by Lex Sinclair
Sofie needed to be like that now. She took immense pleasure in fucking up the cult’s plans. What scared her, though, was when she’d enquired to the portly nurse in the ICU department about having an abortion. The woman couldn’t hide the horror-stricken expression. Then when she informed the doctor, he’d told Sofie that perhaps she ought to consult with the father beforehand. After that, both the nurses and the doctors no longer mollycoddled her as they’d done previously. Even now she still felt riddled with embarrassment at asking. Yet what she needed to remind herself was that no one outside the circle knew all the details.
She stifled a burp, having nearly finished the bottle of Lucozade, and then peeled the wrapper off her Snickers bar, taking a famished bite and chewing mindlessly. She didn’t have time to enjoy the taste of the chocolate, caramel and nuts. Instead she kept her unflinching gaze on the Hospital entrance. If she saw the direction of the malevolent gentleman was headed, she’d then finish her snack and go in the opposite direction. Nevertheless, as to where she’d go she had no idea. She may not look like a dishevelled, bone-weary waif at the moment. But if she couldn’t find a sanctuary sooner or later she’d be in an equally perilous situation as she was previously.
Reverend Ward’s reiteration regarding her recalcitrant behaviour was, in part, unequivocally true. Yet Sofie believed that one was in charge of their own destiny. Perhaps if she could honestly trust the members of the cult that she’d come to no harm and that she’d be permitted to leave of her accord when she’d given birth, she would have relented much sooner. However, after using supernatural forces of a sinister nature to levitate her body against the laws of gravity up onto the altar and the other incident on the night she’d had her old life demolished into this crazy, whirlwind existence, Sofie couldn’t believe a single word any of them said.
If the unborn child inside her was so damn powerful and unique (which she wasn’t denying for one moment) then by the time it grew to an age it could look after itself, he or she would then face their destiny as she had done, and her biological parents before her. She didn’t think that burning the pentacle symbol into her flesh would make the birth of their lord any more marvellous than they anticipated.
On the street the mysterious, tall, dark gentleman wearing an expensive pin-striped suit came to a halt. His snapped left to right. From where she was sitting, Sofie could see he didn’t look the slightest bit pleased with the current situation. He most likely assumed that all he had to do was merely arrive at the hospital and the crisis would be over. The dark, inexplicable forces that had intervened when Inspector Jones and Constable Mollie Jenkins had obtained actual evidence they could use to prosecute in the court of law had been temporarily thwarted by Sofie’s quick thinking.
He glanced in the direction of the park, and Sofie involuntarily ducked, cussing under her breath at her error. If the man with a chiselled face and crystal-blue eyes had seen the hooded figure ducking instantly the moment their gazes met, he’d know straight away that that was her disguise. He’d come after her with a new vigour. Sofie didn’t think her chances would be very good in her present condition; although at least she was wearing the right clothes for a dash.
Fortunately, the man decided to head to the left and strode down the pavement out of her sight. Sofie finished her snack, tossed the contents into the trash can next to the bench and got to her feet. She followed the path around the bandstand to the opposite exit, heading in completely the opposite direction the man had gone.
Using the pelican crossing, Sofie made her way across another busy road and past a street consisting mostly of buildings belonging to solicitors, law firms and estate agents. Every now and again, she chanced a glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed. The words Reverend Ward and spoke one night while she’d been staying in his idyllic cottage reverberating in her mind, blocking out the background din of car horns and buses going by. “We are Legion”.
She checked the loose change in her purse - £2:50. Just enough to catch a bus back to university where she could close the door and lock it behind her. Be safe. If anyone saw her she’d tell them that she’d been kidnapped by the perpetrators who had caused the awful car crash and the gruesome demise of Janice. She’d leave the part out about the perpetrator being a witch. The last thing she wanted was for her fellow students and tutors to think she’d gone stark, raving mad. Above all, she’d tell them how Janice had come to pick her up from the Victorian house in the countryside of Gothic architecture. She’d then go on and tell how they’d sodomised her, raped her and how she was now with child. Then - and only then - would she be able to finally rest.
By the time she arrived at the bus station and found the correct boarding queue for the 146, a cold sweat trickled down her back and the lactic acid in her legs added ten pounds to each limb.
An elderly woman whose thick-lens spectacles magnified her eyes greatly stared at her with undeniable fascination. Initially Sofie didn’t take much notice of her and queried the time of a girl approximately the same age as her. Furthermore, she asked how much longer the bus would be, and felt glad that there was only another five minutes or so before it was due to arrive. Then when she glimpsed in the direction of the woman who occupied the bench opposite her, she couldn’t ignore the palpable intrigue she’d created.
Only five minutes. Only five minutes. Only five minutes, her mind reiterated.
‘You’re the mother of the beast,’ the old woman croaked.
The five people waiting for the 146 to arrive to take them to their destination looked her way, wondering what the hell made her blurt out such an unfathomable nonsensical remark at the young woman in a jogging outfit minding her own business.
Sofie did a double-take, perplexed, unsure what to say or what to do.
