by R. J. GREEN
When his infuriating mind cleared he found no trace of the assassin lingering in the nearby woods. The snapping of twigs coming from behind had him pointing the machine gun in the direction.
Mullson stepped out into the clear. “Please put away the gun,” he said, waiting for Johnny P to make a move. He tossed his bow and arrows into some nearby shrubs, in the direction of the river.
Johnny P eyed Mullson from head to toe. “You never like me anyway,” he said, still pointing the gun. His finger pressed against the trigger, slowly.
“Don't!” Mullson bellowed, after he figured what was going on. With vengeance raging in his heart Johnny P squeezed the trigger; the roaring sounds overpowered Detective Mullson’s voice that had being wailing in the background. When all the bullets were out and the smoke cleared Johnny P glanced at the man in the bloody Khaki suit, lying face down.
“What have I done?” he said.
“First time, isn't it?” said Mullson, after he got up from behind a patch of bush and brushed off his clothing. He walked over to the dead man who was wearing a similar khaki outfit. Minutes ticking away seemed like hours. A wide grin beamed across his face, he couldn’t have asked for a better son in law, boy was he pleased. He came and stood next to Johnny P, then gave him a pat on the shoulder, gently. He stood back and glanced down at Captain Austin.
CHAPTER 17
As he Drifted further into the woods Engulf dragged Anna who’d being unconscious for the past few minutes by her hair; he came to a secluded area where he tossed aside branches used to conceal an oversized boulder. Behind the rock a tunnel appeared.
Anna wheezed when a whiff of urea hit her nose, when she opened her eyes she found herself in a cave with thousands of rats fighting to get out. She tried to scream, a few crackles at first, and finally the high pitch that woke the millions of bats clinging to the roof, they too followed the rats as they sought a way out.
“Where am I?” Anna wailed. “Where am I?” her voice echoed back.
As they continued to penetrate the cave inside it got darker and darker.
“How does it feel my dear Anna?” said Engulf.
“Stop touching me you freak!”
“What makes you think I'm touching you Miss Anna Mullson?”
“I want to go home!”
Engulf flicked on a lighter and lit a lantern hanging from the roof, revealing swarm of roaches, centipedes, spiders, decades of human remains, mounds of bat droppings.
Anna screamed her soul out, she’d realized her captor was not molesting her; instead creepy crawlers were to be blame for the tickling sensation moving up her legs. She was no longer constrained by Engulf’s mighty hands. She gathered her strength and spun around, with the intent to set herself free, and almost collide with a human creature — the person stood tall in her path, streaks of linen bound the body from neck to toes, the head unwrapped, exposing a mummified skull. With arms extended the creature toddled forward.
Anna froze in her track, her head pounded, goose bumps rose on her arms and legs, a sudden chill hit her face as a gust of wind came out of nowhere.
The last gleam of sunlight that had being beaming from the horizon disappeared beyond the Caribbean Sea. Sporadic winds ripped across the water, yet the waves were calm like most Sundays. In the distance a small church stood at the foot of a hill; Detective Mullson and Johnny P hurried toward it. The night got blackened as the minutes past. Closer to the church the sounds made by the wind got louder, as if cats were among the bushes crying like babies.
Johnny P listened to the wailing wind and had a sense of guilt plaguing his conscience, a burning sensation piercing his heart worsened.
Mullson opened the gate and entered the churchyard; Johnny P tailed him.
Inside the church Father Johnson had been kneeling, before darkness had descended and the raging storm threatened.
“Blessed be the lord my rock,” he said, “Who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle.”
With night approaching they shifted towards the center of the church — Father Johnson, Magarette Mullson and her mother sat praying.
Pastor James, the local Minster, went and locked every window and door. He was about late forties, still sporting his favorite Sunday suit that he’d worn earlier — grey pants and jacket with a matching tie, and a white shirt underneath. He swatted away sweat collected on his forehead, for outside the pungent scent of the Noni fruit had been following the wind, to him this represented evil as indicated by the local Jamaican myth: when spirits were near the stronger the aroma.
