by Adam Rushing
Jude smiled. “Exactly! So, what are the details of this case again?”
Gallo reached for his leather briefcase, pulled out a sheaf of loose papers, and began to recite the dossier. “The boy’s name is Daniel Hawkins, 15 years old. He lives in Peach Valley, Georgia, and attends the local Church of God. He is also an honor student at the local high school. All things considered, he is a normal boy. His father died almost a year ago, so he currently lives only with his mother. About six months ago, he began having strange seizures and speaking in unrecognizable tongues while he was at church. His congregation thought he was filled with the Holy Spirit, so they continued to let him go on untreated, until his condition started worsening.”
Father Gallo paused his summary to look at Jude. “Seriously, what is wrong with Protestants?”
Jude shrugged, giving his best ‘don’t look at me’ expression. “Some strange denominations pop up in these parts. It’s the mountain air,” he suggested.
“Anyway,” Gallo continued, “he became violent for no reason and was arrested after attempting to stab a fellow classmate. His psychiatrist diagnosed him with an acute Multiple Personality Disorder. He was subsequently released to his mother’s care, under the condition that he be confined to the house and given an ankle monitor to prevent him from running away and causing harm to himself or others. The mother states that since he has been confined to the house, they have witnessed paranormal events on more and more frequent basis. She has invited members of her church to visit and pray over him, but he laughs at them and tells them things they dared not repeat in their statements.
According to her, whatever lives in that house is no longer her son, and she came to the Catholic Church as a last resort. Our own medical consultants have no explanation, so they forwarded the case to the IAE. Normally, we would contact one of our American affiliates to tend to this case, but our involvement seemed the most expedient way to meet your request.”
Jude nodded, as he turned the vehicle onto a perpendicular highway. “Seems like a great start. We should be there in a couple of hours. Would you like to try some Southern cooking? I just saw a sign for a Cracker Barrel at the next exit.”
“I’m always open to local cuisine,” replied Gallo.
Jude snorted at that comment, “That’s about as local as you can get.”
* * *
A few hours later, they rolled onto a washed-out gravel driveway and slowed to a stop in front of a white two-story house separated from its neighbors on all sides by woods. The house was a traditional cottage style with the quintessential front porch and bench swing. The surrounding yard looked unkempt, maybe two or three weeks of growth, but the edge of the property near the woods had been surrendered back to nature. An unrecognizable mid-twentieth century style automobile chassis sat near the back of the house next to an old garage. Jude guessed it was an abandoned restoration project, but it was possible it could simply been left to rot years ago.
The two men emerged from the car and stretched, as they walked to the front door. Jude spied a curtain move near the front of the house, as they mounted the steps and heard a flurry of activity inside. It was obvious Mrs. Hawkins had been anticipating her guests’ arrival and was scrambling to make the final touches before opening the door.
He raised his hand to knock, but the front door opened before he could make contact with the wood. Standing just inside the doorway was a thin, brown-haired woman in a blue dress. Her eyes were tinged red from crying, but she did her best to don a genuine look of hospitality.
“Afternoon, y’all,” she said with a thick Southern drawl, as she opened the storm door. “I’m guessin’ you’re the priests?”
“I am, Mrs. Hawkins,” answered Father Gallo offering her his hand. “This is Mister Sullivan. He will be assisting me today.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am, regarding the circumstances,” added Jude, doing the same.
Mrs. Hawkins sniffed, holding back another bout of tears. “I just don’t know what to do anymore, especially since Danny’s father died… We’ve had all kinds of prayer vigils for Danny. Heck, we’ve even taken him to a whole mess of doctors. If you ask me, though, this whole multiple personality disorder deal is a bunch of hogwash! But where are my manners? Please, come on in.”
She motioned the two in the hallway and into the sitting room on the right.
“Y’all make yourselves at home, and I’ll bring y’all some sweet tea.” She said, walking toward the back of the house to the kitchen.
“Fair warning, Father, you may want to sip the tea. In these parts, it’s more syrup than beverage,” Jude stated. Father Gallo nodded in appreciation from his experience at lunch.
The two sat down and surveyed their surroundings. The room was bright and airy. It was decorated with what one would expect from a Georgian sitting room. The couch and love seat were both of a floral pattern situated around a glass coffee table with brass supports, topped with a vase of fresh roses. One wall contained a wood-burning fireplace for the winter with a flat screen television hung over the mantle. Decorative plates of woodland creatures hung on another wall, surrounding a curio cabinet of ceramic figurines.
Gallo began unloading official-looking papers from his briefcase and thumbed to an empty page in his notepad. Mrs. Hawkins returned shortly with a serving tray containing three glasses.
“Here y’all are,” she said as she placed the glasses on coasters on the coffee table.
“Thank you, madam,” Father Gallo began, as she took a seat across from them. “If you care to, I’d like to get down to business, so we can help your son as soon as possible.”
“Anything I can do to help, Father,” she replied eagerly.
“First of all, I need to stress that the rite of exorcism can be dangerous, both to the physical and mental well-being of the person being possessed. This is why we need you to sign this release form.” He passed her a small stack of papers and continued, “This acknowledges that both parties have determined the ritual to be a last resort in the treatment of the afflicted, but is no guarantee of positive results. Please understand, this isn’t meant to scare you in any way. I can personally say, that I pride myself in my success rate.”
