by Dan Dillard
Chapter 29
“ Evidence is all I wanted... something to keep hope—to find some reason to get up in the morning. Have I gone insane? There are two realities between which I share my time, and both have turned into nightmares. Maybe I'm dead and this is my purgatory, stuck between two layers of Hell. Max warned me. The research warned me... even Kay warned me. Why me?
Because I invited it, that's why.”
-Ethan Jacobs, Electronic Journal entry #63
..ooOOoo..
Ethan crawled into the bathroom to look at his wounds in the mirror and what he saw rocked him. He was pale except for a large bruise on his jaw and dark circles under his eyes. His lower lip had been split clear through and blood stained his t-shirt.
The wound ached and opened slightly each time he moved his mouth, letting a drop of blood ooze out. He tasted copper and wondered how much blood he had swallowed. His eyes were weak; one vessel had ruptured, filling in red around the blue iris. He laughed uncomfortably at the reflection, thinking he must be more frightening than the demon causing this nightmare.
He was at once afraid and ready for that voice to come back, but he didn’t have the feeling that it was there. The thick feeling of its presence was hard to describe, but unmistakable. He feared death at the being’s hand, or worse: maybe it could keep him in tortured limbo forever.
He no longer cared whether it was electrical or made out of recycled tires. He didn’t care what form it took. He just didn’t want to feel it anymore. There was no charged feeling or heightened awareness when it left, as others had claimed. He felt excruciating sadness and anger when it was there, and when it left, the anger and sadness stayed behind.
Whenever it spoke, Ethan felt like he was dying.
It used his own energy against him, to torture him—a double edged sword. Perhaps it was resting up for the next round; Ethan decided to take advantage while he had any strength left at all.
A blow struck Ethan across his chest and may have cracked a rib. He lay there with his entire body screaming in pain, and continued to think. He could feel the eyes of the creature on him and knew it was gloating over the agony it had caused.
How easy it must be to watch from that high perch, he thought.
It had spun him up like a child’s top, and was just watching him bobble, bouncing from object to object, waiting for him to give up and topple over. It knew it had a captive there in that apartment and there was little Ethan could do.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he said.
He spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor and sat up, breathing through the agony. There was no reaction from the invisible creature. Perhaps it didn’t even understand his or any other language. It knew that he had no experience for a situation like this. Ethan had nothing left from which he could draw any strength and no friends left to help.
But maybe there was something he could do.
Ethan slowly got his legs underneath him and stumbled to the bedroom to open the closet door, frantically looking for a gift he had received many years ago.
Where is it?
He tore containers from the top shelf and threw them behind him to the floor and the bed. He pulled clothes off of hangers and ripped open storage boxes that housed college textbooks and old photo albums. There were letters from girlfriends and a cap and gown from his high school graduation. Newspaper clippings and loose photos fell to the floor. Everything but what he searched for.
He dumped the contents of each container, inspecting with wild eyes until he finally found it. It was in the bottom of a shoe box covered by a pile of old pictures, mostly of friends he’d grown up with in the neighborhood across town. Pictures he put away so as not to have to look at them and thus bring memories back. Buried there was a gift from his grandmother. She had given him that leather-bound Bible. On the inside of the cover was an inscription:
“My Dearest Ethan,
Many times as adults we are faced with challenges that seem to have no solution. Those solutions are found in here should you choose to look for them.
I love you and God loves you.
Grandma L.”
He thought it was sweet when he first read it. At that moment, it seemed prophetically corny. His grandmother had always been ready with a warm hug or some food at any time, and always tempered her advice with a smile and love, even when she was scolding him, which was often.
He felt she had known he wasn’t a spiritual or religious person, but wanted to show him he could go there if need be, that she wouldn’t always be around to pray on his behalf. He was hoping desperately that she was watching over him now and that it wasn’t too late.
Being unfamiliar with the book, he sat on the bedroom floor and read from the beginning, looking up every so often when he would catch the odor of the ghostly sentry put there to guard him. He could feel that it was pacing from one side of the apartment to the other, impatient for its master’s return. He read through the old Bible and didn’t stop for hours, turning each crisp page for the first time.