A bang against the door had Pastor James scurrying.
The Sunday night service had been canceled, complaints of ghostly activities in the neighborhood made some of the people scared out of their wits, nobody was supposed to be heading this side, Pastor James hesitated.
“Who goes there?” he said, his bass voice whispered from the other side.
“It’s me Pastor James,” said Mullson, hoping the man would recognize his voice. After a few seconds the door was ajar. Johnny P nodded discreetly to the man who was standing by the door.
A sigh of relief beamed across Pastor James’ face. “Welcome home gentlemen,” he said.
Johnny P moved ahead of Detective Mullson.
“Thank you,” he said, slightly bracing against the door.
Before entering Mullson glanced over his shoulder and spotted someone staring at him with glowing eyes, further from the church, he couldn’t see the face. A second look and the figure was gone, what’s happening, his mind raced, but he tried not to show any sign of fear.
Mullson and Johnny P headed towards the center of the church. Pastor James turned the key then slid a bolt to secure the door.
“Man will fall,” he said, walking behind the two. “But will rise again to fight another day.”
“Thanks for the encouragement Pastor James,” said Mullson.
“Where is my baby?” said Mrs. Mullson. She shuffled to her feet and tossed herself into the strong grip of her husband’s arms. “Please find her!” she pleaded with tears running down her cheeks. She eventually calmed and stood back.
Mullson glanced down for the sixth or seventh time at his wife’s necklace and observed the pendant, resembling the one he had found earlier. “I will find her,” he promised, his intense eyes surveyed the room.
Mrs. Mullson’s mother went and stood by her family; she gave them a big hug. “Everything goanna be alright,” she said.
Johnny P went and gave Mrs. Mullson a hug. “How’re you my son?” she asked.
“I’m alright Mrs. Mullson,” he replied. “We’ll find Anna… even if we have to search every inch of this country.”
They all went and joined Father Johnson who was on the floor meditating the whole time. Facing the inside they sat in a circle holding hands. “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly.” said Pastor James, with eyes closed.
A few hours had passed. The human circle remained sturdy. “I have to!” Detective Mullson bellowed, after a brief discussion. He finally broke the link.
“Not yet my son,” Father Johnson warned him.
“Please don't,” Magarette pleaded to her husband. “At least wait until tomorrow.”
“Just say yuh attempts,” said Pastor James, to Mullson. “How on earth would yuh survive? First yuh have to battle the elements, then the darkness. Either is enough to drive a man crazy. Let’s get prepared.” He hurried to a room located at the back of the church, beyond the pulpit, where he retrieved a few items like: holy water, crosses, and flashlights — all these to aid in the fight against evil.
In the backdrop the squawking of crows filled the air. For the past forty years Pastor James had never heard anything of this sort taking place here, well, maybe not entirely true. He recalled an incident when he was about eight years old: crows had descended over where the old hospital once stood, not too far away, where a massacre took place. That had been the only time the crow came at night, a
nd this time he hoped no one suffered the same faith.
He jogged towards a window and peeped through a crack. There was something out there that had the hair at the back of his neck rise, and his knees wobbled from the weight of his upper body. Pastor James rubbed his eyes, a man was standing at the outskirts of his church, he could have sworn. A distinct glow from the creature’s eyes that stood out in his mind, as they stared at him from beyond a cowl tossed over the head, it reminded him of his black cat whenever she crouches outside at night.
Mullson went and stood beside Pastor James who seemed a little disturbed. He peeped through the window; at the outer limits stood the mysterious figure he thought he’d spotted earlier. The creature gazed longingly into his eyes. Mullson did the same and overpowered the darkness — the blood he cried had cleansed the creature of its curse. For the past forty years the woman under the cowl had being searching for her two baby boys that had being whisked away from her. Her soul finally found peace as the light burst from her body and rocketed into heaven. The squawking of crows also ended.
