by Lex Sinclair
‘But surely, the demon’s spirit will surmount any of Sofie’s attempts, right?’
‘Yes, of course. But as Sofie has already proven to us, she’s incredibly resilient. Probably the most recalcitrant young woman in the whole country, if you ask me. Nonetheless, it’s that resilience, that stubbornness that might affect her physically. When the spirit does defeat her what’ll be left of her physically? We need to give her proper twenty four, seven days a week care if we’re to have any chance of being responsible for the rebirth.’
Five minutes later Raul slowed the black Toyota using the gear stick and rolled the car up onto a paved driveway belonging to a white stucco detached home. He killed the engine, and then shifted in his seat. ‘We’re gonna have to lay low till the rebirth.’
‘She’ll be fine here. As long as she stays out of sight no one will ever suspect anything. I too will have to keep a low profile. That headmistress has seen my face and the authorities will want to know where Sofie and I disappeared to.’
Checking the tree-lined suburban street, Raul saw that there was no one walking or driving past the house. ‘Coast’s clear,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’
The tall, slender gentleman whose fedora had fallen from his balding head nodded. ‘The sedatives I’ve given her have finally kicked in. Go unlock and open the front door. I’ll need assistance carrying her from the car to the house. What about your neighbours? Are they home? We can’t risk it if they are.’
Raul shook his head. ‘Couple to the right are both in work, and the neighbours to the left are on holiday in Majorca.’
Extracting the keys from the ignition, Raul opened the driver’s door and hurried around the front of the car across the paving stones on the immaculately front lawn and unlocked the big white door. He pushed it open all the way, checked there was no one walking past then darted back to the rear of the car and threw the door open. He grabbed Sofie by her flaccid arms and stepped backwards studiously until the MD - who he only knew as Michael - scrambled across the back seat holding Sofie’s ankles. Michael booted the rear door shut and ambled across the lawn towards the front door, glancing over his shoulder wondering how they’d explain what they were doing to anyone who might happen to spot them on this beautiful but cold winter day.
Once they closed the front door behind them and their eyes adjusted to the dimness, the two men carried Sofie up the wide staircase to the back bedroom and placed her atop the mattress. They were both panting due to the exertion they’d spent carrying the dead weight.
‘We can’t just leave her here like this,’ Michael pointed out once he had caught his breath. ‘We’ll need to restrain her otherwise she’ll wander around and wreak havoc.’
Raul clutched his expanding hips. He told Michael that he had a thick length of rope somewhere in his garage. Michael had no idea how long Sofie would be unconscious for. He decided to wait in the room with her while Raul went and fetched the rope and hedge cutters to cut off pieces so they could tie her limbs to each of the four bedposts.
When Raul returned a couple of minutes later, out of breath, he froze on the threshold to the spare bedroom, astonished at the unconscious figure of the bearer of the thing with the goat’s head levitating once more directly above the bed.
‘Bloody hell,’ Raul blurted. ‘How’d that happen?’
Slowly, Michael walked backwards until he was almost standing side by side with Raul, shaking his head, unable to speak.
After what seemed like a thousand years but could only have been realistically two or three minutes, Michael whispered, ‘There are sinister forces at work far greater than our vast knowledge. This is no longer about reading from Satan’s Bible or reciting incantations bequeathed from generations of members of devil worship or black mass - this is something far greater.’
As though she were being lowered by invisible cables, Sofie’s lifeless form descended gracefully to the mattress and came to rest, arms and legs spread out away from her torso. Michael wasted no time. He snatched the coil of rope and the pair of scissors out of Raul’s numb grasp and proceeded to cut four lengthy strands in order to restrain the girl.
‘Michael,’ a deep, guttural voice uttered, destroying the unnerving silence. ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’
‘Trying to keep you out of harms way, till the day of the rebirth,’ Michael said without hesitation, in spite of the palpable quaver in his voice.
