The Last Customer

by Daniel Coughlin

  Looking to the front door of the house, Sammael stopped smiling. He had much left to do.

  He saw red.

  He saw Gardner.

  Chapter 22

  1

  Cherri had warmed up. She’d forgotten how gross she’d felt. She could almost taste Winny’s lips, on hers. Scared, but excited, they were going to kiss. Eyes closed, they were centimeters apart. She could taste his breath. It was hot, sweet, with a hint of sweat. But there was nothing foul about it.

  The sobering crash of the back screen door slammed them from their moment. They pulled back from each other as the door opened from upstairs. Cherri’s dizzy head snapped back to the moment. Reality stung. She suddenly felt silly, stupid. It was wrong, trying to connect with Winny like this—at a time like this. They stood and quickly made their way toward the bottom of the staircase.

  “What if it’s Sammael?” Cherri asked. Her hand was shaking. Winny grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. They stared at each other, silent, for a long second. Breaking eye contact, they pretended that nothing had happened. Well, actually nothing did happen. Cherri decided to leave it at that.

  “Stay behind me, for now. If it’s him, run as fast as you can. I’ll fight him off as best I can. You got it?” he answered.

  “What about you?”

  He locked eyes with her. His gaze was intense. Cherri understood that he was protective of her and wanted safety for her. He was willing to fight for her survival.

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  They turned their heads toward the door—at the top of the stairs—when the lock clicked. The doorknob turned.

  The door creaked open.

  Cherri bit down on her bottom lip. Winny squeezed her hand. Judging by the look on Winny’s face, he was unaware that he’d squeezed so hard.

  A shimmer of moonlight splashed down the stairs, making everything appear dark blue. The outline of two people emerged into Cherri’s sight, behind Winny’s shoulder. Her head began to shake—the image of Sammael, laughing at her, fluttered through her head. A gentle voice called down, “Cherri…Winny…are you all right?”

  It was a familiar voice. Relief swept through Cherri. Her lungs gave way to a refreshing breath.

  “We’re okay, Father Gardner!” Winny hollered.

  “Come on upstairs. We have work to do,” Gardner returned.

  Without hesitation, both Winny and Cherri hustled up the stairs. Cherri still held Winny’s hand in hers.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Cherri stopped. She nearly crashed into Donna Gardner. They didn’t know each other, but they shared a familiarity. Without words, they both knew who each other was.

  They didn’t need Gardner to say, “This is my wife, Donna.”

  Cherri knew that this was no time for mindless chit-chat. The two woman shared a nod and a once over and then they looked to their leader.

  2

  Gardner rummaged through the house. He gathered his flashlights and tool kit from the basement, filled up three empty milk jugs with tap water from the kitchen sink and when the last jug was filled, he led Donna, Winny and Cherri through the living room, toward the staircase. They quickly ascended up the wooden stairs.

  Gardner hurried them down the second floor hallway. They halted a few feet in front of the master bedroom where the door stood half-open. From there, Gardner looked up at a small rectangle break in the ceiling. It was two feet wide and four feet in length. He reached up, grabbed the latch—set in the middle—and pulled it downward. A small set of stairs extended from the attic. They stopped two feet from the floor.

  “Winny, you go first.”

  “Yes sir,” Winny responded. He quickly crawled up the small staircase.

  Cherri followed Winny. Gardner helped his exhausted wife climb next. He held her shaking calves as she mounted the stairs. She was still exhausted and in need of rest. Her legs quivered as she climbed, causing the frail stairs to shake and creak. She was beat-up, badly. There were scrapes and tears in her skin. She was dirty and full of sweat. Gardner quickly gave thanks that she was here, alive, not too injured to carry-on. When she finally disappeared into the attic, Gardner climbed up the creaky latch. Once he reached the attic, he brought the small staircase up and closed off the entryway.

  They stood in darkness. The air was dust ridden. Their only guide was the moonlit night as it shined through a small circular window, covered in dust, at the front side of the room.