Mrs. Hawkins nodded absently as she hurriedly signed the documents.
“Next, I need to ask a few questions, so I may get a proper understanding of the details of the situation. How is the boy right now?”
“He’s locked up in the basement as we speak,” was the tearful reply. “I just can’t deal with him anymore. Whatever is in him is pure evil, and I’m scared for myself.”
“Did you make preparations like we discussed on the phone?”
“Yes sir. I told all of my friends and neighbors not to call on me tonight.”
“Great. Thank you for your cooperation. Now I have some personal questions. Have you noticed any change in Danny’s behavior lately? Has he been dabbling in anything you can consider dark or Satanic? Please guide me through the details of the past few months.”
“I can’t recall anythin’ like that. I searched his room real good and found some music I didn’t approve of, but I didn’t see anythin’ all that bad. He took it real hard when his father died last year in an accident down at the quarry, bless his heart, and he’s had some trouble sleepin’ ever since. He’s always a nice quiet boy, though I really didn’t think nothing of it when he started actin’ strange. He just started speakin’ at church one day, and we all thought he’d been filled with the Holy Spirit. You know, First Corinthians 14:2 and all.”
Gallo interjected, “Those who speak in a tongue speak to God, but not to other people, because nobody understands them; they are speaking in the Spirit and the meaning is hidden.”
“That’s the one,” Mrs. Hawkins said smiling.
Gallo continued, “Doesn’t verse twenty-eight of the chapter say that if no interpreter is present let the speaker be silent?”
Mrs. Hawkins shot him an angry glance, “I don’
t go around questionin’ the way you worship Mary over our lord Jesus, Mr. Gallo. It’s scandalous enough I’ve taken a Catholic priest into my own house without being insulted over my religion too”
“I apologize, ma’am. I am not familiar with your denomination’s tenets. I merely meant to ask if there was an interpreter around who could decipher what he was saying. I assure you we are both servants of Christ our Lord, regardless of the details.”
Sensing his earnest regret at his faux pas, Mrs. Hawkins relaxed from her defensive posture and continued. “Well, a while after that, he started gettin’ wild mood swings. He started lockin’ himself up in his room or runnin’ off into the woods. I figured it was just his hormones getting the best of him, but he kept getting more violent as the weeks went on. After he got arrested and expelled from school, it took all I had to maintain custody of him. I promised to home-school him and make sure he received proper medical treatment, but he started getting so bad I was scared for myself and anyone who came to the house. I had one of the deacons from the church come over to help me tie him down during his bad moments until they passed.”
Her composure failed at this point, and she began choking as she talked.
“About a month ago, this thing started talking to us. It started telling me how it was going to kill us all in our sleep and do unspeakable things to my body. It scared the deacon so bad, he refuses to come back by the house. It doesn’t matter, though, because I’m too scared to let him come anyway now. The demon is in control now more than my little boy is. I go down and take care of him whenever he lets Danny free for a little bit, but I’m afraid my boy’s soul is losing the fight. I’ve even thought about putting him out of his misery myself. I’m the worst mother in the world!”
At this point, she lost control and sobbed loudly into her hands.
Jude looked at Father Gallo, mortified. This woman just admitted to not only keeping her son hostage for almost month but to entertaining thoughts of murder! They needed to deal with this as quickly as possible.
Father Gallo gave him a knowing look, but kept his calm demeanor. He reached out for Mrs. Hawkins’s hands and held them while looking deep into her eyes. In a soft, assuring voice he said, “I promise upon all that is holy that we will give your son back to you as pure as he was before all of this began. With your permission, we’d like to begin.”
The widow nodded silently and stood up, waving them into the hall. “The door to the basement is over here next to the stairs. It’s a little steep, so watch your step. Please let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right up here.”
Chapter Four
The priest descended the stairs with Jude tagging close behind. The walls leading down to the basement were lined with stained wooden paneling, a relic of the seventies that soaked up most of the light from the single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. The stairway opened up into a larger area under the house. It had been converted into a den and wet bar, a relic of when Mister Hawkins had been alive. The paneling continued around the room, making Jude feel as if he were in a giant tree trunk. Taxidermy deer heads and fish hung above a bar on one side of the room. Two old couches and a camouflage-pattern armchair faced an old Panasonic cathode ray tube television set on the other. Jude could see a small bathroom next to the bar containing only a sink and a toilet. In the middle of the room sat the subject of their current mission.
The scene could easily have been interpreted as a sad story of parental torture and neglect. The boy sat upright in a stout wooden chair. Both of his wrists were tied to the chair arms, and his ankles were tied securely to the legs. Dark bruises and cuts had formed around the ropes holding him down - evidence he had struggled against his bonds and lost. His dark hair was oily and hung in thick, nappy locks from the lack of grooming. His clothes were stained with dried urine and stank of feces. His mother had not taken care of him for at least a couple of days, it seemed. Jude doubted how much Danny cared, however. His unblinking eyes stared, unfocused, into the distance. His skin had taken on translucent and corpse-like pallor.
