The Bog

by Talbot, Michael

  “Dear God!” the vicar cried. He looked at the door as if to double-check the fact that he had bolted it, and then scanned the windows. David also looked at the windows and saw that these at least were too narrow to allow the thing through.

  The vicar opened a small peephole in one of the doors and peered out. “Dear God!” he repeated. “It’s coming.” He slammed the peephole and looked madly about.

  David cocked the rifle.

  “That will do no good,” the vicar warned.

  It had been a reflexive action on David’s part. He was well aware that the rifle was ineffective against the thing. “What will do us any good?” he demanded.

  “Nothing that I know of,” the vicar returned in a terrified voice.

  “What is it?” David asked finally.

  The vicar collapsed before the altar. The creature howled again, this time even closer.

  ” What is it?” David repeated, grabbing the older man by the shoulders and turning him around.

  The vicar looked up at him, his eyes filled with torment. “It’s a demon, Mr. Macauley. Something my profession pretends to know about, but doesn’t know at all. And something your profession is aware of even less. It is older than the bog itself, and it is pure evil. And beyond that there is not much else that I know.”

  David looked back in the direction of the howling and seconds later the thing hit the door with the force of a charging bull. The old wood warped and buckled inward.

  “But this is a church!” David argued, his heart beating so violently that he thought his chest would explode. “It can’t come in here!”

  The vicar shook his head despairingly. “It can and will. There is no force we have ever discovered that is effective against it. Even the power of the Lord seems futile.”

  David had never been a religious man, but it seemed to him that if demons existed they were somehow in the province of the metaphysical. The thing hit the door again, and still having no success, started to circle the church. As it moved David noticed that the pain in his jaw also moved, providing a lodestone of its location. He noticed that the vicar was also stroking his jaw.

  “The pain,” he said. “What’s causing it?”

  “It is,” the vicar returned. “One always feels the pain of its presence. I don’t know why.”

  The demon bashed against one of the narrow windows and shards of glass went flying through the church. Unable to contain himself any longer, the vicar started to cry, and through his blubber he began to slowly sing a hymn.

  The demon shattered another window, still snarling hideously, as a fetid and unearthly wind tore through the church.

  “Oh, Holy Father, source of mercy,” the vicar sang feebly. “Watching o’er us from above.”

  The demon roared again, and from the pain in their jaws it appeared that it was making a second run toward the door. It struck the wood and this time a splinter appeared.

  David thought of his wife and his children and realized that he was about to die.

  “Forgive us all our earthly sins.”

  The demon crashed against the door again and a piece of it broke free, allowing the terrible wind to enter.

  David thought of all the things he had wanted to do before he died as he stepped backward and huddled next to the vicar.

  “And fill us with the Savior’s love.”

  The demon crashed against the door one last time and the bolt snapped. The door went crashing aside and such a torrent of wind and debris swept through that David thought he was going to be knocked off his feet. He struggled to remain standing as he squinted into the onslaught. A strange cold filled him as he made out the outline of the thing, the massive and rotting muscles, the predatorily sentient eyes.

  “Hallelujah, hallelujah,” the vicar croaked valiantly. “Every tongue sing hallelujah.” And the moment he uttered the words, the wind stopped and the pupils of the demon narrowed as if it were actually frightened by the proclamation.

  The vicar stopped singing abruptly, speechless at the sudden calm, and the wind started once again to rustle around them.

  “The hymn!” David ordered. “Don’t stop.”

  “But I don’t understand. It’s not supposed to have any effect.”

  The thing started forward once again.

  “Just sing!” David shrilled.

  “Oh, Holy Father, Lord of Glory,” the vicar continued, but the words no longer seemed to have any power over the beast.

  David’s mind raced as he quickly arrived at a different conclusion. “The word, then!” he shouted, and the vicar looked at him, bewildered.

  “Hallelujah!” he screamed, and once again the demon shrank back. “Hallelujah,” he repeated and the demon continued to recoil, looking at him with what seemed to be fear.

  The vicar soon joined in and both men started to shout in unison. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

  The terror that had only moments before been theirs now gripped the impossible creature before them and it turned, went out of the church, and started down the hill. Rejuvenated by their newfound power, they ran after it. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” they cried as the thing turned tail and lumbered all the way back to the bog.

  EIGHT

  After the creature left, the vicar once again became unyieldingly reticent about it. David quickly sensed that it was more than just casual reluctance or some sort of misplaced feeling of shame or guilt that kept him from talking about the thing. It was a bond of fear that kept him from discussing it, the same bond of fear that he now realized gripped all of the inhabitants of the valley. He did not know if it was superstition, or a terrible pact they had made, or something even more sinister, but it was clear that they were sent into a blind panic if they even so much as mentioned Ol’ Bendy to an outsider. The only fragment of information he was able to extract was that none of them believed anything religious would have power over the creature, that this feeling had apparently been handed down to them since time immemorial, and that no one was more astonished than the vicar that the word hallelujah had seemed anathema to the demon. In the end, David was forced to leave the church and make his way home knowing little more from the vicar than he did from what he himself had witnessed.

