by Aiden James
“Open, the door, Evelyn!” Grandma Suzanne pleaded, interrupting her. “I haven’t got much time, dearie, before I must return to the sacred place you speak of. Don’t—“
“Leave now!” Evelyn demanded. Her tone poised with conviction. “Leave me alone, right now!”
“No, I won’t leave!” the owner of the voice replied, indignant. “Evelyn, open the door now, before it’s too late for mercy…. Or risk getting the worst whipping of your life!” A slight measure of meanness seeped into the delivery of this last part.
“I said go away!!”
Evelyn’s tone was now more forceful and her pitch louder. Her renewed confidence clearly revealed her growing impatience and disdain for whoever hovered next to the back door window. The unnaturalness of the encounter could no longer support the allure of intimate communication with her deceased grandmother.
“Get the hell off my grandfather’s property, now-w-w, damn it!!”
The silhouette backed away from Evelyn’s view, leaving in its place the bright luminance from the moon seeping through the small creases in the curtain, along with the glow from the porch and security lights. A low, sinister chortle rumbled forth from beyond the back porch, impossibly moving through the log and mortar walls of the cabin and surrounding her while she instinctively stepped backward into the living room.
“Open the door, you ungrateful bitch!”
A thick dark shadow now moved in front of the door, obscuring all light, while a deeper, menacing voice replaced the much sweeter one from just moments ago.
“I will strip you naked and skin your hide for your dear grandpa to find when he returns home!”
“Anagisdi utsatina!!” Evelyn shouted angrily.
She refused to be intimidated further, raising both arms with her palms faced toward the door. Another prayerful incantation, she turned her hands inward before thrusting them at the door.
A swooshing noise immediately shook the back wall. The force threw her down onto the living room floor. Shawn crawled over to the spot where she lay, directing another threatening growl at the back door. But the dark presence dissipated, leaving only slight wind gusts that whistled quietly through the cabin’s eves and tiny creases between the doors and windows.
Is it gone??
Evelyn stood up, wary, glancing around her. Shawn continued his vigil with more growls against the menace whose physical presence was temporarily muted. An immense thud suddenly shook the entire cabin, confirming the entity’s growing anger with her. The varnished white pine beams that lined both slopes of the A-frame’s ceiling began to creak loudly as if on the verge of a massive collapse.
She grabbed Shawn by the collar and dragged him over to the dining table, sliding under it while pulling him along with her. They cowered between two chairs closest to the kitchen… listening intent. She let out a slight yelp as a chilling voice pierced the air above her, the terrible cackle reverberating shrill from just below the ceiling.
“You stupid fucking bitch—watch now as I pour your sister’s warm blood all over your grandfather’s cabin-n-n!” the high-pitched voice shrieked with glee. “Listen as it trickles down the roof—Se-e-e it str-r-r-eam-m-m down the window-w-w-s!!”
“PLEASE leave us alone!!” Evelyn cried out from beneath the table.
She pulled Shawn closer, the husky no longer resisting her efforts to shield them both. His trembling only fueled her deepening dread.
“Let him in, Evelyn!!” cried another voice that she realized in horror belonged to her sister, Hanna. “He’s going to kill me, Evelyn—PLEASE open the door before he cuts my—a-a-ar—oh, God, he-l-l-l-p me-e-e!!”
“Hanna??!!” Evelyn screamed, and moved to crawl out from the table’s protective shelter.
She knew the voice could very well be another trick by her invisible tormentor, cleverly mimicking her sister’s voice and personality. But she was drawn by the infinitesimal chance the malevolent spirit would spare Hanna. She realized this thing—anisgina or demon—disguised itself as her deceased grandmother. Perhaps that’s how it lured Hanna out of the cabin two nights earlier. Still, she had little choice other than facing the entity head-on.