Jude walked to the bar to sit down and gagged at the stench. One side of the boy’s mouth twitched upward as if to smile, but he otherwise maintained his catatonic state. Father Gallo prayed quietly to himself while unpacking his tools, unfazed by what he saw. After he had laid out a crucifix, an exorcism manual, holy water, and other tools of his trade, he gazed at the boy and began instructing Jude.
“Normally, I try conversing with the afflicted person, before I begin the rite. In the state this poor boy is in, however, I feel as if we should start as soon as possible. The spirit should present itself once we are underway, and then you may ask your questions. You must forgive me, but I will continue to perform the ceremony, as you converse. It is the only way we can be sure to maintain control.”
Jude nodded his understanding, and Gallo opened his manual and approached Danny.
“Ecce crucem Domini,” he recited as he touched the hem of his stole to the boy’s neck and placed his hand on Danny’s forehead. Danny jerked away slightly, as Gallo circled him. He sprinkled holy water on youth and quoted the opening verses of the ritual in Latin. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…”
Jude watched with intensity as the boy’s eyes slowly began to focus and display signs of fierce intelligence. Gallo continued his intonation for a few minutes, as the boy began to writhe against his restraints and hiss at the pair. The priest laid his palm on the boy’s forehead again, and it was immediately knocked away as if by an invisible hand. Danny’s head turned to Jude; the whites of his eyes were all that he could see. Before Jude could react, the prisoner’s mouth opened to release a banshee scream, which drove Jude to his knees in pain and breaking several glasses on the shelf over the bar.
A deep, inhuman voice emanated from Danny, as his head continued to whip around. “What do you hope to accomplish here, priest?”
Gallo rubbed his limp hand and arm, trying to revive them. “I will drive you from this boy and back to hell where you belong, demon! His life is not yours!”
The being began to laugh maniacally, as Gallo resumed his invocation. “This one is mine until death. You can never take him from me!”
Jude decided it was time to begin his investigation. “Why do you want this boy?”
Danny’s eyes turned to him and licked his lips. “I want him, because he is delicious. You should really give him a try.” His hips began wiggling suggestively. “I bet you’d like it.”
Jude ignored the demon’s ploy to unsettle him and pushed on. “You say he’s delicious. Does that you mean you literally feed off of him?”
The demon spat at him in contempt. “When I have my fill, I’ll feast off of you!”
“Sorry. My body is a demon-free zone,” Jude countered defiantly. “What kind of parasite are you, really? I know that Christian ceremonies aren’t the only ones that can drive your kind out. Where do you come from?”
The spirit answered in a voice that sounded more like a lion’s roar, “We are the twilight of mankind. We are the fire that will consume you all. No god can save you. We are coming.”
Jude sat speechless for a moment. Father Gallo continued his rhythmic chanting, oblivious to the conversation near him. The monster inside Danny laughed softly to itself in an almost animalistic manner. Father Gallo stopped in front of the child and pressed a crucifix dipped in holy water to his forehead. Danny’s eyes rolled into the back of his head again, and the monster screamed. Gallo shook, but this time the priest remained standing.
“Release the boy, vile spawn! What is your name?” Gallo stared down with authority.
“Akheron,” the demon replied between clenched teeth.
Jude found his voice again and commanded, “Akheron. We command you to leave this boy and return to whence you came!”
The only response was a hiss and deep laughter.
“Obey us!” Jude demanded.
The boy’s head rolled to the side at a contorted angle.
“You two are fools! You don’t understand anything. You think you are so advanced, but that only makes you weak. All of you are cattle, and the time for slaughter has come!”
Jude had heard enough and stood up to join Father Gallo next to Danny. They both laid their hands on the boy and began reciting from Gallo’s book, “Deus, in nómine tuo salvum me fac...”
Danny convulsed and gurgled something incoherent, as a trickle of blood traced its way down his cheek from his nostril. Jude stared in fearful wonder at what he was experiencing, but continued to fervently recite the passages from the pages Gallo held in front of them. He focused all of his energy through his hand and into the boy. Suddenly, the boy was still.
The two men stopped to inspect the boy. He slowly opened his eyes. They had a feral, terrified look about them. He slumped over as far as he could with his restraints and began crying, as the men bent down to comfort him.
“Who are you?” the boy managed to say in between sobs. “I want my mom,”
“We are here to help you, Daniel,” assured Gallo. “My name is Father Gallo, and this is Mr. Sullivan. Jude, will you go fetch Daniel’s mother?”
“I’ll be right back with her, Danny,” Jude promised, as he rose from the boy’s side. “She’s right upstairs.”
He bounded up the stairs as fast as his joints would allow and burst through the basement door. “Mrs. Hawkins! Come quickly! Danny is asking for you!”
The woman emerged from the kitchen with a huge smile, looking as if she had just won the lottery. “Oh, thank God! Is he okay?”
“There is still some work to do to make sure he is completely recovered, but the worst should be over,” Jude replied.
They both descended into the basement. Once Danny and his mother’s eyes met, they both began crying anew. She rushed to her son and cradled him to her shoulder, despite the filth that covered him.
