by Amy Cross
Then, looking ahead, I see her.
Judith Prendergast is standing just a few feet away, staring at me.
Or rather, the demon is there, still twisted into her form.
I try again to climb onto the bike. This time the pain is even stronger, and I slip on the wet ground. Falling, I slam down hard and the bike lands on top of me. I let out a gasp of pain, but I immediately start getting up and try once more to get onto the bike.
I fall again, landing even harder, and then I get up. I raise my right leg to mount the bike, but the pain is too much and I stumble forward before falling. The bike clatters to the ground behind me. Reaching down, I feel the soaking wet, freezing cold front of my shirt. As I move my hands down, however, my fingertips brush against a warmer patch where blood has caked the fabric against my wound.
My knees are trembling as I get back to my feet. And then, before I even have a chance to turn and grab the bike, my legs give way beneath me and I fall back down, landing hard on my knees and then slumping forward onto my elbows.
Shivering in the rain, I realize this time that I'm not going to be able to get back up. I try, but something's locked my body in place, as if the pain has finally become too much. After a few deep breaths, I manage to sit up slightly, but I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get back onto my feet again.
Staring up, I look into the face of this demon creature that followed me out here from the church.
“What do you want?” I yell, as rain continues to crash down all around us. “If you want to kill me, just get it over with, okay?”
I wait, but the demon simply stares at me. There's a dark mark on one side of Judith's face, and I think that's a wound caused by the holy water that hit her earlier.
And then she starts to laugh.
“I give up,” I continue. “You've won, so just get it over with. Can't you just do to me, what you did to Kerry? That didn't seem so painful.”
She laughs for a moment longer, before stepping toward me and reaching out. I feel an icy hand against the side of my face, and then she slowly tilts my head up as she leans down toward me.
“Do it!” I sneer, as I wait for the inevitable. “Just fucking do it, okay?”
Grinning from ear to ear, she tilts her head slightly as she runs a fingertip down the side of my face and onto my throat.
“Do it!” I shout, but it's clear that she's savoring the moment. “You fucking ugly, piece of shit demon trash, get it over with and kill me! Or are you too scared? Are you too much of a fucking pussy?”
Still, she doesn't do it. She's enjoying this far too much, but I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing my fear, so finally I close my eyes and wait. I'm sure that, now she's out of the church, this monster has way more important things to be doing, so now she'll have to just get the job done. As the seconds pass, I keep my eyes squeezed tight shut and wait for the end.
And then I realize I can hear a plane approaching.
I hesitate, convinced that I must be wrong, but I swear I can hear an engine getting louder and louder over the sound of the rain. Finally I open my eyes, and I see that Shaltak has turned her head slightly, as if she's heard the same thing. A moment later I spot a growing patch of light in the sky, as if something's roaring toward us from the far end of the runway, from somewhere behind Shaltak. It's almost as if...
Suddenly a small plane races right above us, missing us by just a few feet. Shaltak lets go of me and I fall down, turning as I land. I see the plane bouncing as it hits the runway, and then it slows fast and turns slightly before coming to a halt. There are lights in the building again, and I spot shadowy figures racing out to meet the plane.
“What the hell?” I whisper.
“Get him out of there!” I hear a man shouting in the distance. “Hurry up, we need to get him into the sickbay!”
“We took some heavy fire over Calais!” another man yells. “Where's Bolton?”
“He's coming!”
I watch the shadows for a moment. Despite the rain, I can just about make our figures silhouetted against the building's lights, and it looks like they're carrying a man down from the plane. Then I spot another figure hurrying out from the building, and he stops to watch as the injured man is carried past.
“Get on with it, man!” a new voices yells. “That's an order!”
Turning, I look up at Shaltak and see that she's watching the men with a puzzled expression. She seems totally focused on them, almost as if she's forgotten that I'm down here as the rain comes crashing down. I swear, it's raining so hard, I think I could almost drown right now.
“I don't care about excuses!” the man shouts in the distance. “Find a way and get it done!”
I open my mouth to yell at Shaltak, but at the last moment I remember something Liam told me earlier today. For a few seconds the idea seems ridiculous, as if it could never work, but then I tell myself that I have to at least try.
“I bless the rain!” I shout.
Shaltak turns and looks back down at me.
“I bless all this rain!” I continue. “I bless it and turn it into holy water, in the name of... God, or something! I'm not a priest, but I can still bless it! Liam told me it's about believing, and right now I believe in good beating evil so I bless all this rain and it's gonna burn you back to Hell, motherfucker!”
Shaltak tilts her head slightly, eyeing me with a hint of confusion.
“I believe in good things,” I stammer, as I start to feel weaker and weaker. “I believe that good beats evil. That's what I believe in. I believe in all that kind of stuff, I swear I do, so I bless the rain.” With the last of my strength, I reach my right hand up and open my fist to feel the rain fully. “I'm turning it into holy water with my faith!” I shout. “So suck on that, bitch!”
I wait.
