Sam: A Novel Of Suspense

by Wright, Iain Rob

  Tim shook his head in the background. Lying, little shit.

  Angela nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, then. You know, if we could get out of here, we could go get help. Your mother has been hurt.”

  “My mother had been killed,” Sammie corrected her bluntly.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Sad, of course. She was my mummy. I loved her.”

  Tim couldn’t believe how much the boy’s voice lacked conviction. It was as if he were reading the words from a script. How To Behave Like A Ten Year Old Boy 101.

  Tim forgot his promise not to say anything. He couldn’t help himself and shouted out, “What do you want Sammie, or Chamuel, or whoever I’m speaking to? Everyone around you is dead, and to me it sounds like you don’t even care. What is it you’re trying to achieve?”

  Sammie giggled at Tim. “I’m just trying to grow up.”

  Angela shot a scowl at Tim before returning her focus back to Sammie. “Why do you want to grow up, Sammie? You’re just a boy.”

  “But I’m going to be so much more than that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sammie shrugged his bony shoulders. “Haven’t you heard? I now control Black Remedy Corporation. I even own the house you’re standing in.”

  Tim couldn’t help himself again. “Sammie, you mother isn’t even cold yet and you’re talking about your inheritance.”

  Angela shot him another scornful look but he didn’t care. He was tired of acting like the kid in front of him wasn’t responsible for everything that had happened – all of the death.

  Sammie looked pitiful. “Why are you so angry with me, Tim?” Then his expression transformed into one of contempt. “Is it because you’re a coward and taking out your rage on a young boy is all you’re capable of?”

  “You know nothing about me.” Tim felt himself spit the words. “Nothing”

  “We’ll see,” said Sammie. “I’m sure there’ll be another opportunity to prove your lack of courage.”

  Tim took a step forward, but Frank placed a hand against his chest. A moment later, Tim was glad of it because he wasn’t sure what he would have done anyway.

  “Enough of this,” Angela scolded. “I told you to be quiet, Tim.”

  Sammie grinned. “Yes, Tim. Do as the lesbian tells you.”

  Tim bit his lip. He was doing exactly what he meant not to do: he was letting Sammie get to him – inside his head.

  Take a breath. Calm down. Keep your eye on the ball.

  Tim stepped backwards until his back was against the wall. He leaned against it and folded his arms. “Just get on with it,” he said to Angela. “I’m starting to get bored.”

  Angela sighed and turned back to the boy in his bed. “Sammie? I’m going to ask you something and you’re not going to like it, but if you agree to it then everything will be a lot safer for everybody.”

  Sammie raised an eyebrow and actually seemed concerned. “What?”

  “I want to tie you down to the bed. It will be for your own good.”

  “No.”

  “Sammie…”

  “I said no. Nobody is touching me.”

  Angela looked at Frank who was staring right back at her. Tim could see that the man did not approve. “What are you playing at?” he asked.

  “I need to make sure Sammie is secure before I get started. It may get very physical and I don’t want him hurting himself, or us.”

  “Nobody is touching me,” Sammie said again more loudly than before.

  “Frank, we need to do this. I can’t do it without your help.”

  Frank shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with his palms. “Okay,” he said. “Hold him down.”

  Angela looked at Tim and he knew what she was asking of him. He shook his head and cursed under his breath. “Okay, hell, let’s get it over with.”

  Tim took the left side of Sammie’s bed while Angela took the right side. In unison they grabbed each of Sammie’s arms. The boy screamed, thrashing back and forth like a beached shark. His bruised legs kicked out at them viciously.

  “Keep hold of him,” said Frank, who had rushed over to the room’s bay window. He was reaching for the ties that kept the curtains open.

  “Hurry up,” Tim huffed. “This kid is stronger than he looks.”

  Sammie screeched louder. Thick wads of spittle flew from his gnashing teeth. Tim struggled to hold onto his sweat-drenched arm. It seemed like Angela, too, was close to letting go.

