by John Tigges
As the doors slid open, she shrugged and sobbed once, following him into the small lobby.
He had anticipated his car being as stubborn as the lock and the clothing but it turned over on the first try, and they drove silently to the all night drugstore. Inside, they found a small bank of three telephones. Only the pharmacist on duty behind the locked lab cage peered out at them. When he saw they were going to use the telephone, he went about his own duties, looking up every so often to check on the late night visitors. The other employees, a woman behind the check-out counter and a heavily muscled man sweeping the floor, ignored them.
Flipping through the Yellow Pages, Myles ran a finger down the list of churches, quickly checking each for its address and proximity.
“The Holy Messiah Lutheran Church is only six blocks away. Let’s try it.” He jotted the name of the pastor down, along with the address, and pulling Nicole after him, hurried to the car.
In minutes they were standing in front of the main entrance to the parsonage of the church.
“This is crazy, Myles. He won’t see us at this hour of the night.”
“He’d better damn well plan on it, or I’ll go in and drag him out,” he said, jamming his finger onto the doorbell. After a half minute had passed, he did it again. As he pressed it for a third time, a light came on at the end of the hall and he smiled, satisfied that he would be talking with the Reverend Harvey Meissen in another minute or two.
The porch light flooded the entryway before the curtains in the door’s window were pulled back, allowing a sleep-puffed face, belonging to a middle aged man, to peer out. “Who’s there?” he demanded groggily.
“We need your help, sir,” Myles said.
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No,” Myles said loudly. “We need help and we need it now. Tonight! Not tomorrow. Please?”
“Please, help us, Reverend,” Nicole cried, stepping closer to Myles so she could see Meissen and he could see her.
“Give me a moment,” he said, disappearing from sight when he dropped the curtain.
“Do you think he’ll see us or is he calling the cops?” Nicole asked.
“We’ll know that soon enough, won’t we? Let’s not anticipate the worst and only hope he’ll see us.”
Several long minutes crawled by before the sound of the door being unlocked soothed their rattled nerves and they stood facing Reverend Harvey Meissen.
“Come in,” he said graciously. “I’m Reverend Meissen. How can I be of help to you?” He motioned for them to enter the living room off to one side of the hall, following them after he closed the front door.
“I hope you’ll understand once I explain why we’re here, Reverend,” Myles said.
“I hope it’s worth it,” Meissen said, looking at his wristwatch. “I don’t often get calls for help at my front door at three forty-five in the morning.” Stifling a yawn, he said, “Please, sit down,” and took a chair opposite the couch.
After Myles and Nicole sat down, Myles said, “Let me begin at the beginning and tell you everything. Nicole, you jump in anytime you feel I’ve overlooked something or haven’t emphasized a point strongly enough. All right?”
She nodded—and Myles began their story.
If Meissen had been reluctant to listen to trouble so early in the day, his sleepiness and hesitancy soon departed and he hung on every word that Myles uttered, turning his attention to Nicole whenever she spoke.
“Why have you waited so long to seek help?” Meissen asked when Myles finished telling of Nicole’s ritual. Meissen looked at Nicole, who dropped her eyes from his, a gentle blush flowing onto her cheeks.
“We did.”
“From whom?” Meissen asked, a more than quizzical look crossing his tired face.
“A Father Gorkland. Father DuWayne Gorkland.”
“I don’t believe I know him. Where is his parish? Is he Catholic or Episcopalian?”
“Catholic. And he’s at Saint Timothy’s over on Lanchester Avenue.”
“What did he say? Are you two Catholic? If you are, why are you here?”
“First of all, Nicole isn’t a Catholic but she attended a Catholic grade school at one time. I am … to some degree or other. I guess I haven’t been practicing my faith too well lately. But the reason we’re here is that Father Gorkland either didn’t want to help us or couldn’t help us. I still haven’t figured out what it was. For some reason, I always felt he didn’t believe anything I said … or maybe it was because he himself doesn’t believe in the devil.”