  A part of his pragmatic nature still tried to understand the thing as a new type of life form, something zoological, but in the end he knew that this was an untenable position. He had never been a religious man, and he had no idea what the word demon even meant, but he realized that he could no longer allow himself to flounder in incredulity and confusion. He still had no real idea what he was up against, but it was obvious from his encounter with the creature that he had to be prepared for anything, that he was entering a world that was perhaps far beyond his understanding, and that he had no way of predicting its ultimate dangers or ramifications. All he knew was that something inside him had surrendered itself, had stepped over into the acceptance of that world, and although it stirred within him a deep foreboding, frightened him more than anything in his life had ever frightened him before, it also left him dazzled. For him it represented the edge of the universe, the very boundary of human understanding, and nothing, not even the discovery of the two Roman bodies, now intrigued him more. He knew that now more than ever he had to penetrate the secret of the matter, unravel every last thread of the mystery that hung over the valley, or for the rest of his life he would be haunted by it.

  When he arrived home he found Melanie waiting up for him, and although he knew it would be difficult to persuade her of the reality of what he had seen, he felt he had no recourse but to tell her. After he had finished he was surprised to see that she accepted it all without question. She looked up at him tormentedly.

  “David, what are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to pack up and get the kids out of here,” he said.

  She greeted his remark with tremendous relief. “Oh, thank God. Where are we going to go?”

  “Back to Oxford. I’ll call friends to
morrow and try to make arrangements for you to stay with them.”

  She drew back quickly. “What do you mean us stay with them?”

  He drew in his breath, knowing that she was not going to like what he had to say next. “Melanie, I’m not going to leave yet. I’ve got my work to finish, and besides...” His voice trailed off.

  “Besides what?”

  He sighed and looked in his wife’s eyes searchingly. “Melanie, I know you’re not going to like this, but I just can’t leave without knowing what makes this thing tick. Whatever’s going on here is quite extraordinary. Why, the scientific implications alone are enormous. I couldn’t call myself a scientist if I just picked up and left without getting to the bottom of the thing.”

  “Bottom of the thing?” she repeated scornfully. “I’ll tell you what’s at the bottom of the thing. It’s evil, pure unadulterated evil!”

  “Melanie, don’t be absurd.”

  “I’m not being absurd. I’ve sensed it ever since we came to this place. Don’t you realize that there are some things that are not meant to be studied, some things that are better left alone?”

  He hated that attitude. He hated bans on certain areas of knowledge. It reminded him too painfully of his father, who thought that most things were not worth a person’s interest or study. His own temper rose. “Melanie, you really don’t understand me very well if you think there’s any possibility of me pulling up and leaving this valley now.”

  This seemed to fluster Melanie more than anything and she turned to him, her face growing red. “And you don’t understand me very well to be so against my going back to college to finish my dissertation!”

  He looked at her in confusion. “What?”

  “You heard me,” she said wearily.

  “When have I ever said that I didn’t want you finishing your dissertation?”

  “You don’t have to say it. It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” he admitted.

  “Well, why? Why are you so against it?”

  He continued to brood about the matter. He did not really know. “I guess I just don’t want anything rocking the boat. Things seem to be going along fine as they are and I’m afraid... well, I’m afraid of ruining it.”

  “Well things aren’t going fine for me,” she blurted out. He looked at her with surprise.

  “Oh, I love you, David. And I love what we’ve built together, but I need more. I’ve only just realized it, but I’m afraid if I don’t start using my mind more, start doing some of the things that I want to do, I’m going to wither and die.”

  This pained him to hear. He had had no idea that Melanie felt this way, and the last thing he wanted was to be party to her unhappiness. After mulling everything over for a moment he said, “Then I think we should make a deal. I think you must understand that I have to stay here. You must understand what I have to do for myself, and in return I will understand what you must do for yourself.”

  Melanie seemed to soften.

  David’s own expression grew somber. “Melanie?”

  “Yes, David?”

  “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

  “Oh, no, David,” she said rushing into his arms. “I love you too much to ever do that.”

  It was only later, as they readied themselves for bed, that she felt a terrible darkness when she realized that somehow in the deal she had agreed to her husband’s staying in the valley.

  The first thing the next morning, Melanie started to pack, and as soon as Mrs. Comfrey saw what she was doing she became very agitated. David told her that she had no need to worry about losing her position, for he intended to keep her on. But apparently she had become very attached to the children and did not find this concession much consolation. He did not tell her about the thing in the bog. He saw no reason to unduly alarm her, even in the remote chance that she would have believed him. Neither did he tell the children.

  It was as he walked through the house to retrieve one of Melanie’s suitcases that he again noticed the unmistakable smell of something foul. He wandered through all of the rooms on the first floor and still found nothing. A few minutes later Melanie came in to help him with a box, and after they had paused to tape it shut they heard a knock on the door. At first Melanie looked alarmed, but David reminded her of Amanda’s observation that Ol’ Bendy only came out at night. He opened the door and to his surprise saw Grenville’s chauffeur standing beyond. Grenville’s Rolls-Royce also sat in the driveway, but David saw that there was no one in it. The chauffeur had come alone.