  Frank came running over with the curtains ties and quickly wrapped one around the arm that Angela was wrestling with. He managed to yank Sammie’s left arm towards the bed post and tie a double knot in the thick curtain cord. Just as he managed to get the one arm secured, though, Tim’s grip finally gave out and Sammie broke free.

  Sammie twisted his body towards Tim and lashed out with his teeth. His jaws clamped down on Tim’s hand.

  “Fuck! Get him off me!” The crushing force on Tim’s hand was like a tightening vice. He felt the bones threaten to crack and splinter beneath his tearing flesh. The pain was so intense that it flittered rapidly between numbness and full blown agony as his nervous system tried to cope.

  Frank leapt up onto the bed and straddled Sammie’s waist. He clutched at the boy’s shoulder and tried to pull him away from Tim, but his teeth held tight and the agony in Tim’s hand continued.

  “He’s like a bloody pitbull. Jesus Christ!”

  Sammie opened his mouth and spat blood into Tim’s face. “Blasphemer!”

  Frank took advantage of the opportunity and quickly got the remaining curtain tie around Sammie’s right wrist. Tim joined in by holding the boy’s wrist down towards the bed post. Between them they eventually got Sammie secured to the bed, albeit with his untethered legs kicking and thrusting like pistons.

  Tim staggered backwards clutching his hand. The skin was shorn from his knuckles and blood dripped on the carpet like the ticking of a clock. The gash was deep and the bones in his hand ached – but he would be okay. The wound was superficial.

  Sammie glowered at Frank, who had climbed down off the bed. Blood coated the boy’s teeth and shone in the darkness, making his lips shimmer with dull red. He struggled against his bonds, but it did no good. The curtain ties held him tight.

  Sammie shook his head and his eyes suddenly seemed innocent and tender. “How could you, Frank? My father trusted you. You’re supposed to look after me. That’s your job.”

  Frank was panting. “It’s more than just my job, Sammie, and it’s exactly what I am doing. I’m trying to help you. You’re a sick boy.”

  “The only sicko around here is you. How long have you been fucking my mother? Was my father still fresh in the ground?”

  Frank looked pained. “I loved your father, Sammie, and I loved your mother, too. I never did anything but look out for the both of them.”

  Sammie cackled. “Good job.”

  The comment seemed to be all Frank could take and he turned away. Tim knew how he felt. Sammie had a knack of getting to people’s nerves. Somehow, hearing your truths laid out bare by a child was worse than admitting them yourself.

  Angela tried to resume control. “Sammie, it’s important that you listen to me until this is over, okay?”

  “Choke and die, cunt!” he spat at her. The thick, brown wad shimmered against the jet fabric of her cassock.

  “Nobody else is dying,” Angela told him forcefully, ignoring the phlegm on her clothing. “The evil in this house is impotent. Nobody else in this house will be harmed. Do you understand me?”

  Sammie cackled again. “You fools. You weak, pathetic fools. All will die tonight at my merest whim. You will suffer last, priest, so that you can see what you have reaped upon these souls. The blood of this house will be on your hands. My rebirth will be christened by your flesh. Your guts will spill, your soul will bur-”

  “Quiet!” Angela demanded. To Tim’s surprise, Sammie did just that. He stopped talking and just glared at her with h
is oil-slick eyes. Satisfied, Angela continued: “I demand you leave this child immediately, or suffer the consequences.”

  Sammie’s voice dropped several octaves. It boomed at them like a broken subwoofer. “I mock your consequences. I shall be judged by no one, for I am above judgment. You will cower, all of you. You will obey. You will kneel. Or you will die. Those are your consequences, priest.”

  “I do not fear you,” Angela said. “You are weak. I pity your weakness in the shadow of my almighty Lord. It is you who shall kneel before Him.”

  Sammie laughed; a great, booming laugh.

  Angela chose the moment to slip something out from under her cassock. Tim saw it glint in the candle-light as it appeared. It was the ceremonial dagger, long and slender like a stiletto. Sammie’s eyes went wide at the sight of it.

  “Whoa!” Tim said, wishing he’d asked more questions earlier. “Is it really a good time to get all knifey?”