“That’s pretty unfair when one considers our whole function as ministers of God is to fight the devil. Perhaps it was nothing more than a conflict of personality. Might that have been the case?”
Myles shrugged. “I don’t know. All I do know is that he was ready to condemn Nicole and me for living together without the benefit of marriage and he seemed always to come back to that point. He said we were living in a state of sin and that our consciences were reacting to our guilt and making us believe all sorts of things.”
“I wish he would have helped you, young man,” Meissen said, running his hand through his thinning black hair.
“Wish he would have helped us? I don’t understand.”
“Why should I jeopardize my standing in the community and most especially in my own congregation by helping someone whose own priest wouldn’t consider helping?”
“He’s not my priest.”
“He’s of your religious persuasion, young man, and that makes him yours whether you want to accept him or not. Besides, I tend to agree with his appraisal of the situation.”
Myles stared at him but said nothing.
“You both are living in a state of sin. Get your act straightened out for the sake of Jesus Christ, your Saviour. Now, please leave. You’ve already cost me enough sleep.”
“I …” Nicole began but was stopped by Myles.
“Thank you for nothing, Reverend.” He took Nicole’s hand, leading her to the door before Meissen could stand.
When they reached the car, parked at the curb, Myles closed the door after she got in and went around to his side. Once the motor was running, he pulled away from the curb, driving aimlessly for several minutes before either spoke.
“What are we going to do, Myles? We’re in real trouble. We need help, but no one is willing to listen to us or offer assistance.”
“Right now, I’m beginning to remember why it was I stopped going to church. Pomposity of the individual. From the priests right down to the ushers who looked like they had a direct line to the Almighty themselves, and no one other than they and maybe the priest would ever make it to heaven.”
“Do you know who I blame for tonight?”
“Who?” he asked, turning to her.
“Stacey. Stacey Ford and her ran tings and ravings about …”
Myles slammed on the brakes and turned to face her.
“Stacey!” they both chorused.
“Let’s call her,” he said, moving the car forward again.
“Maybe this Reverend Stangood or whatever his name is can help. What do you think?”
“I’m thinking exactly the same thing. Let’s go back to that drugstore and call her.”
“Right now? It’s going on four forty-five. I’m not sure how she’ll react to being called.”
“If she’s genuinely sincere and he’s a real minister, they should have no objections whatsoever. Besides, the way you said she was— being so zealous and all—she’d probably welcome the call. Especially from you.”
He parked the car in front of the drugstore and they both hurried inside. While Nicole looked up her telephone number, Myles stared at the colorful display of paperback books stretching for fifty feet down the aisle opposite the pay phones.
“Hi, Stacey?”
“Who’s it?” the sleepy voice asked.
“It’s Nicole. I … we … that is, Myles and I have a problem we thought Reverend Stangood might be able t
o help with.”
“What kind of problem?” she asked, yawning.
“Listen carefully, Stacey, because it’s sort of weird and way out.” Nicole launched into her rendition of the phenomena and events that had plagued her and then Myles since she had performed the ritual. That in itself seemed to have taken place in another century—so far removed from reality as if it were merely a scene from a scary movie. She could hear nothing other than Stacey’s even breathing in the earpiece and hoped that the woman hadn’t fallen asleep. When she finished, she said, “That’s about it, Stacey. Do you think he could help us?”
After a few seconds passed, Stacey said, “Where are you calling from? Your apartment?”
“No. We’re in an all night drugstore. Why?”
“Give me the telephone number there and I’ll call you back as soon as I talk with Reverend Eddie John. Okay?”
“That’ll be fine, Stacey. Just a minute and I’ll give the number to you.” She read it from the little plate above the dial and hung up. She found Myles perusing the titles of the occult section of the paperback rack.
“Do you believe that people actually buy some of this crap?”
“Crap?” Nicole parroted.
“Yeah. Look at some of these titles. Unto the Altar. Evil Dreams. Garden of the Incubus. What sort of people read these? More importantly, what sort of weirdo writes them?”
