The Presence

by Shady Grim

  He knew by an early age that he was different. He was prone to unpredictable and violent outbursts that erupted without provocation. As a youngster, his parents and sisters tried to soothe his outbursts, not with candy or toys, or other material things, but with patience and tenderness. Their approach didn’t work. As a pre-teen, Herbert’s outbursts became more violent. Although his father was a gentle and understanding man, his patience had been tested to its limit, and he began to punish his son more severely. Herbert was eleven when he first felt the sting of his father’s belt across his backside, and he found that he liked the sensation. The pain helped to calm him and reduce his closely guarded urges. The more severe the beating, the more contented Herbert felt after it. Herbert’s parents were simple people and were ill-equipped to handle a child like him. They thought that he was just a rambunctious boy who simply needed a harsher form of discipline than his older sisters had. They expressed relief that they had found a way to calm their son. Herbert knew exactly why he lost his temper, and he knew his outbursts were getting worse, but he wouldn’t dare tell his loving devoutly religious family.

  When Herbert was four, his mother caught him trying to strangle a puppy. He was scolded, of course, but his parents concluded that, given his low intelligence, he didn’t fully understand that what he’d done was hurtful. From that time forward, he was always watched and chaperoned. Family members took great care to explain things to him in detail, so that they were certain Herbert understood why one should or should not do something. With two doting parents and five hypervigilant older sisters, it was impossible for him to indulge his fantasies. Frustration would build inside him until he was unable to contain it. Eventually, being smacked with his father’s belt wasn’t enough to satisfy him, so he began to cut, bite, and burn himself on parts of his body that no one would see. It was easy enough to keep his self-mutilation secret because his family was very conservative, shorts were worn to the knee and shoulders and stomachs were never bare.

  Herbert was sixteen when his father stopped using a belt to chastise him, and Herbert sorely missed the feeling. His self-control had improved, but his fantasies and desires had greatly increased. Herbert’s parents thought their son had outgrown his strange outbursts, but in actual fact, he’d just become much better at hiding his desires. He took an after-school job with the butcher in town. The job was a godsend for Herbert. The smell of blood, and the sight and feeling of slicing through flesh made him feel giddy. He liked to fondle the animal carcasses when his boss wasn’t looking. Instead of having to hold in his frustrations as he did with his parents, it was his excitement he had to hide from his employer. He loved his job, but eventually he needed more stimulation. In addition to his part-time job, Herbert also did odd jobs for his neighbors.

  Early one morning, he arrived at the home of an elderly neighbor whose grass needed cutting. Herbert was nearing his twentieth birthday. The gentleman had a large piece of land that he was no longer able to tend. Herbert climbed the steps of the man’s porch, intent on knocking on the front door to signal his arrival. He was greeted by the neighbor’s dog. It was a sooner that was as elderly and frail as his master. It took the dog several tries to rise from his bed and approach Herbert. It appeared to be a happy contented creature, which made Herbert hate it all the more. Every time Herbert saw the dog, he fantasized about all the things he wanted to do to it; set it on fire, cut its belly open, skin it, and maybe even eat it. Herbert offered to get straight to work when the elderly gentleman answered the door. He descended the porch and strode to the small barn that housed the riding mower. The dog ambled slowly behind him. Herbert climbed onto the mower and started the engine. He wondered what it would be like to run over the dog with the mower, and what sort of sound the dog would make. He desperately wanted to hear it scream. Since the dog was so slow moving, he was sure that he could convince the old man that it was an accident. Between his lack of intelligence and his overwhelming excitement, Herbert was unable to think of a plausible lie. He sat immobile in the seat of the lawn mower, his fantasies running wildly through his dark dull mind. He was salivating, and sweat poured off of his head. He was so entranced that he didn’t notice the old man’s granddaughter had arrived holding a large glass of lemonade. She was a little older than Herbert and was friendly with his sisters. She often checked in on her grandfather, but Herbert didn’t expect her to be here because she’d recently had a baby. She waved to get his attention. He turned off the mower’s engine, smiled and offered her a clipped “good morning.” He could tell by her wide-eyed stare that she’d seen something that frightened her. Herbert didn’t know if he’d said anything, or if it was his profuse sweating, or something else about himself that scared her. She set the glass down on the nearest flat surface and left, taking the dog with her. Herbert went into a rage. He finished his chores quickly and left without saying goodbye.