Ethan absorbed the words as his eyes passed over them, reading aloud in hopes that his newfound prayer would be enough. He thought back on his favorite movie, The Exorcist, which now seemed less scary and more like a watered-down soft drink. He thought about the priests in the film and how their conviction in their reading from the Holy Scripture was what saved the little girl, even though the demon, Pazuzu, had taken one of them with him when it left. He only hoped that if there was anything to all this God stuff, his lack of faith up to this point in his life would be forgiven and he would be spared.
Loudly praising God, he read on, ignoring or perhaps not noticing the strange pressure building in his apartment. He recited, even as the hairs on his body stood on end and the bass drum began to pound in the back of his head. He read on, even as the smell of death and decay returned like an unwelcome, moist breeze on a blistering August afternoon. The reading ceased as the drums pounding inside his skull shook his entire body and the unholy screaming started again, causing unbearable pain.
Then there was quiet.
“AH, THE BIBLE…ONE OF MAN’S GREATEST WORKS OF FICTION. I FIND IT STRANGE THAT YOU WOULD CHOOSE TO READ IT ON THIS DAY OF ALL DAYS.”
“This is how I'm going to beat you,” he said.
“WE'RE NOT IN COMPETITION, ETHAN JACOBS. YOU CANNOT BEAT US.”
“Yes I can.”
“YOU CARE TO PUT YOUR LIFE IN GOD’S HANDS NOW, AFTER MEETING THE LIKES OF US? ARE YOU A CHANGED MAN, ETHAN JACOBS, PRAISING SOMETHING YOU NEVER BELIEVED IN? THE EVIL WE REPRESENT IN YOUR EYES SURELY MUST MEAN THAT THERE IS AN OPPOSING SILVER LINING, IS THAT IT?”
Its voice boomed, sarcastic and mocking. Then it laughed…they laughed.
“Who are you? The devil? Do you want my soul? Take it... choke on it.”
He spoke through pain and a swollen, split lip. The wound opened deeper as he spoke, and blood began to flow again. The sweet metallic liquid dripped into his mouth, but Ethan didn’t even notice.
“ETHAN, ETHAN. I MAKE NO SUCH CLAIM. THERE IS NO DEVIL. MUCH LIKE THERE IS NO GOD. YOU’VE BEEN READING THAT NONSENSE. AREN'T YOU WORTHY OF HIS LOVE? IF SO, WHY DO YOU SUFFER? HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO YOURSELF OF YOUR OWN FREE WILL OR WAS THIS HIS PLAN FOR YOU ALL ALONG? WHAT GOOD COULD COME FROM THIS, ETHAN?”
“Praise God, He will save me and forgive me and take me into His kingdom.”
“ARE YOU WORTH SAVING? WHY ARE YOU WORTH MORE THAN THE BILLIONS OF OTHERS WHO HAVE DIED, OR WILL DIE AT THE HANDS OF MURDERERS, BECAUSE OF DISEASE, WAR, POVERTY...BECAUSE OF US?”
Ethan stared at where he thought the voice originated, challenging it.
“God's love is infinite. His power is infinite.”
“IS THAT SO? THEN WHY ARE THINGS THE WAY THEY ARE? YOU MAY READ ANY BOOK YOU LIKE, WE DON’T MIND.”
It laughed a low, pulsing chuckle, and when it spoke again, the voice came from a different part of the room. Ethan pictured a muscul
ar, red-skinned, red-tailed beast with goat’s legs and human arms pacing through the dwelling. It had the face of a goat, complete with a beard and stubby black horns poking out above its floppy tear-shaped ears.
In an ozone-scented puff, that very image appeared sitting on the edge of the bed. It was just as Ethan had imagined. Red skin, tail, goat legs, and staring back at him from his own bedroom. Tiny electrical charges flowed from its edges, like static on a wool blanket. As it shifted, sparks pulled from the very air.
“IS THIS HOW YOU WISH TO SEE ME? CLASSIC...ALMOST COMICAL? I’M DISAPPOINTED IN YOU, ETHAN JACOBS.”
It paused to look at itself in the mirror.
