Dave swayed in anticipation. “If we can at least hit her on the head again, maybe she’ll switch back to a more vulnerable personality so we can get out of here.”
Demon unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the truck with a flashlight. She approached Adam and stomped on his chest, forcing the last breath from his body.
“What in the world is going on here?” The motel clerk climbed up the side of the truck and worked his way through the hole in the wall.
Demon turned and said, “Come over here. I think someone is hurt.” She walked to the kitchenette. The clerk followed and his face was slashed with the butcher knife. He stumbled back into the living room chair and wheezed, blinded by the blood in his eyes.
“I have come to seal the fate of all mankind. You will all die by Demon’s hands.” She lunged at him, stabbing him until his screams ceased.
The bedroom door opened. Phil and Dave stood ready. Her left breast was hanging out again and they couldn’t help but stare.
“You will be exterminated like filthy rodents.”
Phil wanted to say something smart before charging her with the lamp but settled for “Oh yeah?” She blocked his attack with the flashlight and stuck the blade through his throat. He fell to the bathroom doorway, clutching his squirting wound.
She came after Dave next. He threatened her with the clock radio but it was no use. She chased him around the bedroom and out to the kitchenette. He picked up a piece of wall and hurled it at her in the dark. He’d aimed for her head but she ducked and continued after him. Dave attempted to squeeze around the truck to the room’s entrance, but it slowed him down too much. She caught up with him and pressed her weapon between his shoulder blades. She nibbled his ear as he slid to the floor and then stood up, wiping the knife on her dress.
“One more to go.” Demon turned back toward the bedroom. On her way, she stepped on a piece of sandwich and slipped.
Moments later, Mark awoke to a smiling face.
“Hello, sleepy head!” Priscilla winked at him and ran her hands along her waist. “Surely you’re not all partied out yet. Come on, cutie, dance with me!”
He screamed.
Bad Church
Samuel didn’t think churches could go bad, especially when built by good people with honorable intentions. The hymns and prayers echoing within the walls should provide more than enough positive energy to keep evil from seeping in. However, any time he was caught as a child walking down the forgotten driveway to the old building, that’s what he was told.
“That church went bad. Don’t ever go near it.”
With only a small field separating the church and the house he grew up in, the temptation was always there to defy his grandfather’s orders. He could see it from his bedroom window and feel it watching him while he slept. The dread from the place found a home in his dreams, as well. He would be on the steps, turning the knob but he could never open it. Every attempt garnered sinister laughter from the other side. The dreams would end with a clawed hand reaching through the steps and dragging him under.
When he was twelve, Samuel decided he’d had enough. He picked a clear night when his grandfather was sound asleep, and he mustered the courage to sneak out and venture to the church. He was unconcerned about trespassing because it all belonged to his gramps and great uncle Al. He’d only seen Al a few times growing up, having been catatonic in a nursing home since way before Samuel was born.
He approached the church with a flashlight in hand but kept it turned off. He didn’t want anyone to see his approach, or his grandfather to wake up and see a light bobbing around outside. Samuel touched the cold wooden walls and shuddered. The window next to him only offered a blackened view. He took a deep breath to control his fear, raised the flashlight, and froze before switching it on. A footstep echoed inside. It sounded like a heavy boot thumping on a hardwood floor. There was another step, and another, walking from the rear of the building and stopping where Samuel stood. He held his ground, too afraid to move. All was silent. His eyes were fixed on the window.
Something rapped on the glass inches from his face. Samuel jumped a foot in the air and bolted across the field to the house. When he reached the bedroom window, he climbed in and slammed it shut. As he caught his breath and his heartbeat slowed, he tried to rationalize the experience. Could it have been his grandfather? No, he could still hear him snoring in the next room. Perhaps it was a bum. Out here, miles from town? Surely not.
Samuel drew the curtains and pulled the covers to his chin. He never went near the church again, but he always kept a watchful eye on it. After all, it seemed to be doing the same to him.
He grew up just fine, living a bachelor’s life in a nice apartment while studying for a degree in law. Every day, he drove back to the country to visit his grandfather and tend to his needs, and each time he shot an uneasy glance at the church. He asked his gramps on occasion to elaborate on how the church went bad, but he never received a satisfying response.
“Sometimes things just go bad. Leave it at that.”
Samuel would drop it to keep from troubling the old man further, at least until the curiosity grew unbearable again.
On a beautiful spring afternoon, he found his grandfather had passed away. The lifeless body looked peaceful in his favorite recliner, which was more comforting than finding him sprawled on the kitchen floor with broken dishes. The latter vision had entered his mind before each visit, and he would entertain it to be better prepared if it really happened, and breathe a sigh of relief when it didn’t. A person is never prepared, though. The pain is just as strong whether death is sudden or expected.
The estate was left to Samuel. He considered selling it off to buy a small house in town and use the rest to finish school. It seemed to be the wisest thing to do, but the place had so much sentimental value. Instead, he chose to save himself rent on the apartment and move into the old house. It would give him time to think things over. After all, he could always sell it later if necessary.
His grandfather had investments in stocks that had been supporting him and will continued to keep Al funded in the nursing home. Now, Samuel would be getting his share of the returns, so he was in good shape.