‘That cocksucker, Superintendent Dylan is in the hospital right now asking Sofie’s friends what they saw and if they know where Sofie is. Joyce Laymon, the headmistress, will make a statement too. From the clear description she’ll give an artist’s depiction will identify you to the whole country on the news. This time, though, it’ll be no hoax. The only one who’s putting me in harms way is you. Don’t you see, if anyone sees you coming and going here then the authorities will get themselves a warrant and search this place. That means that I will be taken into care and you and Raul and the others will be apprehended. The beast will be born, but won’t have anyone who will raise and protect it. They’ll see that it’s an abomination and murder it. It is you who has to leave, immediately.’
‘She’s right,’ Raul heard himself say, although it sounded more like a croak.
Michael concurred wholeheartedly with what the creature from within Sofie had said, however, he needed to know something before he took his leave. Otherwise it would be too risky.
‘Is Sofie Lackberg... dead?’
Sofie tilted her head sideways and when Michael saw the crimson irises he felt his bowels move. ‘Sofie’s in here... with us.’
‘She’s resilient. If she still has one ounce of strength in her, she will resist. If she does, I won’t be here to help you.’
‘Raul’ll call you if an emergency arises. But otherwise, fuck off!’
Michael regarded Raul, anxiety mapped out across his features.
‘You have my contact details. You shan’t be alone. You-know-who will be present to oversee the rebirth, as will Rodney. Charles and Yvonne are only a phone call away, as well. If Sofie is still alive, there’s not much of her soul left. Even if she does attempt to overcome the demon, she’ll not prevail.’ He offered a wan smile and proffered a wrinkly hand that shook.
Raul watched Michael as he sidled past him out of the room, down the stairs and heard the front door close. Then the horrible realisation hit home that for the next half a year or so he would be living with the devil himself.
Superintendent Robert Dylan took the lift and pressed the G button. When the car began its descent he leaned back and sighed wearily. A tickling sensation rose from the pit of his stomach making him feel empty and deflated. The news he’d received off the two girls, Danielle and Jasmin didn’t fill any gaps or give him any breakthroughs he was sought after. Instead, all that had happened was Sofie had reiterated her tale about how she was raped and fled from someone creepy who’d been pursuing her. She’d returned to her own room after Jasmin had made her a curry and as far as Jasmin could tell had fallen into a deep slumber.
A cold, deliberating terror sent icicles into the marrow of his bones as he brought to mind what Joyce had said about seeing Sofie levitating, and then standing, legs apart at the top of the stairs, nightdress shiny with freshly spilled blood that had sprayed from a severed artery.
The facts were bizarre and yet undeniable. No one else could have murdered those two police officers other than the young Swedish Law student. The superintendent couldn’t avert his thoughts from the day Sofie had barged into the police station rambling incoherently, and then what Mollie had told him when she’d interviewed Sofie right here in this very hospital; about how she’d been told stories of the beast with horns on his head and how they were going to burn the pentacle symbol into her flesh where it would be impossible to remove, trying their utmost to convert her into their devil worshipping cult, l
ike religious fanatics came knocking on his door on Sunday afternoons asking him where he saw Jesus. Or the flyers that would be posted through the letterbox asking him if he knew who Jesus was, and did he know that soon, very soon, Jesus was going to be resurrected yet again and would cure all the world’s problems, big and small.
Perhaps Sofie has been converted. Perhaps her final attempt of escaping them had failed and she’d relented, given in to their wishes and had proved she was worthy of her second baptism by murdering two uniforms with her bare hands.
He shook his head, vexed by his imagination running away with itself.
How in the hell could she have killed two policemen in the way she did - which would’ve taken the strength of a power lifter - and then just been standing there as Joyce said she was as though nothing ordinary had occurred?