The guilt of losing his mother at birth got lifted from his heart, somehow Mullson sensed his spirit was connected to the lady and he whispered, “Goodbye.”
Closer to where the Black Stealth had crashed, soldiers from Engulf's army prowled in the darkest of night. Six of them came and evaluated the plane. The sudden chirping of birds got their attention, a long silence followed, but they were vigilant.
The night came alive as bullets riddled the bodies of Engulf's militia. Jamaican soldiers, dressed for guerrilla warfare, emerged from the landscape. Two soldiers took it upon themselves to put several bullets into the heads of Engulf's falling soldiers.
“Now yu dead fi real,” one of them said. A clapping sound reverberated but nobody could pinpoint the origin.
“Good job,” a voice said, coming from all angles of the woods, as if megaphones were planted on every tree. The sky suddenly became blackened and the night dreaded.
“Who that?” soldiers hollered. “Yu playing with fire!”
The eerie voice had them shuffling in an outward ring formation; like the effects of fallen dominoes their fingers hit the triggers and the darkness got colored red by tracers. A sudden silence followed. The soldiers waited, meanwhile contemplating their next move. They grew tough and despised cowardice, no human was able to break them, and now for the first time they felt fear cuddling their hearts, something was still lurking out there — they sensed it.
“I am Engulf,” the voice taunted, “Son of Satan. But today I am God!”
Engulf appeared out of thin air and began to move back and forth, at superhuman speed, his intention deadly.
The soldiers fired with conviction. That didn’t deter the killing machine.
The piercing sounds of human terror and gunshots were drowned out by raging wind and excessive thunder that devoured the land, suddenly. Lightning illuminated the forest where Engulf stood, around him piled carcasses of mutilated bodies, as if attacked by wild beasts.
CHAPTER 18
The wind had kicked up a few knots ripping apart trees and sending sheets of zinc from roofs located miles away cutting through the air. Vivid streaks of lights across the sky followed by thunderous booms that had being shaking the earth, intensified. Like a giant photoflash the lights brightened the forest where Assassin #1 roamed near an overflowing river shoving boulders, vehicles, and other debris towards the sea. Detective Mullson, Jack, and Johnny P, hidden beneath their ponchos, used their headlamp flashlights and battled their way through the dark, until they reached a part of the forest drenched with blood diluted by the pouring rain, where fallen soldiers from the Jamaican Defense Force and Engulf's army scattered.
Nothing around Jack goes unnoticed, not even the pouring rain could drown the reek of blood and marijuana he sniffed out, a task considered challenging for a bloodhound, he looked at the ground as he came to a crawl. “We have company,” he whispered.
Mullson gripped the M16 tighter and scanned the area. Johnny P wanted to fire a few warning shots. “This place gives me the creeps!” he admitted.
“Run!” Mullson screamed. Detective Mullson and Johnny tumbled and ducked as they scrambled away.
Soldiers from the JDF who’d buried themselves in the mud sprouted. They’d been waiting to avenge their comrades who’d given their lives to protect a country in a war yet to be declared.
Mullson glanced over his shoulder and didn’t see Jack; to him it wasn’t a major concern since Jack always managed to elude the enemies. He’d been more than unconventional, but Mullson left him alone, as always. Anna was his focus and if Jack can help, let it be. The man hated church, only showed interest in holidays like Halloween and Columbus Day, but to Mullson he’d been a good partner.
The soldiers fired a few rounds as they closed in on two intruders zigzagging ahead.
“Lights out!” said Mullson, to Johnny P, after realizing they couldn’t shake the men tailing them. They switched off their headlamps and dove behind some bushes where they laid.
With a flashlight in one hand a soldier came and stopped next to them, he moved the beams closer to Detective Mullson who spotted the light and positioned his gun to shoot.
“Retrieve!” a man shouted.
They pulled away.
Mullson heaved a sigh of relief.
Dawn approached. Inside the church lit by candles held high in iron scones, Pastor James, Mrs. Mullson and her mom were on the floor sleeping. Father Johnson had been awake the entire night observing a knife keenly; the one he believed belongs to Satan.
