While this was happening back at the rectory, Johann was driving down the street. He was wary of almost every car he saw, especially darker colored ones. Johann was driving no more than a few minutes when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and the number was not one he recognized.
“Bill Berman,” he said.
“Hi, Mister… uh… Berman,” the caller began, “This is Robert Durling. I have the records you requested all ready for you. If you can come by my office, I would like to give them to you.”
“Sure, Mister Durling, I can be at the hospital -,”
“Oh, no. Don't meet me at the hospital,” Robert said, as he hastily interrupted, “I have the day off from the hospital, so please come to my office on Main Street. I'm in Bucktown Plaza. A group of medical practices in front of the hospital. I'm in suite seventeen. I'm here now, so you can stop by at your leisure.”
“I'll be there in a few minutes,” Johann said and ended the call. A few moments later, he was parking his car in the parking lot in front of Robert Durling's office. He opened the door to the room and stepped inside.
The lobby was rather small with a few chairs lining two of the walls. A young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, with long brown hair, sat at the counter and was, of course, the receptionist. She glanced up from work she was doing on her computer.
“Can I help you,” she asked, her voice had a slight southern drawl. She smiled warmly at Johann, and he took note how beautiful her clear, blue eyes were.
“Yes,” he replied, and cleared his throat slightly, “Mister Durling is expecting me.”
She picked up the phone and pressed a button. “Your appointment is here, Mister Durling,” she said. She paused while Robert spoke. “Yes, sir,” she said as she hung up the phone. She turned her attention back to Johann. “You may have a seat, please. He'll be out in a moment.”
Johann sat to wait in the seat which was closest to him. His wait was but a few seconds, as Robert rushed out of his office behind the receptionist. He briskly walked up to Johann, smiling as though they were old friends reunited. Johann stood up, and Robert grabbed his hand and began shaking it, enthusiastically.
“I can't tell you,” Robert began, while looking Johann in the eye, “Just how happy I am you are here.”
“Why, thank you, Mister -,”
“Come. Come,” Robert said, “Into my office. Quickly now, quickly.” He began to lead Johann into his office briskly. “Wow,” Johann thought to himself, “did someone overdose on coffee this morning?” He was amazed how someone as rotund as Robert Durling could move this fast.
They entered the office and Robert closed the door. He went to his desk and sat, gazing for a moment at Johann, who sat in a chair in front of him.
“I'm sorry,” Robert said, “I had to get you away from Becky as quickly as I could. I couldn't take the chance you would tell her your… uh… name.”
“My name,” Johann asked, puzzled. Robert gazed at him for a moment.
“I'll cut to the chase,” he said, “I know you're not Bill Berman and I'm also aware you're not from the Centers for Disease Control.” He studied Johann for a moment. “Actually, I knew those things yesterday when we were in the hospital morgue together.”
“Yes. Someone told me you know who I am,” Johann said.
“Johnny did,” said Robert, “Before, when you were there talking with him. I asked him last night to let you know that I knew.”
“Johnny?”
“Well,” said Robert, “That is what I've always called him since we were kids. I meant Father Tuttle.”
“Oh, I see. You've been friends that long, have you?”
Robert let out a small laugh. “Friends,” he said, as he chuckled, “Is that what he told you? I should have guessed he would tell you that. After all, in these parts, it is a big, dark secret.”
“I don't understand,” Johann said, confused. Robert got a little more serious.
“We're more than friends. He's my half-brother. I should have guessed he would tell you we were only friends. Ever since we were children, he hated it when he would hear people whispering about our mother having children by two different men. There was nothing evil about it. She was married to Johnny's dad. Something happened, and they divorced. She then married my father, and I was born. Happens all the time. But, out here,” he rolled his eyes, “Heaven help you if life gets in the way of what everyone expects you to do.”
“Well,” Johann said, “I guess that explains how you know who I am. He told you; So much for stealth.”
“Yes,” said the coroner, “And he even called me right after you left him so I would have everything ready for you.”
-9-
Robert walked over to his file cabinet. He removed a large file folder and placed the paperwork on his desk. He ran his hands through his short gray hair to slick it back a little and proceeded to open the folder.
“These are all the infants who have passed in the last two weeks,” Robert said as he started laying the paperwork out over his desk. “I have them arranged in chronological order for you. All the information is here. The infant's name, address, age, parents, attending physician, time and cause of death,” he glanced at Johann, “I've even documented the marks behind the ears.” Johann glanced at Robert, surprised. “Yes,” Robert continued, “I did discover them.”
“So, your brother told you about me,” Johann said, “I guess he told you everything about me?”
“Half-brother,” Durling said. To him, it was important that the distinction be made that he and Johnny were only half-brothers. “Yes. He told me you were once a priest. You left the priesthood when a demon took your sister,” he gave Johann a consoling look, “I'm so sorry for that.”
“Thank you,” Johann said.
“He even told me your real name, Mister Gunther.”
“No 'H,' ” said Johann.
“Pardon?”
“There is no 'H.' My name is pronounced Gunter, not Gunther.”
“Oh. I'm sorry, Mister Gunter. Please forgive -.”