  “Yes?” David asked, disconcerted.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the chauffeur said politely, “but the Marquis wondered if he could have a brief word with you.”

  “Well, as you can see we’re a bit busy right now,” David returned. “Could it be later this afternoon, or possibly tomorrow?”

  “I’m afraid it’s a matter of the utmost urgency, sir.”

  This piqued David slightly. He did not like command appearances. “I don’t know,” he said, irritated, and was about to add his further thoughts on the matter when the chauffeur cut him off.

  “It is in regards to your encounter last night with the creature you might have heard the villagers refer to as Ol’ Bendy.”

  Melanie looked at David sharply, but his curiosity had been aroused. “I’ll get my jacket,” he said. But before he could walk away, the chauffeur added another bit of news.

  “He would like Mrs. Macauley to come also. He would like to have a small conversation with both of you.”

  David looked at Melanie and saw that his wife was apprehensive about the entire matter. She also looked down worriedly at her casual dress.

  The chauffeur anticipated them once again. “The Marquis understands that at such short notice proper formalities cannot be attended to. He apologizes for the profound inconvenience of this request and promises that you will find the meeting most enlightening.”

  David and Melanie looked at each other perplexedly as Melanie removed the bandanna she was wearing and shook her hair loose. Together they went out the front door as the chauffeur strode ahead of them and opened the door of the Rolls.

  When they arrived at Wythen Hall they were immediately ushered into the massive drawing room qua menagerie. They found Grenville sitting in a gigantic thronelike chair of elaborately carved bog oak beside the now-dead fireplace. He wore a deep-purple velvet smoking jacket and gold brocade slippers. The various tropical birds twittered nervously as they entered, and the monkey with the blood-red eyes watched them silently from his golden pagoda.

  Grenville stood graciously to greet them. “Come in, come in. I’m so glad you have obliged me yet again in one of my requests. Won’t you please have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

  Both of them stiffened, recalling the last time they had had a drink in Grenville’s house. “No thank you,” David said, and Melanie also shook her head in the negative.

  “But, of course not,” Grenville said, his eyes flashing but not revealing whether he understood why they had declined or not. “It’s too early in the day for you.” He motioned for them to sit on one of the sofas near him.

  “What is this all about?” David asked, sitting down.

  Grenville smiled. “It’s simply that I’ve heard you’ve had an encounter with the creature the villagers quaintly call Ol’ Bendy, and I thought that you might have a few questions about it.”

  David assumed that the vicar must have called and informed Grenville of the incident, and he marveled at the communications network the older man had in the valley. “Yes, I do have a few questions about it,” he replied. “The first one is what do you know about the creature?”

  “Quite a bit, I daresay,” Grenville returned.

  David’s eyebrows raised. “All right, I’ll bite. For starters, what is it?”

  “It’s a demon,” Grenville returned as he absentmindedly picked a bit of lint off of the sleeve of his smoking jacket.

  Under
normal circumstances David would not have dignified such a remark with further question, but after his experiences of the night before he was prepared for anything.

  “And how do you define demon?” he asked cautiously.

  “A creature of the night, an inhabitant of the underworld,” Grenville returned.

  “You mean hell?”

  Grenville pursed his brow. “I so dislike that term. It carries with it so many misleading mythic connotations. Let us just say that demons inhabit another region of reality, a vibration that is normally not available to the human senses.”

  David became increasingly uneasy. “How do you know all of this?”

  Grenville frowned. “Know what? You mean, know that the creature is a demon?” He paused as a look halfway between a smile and something darker crept into his face. “Because it’s my demon.”

  David grew confused.

  Grenville stood. “Perhaps things would be easier if I showed you. Won’t you follow me?”

  David and Melanie exchanged anxious glances, but stood and followed.

  They passed through a large set of Amboina wood doors and into an adjacent parlor. Inside, the room was almost totally dark, but from what dim light there was coming from the open doorway, David could see that it had been converted into a makeshift bedroom. Huge and funereal velvet curtains had been drawn across the windows and kept out all encroaching sunlight, and in the middle of the room, placed haphazardly amidst the pushed-aside furniture, was a large four-poster bed completely draped in gauze.

  As they entered, David noticed something else about the room. In addition to being dark, it was hot and stifling, and had the humid and sour smell of a sickroom.

  Grenville lifted a candelabrum from a table in the drawing room and strolled forward into the darkness. Hesitantly, David and Melanie followed. As they approached the bed, David became aware of movement within the gauzy enclosure. And as they drew closer still, he could hear the raspy exhalations of troubled breathing. Melanie clenched his arm as Grenville thrust the candelabrum aloft and motioned for them to step up to the very perimeter of the bed. Then, glancing at them briefly, he drew back the bed-curtains.