Shaltak stares at me, as the voices continue to shout in the distance. And then, slowly, the smile returns to Shaltak's face and she starts laughing.
“I'm blessing the rain!” I yell, figuring that it just must take a little time. “I swear!”
Still laughing, she reaches down and grabs the side of my face again, and then she lifts me up until I can see straight into her dark eyes. With her other hand, she runs a finger against my throat, and now I can tell that she's preparing to finish me off.
“I'm blessing the rain!” I gasp, barely able to get the words out.
The voices of the ghosts are still shouting nearby.
“For Kerry,” I add. “I'm blessing the rain for Kerry, because despite everything that's happened I still believe she's out there somewhere. I don't even believe it. I know it.”
I wait, in case that might have done the trick, but as Shaltak continues to grin at me I realize that this whole idea was a bust anyway.
“Do what you want,” I say finally. “I still know it's true.”
Snarling, Shaltak starts digging her fingertips into my throat. And then, suddenly, she stops and the smile fades from her lips, and I see fear in her eyes. At the same time, her grip on my face is starting to weaken, and I can feel her almost dropping me back down to the ground. She seems to be struggling slightly, trying but failing to dig deeper into my throat and finish me off. As the rain continues to pour down all around us, I can see that something's wrong.
And then she screams.
Letting go of me, Shaltak turns as if to run away, but then she slumps down against the tarmac. She tries to get back up, but her hunched back trembles slightly. She cries out again, but the rain seems to be burning her all over and when she raises her face I see that the rain is actually eating her away, almost as if it's some kind of acid. She tilts her head and cries out, but her jaw is already gone and her eyes seem to be melting away. As she howls with pain and tries once again to get back up, the rain pushes her back down until she collapses against the runway, and then I watch in horror as the rest of her body is washed away in the pouring rain.
I wait, convinced that somehow she's going to com
e back, but after a couple of minutes I realize that she's really, truly gone.
Turning, I open my mouth to call out to the airmen, but then I see that they're gone. All the lights are off, even the ones that were lining either side of the runway. I'm all alone out here.
I try to get up, but the pain in my belly is too strong and I can't even get my legs to work. I try again, but this time I slump down onto my back and I realize I'm not going to make it. Staring up into the rain, I take a series of slow, deep breaths as I wait for the end. Each breath is more painful than the last. The last thing I think, before I start to slip away, is that I was right all along. I really would have made a good soldier. I mean, I basically followed that guy's orders and kept fighting, even though he was a ghost. I would have made a hell of an airman.
And then the lights return.
I can't help but smile. My eyes are barely open now, but I can see the lights slowly getting brighter and I can feel a faint rumble in the tarmac beneath my body, and I guess maybe if I turned my head I'd be able to see that those ghosts are back now. In some strange way, that makes me feel good. In another life I'd have been a damn good airman, and maybe the ghosts are here because somehow they recognize me as one of their own. Maybe this is where I always belonged.
I close my eyes.
“Are you okay?” a woman yells suddenly, leaning over me.
I open my eyes wide, and then a man leans over me as well.
“Is your name Mark?” the man asks, and now I can feel them checking my wrist for a pulse. “It's okay, Mark, we're going to get you to the hospital.”
“He has an abdominal stab wound,” the woman says. “We need to get him into the ambulance.”
I manage to turn my head slightly, just enough to see that this time the flashing lights are coming from the back of an ambulance that's somehow driven out here.
“I'll get the stretcher,” the woman mutters as she disappears from view.
“I told them it was worth checking this out,” the man says as he starts lifting the front of my shirt, pulling the fabric away from the wound. “They said it was all a practical joke, but I felt it in my bones, I knew something else was going on. You're a very lucky boy. I don't know who put all those post-it notes in the office, telling us to come out here and save someone named Mark, but you're damn lucky that I was on a shift tonight. Everyone else said to ignore those notes, but I told them I had a hunch. Let's see who's laughing when we get back to Crenford, huh?”
For the next few minutes, the man and woman continue to work on me. I stare up at the sky, as rain continues to fall, and then finally I'm lifted up onto a trolley. There's pain, of course, but I think I've been given some kind of sedative and I can feel myself slipping away. As I'm wheeled toward the ambulance, however, I can't help wondering who could have left a load of post-it notes at the hospital, and who would have even know that I was out here. I know the idea's crazy, but is it possible that somehow Kerry wrote those notes to save me? Is it possible that she came back?
I choose to believe that she did.
Epilogue
Mark
Five years later
The bells ring out loud and clear, as people continue to emerge from the church and make their way across the neatly-mown cemetery.
I can't believe how much Briarwych has changed since the last time I was here. I did a little research online and found that almost all the cottages have changed hands over the past few years, and I certainly don't recognize any of the people who are coming out of the church. A few minutes ago I knocked on the door of the Neills' old cottage, and a man told me that they'd moved away. I guess the former inhabitants of Briarwych couldn't cope with the idea that the church might be safe again, but the new arrivals certainly seem happy.
“Can I help you with anything?”
Turning, I see that the local priest has come over to join me.