  Herbert wandered aimlessly along a solitary road, trying to stamp out his temper. From the opposite direction came an old pickup truck packed with young people about Herbert’s age. The truck’s radio was blaring some ungodly excuse for music. The occupants were all singing and laughing, all except for one young woman, who appeared to be a little older than the rest. The truck slowed and the driver asked for directions to the old quarry. Herbert obliged. The young man in the driver’s seat asked Herbert if he would like to join them so he climbed into the back of the truck on a whim. “Two hitchhikers in one day,” remarked the driver with a pleasant laugh as Herbert hopped over the side of the truck. They were obviously not locals, and were likely here on vacation. The back of the truck was packed full of people, but they made room for him. Introductions were made quickly. The girls sat on the laps of their boyfriends, which Herbert thought was appallingly inappropriate. He found an open space next to the only single girl who looked as out of place as Herbert himself. The young woman said nothing. She and Herbert sat side by side quietly observing the people around them. They didn’t seem to notice that Herbert was different from them, or they didn’t care. The young people all appeared so happy and free and in love with life. Herbert hated them. He felt rankled by their open displays of affection.

  When they arrived at the quarry, Herbert was the first one out of the truck because he was the only one who didn’t have a young lady on his lap. He opened the tailgate and took the hands of some of the girls as they jumped out. They each thanked him in turn and scampered off with their boyfriends. The girls wore tops that showed both cleavage and bare shoulders, and shorts that ended several inches above their knees. The young men wore undershirts and cut-off jeans, and some of them wore no shirt at all. Many were barefoot. There was only one young woman who dressed with appropriate modesty, and she was the last one out of the truck. Herbert was fascinated by her.

  “I’m Herbert,” he said with some trepidation as he eased her off of the tailgate.

  “Lizbet.” Her reply was matter-of-fact, but not curt.

  Herbert and Lizbet followed the happy group, who were laying out towels on the sun-heated stone. One of the girls spoke to Lizbet. “There are two canteens if you’re thirsty. It’s just water.”

  Lizbet smiled and thanked her. The group began to strip their clothes off. Lizbet averted her eyes. Herbert was both offended and mesmerized by what he saw. He’d never seen a nude person before, and he discovered that he was equally attracted to both males and females. His attraction wasn’t sexual. Herbert had no interest in carnal activities. Their smooth young skin practically begged for his knife to slice into it. Herbert very much wanted to slice open their bellies. He began to sweat and salivate again. He was so excited, he forgot about Lizbet. Herbert waited for the skinny-dippers to climb down the rocky face and slip into the cool water before he sat down on one of the outstretched towels. He retrieved his pocket knife from his work trousers, lifted his shirt, and proceeded to drag the blade of his pocket knife across his belly.

  “There is a time and a place for such things,” said Lizbet softly.
She was standing over him. Her voice startled him, and he instinctively lurched at her, but something held him back. Lizbet was so calm and confident as she stood over him that Herbert felt his anxiety melt away. As he began to relax, Herbert realized they weren’t alone. A huge man stood behind him. A jolt of jealousy shot through Herbert. He thought this man was Lizbet’s beau. Then he realized that the man had no face. In fact, the man appeared to have no features at all, and was little more than shadow. It was all too much for Herbert’s feeble distracted mind to comprehend. He looked from Lizbet, to the shadow-man, and back to Lizbet again, with confusion plainly etched on his features.

  “We have important work to do, Herbert, but you must be patient.” Lizbet knelt next to him on the towel. “Would you pass me those canteens, please?” Herbert handed them over to her. He was growing more confused by the second. Lizbet unscrewed the caps, removed two vials of a murky liquid that resembled vinegar from the pocket of her dress, and poured one vial into each canteen. She replaced the caps, shook the canteens, and passed them back to Herbert. “Patience,” she repeated. She sat next to him, holding his hand; the same hand that still held his open pocket knife. After a couple of hours of laughing and splashing, the skinny-dippers emerged from the water and climbed back up the rock face. They passed the canteens around and lay on the towels to dry their bodies in the sun.