  Gardner walked to the glass square and wiped his hand across the film of grime that blocked his vision of the small world in front of his house. From this window, he could see twinkling glimmers of shattered glass at the liquor store. The glass particles were spread out into the parking lot.

  Gardner’s driveway looked dark and gray as it wound up toward the house. He felt the hot breath of his wife; she stood behind him. When he turned, his eyes adjusted and he was able to see everyone. They were looking to him, silently, wanting to know what needed to happen next.

  “We’re going to be quiet. The lights need to stay off and we have got to stay alert,” he said. He locked eyes with Winny and said, “Sammael may have your brother. That is a realization which we must face. If Garth comes walking up that driveway, you need to know that it may not be him. It might look like him, talk like him, but it might not be him. We need to make sure that it is him before we let him in. I know that’s confusing, but we need to be aware and if it’s not Garth, then it’s Sammael. He will destroy us, if we let him.”

  Winny remained speechless and fidgety. Gardner knew that what he’d said was too much to comprehend. Winny wouldn’t be able to understand what was happening. He was inexperienced. He wouldn’t be able to fight what looked like Garth. To be told that he might need to combat his brother—or who he thought was his brother—was incredibly overwhelming.

  “I have a twelve gauge shotgun in the gun case…over there,” Gardner said, while pointing across the room. The moon reflected off of the glass encasing. “A bullet won’t stop evil, but it might slow it down for a minute or two. Sammael is coming to us. He’ll be here soon. I can feel it.”

  Gardner put his hand on his Donna’s shoulder. He guided her across the attic. They stopped in front of a stack of old boxes and she sat down and opened one of the water jugs. She took the plastic container, eagerly, breathed in deep and guzzled the clear fluid. Gardner pulled the jug away from her. She was holding her breath. He said, “Breath, honey.”

  Nodding, she took a few more breaths and then drank a third of the water. The sound of feet shuffling across the dusty attic floor drew Gardner’s attention back to Winny and Cherri.

  Gardner instructed, “Drink some water. You’ll need to build your strength.”

  Winny, staring wildly as if he hadn’t listened to what had been said, suddenly turned to the water jugs. Gardner had set them near the attic opening.

  Winny walked cautiously across the floor, leaned down and picked up one of the jugs. Before taking a drink, he made his way to Cherri, popping the top as he walked. He held the jug in front of her.

  “Take a drink.”

  “Thanks,” she said as she accepted the water jug. She fumbled with it when Winny set it in her hands. She quickly regained control and held the plastic container to her lips.

  Gardner rubbed Donna’s shoulders while she leaned forward and caught her breath. Startled, he quickly spun around when Winny stepped behind him.

  “You scared me. I’m quite jumpy, tonight.” Gardner explained.

  “I think we all are.” Winny returned. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He motioned his head toward the back of the attic.

  Gardner nodded to his wife. Donna’s eyes granted approval. His wife was the most important thing and he would check with her on everything.

  Standing on creaky knees, Gardner walked with Winny toward the back of the attic. They stopped near an old desk. An upside down wooden chair rested on top. In the moonlight, Gardner saw a myriad of spider we
bs draped across the open spaces between the chair and the musty desk. The smell of old newsprint was pungent. Gardner had stored memorable old newspapers in these desk drawers. Long ago, it had been in his study, when he was still with the church. The newspapers were index markers from his life. Tales of strange occurrences that he’d been involved with—none of the stories had been able to print the truth. The façade that had been written was enough for the masses. Still, the false news served as a staple of Gardener’s journeys. He found nostalgia in these musty pages.

  Gardner’s head rose. He found Winny’s silhouette near the wall. Even in the dark, with limited visibility, Gardner could sense that Winny’s glance was grim. His topic was grave. He needed answers and he would want them quick.

  2

  Winny didn’t know what to say. He was confused and angry. He needed many answers and he didn’t know if he was upset with Father Gardner or not. The things that Gardner said about Garth—that Sammael might have possessed Garth’s body—were terrifying. Winny’s guts churned. The very idea of his brother being possessed knocked hard, at his bones. A sick feeling pined within the depths of Winny’s stomach and gnawed at his soul.

