by Aiden James
“Agent Nelson pushed me around some when the five of them couldn’t dig up anything substantial on ya’ll,” said Marshall. “Who knows what would’ve become of me if Agent Grunhardt hadn’t put a stop to his shit. Until the moment he died, Gene acted as my personal protector. I didn’t have another lick of trouble from the other two FBI men that morning or any other time as long as he was around. It wasn’t until my old friend Stu Johnson showed up later in the afternoon, that things took a turn for the worst.
“Time hadn’t been so good to Agent Johnson, as he looked a hell of a lot older than the last time I saw him, nearly twenty-one years ago.” Marshall chuckled softly for a moment. “He’d gotten himself a noticeable gut, too, which made him look shorter. But, the agents he brought with him worshipped the frigging ground the man walked on. They were the ones who came to that Queens Court mansion with ya’ll earlier this morning. Even though I couldn’t see them when ya’ll arrived I could smell their arrogance, and I heard their awful cries when their illusions about Stu fell away and they realized the terrible fix they’d fallen into.
“I ignored their comments about your ‘murdering ways’ and such,” he continued. “After what’d happened to Deshawn Wheatley and that poor girl, only Gene Grunhardt and his older associate, Agent Bruce, along with Officer Pedersen and Officer O’Reilly, were receptive to my thoughts on how there was no way in hell either of you did such a thing. These men may have believed you boys killed their colleagues in Virginia, but to commit acts as gruesome as what happened to Deshawn and his girlfriend was a whole other ballgame, and they knew it didn’t fit your profiles.”
He paused to sip his beer and then set the bottle on a small table next to his chair.
“Other than marveling at the television news updates about the strange weather phenomenon, what I’ve told you so far were pretty much the highlights of my week,” he said, smiling wanly. “I couldn’t go anywhere, but I did get a couple calls from Monty. I’m thankful none of the agents knew what he really told me when we spoke, since he and I talked in code.”
“Now that’s pretty cool, Grandpa!” said Jeremy, nodding approvingly.
“So, all in all it was nowhere near the week ya’ll had, until late Friday night,” Marshall continued, nodding at Jeremy’s response. “Just after midnight, we heard a knock on the front door. Mike O’Reilly was the only one in the living room with me at the time, and he absently stood up to open the door. Maybe he thought another pizza deliverer had arrived since two of the agents successfully ordered a pizza an hour earlier, despite the weather and all. He moved cautiously to the door and peered through the peephole.
“No one was there, so he drew his gun and opened the door to step outside, suspecting perhaps some prankster or, worse yet, one of ya’ll had come to rescue your dear old Grandpa.” He chuckled again, sadly. “Officer O’Reilly stood in the rain for a moment, and when he still didn’t detect anyone hiding nearby, he smiled sheepishly at me and walked back inside. Just as he slowly closed the front door behind him, five faint figures appeared on the porch by the doorway. At first, all I saw was their outlines and bright blue eyes sparkling in the porch lamp’s glare. The leader of the group stopped the door from closing, which surprised him. He turned just in time to see Genovene finish her materialization.
“My God, what a looker!” sighed Marshall, briefly reminiscing about his initial impression of her. “If I hadn’t known what a witch and demon she was from your experience long ago, Jack, I would’ve sprung a woody for sure! As it was, I braced for the worst, while Officer O’Reilly just stood there, mesmerized by her presence.
“He started to say something like, ‘where the hell did you come from?’ But by the time he realized what was amiss, her four siblings had fully materialized. Before he could even utter his first scream, she and the others lifted him into the air and turned him upside down. They broke his back and shoved his legs through the ceiling. The poor man was still conscious when Genovene’s fingernails grew into long razors and she sliced his throat open. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of her claws tearing through his flesh and spinal cord.