“It's okay,” Johann said, “Please. You can call me Johann.”
“Okay… uh… Johann,” Robert responded, smiling, “I will, and you can call be Bob.”
Johann turned his attention back to the papers on the desk. He removed his glasses and cleaned the lenses with his shirt tails and re-positioned his spectacles on his face. He began looking carefully at each sheet, so he could glean as much information as possible from each one, and to try and detect if there were any immediate patterns.
But, alas, the only patterns he found were the ones he was already aware of; The infants' ages, the attending physicians, the cause of death. Nothing appeared abnormal, outside of the sheer number of cases in such a short time. If it weren't for the little marks behind the right ear on each infant, it would appear as though this had been just an unfortunate coincidence.
“Father Tuttle told me you have a hunch who the demon might be,” Johann asked, as he looked up from the papers.
“Yes, I do,” the coroner answered.
“Care to tell me who that might be,” asked the former priest.
Robert got up from his seat and walked to the door to make sure it was closed tightly, so no one outside the room could listen to their conversation. He walked back to where Johann was sitting and almost whispered to him, “I think our target is one of the attending physicians.” He maintained eye contact with Johann as he returned to his seat. Father Gunter gazed at him for a moment.
“Which one,” he asked. Robert shrugged his shoulders and held his two hands palm up.
“I'm not sure,” Durling answered, “But, I am almost positive one of the two attending physicians is the guilty party. The demon is a master of masquerading, you know.”
“Yes,” Johann, said, “I'm sure the son of a bitch is.”
“Which reminds me,” said Robert, “You're probably staying at our one and only motel in town, is that right?”
“Yes, I am,” answered Johann.
“Then, you need to check out at once, and move in with me while you're here in town.” Johann gave him a quizzical glance.
“News travels fast in this little town,” Durling said, “I'm sure the news you're not with the CDC has spread from the hospital by now. I'm assuming you used your fictitious name to check into the motel and if Harry Weedles finds out you're not who you said you were, he'll turn you in to the police for sure. We don't have much crime around here, so anytime the police here can go and do police stuff, they jump at the chance. Reminds one of that song about the restaurant they always play around Thanksgiving time.”
“That wouldn't be a good thing,” Johann said, as he contemplated the possibility of that happening.
“No, it wouldn't,” said Robert as he handed Johann a small slip of paper.
“This is my address. How about we meet at my house in about two hours. That should give you enough time to get your stuff and check out of the motel.”
“Okay,” Johann said, as he took the slip of paper and glanced at the address. “How do I find your house?”
“Head north on Main Street for about a mile and a half from the motel. Make a left at the Chevron gas station and follow the road until you reach my house. It'll be on the right-hand side of the road, at the bottom of a small hill.”
“I'll meet you at your place in about two hours, then,” Johann said as he put the paper in his shirt pocket.
The two men shook hands, and Robert walked with Johann to his car. Johann started his car, and Robert leaned down to him.
“Whatever you do,” Durling said, “try to avoid Harry altogether if you can. Just in case somebody already told him the news.”
“I'll do that,” Johann said, as he put the car in gear.
Father Gunter pulled out of the parking lot and drove back to the motel. After he parked his car near his room, Johann removed the bag from his breakfast and tossed it in a nearby garbage receptacle. He walked to his room and took note of a black Dodge Challenger parked in front of his room. As he opened the door, he glanced back at the black vehicle and realized the car was no longer there. At the same time, a faint odor of sulphur was wafting from his room.
Johann quickly realized something was askew, and he was probably in danger. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he rapidly started to close the door, but he was too late in doing so. Someone, or rather, something grabbed his shirt collar and violently pulled him into the room.
Father Gunter fell to the floor, and at the same time the door slammed shut so hard, the wood it was made from bent inward, almost cracked down the middle. Johann hit the floor with such violence; his glasses flew off his face and landed several feet away. Lying face down on the floor, Johann reached his arms out to try and find his glasses.
Immediately, his assailant began tearing and ripping at his clothes and scratching his arms, back, legs; his whole body reeled with the sensation of being torn apart and shredded. At the same time, his attacker was making an almost deafening, high-pitched, shrieking sound which made all the glass in the room rattle. Johann covered his ears in an attempt to protect his hearing, but the sound was so loud and high pitched, doing so almost seemed useless.
“Banshee,” he thought, “A damned banshee.” He rolled onto his back so he could, perhaps, get a glimpse of his assailant. He was painfully aware without his glasses; the image will be blurry. It hovered above him, an almost ghostly form. The creature appeared as a woman with long, almost scraggly, hair. Her eyes were black as death. Her open mouth was full of jagged, rotting teeth, which the demon was using in conjunction with its long, sharp nails as it tore into its victim.
Johann covered his face against the putrid odor, which emanated from the demon's open oral cavity. His gut wretched, and he struggled to fight off the urge to vomit, which began to grow more intense with the passing of each torturous second.
Johann dragged himself on the floor to try to escape from his attacker and retrieve his glasses. He moved away at the precise moment the banshee struck at his face. One of its nails cut into his cheek, which caused him to bleed. Small drops of crimson fell to the worn and faded carpet on the floor.