  Angela didn’t look at Tim but answered his question. “We must draw blood. It is the only way to weaken the hold the evil has on the boy.”

  Tim didn’t like the tone of her voice. It was flat and emotionless, as if she had cleared her mind of all compassion in order to do what was necessary.

  “I can’t allow that,” said Frank. “It’s…it’s not right.”

  “This has to happen, Frank. We go all the way, or we lose.”

  Frank seemed in two minds. “Well, what do you plan on doing?”

  “She should shove it up her twat!” Sammie hollered from the bed, still struggling to get free. It was then that Tim realised the boy was urinating on his sheets, letting loose a steady stream that mushroomed through the fabric.

  Angela held the dagger out in front of her. “For the boy’s soul to be cleansed, he must suffer the wounds of Christ. His suffering will bring him closer to God, to a place where evil cannot follow. His mind will return to us, free of the corruption that has been threatening to destroy it.”

  “We could go to prison for this,” said Tim. He was thinking more and more about retrying the front door to the house. He wanted out of there bad, before things went too far.

  “We’re probably already on our way there,” said Frank. “God help me! Just do it.”

  Tim was shocked. Something in Frank had snapped. He clearly now believed in what Angela was doing and lacked the rational will to see the dangers of what they were doing. Tim thought the notion of cutting a ten year old boy with an antique dagger was insane. What he couldn’t decide on for sure, though, was if he truly did have reservations, or if he was just afraid.

  I can’t think clearly. Things are just too crazy.

  As it turned out, Angela didn’t wait for anybody’s permission anyway. She approached Sammie with the knife.

  “Get away from me, dyke!” Sammie bellowed.

  Angela hopped up onto the bed and straddled Sammie’s waist in the same way Frank had earlier. She held the dagger above her head as if she were about to plunge it deep into the boy’s chest. Tim held his breath as he wondered if that was exactly what was about to happen. Sammie bucked and twisted beneath Angela’s weight, trying to escape her.

  “The Lord demands you repent your sins,” she screamed. “Demon, do you repent?”

  “Fuck you!” Sammie spat what looked like two bloody molars at her face. Mucus shot forth from his lips and spattered her chest. It did not deter her.

  Angela plunged the knife and drew it across Sammie’s forehead with a vicious flick of her wrist. The blood flowed quickly. It descended upon Sammie’s face in a gushing wave until he was completely covered by a crimson mask.

  “Do you repent?” Angela repeated. “Demon, do you repent?”

  Sammie’s dark eyes scowled at her through the veil of blood. “I…repent…nothing.”

  “Then you will suffer.”

  Angela drove the dagger down into Sammie’s left hand, plunging all the way through and out the other side. The boy’s screams were animalistic, inhuman, and also that of a ten year old boy. The noise was sickening.

  “Stop!” Tim shouted, unable to take any more.

  Angela ignored his pleas and also those of the screaming child beneath her. She pulled free the dagger from Sammie’s hand, blood spitting into the air, and drove it down again. This time the blade pierced Sammie’s right hand.

  Tim had seen enough. He rushed forward and grabbed Angela around the waist, and then threw her off the bed to the floor. She looked up at him in anger and surprise. The bloody dagger dripped in her hand.

  “This has to stop!” Tim shouted.

  Before Angela could get up, he grabbed one of Sammie’s wrists and quickly untied the bond. He was about to reach over and untie the other one, but Frank grabbed him first.

  “Calm down!”

  “Calm down? Calm down? This is insane.”

  “How can you deny what you’ve seen?” Angela asked Tim as she dusted herself off. “Have you forgotten the pain in your hand where he bit into you like an animal? Have you forgotten the death and destruction you have seen in this house?”

  Tim huffed. “Mike and Jessica were both killed by other people. There was no evil involved.”

  “So you deny that there is anything happening here?” Angela’s expression was one of disbelief.