He was brought back to mundane reality with a thud as the lift reached the ground floor and the doors slid into the gaps permitting him to step out on the glossy linoleum. In front of him a Coca Cola vending machine stood humming quietly. The police officer delved into his trouser pocket until he caught the coins jingling against each other, as though they were attempting to evade his clammy fingers. The smell of disinfectant permeated his nostrils to the point where he had to stifle his mouth and nose and prevent him from gagging. He slid a fifty pence piece into the coin slot, depressed the button for a bottle of Coca Cola and waited for it to slam into the silver tray at the bottom. Taking care unfastening the bottle top, unlike the last time he’d opened a bottle of Coke, which had resulted in him wearing half the contents, Superintendent Dylan gulped the fizzy liquid, moistening his parched mouth. Air whooshed from his mouth and nose, and only then did he realise that he’d been inadvertently holding his breath.
Finishing his bottle of Coca Cola, the police officer decided it was time to take action and get in touch with Scotland Yard. They would report the missing suspects and identify them so the public would be aware of the gentleman who was apparently a qualified MD and a Swedish Law student by the name, Sofie Lackberg.
He felt stupid, having believed Sofie’s story and seeing the state of her on the day she’d supposedly escaped perpetual doom. Whether or not Sofie was now possessed or schizophrenic, she still needed to be apprehended for questioning. The whole situation had been blown way out of proportion, far beyond his jurisdiction.
Yet what raced to the forefront of his consciousness was Mollie reporting through on dispatch, informing him that she and Inspector Jones had in their possession actual concrete evidence supporting Sofie’s statement, proving that Reverend Ward was part of a satanic cult that had filmed a bogus news bulletin on the news of Janice Stevens’ horrific death and Sofie’s disappearance from the wreckage.
The sugary drink sloshed through his system, giving him a new burst of energy and vitality. Beyond the receptionist desk through the glass-walled foyer the sun glinted magnificently, causing Superintendent Dylan to narrow his eyes. Beyond the near-full car park up over the rolling pastures, high up, looking over a small village was Reverend Rodney Ward’s cottage.
Joyce Laymon had quite clearly stated that she’d not actually seen Sofie murdering the two uniforms or her Danielle’s cat, Jumpy. Therefore, in spite of what it looked liked from an outsiders point of view, Sofie was yet to be convicted of those crimes. Joyce Laymon had also lost consciousness and even when she’d come to she’d been disorientated.
How long had she been unconscious for? Had anyone else been in the girl’s dormitory when the doctor had appeared on the university campus out of nowhere to offer assistance? Why did the doctor make it his business to interfere if he’d already seen an ambulance leaving?
When he’d made inquiries about a doctor having been on call at the nearest nursing home for elderly patients, describing the doctor’s appearance and first name, the Head nurse sounded sorrowful as she informed him that there had been no one of that description having visited the nursing home, doctor or otherwise, not that morning or any other time she was aware of.
You didn’t have to be a detective to see that there were far too many holes, Superintendent Dylan thought, as he watched people coming and going through the entrance doors, heading straight to reception. In the waiting area injured and uninjured civilians sat closely, wanting to be anywhere but there in a hospital.
Fuck it! Let’s go see if the reverend is home. Let’s rattle some cages, old school style.
All his previous doubts temporarily obliterated, Superintendent Dylan disposed his empty bottle in waste basket then strode towards the entrance with intent. In hindsight to what was about to befall the superintendent, it was a blessing he had no notion of what fate had in store for him.
Around the side of the hospital edifice workmen were busy erecting scaffolding in order to proceed with repairs. Superintendent saw them in his peripheral vision but didn’t pay them any more than a second’s heed. After all, he had far more important things to concern himself with. And even if he had been paying close attention to the scaffolding team of six overhead it wouldn’t have made a blind bit of difference.
Some would say ironically, that what was about to befall Superintendent Dylan was the best place for it to occur. The Gloucestershire Royal Hospital medical team wouldn’t be able to do anything about the freak accident. Instead, townsfolk, nurses, porters, doctors and surgeons would claim that they were there the day the town made the headline news on the BBC, ITV and all around the world.