A handful of friends with pickup trucks helped him settle in, and the rest of the day was spent with barbecue and beer. The following day, his first day alone in the house, Samuel walked to the edge of the field and gazed at the church. Being grown, he no longer feared the place. He took a step toward it without thinking, and then smiled before continuing to the door.
This was it. He’d finally see the inside of the church and there was no one to forbid him. After a deep breath, he placed a hand on the door knob and turned it. It was locked but to his relief, there was no laughter from the other side and no clawed hands to wrap around his ankles. The suspense dead, he returned to the house for a large ring of keys given to him. The oldest key worked and the door opened.
The church was musty and full of cobwebs. In contrast to his childhood fantasies, it didn’t look any different than other buildings abandoned for decades. For such a small place, it was spacious inside. There were two rows of pews ending at a small stage for the pulpit. Behind that to the left and right were doors leading to a bathroom and an office. The vaulted ceiling would no doubt offer good reverberation when a choir sang. There were no paintings hanging or stained glass windows. The side walls were lined with average, rectangular windows - a few broken by birds - and a circular one was set in the front and rear near the ceiling. The hardwood floor was in poor shape. Holes littered it, exposing the bare ground underneath.
The church was nothing fancy, but Samuel couldn’t see what was so bad about it. A little renovating would do wonders for the old place, and the more he considered it, the more he liked the idea. Most people in the area drove several miles to attend religious services. This would not only add convenience for them, but it would help bring the rural community together. He envisioned pot luck dinners and charity events, not to mention t
he tax break Samuel would get. After law school, he planned to dabble in politics so this would help develop a positive image in the public eye.
He promoted the idea to locals and they were all for it. He even received generous donations to help fix up the place. Fresh gravel was spread on the driveway and a crew was contracted to work on the building.
On an exceptionally hot afternoon, Samuel took a pitcher of iced tea to the crew and admired the progress. The paperwork was taken care of and the renovations neared completion. All he needed now was…
“Sir?”
Samuel turned to face the worker addressing him. He was a short, muscular man who looked Hispanic but may have had American Indian blood as well.
“I wanted to thank you for the tea,” he said, “and I was wondering if you had a speaker lined up for the church yet.”
Samuel arched an eyebrow. “You’re welcome and no, I haven’t. Any recommendations?” He extended a hand to shake and the man accepted it, introducing himself as Jesus, pronounced: “Hey Zeus.”
“I know a great preacher who’s looking to come to the area. His name is Hogan. I’ll talk to him for you.”
Thrilled, Samuel said he was anxious to speak with Hogan. The days went by and whenever he asked Jesus if there was any word on the new preacher, he would say, “Yes, he will be here on the opening day to speak.” If asked for contact information, Jesus would change the subject.
The church was finished now and Samuel grew more agitated by the uncertainty of having a preacher. He set a date and told Jesus.
“That’s fine. Hogan will be here.”
Samuel smiled and thanked him, but his guts were twisting. What if everyone attended and this Hogan person didn’t show?
Nonetheless, he spread the word about opening day, letting people know that the preacher was tentative. At the same time, he asked around for other available speakers without success. He figured if nothing else on the first day, he could lead the congregation in a few hymns and perhaps discuss future plans for the church.
The day finally came and he was a nervous wreck. He walked to the building early to ensure the air was at a comfortable temperature and everything was in place. He played a few tunes on the donated piano at the rear of the stage. It sounded great. Next, he entered the office where the refrigerator was kept and recounted the small plastic containers set up with grape juice for communion.
After what seemed like an eternity, people began to arrive and he greeted them at the door. Cars and trucks lined the sides and front of the church in an orderly fashion, and the pews were filled by well-dressed folks with smiling faces. There was a lot of visiting going on as they settled in but they eventually quieted down, ready to begin the services. The nice lady who donated the piano took the seat in front of it, prepared to play. There was no sign of Hogan. It was time for Plan B.
Samuel stepped up to the podium that served as a pulpit and thanked everyone for coming out. All eyes were on him and he couldn’t hide his nervousness. He then asked if they would open their hymnals but stopped before announcing the page number. Jesus entered the front door and held it open, grinning at Samuel. Heads turned to watch a tall, slender man walk up the steps and over the threshold. He was an elderly man in a black leisure suit and white hair slicked back on his head. His face was wrinkled and stern as he crossed the room through the center aisle.
Jesus closed the door and stood in the corner but no one paid attention to him. All was silent save for the thumping of the old man’s snakeskin boots on the wooden floor. Samuel stepped back from the podium to allow the man to take over. He gripped the wooden sides tight and peered at his audience. Then his face brightened and he said in a strong voice, “Good morning! My name’s Hogan and it’s a great pleasure to be here with such fine folks.”
The tension disintegrated. Hogan followed with a sermon charged full of vigor. He whipped the congregation into frenzy of singing and praise. Hands were raised to the ceiling among shouts of “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!” The preacher knew just what they needed to hear and delivered encouragement and motivation with the force of lightning. Samuel sat back, glued to the cheerful man and watching his arms make gestures that complimented his words.