“NONETHELESS, PERHAPS I SHOULD STAY WITH YOUR OWN IMAGINING. IT MIGHT EASE YOUR MIND TO BE ABLE TO FOLLOW ME ABOUT AS WE SPEAK.”
It laughed again, and then stood up and walked to another part of the room, shifting the air pressure in the room as it went. Ethan felt it was afraid of his newfound faith and maybe it had shown itself as a distraction.
“You said you wouldn’t show yourself, that it took too much energy.”
“YOU THINK I FEAR YOU? I WAS MERELY CONSERVING ENERGY TO PROLONG OUR VISIT. THIS IS YOUR LIFE FORCE I'M WASTING, NOT MINE.” The goat headed creature sighed and shook its horny head. “I HAVE NO FEAR. FEAR COMES FROM THE ABSENCE OF KNOWLEDGE. WE ARE KNOWLEDGE.”
The words emanated from somewhere other than the projection’s open mouth, like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Suddenly Ethan thought he was being misled by the vision. The sound was still moving all around him although the goat-man was stationary.
“I don’t want to see you.”
It vanished and he wasn’t sure if the voice had made the goat man appear, or if he had imagined it himself. Ethan looked around, trying not to lose track of the sound he was hearing, but it was no use. He looked for the misty shape he had caught a glimpse of earlier, but saw nothing. The voice changed from one to many and continued to move about; this time it was right behind his left ear, causing him to jump as it spoke its next words.
“YOU’D HAVE ME GO AND FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO TORTURE, IS THAT RIGHT? YOU WOULDN’T SACRIFICE YOURSELF AS THE ONE FOOL DID IN THAT BOOK YOU SO LOVINGLY CLUTCH TO YOUR BREAST? SACRIFICE YOURSELF SO THAT OTHERS MAY LIVE?”
It snorted to punctuate the last statement.
“I wouldn't wish this on anyone...God will save me and punish you. I believe that my family will watch over me and I will live. I believe Jesus will watch over me and I will beat you, you sick bastard.”
His eyes filled with renewed anger. In a rush of wind, the voice and horned apparition were back, just inches from Ethan’s face. It barked its words in an angry staccato as if tired of explaining itself.
“YOUR GRANDMOTHER IS DEAD AND GONE. YOUR PARENTS ARE DEAD AND GONE. JESUS IS DEAD AND GONE. THEIR BODIES USED UP. THEY ARE NOT IN HEAVEN NOR ARE THEY IN HELL.”
“Then where are they?”
“THERE IS NO ‘THEY’. THERE IS ONLY US.”
Once more, the vision of the goat-demon vanished. With the pseudo-physical body gone, its speech became passive again, like a psychiatrist interviewing a patient.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND? THERE IS NO COMING BACK, NO GOING ON TO ANOTHER PLACE, AND NO ONE IS WATCHING OVER YOU. THERE IS ONLY US, NOTHING ELSE.”
Ethan resisted. The words of his father used in that statement. He gripped the Bible tightly against his chest, finally managing actual conviction.
“You have no power over me. My soul belongs to Christ and in His name I pray!”
Laughter greeted the gesture.
He closed his eyes tightly and prayed silently to God to save his soul. He apologized for bringing this beast about and prayed that even if he died at the hand of this monster, God would take Ethan's soul into the Kingdom of Heaven. The voice was suddenly silent, and Ethan exhaled in relief. He opened one eye and looked around. Then the other eye…nothing.
“Amen,” he said in a whisper, and cautiously stood up.
Holding his breath, he scanned the room again. He sniffed the air. Everything was normal until it spoke, this time booming.
“AMEN INDEED, ETHAN. YOUR FAITH…ALL FAITH IS WASTED ON RELIGION.”
The window rattled and the mirror over his dresser cracked.
Ethan felt pressure in his right shin, like it was being pressed in a vise. The pain grew and he dropped to a seated position, trying desperately to remove the invisible clamps, to escape. Then he heard a loud pop and felt searing pain as the bone snapped like a brittle twig. Ethan shrieked, his body trying to go into shock ... trying to find unconsciousness.
