This Present Darkness

by Frank E. Peretti

  “Rafar is prince. Prince of Ashton.”

  “Well, we rebuke him too!” said Ron.

  NEAR THE BIG dead tree, Rafar spun quickly around as if someone had just pricked him, and he eyed several of his demons suspiciously.

  THE DEMON CONTINUED to spout his boasts, speaking through Bobby, whose face contorted in almost a perfect representation of the demon’s expressions.

  “We are many, many, many!” the demon boasted.

  “And Ashton is your town?” asked Hank.

  “Except for you, praying man!”

  “Then it’s time to start praying,” said Andy, and they all did.

  The demon grimaced in terrible pain, desperately hiding its head under its wings and hanging onto Bobby with all its rapidly ebbing strength.

  “No … no … no!” it whimpered.

  “Let go, Witchcraft,” said Hank, “and come out of him.”

  “Please let me stay. I won’t hurt him, I promise!”

  A sure sign. Hank and Andy glanced at each other. The thing was about to go.

  Hank looked directly into Bobby’s eyes and commanded, “Spirit, come out in Jesus’ name! Now!”

  The demon shrieked as his talons began to slip loose from Bobby. Slowly, inch by inch, they began to withdraw despite the demon’s most frantic efforts to keep them driven in. He screamed and cursed, and the sounds came out through Bobby’s throat as the very last talon broke loose and the demon fluttered upward. The angels were about to command him to leave the region, but he was already on his way.

  “I’m going, I’m going!” he hissed, streaking away.

  Bobby relaxed, as did the four men who were ministering to him.

  “Okay, Bobby?” Andy asked.

  Bobby—the real Bobby—answered, “Yeah … there are still some in there, I can feel them.”

  “We’ll rest a minute and then get them all out,” said Hank.

  “Yeah,” said Bobby. “Let’s do that.”

  Ron patted Bobby’s knee. “You’re doing all right, man!”

  Just then, Mary walked into the sanctuary to see if she could help in any way. She had heard they were ministering to someone in here and she didn’t feel right staying home.

  But then she saw Bobby. The man! The man in leather! She froze in her place.

  Bobby looked up and saw her.

  So did one of the demons inside him. Suddenly Bobby’s face changed from that of an exhausted and frightened young man to that of a leering, lustful, raping spirit.

  “Hey there,” said the spirit through Bobby, and then the spirit referred to Mary in lascivious, obscene terms.

  Hank and the others were shocked, but they knew who was doing the speaking. Hank looked toward Mary, and she was backing away, terrified.

  “He’s—he’s the one who threatened me in the parking lot!” she cried.

  The demon spouted more obscenities.

  Hank intervened immediately. “Spirit, be quiet!”

  The spirit cursed at him. “That’s your wife, eh?”

  “I bind you in Jesus’ name.”

  Bobby curled and writhed as if in terrible pain; the demon was feeling the sting of their prayers.

  “Leave me alone!” it screamed. “I want to—I want to …” It went on to describe rape in hideous detail.

  Mary recoiled, but then regathered herself and spoke back, “How dare you! I’m a child of God, and I don’t have to put up with that kind of talk. You be silent and come out of him!”

  Bobby curled like a stuck worm and retched.

  “Let him go, Rape!” commanded Andy.

  “Let go of him!” said Hank.

  Mary stepped closer and said firmly, “I rebuke you, demon! In Jesus’ name I rebuke you!”

  The demon fell from Bobby as if struck by a wrecking ball and fluttered about on the floor. Krioni scooped him up and flung him out of the church.

  The one remaining spirit was quite intimidated but very obnoxious anyway. “I beat up a woman today!”

  “We don’t want to hear about it,” said John. “Just get out of there!”

  “I hit her and I kicked her and I beat her up—”

  “Be quiet and come out!” Hank ordered.

  The demon cursed loudly and left, helped on his way by Krioni.

  Bobby slumped to the floor exhausted, but a gentle smile crossed his face and he started to laugh happily. “They’re gone! Thank God, they’re gone!”