  “Ew, the water tastes funny,” declared one of the girls. One of the boys explained that the water had picked up a strange taste from the inside of the canteen, but was perfectly safe to drink. The girl refused to drink anymore, and lay down next to her boyfriend. Within ten minutes everyone was sleeping soundly, except for the girl who wouldn’t drink the water. She was clearly light-headed as she sat up to look at the others. She tried to rouse her boyfriend, but he didn’t respond to her prodding. The girl began to cry and called to Herbert for help.

  “Now,” said Lizbet, and pointed to a large rock.

  Herbert didn’t need any instruction as this was the one thing his mind could understand quite fully. He rose, snatched up the rock in his meaty hands, and bashed the girl’s head with it. He didn’t stop hitting her until her skull was quite flat. He turned to look at Lizbet, who stood a sensible distance away from him. She wore a satisfied smile and looked at him with pride in her eyes. Herbert was sure that it was pride. He’d seen his parents look at his sisters with that exact expression. No one had ever been proud of him before. In that moment, Herbert realized that he wasn’t unique. Yes, he was different from the people he knew, but he wasn’t the only one. He wasn’t alone. Lizbet was like him, she understood. Herbert felt happy; he felt loved.

  The shadow-man handed something to Lizbet, and she cradled it gently in her arms as she approached Herbert. He saw when she passed the bundle to him that it was his own set of butcher knives. He’d made the case himself out of deerskin. His brothers-in-law took him hunting every year, and he made things with the skins and bones of the animals they killed. All doubt was erased from his mind when he opened the case and saw his skinning knife with a small chip out of its handle. These were absolutely his knives.

  “How?” mouthed Herbert.

  Lizbet’s reply was to recite psalm 23. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake...”

  As Lizbet spoke, Herbert began to understand. Words formed in his mind; words that weren’t his own, “Lascivious...immoral...wicked...” Herbert now knew that he wasn’t just different; he was special. He’d been chosen as an instrument of the Lord. He opened his case and got to work. He cut throats and opened bellies; he removed skin and cut off genitals. He tasted human blood for the first time, and he bit into warm raw organs. Herbert laughed hysterically as he went about his work, the Lord’s work. Herbert had never felt so happy. He was jubilant. Herbert stood up, exhausted, after he’d hacked the last body to pieces. His joyfulness waned as he looked around at the tremendous mess he’d made. Panic welled up inside him. Surely someone would find out what he’d done. He’d be taken away, and he’d never see his parents again.

  “The Lord will protect you, Herbert. You have nothing to fear.” Lizbet told him to gather the bodies and take them into the woods. He did as instructed, carrying two bodies at a time. He very clearly heard howling the instant he laid the first two bodies on the ground. It sounded much too deep and rumbling to be coyotes, and there were no longer wolves in the area. He wasted no time fetching the other bodies because it was late in the day and would soon be dark. Each time he entered the woods, the howling sounded louder and closer than before. On his last trip, Herbert saw a pack of wolf-like dogs that were huge and misshapen. Their forms were indistinct and shadow-like just the Lord’s. They were ripping the bodies of the sinners apart and dragging them farther into the woods. He returned to the kill site and stood motionless while he tried to think. There were organs and slices of skin strewn everywhere, and a huge amount of blood on the ground and on himself. There was no way that he could clean up such an enormous mess.

  “Remove your boots,” said a deep voice in his head. The Lord was speaking to him. Herbert removed his boots and socks. What he saw next put him in such a state of awe that he would forever be incapable of accurately describing what he’d seen. The Lord changed form. A large greyish mist hovered over the sinners’ remains. As it moved from one towel to the next, every drop of blood and every scrap of flesh disappeared; devoured by the Lord. All the sinners’ belongings were as clean and fresh as when they were first laid out on the hot stone. Lastly, the mist moved to Herbert. It hovered for a moment, searching for indecision, but Herbert’s faith was steadfast. The mist enveloped him. Herbert’s nose was assaulted by the overwhelming stench of human decay. The odor would’ve sickened a lesser man. When the Lord moved away, not a drop of blood or human tissue was left on either Herbert or his boots. The Lord turned back into His man-like form and hurled Herbert over the rock face. He landed headfirst into the water. The coolness of the water felt good on his sweaty overheated body. He opened his eyes to right himself, and breached the water’s surface. Herbert felt reborn. He climbed the rock face to find Lizbet waiting for him, and he proposed to her on the spot. She accepted. The Lord had brought them together. They’d been chosen as instruments of His justice.