“At the crow of dawn,” he said. “Prepare to fight. God be with you my children.” The loud shrill cry of roosters erupting in the backdrop rejuvenated the start of morning, followed by the barking of dogs, the twittering of birds, and the rumbling of motor engines.
Mullson had not travelled as far as he initially planned. To be exact, six hours had passed since him and Johnny P had been hiding behind some branches chopped and tossed aside; they were eager to get back on track to go search for Anna.
Mullson took a whiff. “What's that smell?” he said.
Johnny P took a deep breath; his stomach turned by a familiar stench blowing about. “What’s wrong with ya friend?” he said.
“My friend?”
“Jack… is he afraid of the church?”
“That you have to ask him.”
“He’s an ungodly nigga,” said Johnny, he seemed somewhat uncomfortable as Mullson glanced towards him. “Sorry. Where’s the knife?”
Mullson hesitated. “It's safe,” he finally said. “That's all you need to know.” His eyes swept the forest floor. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” said Johnny P, pulling an ear as he zoomed in on the crowing of roosters and the growling of dogs bouncing off the distant hills, and around him, the chirping of birds and the sounds of rushing water, neither of which the detective was referring to.
Mullson darted to his feet and begun to search among the branches littering the ground, until he accidentally stumbled upon a cave.
Inside, it took a moment for their eyes to get accustomed to their surroundings. The lights radiating from their flashlights brightened the place, revealing bat droppings, human remains, rodents, and other creepy crawlers. With their bodies tingling uncomfortably Mullson and Johnny held their noses and advanced slowly, further in, the confinement appeared smaller. They spotted a mummified body resting in one corner. Mullson, while gripping his gun and moving closer to the body, signaled the youngster to go stand guard at the entrance. Johnny P who’d already swung around stopped and listened. He doubled back to where Mullson stood staring at the light bouncing off the back wall, revealing a horde of insects. With jaws dropped the two began to retreat when the buzzing got more threatening by the seconds.
They sprinted towards the exit. The insects launched an aerial and ground attack. With flying insects nearing their backs they dropped their weapons and pumped their arms faster,
a river popped up ahead, they closed in.
The flooded waters had receded, but, nevertheless it continued to shove boulders and other large objects in the direction heading to sea. Upstream was less muddy, where Engulf glided through the water and crossed to the other side. Assassin #1 followed his leader; the powerful river was no match for their cunningness. The assassin dragged Anna by her legs that had been bound with duck tape. On the bank, she laid with water pouring from her mouth and ears, she coughed. Anna struggled to set herself free, her effort proven futile. Blood began to seep from the bottom of her feet, from spots where prickles jutted out.
“Your father interrupted the mission,” Assassin #1 reminded Engulf.
“What is he doing here?” said Engulf, sounding disappointed.
Downstream, Mullson and Johnny jumped into the river as the insects clung to them, but other dangers rushed along. The current dragged them under and spit them up, twisted and twirled; they struggled to set free. At one bank a fallen tree protruding above the water was within Mullson’s grasp, and he got a break, in time to stretch a hand and pulled Johnny P till he got a hold of a branch. After gathering enough energy they heaved their carcasses out of the water, on the bank where they sprawled out and gazed at the sun. It was still early in the morning, but no time for resting.
Jack had been missing since last night and Mullson now began to get anxious. The guilt of what happened to Captain Austin ripped his heart apart, his missing daughter, oh God… please protect her from all evil. Should he contact the police or continue searching? He sensed more danger ahead and wished he didn’t lose his weapons; the thought quickly dwindled from his head when he realized he’ll have to cross the river to fetch them. A smile beamed on his face as he began to survey the area, until he spotted his bow and arrows beneath some dried leaves. Good thinking paid off, Mullson credited himself. Yesterday before the river flooded its banks he crossed over and tossed them there, all right. Johnny P was pointing a machine gun at him. Destiny is a funny thing Mullson admitted.