  Hank, Andy, John, and Ron moved in to comfort him. Mary stayed back, still unsure of this seedy-looking character.

  Andy was clear and direct. “Bobby, you need to have the Holy Spirit in your life. You need Jesus if you want to stay free of those things.”

  “I’m ready, man, I’m ready!” Bobby said.

  Right then and there, Bobby Corsi became a new creation. And his first words as a Christian were, “Guys, this town’s in trouble! Wait’ll you hear what I’ve been up to and who I’ve been working for!”

  CHAPTER 27

  IT ALWAYS TOOK place in Professor Juleen Langstrat’s apartment, in the darkened living room, sitting on the warm, comfortable sofa, illumined by the one candle on the coffee table. Langstrat was always the teacher and guide, giving instructions in her calm, clear voice. Shawn was always there as a moral supporter and fellow-participant. Sandy was never alone.

  They had been meeting like this regularly now, and each time was a whole new adventure. The quiet, restful excursions into other levels of consciousness were like opening a whole new door to a higher reality, the world of psychic powers and experiences. Sandy was totally enthralled.

  The metronome on the coffee table ticked, a slow, restful, steady rhythm, breathing in, breathing out, relax, relax, relax.

  Sandy was getting quite skilled at dropping below the upper levels of consciousness, those levels in which all humans normally operate, but which are the most distracted and cluttered by outside stimuli. Somewhere below that were the deeper levels where true psychic ability and experience could be found. To reach these levels took careful, methodical relaxation, meditation, concentration. Langstrat had taught her all the steps.

  As Sandy sat very still on the couch and Shawn watched intently, Langstrat counted down slowly, steadily, in cadence with the metronome.

  “Twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three …”

  In Sandy’s mind she was riding an elevator, descending into the lower levels of her being, relaxing, putting her upper levels of brain activity on hold while she moved through the lower realms.

  “Three, two, one, Alpha level,” said Langstrat. “Now, open the door.”

  Sandy visualized herself opening the elevator door and stepping into a beautiful green meadow bordered by trees covered with pink and white blossoms. The air was warm, and a playful breeze wafted across the meadow like gentle caresses. Sandy looked here and there.

  “Do you see her?” Langstrat asked gently.

  “I’m still looking,” Sandy answered. Then her face brightened. “Oh, here she comes! She’s beautiful!”

  Sandy could see the girl coming toward her, a beautiful young lady with cascading blonde hair, all dressed in shimmering white linen. Her face glowed with happiness. She was extending her hands in greeting.

  “Hello!” Sandy called happily.

  “Hello,” said the girl in the most beautiful and melodic voice Sandy had ever heard.

  “Have you come to guide me?”

  The blonde girl took Sandy’s hands in her own and looked into her eyes with tremendous kindness and compassion. “Yes. My name is Madeline. I will teach you.”

  Sandy looked at Madeline with amazement. “You look so young! Have you lived before?”

  “Yes. Hundreds of times. But each life was simply a step upward. I’ll show you the way.”

  Sandy was ecstatic. “Oh, I want to learn. I want to go with you.”

  Madeline took Sandy by the hand and began to lead her across the green meadow toward an immaculate golden walkway.

&n
bsp; As Sandy sat on the sofa in Langstrat’s apartment, her face full of joy and rapture, gleaming talons penetrated her skull as the black and gnarled hands of a hideous demon held her head in a viselike grip. The spirit leaned over her and whispered the words to her mind, “Then come. Come with me. I will introduce you to others who have ascended even before me.”

  “Love to!” Sandy responded.

  Langstrat and Shawn smiled at each other.

  TOM MCBRIDE, THE paste-up man, heard the little bell over the front door ring and could only moan. This day had been the most traumatic he’d ever been through. He scurried to the front just in time to see Marshall come in and make a beeline for his office.