Hogan ended the sermon with a prayer and it was obvious the people wanted more. He turned to wink at Samuel, and then invited everyone to a revival to be held later at sunset. He said it was the proper thing to start the church off right. The crowd was still charged and responded with enthusiasm. He asked that someone bring a long table so the rest could bring plenty of food to share.
Samuel was surprised but thought it was a good idea. Then Hogan’s face turned serious and he said, “I’m afraid I must insist on one thing, and I will be very strict about this. Do not bring any children tonight. If you are unable to find a babysitter, you’ll have to sit this one out. This revival will be for adults only.”
The congregation appeared confused so the preacher clarified, “You see, I go all out when I sponsor a revival. I get into all sorts of violent and gruesome details to get my point across. Therefore, my sermon may be too strong for the innocent.”
He paused to allow his words to sink in and said, “So don’t bring them, even if you think they can handle it. That’s my only stipulation, so come on out and we’ll have some fun!”
Hogan received a standing ovation. No one left without thanking him first. Samuel was completely awestruck. He wanted to speak with him after the building had cleared but he ran off with Jesus, saying he needed to rest up for the revival.
Samuel walked home in a daze, high and overwhelmed from the morning’s events. He’d had no idea it would turn out so well. Shortly after lunch, he received a phone call. He was expecting this. People would be calling to congratulate him on a job well done and asking where he found such a talented preacher. He answered it and a hoarse voice said, “I hear you got that old church going again.”
“Why yes, sir, I did.”
“What the hell is the matter with you? Didn’t your grandfather teach you anything?”
“Well I…”
“That church went bad! Nobody should be setting foot in there and not only did you do that, you invited the whole damned neighborhood to come along.”
Samuel was too shocked to speak for a moment. At last he said, “Who is this? Why is the church so bad?”
There was a loud sigh on the other end. “He never told you?”
“My grandfather? No, he didn’t. He only told me it went bad. How am I expected to take that?”
“Well, you need to come see me, then, so I can explain it to you. I’m an old friend of your grandfather’s.”
“Why can’t you tell me over the phone?”
“Because I’m not going to risk you hanging up if you don’t believe me. Plus, I want to see your face when I tell you, so I know it’s sinking in. It’s too important. My name’s Joe Moore and you can find me in the nursing home in Clarkston.”
“That’s three hours away!”
“It’ll be worth the drive. You’d best get started. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Samuel stuttered before saying, “But there’s a revival tonight. I can’t afford to miss it.”
“What? Cancel it! Call everyone you know and tell them it ain’t happening. Then get your butt over here!”
“Okay, okay.”
There was no way he would cancel the revival but he couldn’t pass on the opportunity to finally learn what his grandfather neglected to tell him all his life. He called a few people but only to tell them he may be late due to an emergency. Then he jumped into his car and headed to Clarkston. If he left now, he might return in time to make it.
At the rest home, he rushed to the nurse’s station for directions to Joe Moore’s room.
“He’s down that hall, room 508,” the young woman said while pointing. “Good luck. He’s been a handful ever since some family visited this morning.”
Joe sat in a wheelchair with tubes inserted in various places.
He was a skeleton of a man but his eyes were alert. He shushed Samuel’s attempt to greet him and told him to sit and listen.
“Over half a century ago, the road that went past your grandfather’s place was only a dirt trail and that was the only sign of civilization. There were no buildings in sight, not until the trail’s end at the Jackson farm.
“Well one night, young Bill Jackson was wandering about, probably drunk, and came across a small group of Indian folk. This wasn’t a specific tribe. They all had different origins, but came together to form some kind of a cult. I’m not a hundred percent sure of what their intentions were, but it seems they were trying to resurrect some kind of ancient Indian god or demon to take vengeance on the white man once and for all, so the land would belong to their people again.
“Regardless of what they were doing, Bill wasn’t going to stand for it. He went to stop ‘em and got himself sacrificed. He was white after all, and I guess their god likes that sort of thing. They skinned him and everything!
“To make a long story short, I got together with the remaining Jackson men, along with your grandfather and his brother, and we camped out on the land until we found them having another ceremony. We confronted them and it got ugly. They killed another Jackson boy and we shot their shaman, witch doctor, whatever you call ‘em, and one other before the rest ran off.
“We were a religious bunch and concerned about the land being cursed after all that. We were also worried about the rest of the cult coming back. Your grandfather and great uncle bought that section of land off of the Jacksons and built a house. Then we built the church over the site of the ceremonies, thinking God’s influence would cleanse the land.
“It didn’t work out that way. We recruited a preacher that was new to the area. He was white but he reminded me a lot of the shaman we’d shot. Your great uncle thought the preacher’s assistant looked an awful lot like the other guy killed. We were never sure, though, because we buried the bodies while it was still dark.
“Anyway, one night during service, the preacher opened that church up as some sort of portal to Hell! I won’t tell you the things I saw. You would never believe me. I got away from it, though, along with your grandfather and his brother. I never planned on going back there again, but your great uncle sure did. The following night, he stormed the church with all the gasoline he could carry.
Zombies, Werewolves, Whores, and More! Page 7