She came out from underneath the table, with Shawn right behind her. Prepared to surrender, she intended to open the door and allow the entity inside before she changed her mind. But another noise pulled her attention toward the apex of the living room’s tall ceiling. A swirling bluish mist hovered there. As she stopped to look at it, the glowing haze swirled faster and faster. Its denseness thickened as the color darkened toward purple and then turned deep crimson. Meanwhile, her sister’s screams of horror and excruciating pain increased.
“Don’t do it—I beg you, take ME and let her go!!” Evelyn cried, falling to her knees beneath the ever-thickening blood mass. It continued to solidify and mutate, gaining a balloon-like shape and bright sheen. Like an overfed tick it continued to grow until it threatened to burst.
The terrible screams continued while the strange apparition continued its descending growth. Suddenly, a flurry of sparks and plasma lightning streaks erupted from the image when it touched the upper tip of a spirit chaser nailed to the wall below the upstairs picture window. Hanna’s cries abruptly ceased, replaced by an inhuman screech followed by a tirade consisting of a strange mixture of Cherokee and other words and phrases that featured harsh cadences—a second language completely unfamiliar to Evelyn. Only a repeated Native American phrase stating ‘it’s too late for mercy’ was clearly discernible to her ears, as the inhuman voice shrieked most of its furious tirade in the unfamiliar tongue.
Evelyn’s heart sank, knowing she couldn’t save her sister. As she sought to plead one last time for mercy—even offering to trade places with her again—the enormous blood sac hovering above her burst. She fainted before the showered foulness reached her, collapsing in a heap while Shawn sought to protect her from the rain of blood and gore.
Chapter Twenty-two
Lying in his cell at the Sevierville County Jail, John Running Deer stared at the chipped tiles in the ceiling. All but two other cells on the main floor sat empty. His scheduled arraignment set for Friday morning, he remained hopeful it would be moved up to tomorrow afternoon.
Someone would surely come to their senses. The charges of first degree murder were completely ludicrous. How in the hell could an old man like him subdue the much younger, athletic professor Walter Pollack, and then butcher and nearly decapitate the man after snapping every bone in the man’s back? Much less, scale one of the wooden chalices to reach the second floor of the Pollack’s exclusive castle estate in Knoxville? And, that in addition to brutally slaughtering a pair of armed Knoxville policemen a day earlier in the basement of a storage building located across from the McClung Museum on UT’s campus.
The only substantial link to him for either crime came from the desecrated remains removed from Cades Cove five weeks earlier. That, and the fact he’d lost his temper with Elaine Pollack, the professor’s now widowed wife on the phone. Even so, not a single shred of physical evidence actually connected him to any of the three deaths. That made him much more furious about the situation. Meanwhile, precious time had been lost in searching for Hanna…. He only allowed himself to think about the unjust charges, not her likely fate. Better to deal with that later, away from here.
Without his old friend, Sheriff Butch Silva, present to vouch for his character and straighten this mess up, all he could do was wait. Helpless. Out of town for Christmas, the sheriff wasn’t due back until Friday. The very reason the arraignment had been pushed back until then, according to Deputy Jeremy Brown, Sheriff Silva’s trusted assistant. Brash, arrogant, and hardheaded, Deputy Brown’s worst trait was his open disdain for John’s race and heritage. Even if the man hadn’t said anything, the hurtful thoughts discerned through John’s sentient gifts revealed what he truly felt toward the Cherokee, as well as any other indigenous peoples that settled America long before Deputy Brown’s European ancestors arr
ived.
Jeremy Brown had left earlier that night, leaving two other deputies and a dispatcher on duty. The last time anyone came through here to check on the jail’s other occupants happened roughly an hour ago, around midnight. That deputy, a young brunette woman who briefly glanced into John’s cell, finished her walk-through and promptly exited the cellblock, turning the main overhead lights off since almost all of the incarcerated tenants were asleep.
The only one still awake, John remained unsure if he would sleep at all tonight due to his rampant thoughts and unanswerable questions. He laid down on one of the cell’s cots and waited for sleep—or more likely the dawn’s light—to come.