“That wasn’t the worst part, though,” said Marshall, pausing to pick up his beer and almost finish off the bottle. “The worst was seeing his blood float out into the air around him, turning into what looked like bite-size Jell-O bits they all feasted on, like plucking plump ripe cherries from the air. All the while, Officer O’Reilly’s body convulsed horribly until he died.”
He stood up and went into the kitchen to grab another beer.
“Would ya’ll like another cold brew? I promise the rest of what I’ve got to tell you won’t take long, for all of the bloodshed in my house took maybe ten to fifteen minutes, tops.”
“Sure, I’ll take one,” said Jack.
“You know you don’t even need to ask me, Grandpa,” added Jeremy.
Marshall returned to the salon and handed his grandsons their chilled bottles and sat back in his recliner.
“As I said, everything moved real fast after that,” he said. “Officer Pedersen, sitting at the kitchen table behind me, drew his gun and stood up when he realized what was happening. He emptied his gun, aiming at Genovene as she moved toward him. For some reason none of the bullets hit her. She grabbed the gun from his hand while he pleaded for her to get the hell away. I heard the bones in his wrist and hand snap before he shrieked in terrible pain, and then she forced him back into his chair. She uttered some strange incantation that shut him up, staring straight ahead as if under a deep trance.
“The three FBI agents emerged from the den and guest room, where they were working late on some paperwork concerning you two. Genovene’s sisters easily disarmed them, moving so fast that I swear to God their images became blurred. Agent Bruce was taken back into the den, while I believe Agent Nelson was dragged into the bathroom next to my bedroom—at least that’s what I gathered from the echoes I heard from his shrill screams, anyway.
“I never saw either of those men again, but I had the unfortunate experience of watching Agent Grunhardt’s gruesome death. He came out into the living room with Willie Bruce, and when his partner was taken back to the den, one of Genovene’s brothers grabbed Gene and brought him to her. Once she determined he was the ranking officer on the property at that moment, she laughed wickedly while she told him it was time for some real fun. She studied him curiously and said he reminded her of a character from the movies. A moment later her smile broadened and she told him he’d be perfect playing the part of the Scarecrow in ‘The Wizard of Oz’.
“By then, her sisters and the brother she called Malacai had finished with the other agents. He moved over and picked me up out of my chair and brought me over to where she stood, just outside the kitchen door on the back porch. She looked at me for the first time, and I’ll never forget the strange sensation I felt in her presence. The closest I can come to describing it is that it felt like she stroked my manhood while her fingers probed through my brain—the most bizarre mixture of pleasure and horror I’ve ever experienced in my life, I do believe!”
Jack nodded thoughtfully, as he also knew this experience, though never able to put it into words like his grandfather had just now.
“She looked at me seriously for a moment,” continued Marshall. “Then she laughed while addressing me for the first time. ‘Hello, Marshall,’ she said. ‘It’s so good to have you here today!’ She looked over at Agent Grunhardt, who desperately tried to free himself from her brother’s grasp. ‘There are so many amusing ways for a human being to die, and your friend Gene, here, is going to have his own little section in today’s chapter!’
“Although I didn’t know him well, I think it’s safe to consider Gene as a real ‘man’s man’. In the face of her taunts and cruel innuendos about his imminent demise, he never lost his courage or poise, despite the fact he surely knew there was little chance he’d ever escape this encounter with his life. I recall him saying something earlier in the week about
serving in ‘Nam as a Green Beret. Certainly, he died like a man of valor.
“Genovene and the others inflicted horrible torture upon him, stretching his ligaments and joints to the point of tearing while peeling large strips of skin from his torso and back. When he refused to behave like the ‘Scarecrow’, she ordered her brothers to break his ankles and wrists so that he looked like only straw connected his hands and feet to his arms and legs. Gene’s lip bled from biting through it to endure a level of pain I can’t even imagine. Next, she ordered his knees and elbows crushed.