“Oh, I'm fine, thanks,” I reply, taking a step back. I hadn't really intended to intrude. “I was just watching.”
“Father Nathan Prior,” he says, reaching a hand out to me. “You're a military man, I see.”
“Oh, this?” I look down at my uniform for a moment, and then I shake the priest's hand. “Yeah. I mean, sort of. I do fire prevention work at airbases around the world. It's pretty cool. Lots of travel, you know?”
“And what brings you to Briarwych?” he asks.
“Well, I...”
For a moment, I consider telling him. I'm sure even the newcomers know the story of how a kid was found close to death out at the old airbase, and about how the body of Father Liam Dermott was found inside the church. Then again, I know Father Dermott's employers came to the village and took control of the investigation, and that the police were only too happy to not be involved. I remember a priest coming to the hospital and being very nice to me, and telling me that he'd help me out in exchange for my silence. He assured me that everything was now fine in Briarwych, and standing here now I guess he was right.
“I shall leave you to your thoughts,” Father Prior tells me as he turns to go back over to the church. “I hope you enjoy your time in our humble village.”
“Is it really okay in there now?” I blurt out suddenly.
He turns to me again.
I look at the church's wooden door, and I feel a shiver in my chest as I remember how cold it was inside, and how creeped-out I always felt.
“I mean, is it really okay?” I continue, still watching the door. “Is it all over?”
“Well, young man,” the priest says cautiously, “why don't you come inside and see for yourself?”
***
“It's really cool,” I say a few minutes later, as I walk along the corridor and stop to look at the far wall. “There's nothing here.”
It's true. The place feels completely different, as if some invisible darkness has been lifted. I remember how I felt myself being watched when I was here before, but that's completely gone now. Instead, Briarwych Church seems completely normal, and it's clear that the place has really come to life. There are vases of flowers on a table, along with leaflets and even an information board that gives details of various events here.
Stepping over to the arched doorway, I see rows of brand new pews, and then I notice that the altar appears to have been given something of a refurbishment as well. Beautiful red curtains are hanging from one of the walls, and the feel of the church just feels completely fresh. It's hard to believe that anything bad ever happened here.
Looking down at the spot where Shaltak once scratched her name into the stonework, I see that somebody has rubbed the marks away.
“I suppose you've heard the stories about this place,” the priest says.
I turn to him.
“People turn up occasionally, hoping to poke around the place,” he continues. “I tell them the same thing that I'm going to tell you. Whatever happened her at Briarwych is over now. It's in the past, and I'm very much in favor of looking ahead to a bright and prosperous future. I've been here for a few years now, I was responsible for the church's re-opening. And I can assure you, as God is my witness, that the evil has passed from this place. Ask anyone in the village. People are no longer afraid.”
“I can see that,” I tell him. “I'm sorry, I didn't come to stir anything up.”
“You're Mr. Duffley, aren't you?”
“How did you know?”
“I thought I recognized you outside. I trust that you're fully recovered from your injuries?”
“Completely.”
“That's good to hear. I often wondered if you'd ever come back to see the place.”
“I never planned to,” I reply. “I don't even know why I came. I was just in the area, and I figured I should lay some ghosts to rest.”
“I don't believe there are any ghosts here anymore.”
“No, there aren't.” I look around the room again, and it's still hard to believe how much the church has changed. “I should go,” I add finally, turning
to the priest. “I have a train to catch.”
“Let me walk you out.”
As we head to the door, I feel strangely calm. For the past five years, I've been thinking a lot about Briarwych, and wondering whether the church could truly be at peace. I was reassured over and over that everything had been resolved, but I guess there was a part of me that still worried. Now I've experienced the peacefulness for myself, and I guess I can relax now. Briarwych is at peace.
“Mrs. Lawley,” the priest says as we get to the door, and as a middle-aged woman arrives with tears in her eyes. “Is there any news about your dear husband?”
“There's no change,” she replies. “I thought I'd pray for a while.”
“Of course.”
She goes through, and we watch as she makes her way to the set of pews right in front of the altar.
“Cancer,” the priest says in hushed tones. “Such a dreadful disease. She comes two or three times a week and sits in silent prayer. I think she finds it rather comforting here.”
“It's so different,” I reply. “Before, no-one would ever have come here unless they had no choice. But there's really nothing here, is there? Definitely nothing evil, anyway. Briarwych Church is free.”
A few minutes later, as I drive away from the village, I can't help but spot the church's spire in my rear-view mirror. While the future of the church seems settled, there's a nagging voice in the back of my head that reminds me I still don't know everything about what happened. In particular, I never quite understood why Judith Prendergast ended up the way she did, and how she became involved with Shaltak. I suppose I'd like to clean up that one final little mystery, but that's unlikely to happen. She left no diary, and there's nobody alive now who knew her or who was around in Briarwych back in 1940. So that part, at least, seems set to remain a mystery forever.
Still, that's something I can live with, as the spire of Briarwych Church disappears behind the tree-tops and I turn my attention to the road ahead.