‘Yes,’ the old woman went on. She nodded. ‘Yes. You. You’re the one whose blood is poisoned with the epitome of evil. The virgin mother who’ll spawn the creature that’ll unleash hell on earth. Yes. You. I can smell the devil’s breath coming out of your filthy mouth.’
‘Whoa! Whoa!’ A young man in a grey suit carrying a vinyl briefcase called out. He regarded the old woman. ‘What the hell? Look lady, you need to keep you rambling to yourself. Otherwise I’ll report you for being abusive to the young lady. That’s bang out of order.’
The elderly woman who’d blurted out her brusque, outrageous comment didn’t answer. A despondent look crept across her sagging countenance. Yet she adamantly refused to apologise when the young man advised her to do so. This, more than the remark, was what unnerved Sofie the most. Because it quite clearly meant that even though the elderly woman in a dark green winter coat hadn’t spoken since her initial comment, it didn’t mean that she regretted it either. On the contrary if anything. She’d said her piece and didn’t need or want to say any more.
A minute later the 146 single-tier bus rolled into the station in front of the glass-walled shelter. The automatic doors made a hydraulic hiss as they folded open. Passengers got off the bus. When they’d all stepped off, the passengers waiting to board formed an orderly queue. The young man who’d spoken up for Sofie kindly offered her to go first only for the elderly woman to shove past and step onto the bus and show the driver her pensioner bus card. She took her seat towards the front and kept her vigilant gaze on Sofie as she gingerly boarded.
How the hell does she know?
It was this deliberating question flashing in neon colours that had kept Sofie pinned to the bench at the bust station, motionless. Her mouth had opened but only to gape. She thought she’d misheard the woman at first, regardless of the fact that she’d spoken coherently. But then she’d continued from her initial comment and only stopped when she did due to the intervention of the kind young man standing behind her.
Purchasing a one-way ticket, Sofie thanked the driver and made her way past the elderly woman, making sure she didn’t make eye
contact in case another horrible (although truthful) comment was made. That was the last thing she needed. On top of everything else, Sofie wouldn’t be surprised if the whole world was ganging up on her, relishing in her prolonged suffering. Of course that wasn’t true. But it sure felt like it.
She sunk into a seat next to the window doing her utmost to think positively. Yet the words the elderly woman, who was apparently psychic, bored a hole into all her other thoughts, infinitesimal and colossal.
You’re the mother of the beast. You’re the one whose blood is poisoned with the epitome of evil. The virgin mother who’ll spawn the creature that’ll unleash hell on earth. I can smell the devil’s breath coming out of your filthy mouth.
That wasn’t a random comment, brusque or not. Neither was it the ramblings of some old bat that had lost her marbles; although Sofie would have loved to believe that it was that and nothing else. No. This elderly woman had taken one good long look at her and seen the foetus growing inside of her, fully aware that it was not a child but a monstrosity. How? How could she smell the devil’s breath coming out of her filthy mouth? Was it that obvious? Evidently not otherwise the other passengers walking past the old woman, shaking their heads in disdain, would have got as far away from her as they could.
The last passenger took their seat. The driver waited another three minutes for anyone else who might have been running late to catch the 146 prior to checking both wing mirrors as he reversed the vehicle back onto the bay. Then he turned the big wheel so that the bus was facing the tunnel it had to go through before getting back onto the main road again.
Sofie didn’t notice any of this. She was staring intently at the back of the wiry grey curls of the elderly woman that had spoken aggressively but truthfully. She wanted to ask the elderly woman how she knew, without sounding patronising. The elderly woman would most likely turn away if she enquired her knowledge believing her question to be one of sarcasm. Or worse that she’d endangered herself by stating aloud what was supposed to be a secret.
She whirled round, startled and saw the cute face of the young man who’d tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Didn’t mean to give you a fright. I jus’ wanted to know if you’re okay.’
For a second Sofie didn’t know what he was referring to. Then she stammered, ‘Y-Yes, I-I’m f-f-fine. Thanks for speaking up for me when you did. I really appreciate that. I would’ve said sooner it’s just -’ Sofie trailed off.
The young man waved his left hand in front of her. ‘No. The apology’s not necessary. I just saw you looking at the old witch. Didn’t want you to get all upset over what she’d said. She really ought to wash her mouth out with a bar of soap until she learns some manners and respect, if ya ask me.’
Sofie caught herself attracted to the young man’s hazel, kind-hearted eyes. His clean shaven face appeared full and rosy in the cheeks. She wanted to kiss his lips, taste his breath as he parted his lips for a full passionate kiss. Then she remembered her current situation, realising now more than ever what she was fighting for.
Freedom was something Sofie had always took immense pleasure from. It reminded her cruelly of the time she’d been begging her mother to let her out of the log cabin after she’d eaten her breakfast and drank her juice. Her mother had then asked her to help her wash the dishes, which she acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. Then the tears brimming in her mother’s eyes as they’d finished doing that chore and there were no more excuses to hold her back any longer.
‘Goodbye Sofie,’ her mother had croaked.