  “What you said earlier…about Garth, you’re not telling me everything. You think that we’ll have to kill him?” Winny asked. He looked at his hands. He was digging his fingernails into the fleshy parts of his palms, repeatedly. Winny stopped kneading his hands when he thought that Gardner might think he was getting ready to punch him.

  “We are not going to kill Garth. We don’t even know if he’s possessed yet. I just want you to understand the worst case scenario. For the record, I had a vision of Garth, and it wasn’t good. I think he’s made contact with Sammael, and yes, I believe you will be tested tonight. I believe that you might fail,” Gardner explained. There was no emotion in his voice.

  “What is this? That’s pretty vague, don’t you think? I don’t understand what’s happening. Are you trying to trigger me or is this just some kind of…I don’t know…joke? You know I can’t—won’t—kill my brother.”

  “If a fight goes down, you might believe that you’re fighting Garth, but it’s not your brother, it’s the demon Sammael. If we can defeat the demon without physically hurting your brother, then that’s what we’ll do. But it will be extremely difficult,” Gardner said, but was cut-off.

  “So what you’re saying is that, by fighting Sammael, I’ll be destroying my brother. His body will pay the price. We’ll probably kill him? That’s assuming Sammael doesn’t rip me to shreds before I even have a shot,” Winny returned.

  “Winny, this isn’t easy. But these are the facts. This is the ultimate test of your faith. If you choose not to fight, then you will die and both you and your brother will be destroyed. Do you understand? I’m not going to sugar coat it. I know what it is, and it is very ugly. You will be tasked with doing things that will cause harm to the ones you love. Unfortunately, it’s for the right reasons and it’s necessary.”

  It’s just too much, Father Gardner. Isn’t there another way? There has to be another way.”

  Leaning against the desk, Father Gardner rubbed the top of his head, scrunching the loose skin of his scalp, obviously lost in deep thought. Then, slowly, his eyes met Winny and he said, “I will fight my hardest—do everything in my power to avoid the physical nature of this fight. But I can’t promise anything. And if it is written, then it is written. I cannot do anything about what has been predetermined. That’s my best, Winny.”

  Winny’s stomach filled with burning bile. He began to massage the muscles below his chest. The pain was quick and sharp. The stress of this night had probably given him ulcers. He respected Gardner, liked him, and looked-up to him. But right now, he was angry with him. Why couldn’t he come up with a better answer than saying that he’d do the best that he could? That wasn’t good enough. For their leader in this mess—in all actuality, the man who’d gotten them all into this mess—he should have a better answer than his best.

  “I guess we’ll see what happens then,” Winny responded.

  Winny walked back to Cherri. She sat near the circular window, at the front of the attic. She peered out at the dark night sky with a blank look on her face. She shifted in her seat, almost jumping when Winny placed his hands on her shoulders. Suddenly, he didn’t think that touching her was appropriate. He was allowing himself too much liberty with her. Sure, they’d shared a moment downstairs, in the basement, but they had both been vulnerable. At the time, they’d both needed to be comforted. Winny didn’t know whether or not to continue expressing his feelings. Hell, he didn’t know if she had any feelings for him. And then, her slim fingers slid over the top of his. She held his hands on her shoulders. He cupped them, lightly squeezed them. He felt a smile form on his lips. He held it back when she turned to him. In that moment, the way her slender jaw-line seemed to angle in the moonlight, and the way her eyes flickered at him when they peered upward, she was the most beautiful woman in the world; the only woman in the world. His heart pumped heavily. Suddenly, he was at a loss of words. He knew that she’d seen this look of embarrassment because she smiled warmly, and gripped his hand, tight.

  “I just want this night to be over with,” she said.

  It took Winny a moment to rationalize what she’d said. But then logic set in and he answered her, “I’m scared of what’s going to come out of the darkness.” Then he nudged his chin toward the window. They looked down at the driveway.

  An evil, far from fathomable, was very near.

