by Wood, Rick
“Oscar, as lovely as this whole thing is, we wouldn’t survive it. Without Julian there to help–”
“Yeah, well, Julian isn’t there to help, is he?”
April tilted her head back and sighed.
“So we’re going to have to do it without him,” Oscar decided.
“Get a grip man, you can’t do this–”
“Can’t do this?” Oscar repeated, waving his arms in astonishment. “Five days ago, I thought I couldn’t survive without my medication. Five days ago, I thought ghosts or demons didn’t exist, never mind that I could fight them. And five days ago, I thought no woman would ever talk to me.”
April looked away, blushing.
“And then you came along,” Oscar continued, crouching before April, beseeching her with his eyes. “And you showed me that I can do those things.”
“Oscar–”
“And now it’s time for me to show you what you can do.”
Her eyes met his and she felt truly warm inside. Yes, he was young, and stupid, and scruffy, and immensely irritating. But he had kind eyes, a warm smile, and the best of intentions.
“So I’m going, with or without you. But I’d rather it was with you. So what do you say, April? Are you coming?”
Beneath the ridiculous boyish exterior, he was a sweet man. And he made her feel like she could do anything.
And she could do anything.
“Yes,” she answered. “But I’m driving.”
36
Oscar’s hands gripped the sides of the passenger seat, flinching his eyes away from the sight before him. He had never been in a car going so fast. Every car in the other lanes of the M5 were just blurs.
Oscar glanced at the speedometer beside the steering wheel that April was clutching with eager alarm.
I didn’t even know a car could go that fast…
“So how long since you passed your test?” Oscar inquired, trying to find something that could reassure his dangerously high blood pressure.
“I’m taking it next week.”
“What?”
Oscar decided the best thing to do would be to close his eyes really tightly and pretend he was somewhere else.
But he couldn’t do that.
Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again.
The father. The demon. Standing over him.
Then, just as April recklessly merged the car across three lanes and onto the M42, the visions hit him once more.
They took his breath away like he’d been sucker punched. He gasped for breath as he fought the invasive thoughts that just kept coming and coming.
The horns. The serpentine snake-ish legs. The cackling grimace of the mouldy, cracked lips upon its ugly face.
Then he came to. Sweating and panting, he could once more see the road before him.
“Hold on, Oscar,” April urged him. “Come on, stay with me.”
He turned toward her, but before he could register the concern on her face, he was gone again.
This time he was looking up at Henry.
Henry was bringing a toaster.
Why was he bringing a toaster?
He looked to his side. Kaylee sat beneath him, devouring a plate of baked beans on toast.
Then he realised.
I’m Nancy. This is what Nancy saw.
He fell to the floor with a sudden blow, his entire body jolting.
His eyes flung open and he was back in the car, but he was seizing, his body uncontrollably convulsing.
“I need my medication!” Oscar screamed. “Only my medication can stop this!”
“No!” April defied. “You cannot have it. You have to do this yourself.”
“But I can’t!” Oscar wailed, his arms helplessly reaching out.
He slipped back again.
He was looking up. In a living room. Henry was above him.
Blood was trickling into his eyes. He could feel it oozing, dripping in a gulp of thick mess.
But he didn’t have time to wipe it.
Henry brought the toaster down onto his head once more.
His eyes jerked open.
April was frantically switching her gaze between the road and Oscar. Looking back and forth, back and forth.
“Nancy…” Oscar whimpered. “She’s dead… He’s killed her…”
“What?”
“I saw it… He’s killed her…”
“What about Kaylee? Is Kaylee okay?”
He was back in the living room, being dragged by a large mound of hair toward a television.
Kaylee was at the end of the room, cowering in a ball. Crying. Weeping. Desperately abandoned.
His head went into the television.
A smash and a set of sparks fluttered over his vision.
“My medication, please…”
“No, Oscar, control it!”
His head smashed into the wooden table.
Everything went dark. Hazy.
Nothing but the sound of a skull being bludgeoned into wood.
Then it occurred to him.
If I die in a vision – do I die in real life?
“I’m about to die…” Oscar cried out.
“Stop it! Get a grip!”
The smell of freshly polished wood.
The sound of bones cracking into pieces.
The taste of thick blood trickling down his throat, choking him, coughing on loose teeth.
“Oscar – you are in control. You are the master of these glimpses.”
His eyes opened briefly.
April’s worried face looked down upon him.
He was in a heap on the floor of the car.
“Come on, Oscar.”
The pain of a smashed cranium consumed him. His nervous system shattered.
“Oscar – I believe you can do this.”
April.
April believes.
April believes I can do this.
His fists turned to a tight grip. Clenching for war. Readying his body for the fight.
Everything was no longer blank.
He stood up.
He left Nancy’s body, backed away.