Just starting to drift off, he heard the door at the end of the hall open. Unlike the previous instances, when the jail attendant left the door open behind them until their tour of the cells completed, whoever had just shuffled into the hallway closed the door behind them.
He sat up quietly in his bed to listen to the progress of the visitor slowly move down the hall. He didn’t feel frightened…yet. But every nerve stood on edge, quickened. Something about the footsteps and presence as it steadily approached the end of the hall to his cell. Unlike the deputies, this particular visitor didn’t stop to check on anyone else first.
John debated whether or not to get up and approach the barred entrance to his cell. Especially once the shuffling figure reached the edge of the cell next to his; the person’s shadow extending to the cold cement floor in front of him, eerily misshapen in the muted glow of the security lights along the hallway. Ready to pull his legs over the edge of his cot, in preparation to stand up and go investigate the mysterious visitor standing less than twenty feet away, a whispered voice addressed him in his native tongue.
“Ayasdi igvyi…golisdi.”
He could only make out most of what was said, until the voice repeated the message again. ‘Seek first to understand’.
“Understand what?” John wondered aloud, searching his mind for a possible meaning, and to confirm the owner of the voice, as it seemed very familiar.
“Heyatahesdi ‘Adatlisvi Awi inage ehi.”
No one had addressed John like this since a youngster, using the Cherokee version of his name, which helped him identify who it was standing nearby.
Be careful, Running Deer.
“Ududu?” John asked, his tone cautious as he whispered his response to the mysterious voice. Grandfather?
“…Tali Awohali Atloyasdi.”
John smiled for the first time since Christmas Eve, and like a small child about to meet Santa, he jumped off of the cot and moved as quickly as he could to the far right corner of his cell. Still several feet away from where the mysterious visitor stood in the hall, the name delivered to him by the raspy whisperer belonged to the one person who could possibly aid his fight against the anisgina who had taken his beloved Hanna: his grandfather, Two Eagles Cry.
“Ududu!” John cried out, loud enough for one of the other inmates down the hall to stir.
He waited for the man to roll over in his cot before continuing his conversation with his deceased grandfather. Lowering his voice to where no one else would awaken, he addressed him again. The shadowed figure took three steps closer to where John stood with his face pressed against the cold steel bars of his cell.
After John asked a few more questions to confirm the truth of his grandfather’s presence, the two quietly conversed together for the next several minutes. John struggled with certain words he had not used or even heard since childhood, but his grandfather remained patient with him. Two Eagles Cry advised John on how to successfully battle the entity that now waged war against his family. His last admonishment was for his grandson to ‘call upon all of his ancestors’ to battle the anisgina and ‘banish it to the dark world beyond the Three Blood Rivers’.
John Running Deer tried once more to get a better glimpse of his grandfather’s asgina, or spirit, asking for him to move closer. John longed to see him clearly—to be near him again, as he was elk hunting in Kentucky when his grandfather passed away, shortly after John’s sixteenth birthday. He declined the request, tenderly telling John that in due time he would see him again, leaving him with one last word of encouragement before shuffling back down the hallway.
“Ulanigide!”
It was the last thing that John heard him say, and the shuffling sound ceased just before reaching the hall door. The word and its meaning repeated in his head after he lay back down on his cot, again wondering if he’d find the restful sleep his body, mind, and soul desperately needed. Or, would he continue to lie awake and watch the dawn’s faint light peer through his cell window?
Ulanigide!... Be Strong!... Ulanigide!... Be Strong!....
If only it was that simple.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Are you sure you’re okay with doing this?”
David accosted Miriam upstairs in the hallway near their bedroom. Thursday morning, she’d just finished booking an afternoon flight for the entire family to Knoxville, Tennessee. The key factor in making the deal work was the availability of a hotel suite or chalet in nearby Gatlinburg. Neither she nor David believed they would find either available, since Christmas season is another busy vacation time for the famed Smoky Mountain resort town.
“I can call Evelyn back and tell her we can’t make it.”
“We’re going, David.”