  Tom was distraught and full of questions. “Marshall, where have you been, and where’s Bernice? The papers haven’t come from the printer! I’ve had nothing but calls all day—I finally had to put the phone on the answering machine—and people have been coming by wondering where today’s paper is.”

  “Where’s Carmen?” Marshall asked, and Tom noticed Marshall looked very, very sick.

  “Marshall,” Tom asked, very worried, “what—what’s wrong? What’s going on around here?”

  Marshall just about bit Tom’s head off when he growled, “Where’s Carmen?”

  “She’s not here. She was here, but then Bernice took off, and then she took off, and I’ve been here alone all day!”

  Marshall flung the door to his office open and got inside. He went straight for a file drawer and yanked it out. It was empty. Tom stood at a safe distance and watched. Marshall reached under his desk and pulled out a cardboard box. The box slid out easily and lightly. He saw that it was empty too and dashed it to the floor with a loud oath.

  “Is … is there anything I can do?” Tom asked.

  Marshall flopped into his chair, his face like chalk, his hair disheveled. For a moment he just sat there, leaning his head on his hand, breathing deeply, trying to think, trying to calm down.

  “Call the hospital,” he finally said in a very weak voice that didn’t sound much like Marshall Hogan at all.

  “The—the hospital?” Tom didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  “Ask them how Bernice is doing.”

  Tom’s mouth dropped open. “Bernice! Is she in the hospital? What happened?”

  Marshall exploded, “Just do it, Tom!”

  Tom scurried to a phone. Marshall got up and went to his door.

  “Tom …”

  Tom looked up, but kept trying to dial the phone.

  Marshall leaned on the doorpost. He felt so weak, so helpless. “Tom, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Thanks for making that call. Let me know what they say.”

  And with that, Marshall turned and went back into his office, flopping into his chair and sitting there motionless.

  Tom came back with his report. “Uh … Bernice had a cracked rib, and they wrapped it … but no other serious injuries. Somebody brought her car back from Baker, so they released her and she drove home. That’s where she is now.”

  “Yeah … I gotta get home …”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She was beat up. Somebody jumped her, clobbered her.”

  “Marshall …” Tom was almost too horrified for words. “That’s … well … that’s terrible.”

  Marshall worked himself out of the chair and leaned against his desk.

  Tom was still concerned. “Marshall, is there going to be a Friday edition? We sent paste-ups to the printer … I don’t understand.”

  “They didn’t print it,” Marshall answered blandly.

  “What? Why not?”

  Marshall let his head fall forward, and he shook it just a little. He blew out a sigh, then looked at Tom again. “Tom, just go ahead and take the day off, what’s left of it. Let me get squared away here and then I’ll call you, okay?”

  “Well … okay.”

  Tom went into the back room for his lunchbox and his coat.

  The phone rang, a different line, a number Marshall reserved for special calls. Marshall picked it up.

  “Clarion,” he said.

  “Marshall?”

  “Yeah …”

  “Marshall, this is Eldon Strachan.”

  Oh, thank God, he’s alive! Marshall felt his throat tighten. He thought he would cry. “Eldon, are you all right?”

  “Well, no. We just got back from a trip. Marshall, someone just tore up my house. The place is a mess!”

  “Is Doris all right?”

  “Well, she’s upset. I’m upset.”

  “We’ve all been hit, Eldon. They’re on to us.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Marshall recounted it all to him. The hardest part of all was telling Eldon Strachan that his friend and fellow outcast, Ted Harmel, was dead.

  Strachan had trouble speaking for quite some time. Several minutes were spent in an awkward, painful silence, interrupted only a few times by either man asking if the other was still on the line.

  “Marshall,” Strachan finally said, “we’d better run. We’d just better get the heck out of here and not come back.”

  “Run where?” Marshall asked. “You already ran once, remember? As long as you’re alive, Eldon, you’re going to be living with this and they’re going to know it.”

  “But what can any of us do anyway?”

  “You have friends, for crying out loud! What about the state attorney general?”