“Thank God the damned thing only cut my cheek,” he thought, knowing that, on his neck, the wound would have been deep enough to cause much more damage than it did on his cheek.
The attack was so fast and relentless; the sensation to Johann was as though he were being attacked by a creature with ten arms instead of two. The attack was unceasing, with constant scratching and cutting on all parts of his body, which, by now, was beginning to weaken from the massive onslaught.
The screaming was so loud and piercing, Johann's mind almost became numb, and he had a hard time thinking straight. The whole time he tried to fight off the vicious attack, he was flailing on the floor like a fish taken out of the water, almost like a person who was in the midst of having a seizure. His arms and legs hit some of the furniture in the room and items fell to the floor.
With much effort, Johann reached his glasses and placed them back on his face. Now, he could get a better glimpse at what he was fighting.
“You're an ugly son of a bitch,” Johann said, as he finally managed to roll away from the demon. As he Struggled to get to his feet, he grabbed the chain for the cross he was wearing under his shirt. The moment he took the cross out, the Banshee instantly vanished, almost as if in a puff of smoke.
Johann quickly scanned the room to find out if the demon was merely playing with him. A loud banging sound exploded through the now silent room, which caused him to turn quickly to face the door.
“Mister Berman,” A man's voice shouted, “You open this door right now, or I'll open it for you.” Johann wiped the blood from his face and got to the door as quickly as he could.
Johann opened the door, and standing in front of him was a furious Harry Weedles. He was so angry; his face was red, and his breathing was hard and rapid, as though he had been running.
“Mister Weedles -,” Johann said, as he tried to muster a friendly smile.
“Don't 'Mister Weedles' me, Mister Berman,” Harry said, angrily, “I don't know what they allow in the hotels and motels in the big city of Atlanta, but we don't go for that stuff here. Now you pack up your belongings and whoever you have in there with you and get out. Pronto.”
“Okay, Mister Weedles,” Johann said, relieved Harry, apparently, hadn't learned of the news about him yet.
“I mean pronto,” Harry said, while pointing his finger in Johann's face, and his own face became red again, “I would have thought a man in your position would have been a lot more respectable than that. I expect to see you in the office checking out within ten minutes.”
“I will,” Johann said.
“You'd better, or I'll get the cops,” Harry said. He turned and walked back to the office, mumbling to himself. Johann raised an eyebrow slightly when he heard Harry say to himself “Damned woman was screaming like a banshee, for Christ sake.” Johann glanced at a man who appeared to be in his thirties, that was standing at the door of the room next to his. After Harry passed him, the man smiled at Johann and gave him a thumbs up gesture. Johann smiled weakly and went back in his room to pack his belongings.
He closed the door and surveyed the damage the encounter did to the room. Broken glass was everywhere. Water pooled on the floor where his water glass had fallen from the nightstand. A chair or two were toppled over on their sides, and some slight scratch marks were on the walls. All this damage bore witness to the violent assault, which happened here only moments ago, and Johann knew he was lucky to escape from with his life.
“What a damned mess,” Johann said to himself as he tried to tidy up the room at least a little bit. The thought immediately came to him that the Banshee was in the room before him. He quickly went to the closet to make sure his shotgun was still safe and sound where he left it. He took the case out of the closet and placed it on the bed. He Opened the case
, and breathed a sigh of relief that everything appeared to be in proper order. He closed the case and went about the business of leaving the premises.
Ten minutes later, Johann was standing in the office in front of a now slightly calmer Harry Weedles.
“That will be fifty dollars, Mister Berman,” Harry said, without looking at Johann. He opened his wallet, took out a one-hundred-dollar bill and handed it to Harry. The clerk glanced at him as though disgusted.
“I can't break that,” Harry said.
“I don't want you to break it,” Johann said, “I want to pay something, at least, for any damage I might have caused.”
“Okay. That's fair,” Harry said, as he quickly took the money from Johann.
“I'm sorry for any trouble I might have caused,” apologizes Johann.
“If you ever come back to these parts, Mister Berman, we would appreciate it if you act a little more civilized,” Harry said as he put the greenback into his cash drawer. Johann adjusted his glasses on his nose, turned, and walked out the door to his car.
He adjusted the rear-view mirror so he can examine his face and inspect all the scratches the demon gave him. He winced, slightly, as he touched them. A few moments later he re-adjusted his mirror and pulled out of the parking lot.
He reached the corner where he was to make the left turn and pulled into the Chevron gas station. While his car was receiving some much-needed fuel, Johann's cell phone rang. He recognized the phone number, this time, as Robert Durling's.
“Hey, Bob. I'm on my way,” he said, “I should be there in a few minutes.”
“Okay. Good,” replied Bob, excited. “I stopped at the library on the way home. I found something fascinating. When you get here, I'll tell you what I found. I think I know who the demon is now.” This new information piqued Johann's interest, and he began to perk up a little bit.
“Really,” Johann said, “That's great news. Best news I've heard all day. I have some news for you, too, when I see you.”
“Good news, I hope?”
The Bucktown Babies Page 7