Watching as Henry continued to pummel her head into the wooden surface.
Watched as Kaylee continued to cower in the corner.
April.
April believes.
April knows I can do this. She’s said it all along.
No more.
I am in control.
Oscar closed his eyes, scrunching his face, screaming so hard it felt like razor blades dragging through his throat.
Enough.
Enough being a loser.
Enough medication.
Enough being some going-nowhere, jacking off, pathetic little piece of shit.
A boy backs down and lets these things control him.
April.
A man stands up and takes control.
April believes.
Thank you, April.
His eyes flung open.
Manically sweating, blood rushing to his head.
He sat up. Looked around himself.
He was in a car, going one hundred miles per hour.
His panting subsided.
He wiped the sweat from his brow.
He turned to April.
“Thank you,” he spoke.
April smiled, then turned her attention to driving.
Finally, he was in control.
37
Jason stood solemnly outside the police station, soaking up the peaceful night sky. The stars were shining brightly. There was a slight breeze lingering in the air, and there was minimal activity around the station. It was rare to have such a quiet night, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked it. As an officer, you live for the busy nights but pray for the quiet ones.
He checked his watch.
It had been two hours.
Henry Kemple should have brought his family to the station by now.
A police car turned into the station car park and
interrupted his trail of thought. He recognised instantly the face in the back as being the one from the video and gazed at him with morose curiosity.
Wanting to make sure this guy knew who was the boss, he stood tall, stiffening his posture, ensuring his feet were shoulder-width apart and his arms were sturdily folded.
The driver’s window wound down and the officer turned to Jason.
“You Detective Inspector Jason Lyle?”
“I am,” Jason nodded. “This my suspect?”
“Yeah. Where do you want him?” the officer asked as if he was delivering a parcel.
“Bring him out, I’ll take him in.”
The two officers stood out from the car, opened the back door, and brought the suspect out.
Julian Barth was a tidy man, mid-20s, completely unsuspicious.
But then again, they all are, aren’t they?
No one can truly predict an abuser by looking at them.
“Thank you.” Jason directed the officers as he took hold of Julian by the arm. “Much appreciated.”
Jason led Julian into the station and booked him in. All the time, watching him. Studying him. He liked to do this with all his suspects, and had done so for fifteen years. Making sure he knew what to expect. If they were heavy, could they use their weight against him? If they were short, could they be nimble?
But as he directed Julian through to the cells, he saw nothing from him that would indicate a threat. If anything, the man seemed to be seething under his breath the entire time, as if muttering in angst.
Then, just as he was about to shut the door, Julian spoke.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
Jason paused. He didn’t normally waste time listening to the angry ramblings of perpetrators once he had locked them in the cell.
But it was something about this case.
About the girl.
Something had unsettled him…
He remained blank, strong in his body language, hovering in the doorway. Julian now sat on the bed, his head in his hands, his legs bouncing agitatedly.
“That girl is in serious danger,” Julian claimed.
“Not anymore,” Jason spoke, softly yet assertively.
“Her father is not what you think he is.”
Jason folded his arms and leant against the side of the doorway, lifting an eyebrow.
“From what I’ve seen of the cruelty you’ve committed–”
“I gave her an exorcism!” Julian shouted, immediately giving Jason the balance of control. “I don’t have time to sit here and argue with you about whether or not ghosts and demons exist, but they do – and they were in her. And now they are in her dad. And he is going to kill her if I don’t do anything.”
“See, what gets me – is I can’t figure out whether you’ve made this all up, or whether you actually believe it yourself.”
“For God’s sake, you don’t understand!”
Julian stood as if to lurch himself forward and plead. Jason abruptly held his arm out and went to shut the door, as if preparing for an attack, prompting Julian to instantly put his hands in the air and stand back.
“I’m not going to attack you,” Julian promised.
“Damn right you’re not.”
“I just need you to understand.”
Jason nodded patronisingly.
“I think I understand all right.”
Jason went to shut the door.
“Wait!”
Jason didn’t speak, but hovered the door slightly ajar, so he could just see Julian within the crack.
“You’ve worked this case, right?”
Jason didn’t answer.
“I’m taking that as a yes. So, I’m assuming you spoke to this girl when she was arrested. That you interrogated her, and her dad.”
Jason raised his eyebrows.
“Well, did you not think there was something off about her? Was she acting in the way you would expect a sweet little middle-class girl to do?”
Jason considered this.
She wasn’t.
But that meant nothing.
“Was she?” Julian repeated, his hands stretched out in desperation. He looked like he thought he was getting somewhere.
True, this girl was strange.
But at no point did that mean demons suddenly existed.
As Jason backed away, he just about heard Julian shout one more thing.
“Play it backwards! Play it–”
Jason closed the door and locked the cell.