She carried a notepad in hand with the flight and accommodation details, briefly looking up at him before moving into their bedroom. Her suitcase and toiletry bags lay open and almost full upon the bed. Her smile tense, it lacked the normal warmth and allure he was accustomed to.
“This must be what we’re supposed to do,” she continued, with her back to him as he stood in the doorway, her tone businesslike. “Everything has fallen into place for this to happen… The resort in Breckenridge canceled without a fee, and that relieved Jan, so she can spend time watching over Sara. Then, we get a great deal on the chalet in Gatlinburg, which was a last minute cancellation by some other family—plus an affordable flight. It all makes sense.”
True, David thought to himself. Everything had fallen into place. Even Miriam’s partners at Littleton Children’s Clinic volunteered to handle the majority of her New Years Eve appointments next week. And the two patients who declined had graciously agreed to reschedule for the following week. He would’ve assumed that getting out of the Breckenridge deal would be the easy part and everything else difficult, if not impossible. It turned out to be just the opposite, but in the end his buddy, Mark Stone, let him cancel without penalizing him for the late notice. He even left it open for David and his family to rebook the reservation at a later time, perhaps in early spring.
Vacationing in Gatlinburg now looked like a potentially fun time for Ruth and the kids, and possibly for Miriam and him—provided they were able to help Evelyn get John out of jail and somehow locate Hanna. This brought to mind two things that made him dread the trip. Number one: Miriam’s coolness to him, which started right after the call from Evelyn last night. He’d already tried unsuccessfully to get her to tell him what was up, but she refused to talk about it. He told her at least three times that they could simply cancel the trip out east, and instead stick to their original plan of spending the weekend up in the Rockies.
He honestly would’ve preferred telling Evelyn “no”, despite John’s dire situation, than deal with Miriam’s cold-shoulder. He’d worked very hard during the past several months to fix the waning passion in their life together to let it disintegrate now—especially when it appeared the only reason it might happen was because he relented to Evelyn’s request for him to immediately come to John’s aid.
David could tell it had something to do with the way in which Evelyn had pleaded with him, and his willingness to come to her rescue. Still, Miriam’s immediate cool response after she listened in on the conversation surprised him. So unlike her to act like this, the only time he’d ever seen her show any jealousy was
shortly after they first met in college, roughly seventeen years ago. But he felt uncomfortable confronting her about it, just in case it wasn’t a jealous impulse after all.
Despite Miriam’s recent unusual behavior, it remained a clear second to his growing dread about facing the entity on its turf again. His thoughts were drawn to the last time he did this, back in October when forced to deal with Allie Mae’s hostility—her angry ghost fueled by this entity’s quieter wrath. She almost killed him then. What would happen now, since the entity seemed seriously pissed off at both him and John?
Adding to this concern was a dream he had last night, about Norman Sowell. Norm died just before Halloween, and David still grieved mightily over the loss of the best friend he ever had in this world, next to Miriam. Ironically, the previous nocturnal visit he received from Norm came on the eve of his return trip to Tennessee in October, when David determined to make things right with Allie Mae. Eerily similar to last night’s vision, only this more recent experience came on the eve of his family’s planned trip to Gatlinburg. And, Norm had plenty to say about the trip—most of which was a repeated warning to not go back this time.
In David’s dream, Norman Sowell III looked like he usually did, back when among the living. Dressed in an Armani suit with his jet-black hair combed stylishly, his brilliant blue eyes and gorgeous smile flashed like they belonged to a movie star. David thanked God for that, since in the last dream, Norm appeared as a disfigured and grotesque corpse, left in the afterlife to suffer the same agony that Allie Mae delivered to him when he died. Grateful, he finally could replace that gruesome image.
“I think it’s a bad idea, bro,” Norm told him in the dream. He stood next to his desk in the posh office that had since been assigned to a new corporate attorney at Johnson, Simms & Perrault, named Stacey Wallace. Blond, petite, with great legs…. Surely, she would’ve been another target for Norm’s insatiable lust, if he’d known her.
