet and looked behind.
“Move,” Doyle said.
They ran. Evard led them forward while Doyle brought up the rear. Linda and Sebastian stayed between them both. The weight of Evard’s gun mentally dragged on him. He’d owned the thing for thirty years and never fired it at anything other than paper targets. The recent events changed everything.
Kelly hated the gun. She wouldn’t approve of him having it, especially around Sebastian. Evard came to a stop. Doyle and the others must have noticed and stopped a few feet in front of him.
“We have to go back,” Evard said.
“Why?” Linda asked.
“We forgot Kelly.”
Linda didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. As soon as the name passed his lips, he remembered again. Evard looked to the ground.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” Evard tapped his head. “…fuzzy sometimes.”
“I know,” Linda said.
“It often happens with magic users,” Doyle said.
Sebastian gave Evard a hug and then grabbed his hand. The boy’s presence calmed his mind, and Evard could think clearly.
“Come on, Grandpa.”
Another howl joined the first, closer this time. Doyle stopped and searched the street.
“We need to get out of sight. We stand out like a grail beacon.”
Light caught Evard’s eye and grabbed his attention.
“There.” He pointed to the church.
The flicker of candlelight in one of the windows set off a dim glow against the gloom. Doyle nodded in agreement.
“Is that one of those grail bacons?” Sebastian asked.
“I like bacon,” Doyle said.
A number of cars occupied the parking lot. They checked them as they moved forward,
but none of them had keys.
“Can’t you hotwire it?” Evard asked.
“Don’t have the time. No sir, no way.”
A bleat of shrieks cutting into the air motivated them further. Time definitely wasn’t on their side. A mass of shapes crawled across the street only to disappear behind some bushes.
“Right, come on,” Evard said.
He didn’t want to go into the church—churches made him anxious—but he also didn’t want to meet whatever waited for them in the dark. Survival won the argument. Maybe they could find keys to one of the cars inside.
“Okay, let’s go,” Evard said.
“Everyone stick together. No splitting up in any circumstance. When you split up, the DM kills you,” Doyle said.
“DM?” Linda asked.
“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t split up. It’s never a good idea. Don’t split up, don’t cross the streams, and don’t eat too much red meat. Bad business.”
They scurried up to the double doors of the church. Evard pulled on the handle, and it swung open with ease. At least they were unlocked. He motioned the others through. Doyle went first with his weapon at the ready. After Linda and Sebastian passed by, Evard entered the building; he kept an eye to the dark as he shut the door.
The church was cool but warmer than the outside air. The silence inside the building beat the streets hands down. The loudest noise was Sebastian’s open-mouthed breaths.
“Let’s get the keys and get the hell out of here,” Evard said.
He’d never liked churches, but he went because Kelly insisted. To each their own, but Kelly’s own somehow morphed into his. The other churchgoers used to shoot him looks, as if they knew he didn’t want to be there. Kelly would be happy. He had finally entered a church without her bribing him.
They walked the dark hallway. The emergency lights were on near the exits, but the glow from the signs did little to fight the shadows. The first door they came to opened to a Spartan office that contained a desk, two folding chairs, and a bookshelf. Only a picture of Jesus adorned the wall. A single candle sat on the desk, unlit, but wisps of smoke drifted from a blackened wick. Someone could still be in the building.