“Without any way of supporting himself he collapsed on the ground. But, Genovene wasn’t finished yet. She told her sisters to lift him and hold him steady. Each one grabbed a broken leg or arm, pulling them until I thought for sure they’d rip free from his body. Once lifted spread-eagle, screaming in incredible pain but enough rage to tell that evil bitch what he thought of her, she pointed her hands and thrust them into his chest and abdomen, removing his beating heart and liver. Genovene handed the organs to her sisters, who eagerly gobbled them down, the blood streaming from their lips.”
Marshall paused, taking a long drink from his beer and studying the bottle absently before going on.
“Genovene took the body and sat it up between the northernmost support posts of the back porch,” he said, shaking his head. “She twisted his head a hundred and eighty degrees to where it seemed like he looked out into the backyard. She twisted his limbs in similar fashion for good measure, nodding approvingly at her latest handiwork over her shoulder while walking back to us. That left me and Officer Pedersen.
“‘That should keep the little piggies and rodents out of your garden, Marshall. Wouldn’t you agree?’ She winked at me, so haughtily. One of her brothers brought me back inside the house. He made me sit next to Officer Pedersen, whose glassy eyes stared off into space as if he were in some other world.
“Her sisters grabbed five of my finest beer glasses. You know, the ones with our family name engraved on them,” said Marshall, unaware his grandsons had examined them up close in his kitchen. “Well, it’s a shame they’ll never be usable again. Genovene told me she had one last trick to show me before it was time to leave, and that I’d soon partake in a ‘celebration unlike any the modern world has ever seen’.
“When all five of these monsters picked up a glass, she moved over to Stan Pedersen and nonchalantly tore his head off, like it was no more difficult for her than pulling back the tab off a Coke can. In similar fashion to what happened to his partner, Officer Pedersen’s blood drifted into the air, but in suspended streams. Genovene and her kin collected every available drop in their glasses, clinking them together the first time while shouting ‘Cheers!’ to one another. They filled them up time and again until the fountain from the policeman’s neck went dry. By then, I swear all five literally glowed, like fireflies at midnight.
“With everyone else dead, Genovene turned her attention to me. She forced me to strip down to my pants, examining me like I suppose male slaves back in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries around here were viewed. She sized me up like I still had something to offer, even at my advanced age.”
He grimaced before going on.
“Standing there without my shirt and shoes, she told me it was time to join her on the special shrine she mentioned earlier. She seemed indifferent to my wallet’s presence in my back pocket, thank God. Otherwise, I don’t believe I would’ve been able to drive this boat without my key, regardless of your abilities to hot-wire an engine, Jeremy—no offense intended, son.”
“How in the hell did you know about that?”
Jeremy shot an accusatory look at Jack, who shrugged his shoulders to tell him this knowledge hadn’t come from his lips.
“I had a fairly good relationship with Mary Stinson, Freddy’s mom,” explained Marshall. “And, when he finally got sent up for grand theft auto five years ago, she told me about yours and his weekend activities during ya’ll’s high school years.” He grinned, seeming more amused than disappointed by this knowledge.
“Maybe you’d like me to show you what I can do later, when we’re far enough away from Alabama, Grandpa,” offered Jeremy, his smile sly.
“Perhaps, son. Perhaps....”
Marshall grew silent as if thinking about something else.
“So, what happened next, Grandpa?” asked Jack, wanting to hear the rest of what happened.
“Well, without much warning, Genovene and her blood-drenched kin lifted me, and then we all floated out of the house,” he said. “All of my neighbors’ houses remained dark. But surely someone had to hear Agent Grunhardt’s screams of agony. Still, I doubt anyone made a call to the police…. Once we were way up in the air, there wasn’t a damned cruiser or ambulance for miles.”
Marshall told them how his flight to the estate reminded him of a “Harry Potter” movie he saw with them a few years back. Flying at incredible speed through a driving rainstorm, they flew swiftly toward the university’s campus. They didn’t stop until after blasting through the front door—much to the surprise of the two cops sitting in their squad cars. Before the policemen realized what was happening, Genovene’s sisters dragged them into the house, screaming and helplessly flailing their arms and legs.