  Part 6: The Battle

  Chapter 23

  1

  Sammael basked in the night air. He walked freely down the center of the darkened highway. Bloodlust and murder swam in his sick mind.

  The neon sign reading ‘Buggy’s Liquor’ glowed brightly, a few hundred yards in the distance. He wanted Gardner. He could feel how close he was.

  He was a hindrance.

  His existence caused Sammael anguish and torment. He’d saved the girl, Donna, from being destroyed decades ago when Gardner had expelled him from her. Gardner took what had rightfully belonged to Sammael. If he’d just left the woman, the junkie girl, Donna, to Sammael, this night wouldn’t be happening. It wouldn’t be necessary. And those people wouldn’t be in danger. They wouldn’t have had to feel his rage. Not that he didn’t savor their fear, Sammael was very capable of dealing torment and he enjoyed it. Now, all he wanted to do was rip Gardner to pieces. He wanted to feast on his heart and he wanted his precious, junkie wife, Donna, to watch. Afterward, he would tear her to pieces. He would torture her for days. Thoughts of what he would do to her made him skip in his step. He anxiously awaited the destruction of the Gardner’s. The heat of what was to come excited him.

  He came to a slight turn in the road. Around the bend was Gardner’s farmhouse. It rested on top of the smooth rolling hill. It wouldn’t be long before Sammael unveiled his wrath upon Gardner and his group of young naïve humans. They had no idea that they were incapable of preventing the atrocities of what would happen to them. The outcome had already been written. Ultimately, it had been decided by the Divine. But it was the culmination of two much greater powers that held the fate of these simple people. Sure, Sammael’s master was the weaker of the two, but his master was good at the art of persuasion. He would not let Sammael fall. Not on this night. It had been many years in the making. The Unholy One would give Sammael what he asked for. He’d earned it. Sammael could taste the salt of his revenge.

  The crickets chirped. The night air felt warm, a bit stale. The humidity surrounded him, making the flesh of his borrowed skin slick. The house was near. He could smell terror radiating from those he wished to eviscerate. He felt another presence, one he was familiar with.

  It was Jezebeth.

  Was it possible that she was still here? When Gardner expelled Jezebeth from the girl’s body, Sammael assumed that she’d been sent back. Sent to the place that they’d both come from—the house of sorrow and pain
. But now, he thought differently. He could smell her presence, her anger. He could taste her rage and feel her vengeance. It was subtle, but flavorful. But did she hold ill will? Would she get in the way? She held no loyalty. Their kind was incapable of loyalty. Her only judgment was to torment, much like Sammael.

  She wouldn’t be a problem.

  Standing amidst the rows of corn, Sammael looked forward. The cornstalks parted and the flames of hell opened. Through the dancing flames, Sammael was assured that this was his night. He could destroy these people. Jezebeth was still of worth to him. She was at his disposal, a weapon in his arsenal.

  He could feel it.

  Sammael left the cornfield. He stood at the edge of the driveway, which led to the farmhouse. A burning energy swept through him. He felt his beautiful anger blossom. It swirled into rage and his rage would guide him in this battle.

  Still, the power which Gardner possessed made him shutter.

  Skirting along the driveway, Sammael braced himself for the battle.

  Chapter 24

  1

  “I need to pee,” Cherri announced as she swayed from one side of her butt to the other. She stood from the stack of boxes she’d been sitting on. She bounced from one foot to the other, her teeth chattered. Her fingers fidgeted and she had a hop to her step.

  Gardner, looking annoyed, turned to the small door in the floor. He spun around toward Cherri and said, “Can it wait?”

  Shaking her head, she lifted the empty, plastic milk jug. “I drank all of it.”

  Gardner raised an eyebrow. His eyes panned from the jug to Cherri’s stomach.

  “I guess I could go in this.” Cherri held out the jug.

  Hesitantly, Gardner returned, “That might be a better idea than going downstairs.”

  Donna stood, shook her head and looked sympathetically, from her husband to Cherri and said, “I’ll take you downstairs.”