38
The peaceful night cast a translucent glow over the tranquil evening.
Oscar and April didn’t give a shit.
As April haphazardly swung the car onto the Kemple’s drive, an overwhelming sense of dread filled Oscar like a bucket of poison filtering through his body.
It was one thing to persuade April they should drive up to Loughborough and fight this thing. It was another thing entirely to step out of the car and face an evil entity from hell that could very well kill you.
Glimpses filled Oscar’s head, and he was finally starting to get a loose grip over these crushing visions. So long as he retained his calm head and kept his breathing slow, he was in control.
As he stepped out of the car and stood beside April, the house flashed red. A splatter of blood appeared on the inside of the living room window, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
An omen of what may have already happened, or so Oscar assumed.
“I don’t like this,” April admitted.
“You kidding?” Oscar scoffed, turning to her. “You’re the one I’m relying on.”
“It’s just too quiet.”
She was right.
An eerie stillness lingered around the house. A silence that screamed too loudly. There were no lights, no flickers of shadows, no sign of life whatsoever. Just a feeling of destitution, as if something bad had either happened or was about to happen. Or both.
April began the cautious steps forward, prompting Oscar to follow. His legs wobbled, buckling weakly under the anxiety that filled his gut.
Everything about this was wrong.
Everything about this told Oscar to back away.
But he couldn’t. He had come this far.
“Should we knock?” Oscar asked April, realising he hadn’t thought this far ahead.
April shook her head.
He tried opening the door, but it opened about an inch until it stopped suddenly.
“I think it’s on a latch,” Oscar decided.
“Well, you’re a strong man.”
Oscar frowned at the ridiculous assertion. Just an excuse for him to do his shoulder in, rather than her.
Still, it made him gush, and he couldn’t let her down.
He took a step back and barged against the door. It buckled slightly but did not falter. So he leant back and barged against it once more, forcing the door to swing back against the inside wall.
Oscar glanced at April, feeling smug, to see if she was impressed. Her eyes remained focussed as she stepped inside, Oscar following and shutting the door behind them.
It was pitch-black, except for the clock on the oven in the far kitchen and the moonlight through the windows of the nearby living room.
It took a few moments for Oscar’s eyes to adjust. He scanned the vacant rooms. The stairs to his right, the living room to his left, the kitchen ahead of him.
There were too many places for something to jump out.
Too many places for them to get caught.
“Where to?” Oscar whispered to April.
“We need to find Nancy and Kaylee, get them out,” April urged.
Taking a wary step forward, Oscar jumped at the sound of a creak. Not looking behind him to avoid the humiliation of seeing April’s face at his immense fear, he looked for the source of the creak.
The downstairs cupboard, beneath the stairs.
The door was slightly open, something resting upon it from the inside, forcing it to
buckle marginally beneath the pressure.
Oscar looked at April, who nodded toward it, urging him to open it.
Summoning all the courage he could, he placed his sweaty palm on the handle and swung it open.
The dead body of Nancy fell to their feet, her bludgeoned head covered in dried blood. One of her eyes could be made out beneath the smashed skull, staring rigidly up at Oscar.
39
For the second night running, Jason sat in his office, his mind dwelling on the chilling case of Kaylee Kemple.
For the second night running, a half-empty cup sat on his desk, home to cold coffee and broken biscuit. The night birds hooted and tweeted outside the open window of his stuffy office, accompanying his deep contemplation with a gentle background noise to a station that was otherwise silent.
Something Julian Barth had said to him was severely troubling.
“Did you not think there was something off about her?”
Well, honestly, yes. Jason did. But that didn’t mean holding a girl down and disguising child abuse with aged religious concepts was a valid excuse.
He picked up his phone and dialled the Kemple’s number.
“Hello, you have reached Henry Kemple. I’m not able to get to the phone right now, so please leave a message at the beep.”
Irritated, Jason clutched the phone with exasperation.
“Yes, hello, this is Detective Inspector Jason Lyle. Mr. Kemple, you were meant to come down the station an hour after we spoke. This was over two hours ago now. Please, can you let me know what is taking so long? If you don’t come down, this may mean we will have to let the suspect go without charge. Get back to me.”
He hung up, slamming the phone on the desk.
It was strange. Really, really strange.
That Henry Kemple called Jason to his house to show him this video, prompting him to arrest Julian, then does not show to give his statement.
Why would he do that?
Julian kept insinuating there was something Jason did not know about.
So what was it?
Once again, he opened his laptop and loaded the CCTV video of the interrogation with Kaylee.
Again, she sat there, so still. Her body so perfectly symmetrical, all her joints entwined within a rigid position. Her legs beneath her arms that lay neatly on the table. So innocently deprived. So haphazardly sweet and evil.