  “I told you, I can’t go to Norm Mattily with nothing but my word; I need more than just our friendship. I need proof, some kind of documentation.”

  Marshall looked down at the empty cardboard box. “I’ll get you something, Eldon. One way or another, I’ll get you something to show to anybody who’ll listen.”

  Eldon sighed. “I just don’t know how much longer this is going to have to go on …”

  “As long as we let it, Eldon.”

  He thought for a moment, then said, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. You get me something solid, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “We have no choice. Our necks are on the block right now; we’ve got to save ourselves!”

  “Well, I certainly intend to do that. Doris and I are going to disappear, and fast, and I’d advise you to do the same. We sure can’t stay around here.”

  “So where do I reach you?”

  “I won’t tell you over the phone. Just wait to hear from Norm Mattily’s office. It’ll mean I got through to him, and that’s the only way I’ll be any good to you anyway.”

  “If I’m not here, if I’ve skipped town or ended up dead, have him contact Al Lemley at the New York Times. I’ll try to leave word with him.”

  “I’ll see you again sometime.”

  “Let’s pray that you do.”

  “Oh, I’m starting to pray a lot these days.”

  Marshall hung up, locked all the doors, and headed for home.

  BERNICE LAY ON her couch with an ice bag over her face and an uncomfortable bandage around her rib cage, and she really did want a phone call. She had already thrown up once, her head was throbbing, and she felt miserable, but she wanted a phone call. What was happening out there? She tried calling the Clarion, but no one answered. She called Marshall’s home, but no one answered there either.

  Well, what do you know! The phone rang. She snatched it up like an owl grabbing a mouse.

  “Hello?”

  “Bernice Krueger?”

  “Kevin?”

  “Yeah, man …” He sounded very nervous and high-strung. “Hey, I’m dying, man, I mean I am really scared!”

  “Where are you, Kevin?”

  “I’m at home. Hey, somebody came in here and tore the place apart!”

  “Is your door closed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then why don’t you lock it?”

  “Yeah, I got it locked. I’m scared, man. They must have a contract out on me.”

  “Be very careful what you say, Kevin. What we heard about our phones being bugg
ed is probably true. They may have bugged your phone.”

  Weed didn’t say anything for a moment; then he cursed out of sheer fright. “Oh man, I just got a call from you know who! You think they heard us talking?”

  “I don’t know. We just have to be careful.”

  “What am I gonna do? It’s all going down, man. Susan says she’s got the goods, and it’s all going down! She’s gonna split that place—”

  Bernice cut him short. “Kevin, don’t say another word. You’d better tell me in person. Let’s meet somewhere.”

  “But won’t they know where we’re meeting?”

  “Hey, if they know they know, but at least we’ll have some control over what they hear.”

  “Well, let’s do it quick, and I mean quick!”

  “How about that bridge a few miles north of Baker, the one over the Judd River?”

  “The big green one?”

  “Yeah, that one. There’s a turn-off right at the north end of it. I can be there by …” Bernice looked at her wall clock. “… let’s say 7.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Okay. Good-bye.”

  Bernice immediately dialed the Clarion. No answer. She dialed Marshall at home.

  THE TELEPHONE IN the Hogan kitchen rang and rang, but Marshall and Kate remained silent at the kitchen table, letting it ring until finally it stopped.

  Kate, her hands shaking just a little, her breathing consciously controlled, looked at her husband with tear-filled eyes.

  “The telephone has a way of bringing consistently bad news,” she quipped, her eyes dropping for a moment.

  Right now Marshall had as much intestinal fortitude as an empty garbage bag, and for one rare occasion in his life he was at a loss for words.

  “When did you get that call?” he finally asked.

  “This morning.”

  “But you don’t know who it was?”

  Kate took a deep breath, trying to stay on top of her emotions. “Whoever it was, he knew just about everything about you and me, and even Sandy; so he wasn’t just a crank in that respect. His … credentials were very impressive.”

  “But he was lying!” Marshall said angrily.