“Never mind that now. Stacey’ll call back and tell us if the Reverend Stangood will help us. She sounded as if she could convince him. At least I hope she can.”
“That’s great. Let’s get a bottle of pop or can of juice to drink. I’m really thirsty.”
“You get something. I’ll wait by the telephone.”
“Are you awake? Reverend? Reverend Eddie John? Are you awake? Wake up! We have to go out and help some people who are in trouble.”
Eddie John Stangood moaned, breaking into another guttural snore without awakening.
“Please, Eddie? Come on. Wake up. Nicole needs your help. Wake up. You can win her as a convert. She needs you.”
“I need you,” Eddie John Stangood said, reaching out to pull Stacey back into bed. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night?” He groped for her breasts.
“There was a telephone call from Nicole Kilton. She’s got a problem. Sit up and let me tell you what it is. It might be just the thing to gain some attention to your cause. Our cause.”
At the thought of promoting himself and his church, Reverend Stangood sat up in bed, ready to pay attention to whatever it was his lover, Stacey Ford, was about to tell him.
When she finished, he said, “That’s about perfect. I’m sure she’s only upset about something or other but if I can calm her down and make her see the light of Gee-zus and the tru-ooth as I present it, she should be willing to come into my flock. What about this man who’s with her?”
“Myles? Myles in the anchorman on one of the TV stations here in town.”
“That’s even better. If we help her, we might get him to come along in with her. If that happens, the prestige of someone who’s highly visible in the community and who is a member of my flock will be invaluable. Plus the fact that he might be able to help me launch a bigger television ministry right here. Call her, Stacey. Tell her I know my duty and obligation. I will help her. I will save her from this awful thing that has happened to her. Tell her, Stacey, tell her!”
He leaped from the bed and began dressing while Stacey hurried to the phone. “Tell her to meet us at the entrance of her apartment building. Oh, thank You Lor-ud above for this opportunity to gain her soul for You. Thank You! Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!”
“How long did Stacey say it would take them to get to the apartment?” Myles asked after Nicole had hung up the receiver.
“She said we should go there directly and that they’d get there as soon as possible.”
Hurrying to the car, they got in and drove toward the complex several blocks away. When they turned the corner, they saw a large sedan parked in front of the entrance. After parking, they got out, and as they did so, Stacey Ford erupted from the back seat of the limousine. Reverend Eddie John Stangood, dressed in white from hat to shoes, followed her.
“The Lor-ud is my shep-herd and I shall not want. Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no ev-eil,” he mumbled as Nicole and Myles approached.
“Reverend Eddie John, this is my friend, Nicole Kilton, and Myles Lawrence. They sincerely need your help. Will you help them?”
“I shall. I shall in-deed help them this night. And when I do, I know they shall be more than willing to sing the praises of the great Lor-ud Gee-zus and fall prostrate in His presence to thank Him. Of course, that can be done in the confines of my cathedral.”
“I’ll promise most anything if you can help us, Reverend Stangood,” Nicole said softly. She was willing to compromise at the moment. Joining the man’s church, or whatever it was he purported to have, would be small enough payment if she and Myles could get rid of the thing upstairs.
“And you, sir?” Reverend Eddie John asked, turning his attention to Myles.
Myles nodded brusquely, holding in reserve any vocal commitment at this point.
“Then come, my chil-dren and follow me, your leader. I will flush out the denizen of hey-ell and do battle with him. I shall drive him back to the fiery pit from whence he has dared venture.”
He turned to lead them into the front entrance but was stopped by the locked door of the lobby. “Do you have a key, child?” he asked, turning to Nicole.
She stepped forward, her key already out, and unlocked the door. With a flourish, he held Nicole back and made his own entrance first. Stacey followed him and Nicole and Myles brought up the rear.
Upstairs, the lights in the third floor apartment flashed on, then off, then on, then off.
15
Saturday, December 6, 1986 5:50 A.M.