Sofie had been doing the buttons up on her coat, not thinking anything of her mother’s comment (yes, she was her mother, but not in the real sense). She reciprocated the comment and then threw the door open, welcoming the glorious spring sunshine and the pleasant aroma of the environing woods. She’d been jubilant because she was given her freedom. The freedom of a young, innocent child running in the wood that had decided the rest of her life. Now that freedom she so desperately sought was the only thing that might be able to save her from eternal damnation.
‘Hey! Are you all right?’ the young man asked.
‘What? Oh, yeah. Sorry.’
‘Jeez. You kinda zoned out on me there for awhile.’
‘Yeah,’ Sofie said, blushing. ‘I do that sometimes. Take no notice.’
‘Well, I didn’t mean to bore you,’ he said, smiling.
‘No. No. You didn’t. I was just thinking ‘bout why that woman said what she did. I mean I’ve never met her in my whole life. And I never said or did anything to offend her.’
‘Some people - young and old - are just plain nasty, I’m afraid. Trick is to jus’ ignore them. They soon get bored and go away.’
Sofie nodded, concurring wholeheartedly with the attractive boy.
The young man who never even offered his name or asked hers pressed the bell push for the bus to let him off at the next stop. He stood up, tapped Sofie on the shoulder again and said, ‘Well, it was nice talkin’ with you. Remember what I said though, ‘bout people like her. Jus’ ignore them. They’re not worth the time of day. Take care.’
Tears threatened to well up in her eyes when she raised her hand in a farewell salute. Had she not been pregnant and had just been to hospital to visit someone before heading back to university, Sofie would have plucked up the fortitude to ask the boy’s name and if he wanted to go out sometime. Instead she watched him go, broken hearted.
As the bus pulled away the handsome boy waved to her again. Sofie reciprocated, watching her freedom pass her by quite literally.
Ten minutes later the university campus came into view. Sofie pressed the bell push, waited for the bus to come to a halt, then rose and made her way to the front of the bus. She glanced at the elderly woman as she passed then did as the kind young man approximately the same age as her told her to do and ignored her, forgot about her because she wasn’t worth the time of day. What she hadn’t bargained on was that the elderly woman got off on the same stop behind her. Now Sofie was being followed.
When she increased her pace from a saunter to a fast walk, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. The elderly woman in the green winter coat didn’t have the burden of shopping bags in her hands as she’d done earlier. Furthermore, she kept pace with the young woman.
Then her sagging countenance began to flux, contorting, stretching, until something beneath the undulating flesh that looked more like dough materialised into the familiar hideous visage of the witch that had scarred her and then slid her gnarly finger into her severely wounded abdomen on that dreadful night of relentless terror.
Sofie’s gorge rose. Throat working convulsively, she pivoted and ran...
16.
The tall, elegantly dressed man with fierce, blue-grey eyes had slowed his stride to a casual stroll as he checked in to bed & breakfast he was staying at. He acknowledged the proprietor (a recently widowed middle-aged man) and then went directly upstairs to his room. He closed the door behind him, picked up the small table and propped it against the door. Then he lowered himself on the edge of the mattress and buried his head in his hands, showing emotion for the first time.
After ten minutes of sitting in the dim room, for he’d not opened the curtains since waking early in the morning, the man slid his hands from his pallid face and picked up the phone. He punched in numbers committed to memory. Then he listened without patience to the familiar dialling tone.
It cut off abruptly and a voice answered: ‘Hello?’
‘Rodney. It’s me, Raul Jimenez.’
‘I was expecting your call.’
‘The girl wasn’t at the hospital when I went to collect her,’ the man whose name was Raul told him.
‘What?’ Reverend Ward sounded incredulous.
‘You heard me - she wasn’t there! You fool. What did you say to her? She knew I w
as coming and she’d left the hospital of her volition.’
‘I d-d-didn’t s-say anything.’ Reverend Ward couldn’t contain the trepidation in his voice.
‘Well, you must have. Otherwise how could she have known?’ Raul’s hard-edged voice was rising in spite of himself.
‘All I said was that a lovely couple were coming to take her into their care and treat her like a princess, and look after her during the pregnancy, that’s all. I didn’t -’
‘Bullshit!’ Raul roared. ‘Listen to me, Rodney,’ he hissed under his dragon breath, ‘you’d better start telling me what you said or I’m gonna punish you far worse than that little graze on your hand. I will end you!’
‘O-O-Okay, I think I might’ve told her that you were coming in the afternoon and that she’d had her punishment. And I’d been punished for mistreating her, and that no one held a grudge after what happened to Margaret. I also reiterated that she could run all she wanted but there was no escaping us.’
Raul listened to the reverend’s words, regaining his placid composure. Then he said, ‘Well, she obviously has a lot more fight in her than we’ve given her credit for. She’s more than resilient. But she’s lost her innocence by murdering Margaret in cold blood. Soon the visions will destroy any trace of tranquillity she has left. Furthermore, I’ve sent the demon mother to track her down. She can’t have gone far. She has no food. No water and her only domain is the university. But if you fuck up again, I won’t be the one who punishes you, she will...’
Raul placed the receiver back on its cradle. Then he lay down on the bed and closed his red-rimmed eyes, welcoming the slumber that offered him peace and rest.