  Tim grabbed a clump of his own hair and cursed at the ceiling. “Shitballs, motherfucking dogpiss. I know there is something going on here. Christ, of course I know that. I just don’t think this is right at all. Whatever is going on, Sammie is still just a child. We can’t…we can’t torture him like an animal. Hell, I don’t even believe you can torture an animal like this.”

  Something moved in the shadows.

  Sammie leapt from his bed and ploughed into Angela, who fell backwards into Frank. The two of them hit the floor in with a thump! as Tim stood there stunned. Sammie was crouched on the floor like a feral beast, glaring up at him with baleful eyes. The wounds on his hands and forehead were no longer bleeding, yet puckered like the sliced flesh of frozen poultry.

  “You should have stuck me like a pig while you had the chance.” Sammie was sneering at them all. “Now you die instead.”

  Sammie struck out at Tim, tearing a thick sliver of skin from his cheek. Then the boy sprinted away, yanking open the door and disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

  Sammie, and whatever was inside of him, was loose inside the maze of the house. Tim couldn’t help but feel like a lab rat, involved in something far bigger than he could comprehend.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “Sammie, you come back here!” Frank shouted into the darkness of the hallway.

  Angela placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. The last thing she wanted was for Frank to disappear into the shadows of the house too. “He’s not going to come back on his own,” she said. “We need to go find him.”

  “Yeah,” said Tim. “Before he finds us.”

  Angela sighed. She liked Tim – even trusted him – but she was beginning to see that he was no good under pressure. Some people saw problems while others saw solutions. Tim was the former and it made him difficult to rely on.

  You’d think a professional ghost hunter would be a little braver.

  “So what’s the plan?” Frank asked.

  “We go after him. But we stay together. Sammie is more dangerous now than ever.”

  “Probably has something to do with the fact that you keep wanting to stab him,” Tim commented.

  Angela faced him down. “It is because the blood exorcism is almost complete. Whatever is inside of Sammie now has nothing to lose.”

  Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Almost complete? What else is left?”

  “There are two more stigmata to perform, two more wounds of Christ to bestow upon Sammie’s body.”

  Tim’s eyes narrowed even more. “You need to pierce his feet?”

  Angela nodded.

  “And then…what, no way. You’re insane. You plan on stabbing Sammie in his side?”

>   Angela shook her head. “No. Piercing the feet should be enough to ward off the demon. The final stigmata, if performed, would banish any spirit to Limbo for all eternity. Just the threat of it should be enough to drive Chamuel out.”

  “And if it’s not enough?”

  “Then we have to decide what we’re up against, and if sacrificing Sammie is something we should do for the greater good.” Angela couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she was without any doubt.

  Ever since the death and destruction she witnessed in Jersey at the hands of Charles Crippley, Angela knew the importance of defeating evil before it had time to blossom. If the entity inside of Sammie was true evil, then she knew the value of one boy’s life was not enough to prevent what needed to be done.

  “We’re not killing a kid,” Tim objected. “Frank, you’re with me, aren’t you?”

  To Angela dismay, Frank agreed with Tim. He had seemed on her side up until that point. “I have to draw the line somewhere, Angela.”

  Her opinion was outnumbered. She just hoped they would see sense when the situation required them to change their minds.

  “Okay,” she said, not wanting to waste any more time talking. “Let’s just find Sammie. We can figure things out later.”

  Tim folded his arms. “Fine.”

  “Frank, you lead the way. You know the house better than we do.”

  Frank nodded and took the lead. They filed out into the hallway and padded down the corridor silently like weary commandos. Every inch of the house was bathed in darkness. Even though the many windows let in moonlight to see by, every unlit corner could still be hiding a wealth of unseen horrors. Sammie could be watching them right now.

  Frank opened up a door on the left and stuck his head inside, then closed it again. “It’s just a storage room,” he said. “No sign of him. There’s a bathroom over there. Go check it out.”

  Angela nodded and headed over to the next nearest door. Sure enough there was a bathroom inside. The white and black tiles that probably shone bright in the daylight were now dank and dreary. The smell of bleach hung heavy in the air. The room was empty. It was easy to see as the room lacked anywhere to hide.

  Except for one place.