Buddy’s hands were ice-cold so much so he could no longer feel them. Earlier that morning after drawing the curtains and being dazzled by the radiant sunshine, he assumed that today was going to be quite warm and that there’d be no need for him to wear his protective gloves; although it was procedure to wear them in all weather conditions in accordance to the health and safety regulations. Now he was quietly struggling to hoist the poles overhead to Steve, who kept motioning with his gloved hands for his colleagues to hurry.
Buddy’s body was warm from the continuous bending and lifting. His nose kept running no matter how many times he’d snivelled, hoping the snot would dry up in his nostrils until break time and he was permitted a chance to blow it with a handkerchief. For the time being, however, he used the back of his hand to wipe the snotty liquid away. He hadn’t been paying attention because he was busy running the palm of his nearly blue palm across his nose and had to swerve to the side to avoid being prodded in the face with one of the poles being handed to him by Joe.
‘Fuck me,’ he muttered.
Then he gripped the frosty pole in his numb grasp and raised it up only for it to topple, and before he could prevent the scaffolding pole to escape his hands, the breeze and the relentless seizing of gravity tore it out of arms reach where it plummeted towards the ground.
The smartly dressed man in black trousers, polished shoes and a grey and white plaid jacket just had time to arch his head up at the sounds of Buddy screaming for him to look out before the pole shot through his exposed throat, slamming into the concrete in an upright position, impaling the unfortunate soul who had been impaled in the most graphic and horrifying nature. A death so gruesome no in their mind could conjure up to befall their worst enemy, it was so extreme.
Superintendent Dylan didn’t even have chance to utter one last cry before the pole rammed through his neck and crashed into the pavement, which now resembled a massive spider web. Spasmodic jerks assailed him; thick black blood erupted from where the scaffolding pole had punctured his neck and trickled down off to the sides, dripping into the ruined pavement.
Initially no one knew what had transpired. Most of the patients or relatives of patients and staff ignored the din outside, assuming that it was nothing more than boisterous behaviour of the workmen outside, joking around while they did their mundane job. Then an elderly woman who’d come to get take a blood test opted to wander outside with her husband for some fresh air and fel
l back into his stick arms that struggled to keep her upright. An orderly had seen this and rushed over to them... then he saw what had induced the shock in the elderly lady.
Pandemonium followed the deafening cries of the orderly.
21.
June 1 1986
Shivering, arms crossed in front of his chest, seeing his own breath, Raul Jimenez stepped out of the spare bedroom seeing his own breath dissipate in the warmer climate of the upstairs hallway. It was like the arctic in there. He checked his wristwatch and got a surprise seeing that it gone midnight. Six more days for the rebirth, he thought. He couldn’t wait. Raul ambled down the short hall and turned the thermostat up a few notches. Then he descended to the ground floor.
When he entered the small, cosy living room, Raul relaxed slightly. His nerves had been shredded irrevocably. Unequivocally, he knew that he’d never be the same person again. Not after housing the... whatever the hell that ghastly creature/human sitting upright, limbs attached to the bedposts. That deep, guttural inhuman voice croaking from within what used to be the temple of a beautiful, young Swedish woman whose destiny had been mapped out for her long before she had chance to even consider her possibilities.
Three months earlier he’d been sitting in his living room in the exact same seat, in the exact same nervous posture talking on the phone to Michael. Even now he couldn’t get the conversation out of his head.
‘Michael! Michael... is that you?’
‘Of course. What’s the matter, Raul? Has something happened?’
‘N-Not as s-s-such. I just been up there, couple a minutes ago.’
‘And?’
‘Well, it knows my name’s Raul. And that wouldn’t have been at all unsettling if I’d mentioned it previously.’
‘What else?’ Michael prompted.
‘It knew things about me that no one else could ever know; things I’ve never told anyone.’