Once finished with their ghoulish feast in the kitchen, Genovene led the way down into the basement. The entire lower level had already undergone an amazing transformation. Once past a near-blinding light, the incredible structure of the ‘Blood Star’ loomed before them. Genovene’s siblings tied Marshall to the altar beneath the Cristal Del Sol, spinning slowly above the platform.
“I’ve never been more uncomfortable, or frightened for that matter, in my entire life,” he said. “I passed out several times due to my circulation being cut off in my arms and legs, and having all of my blood drain into my head since it was pulled back to such an extreme.”
He gingerly massaged the back of his neck, as if the pain had just returned.
“When I heard ya’ll and Stu Johnson’s crew moving about upstairs—don’t ask me how that was possible, but it’s true—I tried to call out, to warn you to get away,” he told them. “Genovene gagged me with a sash from one of her sister’s gowns, and I was forced to helplessly listen to everything else that happened until the two of you rescued me. I’d already been there for a couple of hours at least, and the immense jewels and colored mists surrounding the thing had been dark and quiet until just before ya’ll showed up. That’s when everything around me sprang to life.”
Marshall took another large drink, draining the remaining beer in his bottle.
“I thought we’d all die this morning.”
He stood up to throw his empty bottle away.
“I’ll take your bottles, too, if ya’ll are done with them.”
“So, that’s it, huh?” said Jeremy, handing his empty bottle to him, now naked without its label. “I’ll bet it was a hell of a lot more excitement than you’ve had in a while.”
“Yes, it was,” he sighed, moving over to collect Jack’s empty bottle as well. “I recall how badly I wanted to know firsthand the critters you’d encountered long ago, Jack. I’m sure I would’ve truly enjoyed seeing a real live angel if it’d been under different circumstances. But, I wish to God I’d never wanted to see this demon called Genovene, no matter how beautiful her appearance can be…. Maybe I’d feel more like Jeremy, here, if I was forty to fifty years younger. I’m way too old to be dealing with the likes of her now—that’s for damned sure!”
He chuckled sadly and moved over to the yacht’s trash compartment in the kitchen.
“Don’t you be thinking it was all fun and games for me, either, Grandpa!” Jeremy called after him. “I’d just as soon never lay eyes on her again during my lifetime—that’s definitely for damned sure too!”
He laughed and looked over at Jack.
“As for you, young man, I don’t believe she’ll be calling on you to help her again anytime soon!”
; “I sure as hell hope you’re right about that!” agreed Jack, smiling grimly.
Marshall announced he was going back onto the flybridge for a while. Jeremy and Jack turned their attention back to the television set, this time immediately searching for CNN since ready now to hear the latest news concerning their hometown. The report from Alabama indicated authorities still believed they were somewhere in the state. Already, the controversy over the storm system and photographs of the seven gleaming towers near its center was being touted as the number one national news story of the year. Despite the overwhelming evidence supporting the event, the government had moved quickly to discredit the authenticity of that very same proof.
“We can only hope this controversy pulls the focus away from us, Jackie,” said Jeremy. “Otherwise, it may be many years before we can go back home as free men.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” said Jack. “What do you think became of our friends from Bolivia?”
“I honestly don’t know. When we nearly got killed earlier today, I was real tempted to start hating Francisco, Rafael and the other Essenes for not being there to help us out,” said Jeremy. “But, now that we’re here and headed to Mexico for a while, I’m hoping we meet up with them again.”
“Me, too, bro,” Jack agreed.
He turned for a moment to glance out the salon window above the sectional. The water around them was much less murky, and the afternoon sunlight danced on the waves.
“Are you planning to take a trip to Bolivia any time soon?”
“What, and visit the castle again?”
“Yes.”
“You damn betcha!”