The small entourage made its way to the third floor, opting to walk instead of using the elevator. Reverend Eddie John Stangood moved slowly as if hesitant to meet whatever lurked in the apartment. Nicole followed him and Stacey preceded Myles who brought up the rear. When they stood on the third floor, Stangood stopped, waiting for Nicole to reach his side. When she did, he turned to her and said, “Which way does the fow-ul beast await?”
Without speaking and afraid she might break out into an impromptu laugh because of his way of speaking, Nicole pointed to her left, toward her apartment at the front of the building. She knew it was silly to want to giggle in such a situation. Myles would be upset if she took too light an attitude. Besides, she wanted the situation over and done with. If it meant having someone who talked in a weird way around for a short time, so be it. Nevertheless, his white suit and cloak seemed to make him even more ridiculous when he spoke. Fow-ul beast, indeed! She only hoped that something would happen when they entered and the Reverend Eddie John would be the one who would drive whatever was harassing her and Myles from the apartment and their lives.
When she stopped ten feet from her door, she motioned with one hand toward it. “That’s it,” she whispered.
“How close is your nearest neighbor?” he asked, looking first to the right and then to the left.
“Above me. Below me and on either side. Why?”
“I hope they’re sound sleepers. One can never tell what one might encounter when facing a devil or demon from hey-ell.”
Nicole glanced at Myles, whose serious expression held rigid. Moving closer to him, she took his hand and then stepped closer to the door, unlocking it. She looked to Stangood who moved between her and it.
Reaching out, he opened the door, throwing it back with a flourish that seemed out of a nineteenth century melodrama.
The apartment, swathed in blackness, waited.
“Where is the light switch?” he whispered.
“To your right,” Nicole answered, whispering in turn.
Reaching out a shaking hand, Stangood fumbl
ed for a moment and then turned on the lights. Welcome, bright, revealing light flooded the entryway, spilling into the living room and down the short hall that led to the bath and bedroom.
“Shall we?” he asked, stepping in before anyone could answer.
Myles held Nicole back when she made a tentative step to go inside. Instead, he made way for Stacey to follow Stangood. After Stacey entered, her face whiter than usual, her mouth hanging agape, Myles stepped ahead of Nicole in a protective move, making her the last to enter.
“I think we should have the lights on all over the place,” Stangood said, looking to Nicole and Myles for agreement.
Stretching out one hand, Myles reached around the corner of the living room and plunged it into light. The kitchen, bedroom and bath were taken care of before anyone said anything.
The stillness closed in on them. The mantel clock chimed six times.
“At least the devil’s hour of three is past,” Stangood said softly.
“The devil’s hour?” Myles repeated, looking to the man for an explanation. “I always thought midnight was the bewitching hour.”
“Old wives tale,” Stangood said. “Think about it. There’s three Gods that Christians believe in—Gaw-ud the Father, Gaw-ud the Son, who is Gee-zus, and the Holy Spirit. There are other things in the Bible that relate to the number three and the devil seems to be most active at that hour. At least, it seems to be, according to everything I’ve ever read about the subject.”
Myles nodded but remained quiet. The awful silence crushed in on them. The only sound he could hear was the hissing of nothingness in his ears.
“Perhaps your consciences have been bothering you more than usual lately. Perhaps the other ministers to whom you spoke were right. I don’t see anything or hear anything that would convince me that something is wrong here—out of the ordinary, that is.”
At once, the door to the hall slammed shut and furniture began tipping over, one piece at a time. As if in slow motion, everything in the apartment turned over in a most careful manner—the chairs, the couch, the tables. Pillows from the couch floated through the apartment circling the four people, out to the kitchen, back again, down the hall where the doors to the bathroom and bedroom would open to them them fly in and close with a resounding bang when they returned to the living room. They swept by Reverend Eddie John Stangood, mussing his hair after knocking the white broad-brimmed fedora from his head. Ducking to one side, then the other, the pillows invariably touched him, bringing squeaky responses from the self-proclaimed minister of God.