  “You can find me in the boarding house in town,” said Lizbet as Herbert donned his socks and boots. Herbert offered to walk her home. “No, we have to part ways now. Go home and wait for the Lord’s instruction.” Herbert didn’t know what that meant, but Lizbet was smart so she must be right. Lizbet walked in one direction and Herbert in another. He left her in the gloom of early evening with the Lord walking at her side.

  Herbert was nearly dry when he arrived home. His mother, who was cooking the evening meal, met him at the back door. She was very upset, and asked where he’d been all day. He told her that he’d met some strangers and went swimming with them at the old quarry. He told his mother that he didn’t like the strangers because they were indecent, but he’d met a very nice girl who was traveling with them and spent the day talking with her. His mother scolded him for not letting his family know his whereabouts. Herbert apologized, an empty perfunctory apology, but she seemed satisfied with it. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom on the second floor so he could change his clothes and wash up for dinner. Halfway up the stairs, Herbert’s blood turned to ice. He’d forgotten his knives. He didn’t know whether to go back to the quarry to get them, or clean up and have dinner. He chose the latter after several minutes of deliberation. If he went back out now, his parents would be suspicious. He decided to fetch his knives in the morning. When he entered his bedroom, he discovered that the Lord does indeed provide. Herbert’s cleaned knives were sitting on his bed.

  The following morning, a couple of hours after breakfast, the sheriff arrived to question Herbert. His mother fetched Herbert from the barn
where he was repairing the engine of his father’s tractor. “Morning, Herbert, I’d just like to ask you a few questions.” The sheriff was seated in a chair in the parlor. Herbert’s father sat next to him, and Herbert took a seat across from them. Herbert’s mother brought in a tray and poured lemonade for everyone before sitting down next to Herbert. “You had a ride in the back of a pickup truck yesterday afternoon. Is that correct?”

  Herbert averted his eyes to look past the sheriff as he thought about how to answer the question. The sheriff was a longtime friend of Herbert’s father. He knew Herbert to be odd and a little simple-minded so his slow reply and lack of eye contact wasn’t perceived as strange or suspicious. Herbert knew that telling the truth would make him appear guilty of the crimes he was indeed responsible for, but he was unable to think of a good lie. He’d already told his parents where he’d been, and he couldn’t change his story now. Herbert felt cornered and began to shift in his seat.

  “Just relax,” said the sheriff, “nobody’s accusing you of anything. I just need to clear some things up.”

  Herbert felt air move around his ear like someone breathing into it, except that it felt cold. He turned his head but saw nothing. No one else appeared to notice anything as they sat patiently waiting for Herbert’s reply. Herbert saw words beginning to form in his mind’s eye and knew that the Lord was speaking to him again. It was He who’d breathed in Herbert’s ear. The Lord was instructing him, just as Lizbet said He would. “Repeat what I say, exactly as I say it,” said the Lord.

  Herbert sat up straight and looked the sheriff in the eyes. He spoke calmly and confidently. “I mowed Mr. Shelby’s yard yesterday. Then I went for a walk. I was walking north on Elk Run Road when I saw a yellow pickup truck coming toward me. The driver stopped and asked for directions to the old quarry. Then he asked me if I’d like to come with him and his friends. I jumped in the back and sat next to a girl that I liked. Mr. Shelby’s granddaughter drove past us, and I waved to her. I expect that she’s the one who told you I was in the truck. When we got to the quarry, I got out and opened the tailgate and helped the girls out. Lizbet and I–she’s the girl I like–sat on the ground and talked for a long time. I went in for a swim when the others came out. They all lay down on towels and went to sleep and Lizbet and I left. She’s staying in the boarding house in town. I offered to walk her home, but she said no.”