The left shin snapped, this time breaking the skin and sending blood splattering across the floor. He crumpled to the carpet, screaming in pain and cursing, selfishly feeling forsaken by a God he'd only just met. There was no help coming from friends, from family, or from faith in Jesus Christ. He continued to pray nonetheless, but his heart was broken and he could barely spit out the now bitter tasting words.
The feeling of a clamp on his neck returned, and he was hoisted up off the ground again, but this time instead of pummeling his face, it placed him on the bed. As it loosed its grip he felt the wounds on his neck fill with blood, and then the hot liquid ran from them, drawing lines down the sides of his neck. In the other room he heard Slobber's hysterical barking.
Ethan’s body throbbed and he shrieked again as the pain from the compound fracture shot from his thigh to his lower back. He felt hot and dizzy. He saw the shiny white bones protruding through a jagged tear in his leg. They bled steadily, like an artery had been severed, and he knew that he would bleed out and die on that bed once the creature had been thoroughly amused.
“I demand that you leave, demon, spirit…devil…whatever you are! Leave me to die.”
He was used up and his voice was weak, but he knew of nothing else to say. Both legs howled and he grimly held onto that reality. He looked at his leg and saw that the bleeding had slowed. The pain was still epic he was only coherent because of adrenaline, or maybe because the demon wanted him that way.
Ethan wasn’t going to beg for mercy. This ancient fucker would grow decrepit and die before Ethan would beg.
“YOU WILL DIE IN DUE TIME, ETHAN, BUT I HAVE ONE TASK FOR YOU BEFORE I LEAVE.”
“What if I refuse?”
“WHAT IF YOU SUFFERED THIS WAY FOR ETERNITY?”
In his mind, Ethan saw it sitting at some ancient table with all of its digits interlaced, save the index fingers, which were tapping together rhythmically. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Each click of its long black fingernails representing one less moment of its patience.
“You'd get tired of me.”
His voice was raspy and unfamiliar.
“WE NEVER TIRE OF PAIN, SUFFERING...SELF PITY. SUCH EMOTIONS ARE WHERE WE THRIVE, THE ENERGY IS SO EASY TO TAKE.”
Ethan gritted his teeth, choking back another scream as he shifted his body to a better seated position. He thought about death, and what happens when people die. With nothing left to lose, he asked the question.
“When I die, will I become part of you? One of your kind?”
Ethan laughed nervously at the thought as the life drained from his body. He grew cold. The voice answered with a doctor’s bedside manner.
“I’M AFRAID IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT, ETHAN. YOU WILL NEVER BE 'OF MY KIND', AS YOU PUT IT.”
“Then what will happen to me—what happens when we die?”
Everything hurt and he just wanted comfort. He hated this voice and the lies it told, but he had no one else.
“NOTHING, ETHAN JACOBS.”
It paused, as if it was aware of Ethan's distress at the thought of blowing out like an old light bulb, never to light again. The thought that his father was right. That his mother spent her life with a hope that was never realized.
“YOU WILL SIMPLY CEASE TO BE.”
The voice was many again, a chorus of horrible things saying horrible words. They wait
ed for his response. Ethan knew the voice was right, he had known that his whole life. He never believed in a heaven or an afterlife, and now he was about to have proof. His body was cold and the ache was leaving his wounds.
“What are you?”
“LIKE YOUR DEATH, IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE. WE HAVE HAD MANY NAMES OVER THE CENTURIES. YOUR ASSIGNMENT IS TO LEARN THEM ALL BEFORE WE GO.”
“I don’t understand…”
“SHOW US THAT YOU’VE FOUND WHAT YOU WERE SEEKING AND WE WILL GO.”
He didn’t understand, not at first. Then a new vision formed in his head and it all made sense. He could see clearly what it—what they—wanted. He was relieved that his suffering would soon be over.
His body numb, Ethan threw his feet over the edge of the bed and planted them on the floor with the intention of standing. His pain was recharged causing tiny blasts of light to cloud his vision. He fell to the floor and gathered his knees underneath his body. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, crawling on his hands and bloody knees, useless feet dragging behind him, in order to begin his final task.
There was no reason to his instructions.
They just were.
